When you're in [ Bahamas], it feels like a bunch of islands, with keys and things like that. It's an existential archipelago. It's funny, you try to escape who you are and where you're from, but it's always part of your social DNA.

I think when you're younger and making things, it's something that you have to fight through, to finish things. I feel like I'm past that stage, and I get the appreciation for being in that moment, and soaking it in.

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.

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.

I think it's every artist's nature to want to escape. It's also human nature in a way, depending on your personality, to want to get away from it all.

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.

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