We use the vocabulary of light to describe a spiritual experience.

We're part of creating this world in which we live, but we're unaware of how we do that or even that we do that.

I feel that buildings often have a workaday aspect that you see during the daylight hours, and a more resplendent side that emerges after dark.

There aren't many artists who can feel sorry for me.

I am involved in the architecture of space.

This idea that light plays an important part in our life is important to me.

You can't stop demographics. And show me a fence that ever worked. It didn't work at Hadrian's Wall. The Great Wall of China didn't work. The Berlin Wall.

I apprehend light - I make events that shape or contain light.

Each day is a different length of time and that gives a different length to the cusp between light and darkness or darkness and light.

The sky always seems to be out there, away from us. I like to bring it down in close contact with us, so you feel you are in it. We feel we are at the bottom of this ocean of air; we are actually on a planet.

I have high expectations of my audience, and in general, I would say they've met that.

At Roden Crater, I was interested in taking the cultural artifice of art out into the natural surround. I wanted the work to be enfolded in nature in such a way that light from the sun, moon and stars empowered the spaces. I wanted to bring culture to the natural surround as if one was designing a garden.

Drake went through my exhibition. I did meet him in Los Angeles, and he was in the spaces that I did do there, and has some images from that.

I am interested in relating the things we see with the things we see with our eyes closed.

I don't know if I believe in art. I certainly believe in light.

I like to use light as a material, but my medium is actually perception. I want you to sense yourself sensing - to see yourself seeing.

I want people to treasure light.

One way to understand light in the ocean of air is by flying it. Life in the air is an extension of perceiving.

At my first exhibits, people were saying that's just a light on the wall.

My aunt was Frances Hodges, who in the Fifties was the editor of 'Seventeen' and later one of the creators of 'Mademoiselle.' She was my Auntie Mame; she loved culture. She was a Quaker, but she became a milliner against all Quaker logic - they feel that fashion and art are vanities - because she loved fashion.

My mother did not have a toaster oven and would toast bread in the oven, which I thought was stupid. They didn't do cars and electricity, that kind of stuff.

We think we receive all that we perceive, but in fact, we actually give the sky its colour.

Nowhere in the job description of an artist is the requirement that I must validate your taste.

One of the tenets in Quaker meditation is that you 'go inside to greet the light.' I am interested in this light that's inside greeting the light that's outside.