I've always said the rubber duck is a yellow catalyst.
I love it when people travel to see one of my works, and I always make time to meet and talk with them.
I make work a bit like how you mix cocktails - with ingredients like budget, history and location.
I make work not to give answers but to question things.
I really hate rubber ducks, actually.
I think places that need the rubber duck the most are the ones in distress.
I wanted to use the hippo to get people out of their homes, away from the Internet and the TV, and to explore London with a new perspective.
If you work in a public space, you have to be aware that no one is buying a ticket.
My sculptures cause an uproar, astonishment, and put a smile on your face.
That is the effect of my sculptures in the public domain: people are making contact with each other again.
The Internet is fascinating but also stupid in a way. You only see two-dimensional images, and you think you've seen it and know it.
I make big objects that are simple, bright and clear, kind of ironic but hopefully funny because I love the shapes, and I get inspiration from toys and books, and I believe in art for everyone.
I used to get a lot of rubber ducks on my birthdays as presents because, you know, I make rubber ducks. But then I get the ugliest ones with a neck, ugly colors, and devil ears. I don't like those.
I want people to get inspired by public space - their space. People tend to forget about it because they do the daily thing, but putting up these sculptures breaks the routine.
In Holland, we have a saying: 'A knife cuts on two sides.' With the rubber duck, I'm trying to show people what they haven't been seeing in their public space. When the rubber duck is there and when it's gone, you know.
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