People tend to view land art as something that happened at a certain historical moment - like minimal art, which I was also very much involved with. But it still goes on. It's very much alive.

I didn't know Michael Heizer until I was preparing for my "Earthworks" show in 1968, and somebody called and told me to look at his work. Heizer had already made land art before any of the others and was deeply into it. But he was very young and working out West, so I wasn't aware of his work until he came and showed it to me.

Quite honestly, even as a woman dealer, I really wasn't interested in masculinity or femininity as such. What was important to me was the value of the work itself. If a woman had come along, somebody like Lee Bontecou or Louise Nevelson, and said, "I'm working on the land," I would have gone to see it.

There's a definite connection in terms of objects at hand - dealing with objects or material at hand. Pop art was very much enamored with popular imagery, and popular imagery was of course available and at hand. And land art was also using what was at hand.

I opened with Edward Kienholz's The Beanery, and that's such a controversial piece that I think that brought people right away. It was a room-size work that one walked into. It was a bar with Kienholz-type figures sitting and drinking and talking - all life-size characters in a life-size setting. The exhibition was covered in Time, Newsweek, and Life, so it had huge recognition right away.

People tend to view land art as something that happened at a certain historical moment - like minimal art, which I was also very much involved with. But it still goes on. It's very much alive.

I think that Walter De Maria's Lightning Field, Michael Heizer's City, and Charles Ross's work in Star Axis New Mexico , all three will last for a millennium.