Time gives growth, it gives continuity and it gives change. And in the case of some sculptures, time gives a patina to them.

Complete control can be the death of a work.

I want to get under the surface. When I work with a leaf, rock, stick, it is not just that material in itself, it is an opening into the processes of life within and around it. When I leave it, these processes continue.

Looking, touching, material, place and form are all inseparable from the resulting work. It is difficult to say where one stops and another begins. The energy and space around a material are as important as the energy and space within. The weather--rain, sun, snow, hail, mist, calm--is that external space made visible. When I touch a rock, I am touching and working the space around it. It is not independent of its surroundings, and the way it sits tells how it came to be there.

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

Sometimes you need to stop doing something to really see it afresh.

Winter makes a bridge between one year and another and, in this case, one century and the next.