People are the nature of the city, and you can feel it in the pavement.

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

Complete control can be the death of a work.

It's frightening and unnerving to watch a stone melt.

A lot of my work is like picking potatoes; you have to get into the rhythm of it. It is different than patience. It is not thinking. It is working with the rhythm.

At its most successful, my 'touch' looks into the heart of nature; most days I don't even get close. These things are all part of a transient process that I cannot understand unless my touch is also transient - only in this way can the cycle remain unbroken and the process be complete.

Even in winter an isolated patch of snow has a special quality.