There are occasions when I have moved boulders, but I'm reluctant to, especially ones that have been rooted in a place for many years.

The things that I make are that which a person will make. They're not meant to mimic nature. They are nothing but the result of a hand of a person.

I go way beyond just the wood and stone but to the process of growth and farming and the tensions between the two.

I just see myself as an object in the final image. I know I'm experiencing it when I'm there working on it. I'm there to be worked with, as anything else that I work with.

The hardened mass of liquid stones had much stronger qualities than those which had simply torn. The skin remained a recognisable part of the molten stone.

Everything has the energy of its making inside it.

I knew the tree when it grew, and the tree is now gone. The farmers cut it up, and it's become firewood. And there's this tremendous sense of absence and shock and violence attendant to that collapsing tree.