The idea of being in the desert is fundamental, but it's totally relative, and it's about that membrane: the way that one defines self versus the environment.

Poetry makes sense of the parts of human experience that are confusing and not decodable in any other way. It makes accessible the inaccessible.

The way that I Am is designed, it becomes a kind of archipelago, which the Bahamas are.

I think there's an interesting line drawn towards extreme environments, and the way I define extreme is through a sense of otherness. Or foreignness.

I think if art has one underlying value, it's that.

If you take a flower to Mars, for example, the hostility of Mars probably won't allow the flower to live without oxygen. The process of being an artist, for someone who wasn't born in an arts-centric environment - I came from the Bahamas, where there's not a historic tradition of art-making, at least from the Western prospective - in a way is kind of an alien concept.

There are certain conceptual powers in this project, like the relationship of glass to sand, and the idea of putting glass back into the earth, which is where it comes from, which are related to the whole concept of I Am. So there's that one below-surface idea, and then there's these other practical and more pragmatic ideas about how the light functions and the geometry and mathematics behind the reverberation of light from the surface outward.