"It has been said that electricity has wrapped the planet in a single cohesive field or membrane that is organic rather than mechanical in nature."

So, you make a work of art out of the body; out of the brain. I've seen an installation by Mariko Mori - colored stones that symbolize the gradual purification of various parts of the human body; I wonder if you ever thought of her and her Japanese garden, the Garden of Purification.

I keep thinking about all artists who manage to convey elements of their non-western culture into a world that aims towards a "westernised globalisation". As Arthur Danto said "to will that art be universal is in effect to will that the culture to which the work belongs be universal". Well, Greek culture, that of the antiquity, is universal. It has such a broad global influence that is crucial to many different cultures. Mori comments on the spirituality that she extracts from Japanese philosophy and religion, Shirin Neshat comments on the gender gap in Iran that seems quite outlandish to the western culture. They both deal with cultural contradictions between east and west. What is there to contradict in Greek culture, when you know that it has already become the collective memory of a great part of the globe? You leave it out on its own and you hope that it will do the job for you, that is, it will spread the carpet of familiarity. You are on your own again.

The magic carpet so to speak. We are artists in the world at large and nothing can change that. Except for our language we have no homeland. Our homeland is our language. Thankfully. When you're a visual artist, you have a visual language. You don't need words.

I think that this comment applies to those groups whose language is spoken only by a limited number of people. This does not apply to English speaking groups that do not even have their language as a homeland. Culture is not a homeland any more

On the other hand, the visual language is so structured that it's as restricting as the oral language. Sure you don't need words but you need the written language. When you know that your work functions out there, where it can be seen by hundreds of viewers with different cultural backgrounds it makes you wonder how this visual language should be shaped. Artists are usually keen on using new technologies because they seek an extension of their visual language. No doubt, there is always this trap of the imposing of technology over the ideas that bring the works about. I see this happen all the time. Many works are accepted (and supported by curators) quite enthusiastically just because they are based on technology. I'm convinced that the time when art was trying to be shocking is forever gone. The vision that is now being formulated has to do with deeper research and maturity. Shocking the viewer, like throwing up on somebody's face, has a very brief effect. But, you see, our whole life is bombarded by short-lived messages and this can be rather troublesome. We need inner peace coming from clarity, and art can do that. It's interesting how the new practice of putting a show together by many curators dealing with the same theme is getting more and more popular. A group adds many different parameters to the theme that one single person could never have done. Layers of knowledge and collective experience create a sense of ripeness, time is condensed through the works of different artists and generations of artists.

Do you feel that you "belong" in a line of artists? I wouldn't think so, but it's more or less inevitable, isn't it.

I feel that I touch upon different lines of artists depending on what I do in specific times and with specific themes. I also feel that I am attracted to fragments of other artists' works. I can look with equal interest at the works of Vuillard or Viola. What usually intrigues me is the processes and thoughts that have been activated and which led to the works.

You do a manual, apparently heavy-duty kind of work. Transparent boxes that turn the body inside out. Hard and soft materials, striking colors, colors of the earth. There are times when I wonder what they mean, what's their deeper essence. I have this fantasy to see all your works in an enormous room - like the one e.e. cummings dreamed of - and watch them lighten up and dim away and lighten up again and darken out forever. It would be quite eerie.

The work is large in scale but it is not heavy-duty. On the contrary, it is extremely light and easy to transport. I've always had this feeling - since I travel a lot- that my works should be extensions of my body and that I should be able to easily install them anywhere. Functions like rolling, folding-unfolding, overlapping have turned out to be parts of the work. Light has added a new perspective. It has been said that electricity has wrapped the planet in a single cohesive field or membrane that is organic rather than mechanical in nature.

I've often heard you referring to philosophy and the twentieth century masters. I wonder, do we have any artistic heroes, any mentors these days?

I think we do. At least for a month or so. It depends on how often we place ourselves in the disciple's position and if we can do that. I suspect that autonomy and diversity suggested by our current ways of living do not leave a lot of space for attachments. All I know is that when I acknowledged that my teachers, Rudolf Baranik and Phoebe Helmann, at Pratt Institute, were my mentors, my life was much easier. I have a feeling that I will never give myself the chance to do this again.