I enjoyed cross-country road trips. And I found the work challenging because it was art that existed on the land rather than mere concepts in a gallery or photographic documentation, or any of the paraphernalia that can be used to indicate that. The art was on the land.

The gallery closed its doors in 1971. I could no longer psychologically handle the needs of 12 artists. I cared about all of them, and what was happening with their careers. I'm just not a person who can do that indefinitely. And tax-wise I was concerned because they gallery wasn't making money; it was losing money.

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.

I think Michael Heizer and Walter De Maria had a love-hate relationship because they both had a lot in common. But inevitably one would get more publicity than another. Of course, Robert Smithson's gotten so much attention through the years. One of the reasons is not only that his work is quite wonderful, but the fact that he was a writer himself.

I remember very vividly. I was here in New York. Nancy Holt called me and - I feel unhappy thinking about it - she said that Bob Smithson had died. I said, "Oh, Nancy, what will we do without Bob?" He was a very good friend.

Making the effort is quite a pleasure in itself.

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.