I have been fortunate enough over a number of years to have had such an array of adventurous opportunities, crossing over from all manner of genres, each of which brings its own challenges and rewards. It's almost impossible to pick out just one project that resonates more than any other, but pushed to it I would pick out Salles des Départs (2002) at the Raymond Poincaré hospital in Garches, France.

Developed as part of the bereavement suite, this was an extremely difficult invitation via the Italian architect Ettore Spalletti, whom I had met in Palermo the previous year. Essentially it's a score to accompany the viewing of a recently deceased loved one in a hospital, a place where no one wishes to be, a location that no one wishes to hear sound. It's a work that deals with the essentials of life itself — birth, death and love.

The space itself is an airy blue room, where one spends about twenty minutes with the body of a loved one, the last chance to share this physical moment before they are taken away for autopsy. It's an exceptionally fragile and difficult location, and with no "audience" as such to speak of, the work was a challenge. I wanted to make this happen as my own family had been in an identical situation, having to identify the body of my late father after he was killed in a hideous motorcycle crash in 1980. The work plays at the same volume as the air conditioning, so it is as visible as it is invisible, and offers a momentary solace for those in deep distress.

The work continues to play to this day, accompanying countless unknown families, to offer solace and comfort in the most difficult of times. No other project I have presented has had such a direct impact upon strangers.

The space around works is key to their success and their inspiration. Hiss Concréte, for example, attempts to make a connection between ideas of Elevator Music, that kind of vapid, generic easy listening music that is frequently piped through shopping centres and airports, and Musique Concrète, an experimental technique of music composition that assembles work by using natural sounds found around us. The space itself, a lift for the public to move between floors, was offered to me to create work, then the composition followed.

I'm less keen on being any kind of an "import" in terms of work and would prefer to make performances, installations, photographs, etc. that reflect the location in which they are installed and experienced by others, rather than just bring finished ideas from the studio to sit in a strange place, where they have little meaning.

Cage continues to be a pivotal figure in my life and learning, but with regards to an idea of silence I'm interested in the spaces in between information at times, as it is there that thought occurs and processes. Those pauses in conversation as we think about the next thing to express are fascinating, but at the same time I'm intrigued by the sound of the city, especially living in London with its urban language. The idea of contrast is key to my work, so silence plays a part but is not key to its success.

We are now fortunate to live in a world where everyone in some sense creates the sonic world around them, curating their every day with iPod playlists and radio. Sound installations can offer us moments of contemplation, re-evaluation, of concentrated and committed listening. Over the years countless artists have inspired me in this realm, from Max Neuhaus, Christina Kubisch, Janet Cardiff and so on. Given the opportunity beyond any financial restrictions? How about altering the city of an entire transport system for a time? Or an entire city?

Goodness, this is so all-encompassing a question that I believe a lifetime could be spent answering such a question, and it would be almost demeaning to even begin answering this. Suffice it to say, I am still obsessed by sound and music and continue to explore, listen and purchase music by others. I want to hear everything newly released, whilst still trying to catch up with our rich past. Sound is so much a part of us, so much a part of our physical, emotional and mental makeup. It makes us who we are, it defines us when we are growing up and continues to comfort, reward, challenge, bewilder and entertain us in ways beyond the span of language.

I believe that each of us has been able to change another's life, direction and ideas, if only for a moment. I have certainly had responses from others regarding my work that point towards a new way of thinking, of processing ideas and thoughts. There's nothing more rewarding of course than hearing that something that you produced so modestly could actually affect and alter another person in such a way.

We recognise how music has played a role in political campaigns, in history, in our lives, but it's these tiny moments of rediscovery that are invaluable.

I have given talks about my work for some years to students, but more recently I've been a Visiting Professor at Le Fresnoy art school in France, where I have actually loved every moment of sharing my ideas and experience. I'm a very enthusiastic and supportive teacher though. I'm strict with the discipline of work, deadlines and commitment, but also very playful in my output and approach. I believe there is a time to work and, importantly, a time to play. I work strict hours, from early morning until 19:00 in the studio and never after, and very rarely at weekends unless I am travelling or performing. Students tend to force themselves to work all night, wearing themselves down for little reward and forgetting to remember that there needs to be a joy and a pleasure in this work. Why else do it?

My students have been extraordinary, showing films at the Sundance Film Festival, installing works in museums, exhibiting photographs in galleries. I try to be as encouraging as possible and frequently in a directly collaborative manner too, writing scores, designing sounds for their productions.

It's essential to remember that they are the future and need to be nurtured and supported as much as possible.