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.

Generally in New York, people just walk over you with no problem about that. Other countries, people want to resuscitate you, like, after a bit.

I did tests on small stones before collecting and committing myself to the larger ones.

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

The first snowball I froze was put in my mother's deep freeze when I was in my early 20s.

Ephemeral work made outside, for and about a day, lies at the core of my art and its making must be kept private.

One of the beauties of art is that it reflects an artist's entire life. What I've learned over the past 30 years is really beginning to inform what I make. I hope that process continues until I die.