At home, I love reaching out into that absolute silence, when you can hear the owl or the wind.

I think the artistic process comes from disorder. When you are happy, it's not always a feeling that you can identify. It's like a dog sitting in front of a fire. Pain isolates you, but it can also clarify things.

People think of me as a stereotype: muse, privileged, decorative. Classically, the muses were the inspiration. They'd come and go - they wouldn't actually make things, get their hands dirty. I don't think I'm a muse, although I think I can help pull a trigger. I really like getting my hands dirty.

I love you - I am at rest with you - I have come home.

As women, we need to remember: don't be a doormat!

My earliest childhood memory is watching the sunlight through a jar of amber full of wasps.