A camera is wild in just about anybody's hands, therefore one must set limits. But cameras have a life of their own. Cameras care nothing about cults or isms. They are indifferent mechanical eyes, ready to devour anything in sight. They are lenses of the unlimited reproduction.

The memory of what is not may be better than the amnesia of what is.

From the top of the quarry cliffs, one could see the New Jersey suburbs bordered by the New York City skyline.

Cultural confinement takes place when a curator imposes his own limits on an art exhibition, rather than asking an artist to set his limits.

The museum spreads its surfaces everywhere, and becomes an untitled collection of generalizations that mobilize the eye.

Visiting a museum is a matter of going from void to void.

A work of art when placed in a gallery loses its charge, and becomes a portable object or surface disengaged from the outside world.