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I'd come to the country to do my Thoreau bit, so I needed an office that looked out onto the woods for inspiration. I converted one of the bedrooms into my workspace and through its windows watched the wildlife appear each morning with the sunrise. Many were the days I would sit in wonder, coffee in hand, for hours.

When stuck years ago in a job I hated, my only friend was the public bench. As the tedious mornings dragged on, how I would long for the lunch hour, when I would be able to escape the torture of the office and stroll over to the churchyard and into the comforting wooden embrace of one of its benches.

My room for books and study or for sitting and thinking about nothing in particular to see what would happen was at the end of a hall.

For my first apartment, when I was first married, I went to the lumberyard and bought stuff and made couches. My then-wife made cushions. I was really very interested in furniture. I was in school for architecture, but I had to live, and making furniture was different from designing buildings, which I couldn't do for myself.

When I moved to America, I knew I wanted to be a designer. I never imagined one of my dresses would end up in the Smithsonian.

I have a debt, a loyalty to the museum; the best place for me to do what I wanted to do.

When my wife died, I booked myself into the studio just to work, to occupy myself.

I like Church furniture.

I was homeless for a little bit. I was on people's couches, but it was an amazing journey. I got to make people laugh all the way.