"Stalker. I went through a big phase, a Tarkovsky phase, when I was in my mid-20s, and that film always stuck with me. For me, I think visually there’s something about that film that manages to get inside your head and touch you on your emotional synapses or something; it somehow just gets in there. And visually: for instance just the shot of this dog, this black dog that’s always wandering around by itself, that… I mean Tarvovsky was a master of symbolism and just knowing, for example, that a candle in a certain place would trigger in most audiences’ minds something to do with memory. And working on an amazing sensory level, with the composition of shots; these big, long shots that just go on forever. And it doesn’t always matter what people are saying — because the film’s full of dialogue, full of poetry and stuff, but that’s what I love about that film, and also The Mirror. It just washes over you, and you can watch it again and again and take more and more in each time. Mirror is also one of my favorites but it’s a baffling, baffling film. It’s the same as in painting, you know: people have to go back and study the old masters to see how they did shit. They’re called masters because they’re still the best that ever were. It’s the same with Kurosawa and Ozu and Tarkovsky: if you look at their films and what they were doing, you kind of feel safe watching those films. With Tarkovsky’s stuff I have to keep going back to it to remind myself that there’s an alternative to the 90-minute American film, you know where it’s all fucking three acts and information, boom-boom-boom, and just to go, “Hey, you know what — there’s a way of communicating that’s different and there’s nothing wrong with that. Don’t be scared to appreciate that stuff.”"

"When Nick Cave is at his most theatrical the level of interest most people have in him is just elevated. You can feel what they were drinking, you can taste it in the air, you understand what drugs they're on and it's just from sound. It takes a lot to put the other senses into music, and he does it better than anyone else I've ever heard. He's great at every aspect of being Nick Cave, but I think when he's fully involved in story telling he's quite probably the best frontman there is. He really becomes those characters, he's able to live and breathe those people in the way only an author can; he understands them on a different level. This record has some of my favourite lyrics of all time. It's got 'Where The Wild Roses Grow' with Kylie Minogue which is a beautiful ballad, this amazing moment between one of the greatest pop stars of all time and one of the greatest songwriters of all time. It's this mashup that should never have happened, but the world's definitely a better place that it did. I got into Nick Cave late, later than I'd like to admit, when I was in my late 20s. I knew about him before, I'd heard things, but I heard this record when I was living in New York. I wasn't in Gallows any more, I was just painting, and I went record shopping one day. I was buying some Daniel Johnston records but the guy in the shop had a copy of Murder Ballads and I, like a fucking idiot, casually asked 'is this good?' He just said, 'Are you joking? Of course it's good!' So I went back home, listened to my Daniel Johnston records, made some food, then later that night put it on and was like 'holy shit!' and bought every other Nick Cave record they had."

"Well, I think one thing is I love seeing the 15th century in black and white, in the 20th century. The physical imagery… that scene in the balloon at the beginning of the movie, the way that it’s cut together and the way that it functions and what he’s looking at. The sound, the music. Tarkovsky is one of my favorite directors and I think there’s just a great abstract quality in his films, where you see something and, as you’re looking at it, it transforms in front of your eyes. Things happen that you can’t believe you’re looking at — a horse falling down a flight of stairs; all of a sudden there’s a moment where you’ve got Christ, in the snow, carrying his cross up a hill. The kind of subliminal violence that occurs — when this guy gouges the eyes out of one of those journeymen, artisans that are leaving the reconstruction of a church; the apathy in the violence reminds me of the W.H. Auden poem, “Musee des Beaux Arts.” The old masters, they really knew about human suffering. And I guess in that particular film, what I’m thinking about is the length of the takes, and the surprise of what you actually see being filmed. The way slow motion is used in that movie also; the way that movies are not like that anymore. The scale and the depth of field of what you’re seeing is vast. So there’s a poetic quality to that. I’d have to mention The Passenger also, because there’s a moment when Antonioni has Jack Nicholson sticking his arms outside of a cable car, and for that moment you just have this sense of observing observation — that’s a big part of moviemaking to me, or painting. That kind of filmmaking, where the camera is still but everything around it is moving, and moving at different speeds, is something that I’m attracted to."