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.

Occasionally I have come across a last patch of snow on top of a mountain in late May or June. There's something very powerful about finding snow in summer.

Once the fired stone is out of the kiln, it is still possible to mentally reconstruct it in its original form.

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.

I have to understand the nature of change. And I cannot just work with stone or the more permanent materials. I need to work with leaves and ice and snow and mud and clay and water and the rising tide and the wind and all these.

Some of the snowballs have a kind of animal energy. Not just because of the materials inside them, but in the way that they appear caged, captured.

The photography is not the aim of the work; the articulation of the work through photography is another way of understanding what's going on and what's happening outside.