When I make a work, I often take it to the very edge of its collapse, and that's a very beautiful balance.

Stones are checked every so often to see if any have split or at worst exploded. An explosion can leave debris in the elements so the firing has to be abandoned.

I think I have been fashioned by the fickle weather of Britain that it is - it's forever changing. There's no kind of constant sun or dry weather or freezing weather, and I'm always having to change and adapt to that.

Fire is the origin of stone.By working the stone with heat, I am returning it to its source.

The process of growth is obviously critical to my understanding of the land and myself. So the process is far more unpredictable with far more compromises with the day, the weather, the material.

Art for me is a form of nourishment. I need the land. I need it.

We leave our presence in the pavement. We're walking over it, sitting on steps.