Once The Fired Stone Is

Time Confined Into Blind Caves Or Extended Through Tunnels, Responds To The Call Of Infinity, Which Teases With Its Promise Of Freedom. Outside The Body, Time Is A Pair Of Compasses In The Hands Of Eternity, But Inside It Is A Pendulum, Fastened To The Heart. The Heart Takes Its Measure From The Lengthening Swing Of The Pendulum Surveying What Time Is Left. In Its Own Rhythm Time Spreads Itself Wildly Here And There And Is Crippled Elsewhere. Its Unequally Distributed Weight Wounds My Body - That Is How The Particularities Of My Life Are Manifest.

Stones Are Checked Every So Often To See If Any Have Split Or At Worst Exploded. An Explosion Can Leave Debris In The Elements So The Firing Has To Be Abandoned.

The Relationship Between The Public And The Artist Is Complex And Difficult To Explain. There Is A Fine Line Between Using This Critical Energy Creatively And Pandering To It.

A Lot Of My Work Is Like Picking Potatoes; You Have To Get Into The Rhythm Of It. It Is Different Than Patience. It Is Not Thinking. It Is Working With The Rhythm.

The Process Of Growth Is Obviously Critical To My Understanding Of The Land And Myself. So The Process Is Far More Unpredictable With Far More Compromises With The Day, The Weather, The Material.