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

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

I soon realised that what had happened on a small scale cannot necessarily be repeated on a larger scale. The stones were so big that the amount of heat required was prohibitively expensive and wasteful.

My art recognizes the human place, the human context - especially in Britain, which is a landscape so worked by people for thousands of years, written, deeply ingrained with the presence of people.

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

I enjoy working in a quiet and subversive way.

The stones tear like flesh, rather than breaking. Although what happens is violent, it is a violence that is in stone. A tear is more unnerving than a break.