I Found That Life Has

Criticism On My Works Is Like This: You've Worked Hard All Of Your Life, You Went To Oxford, And You've Done This And That, And You're An Art Critic. Your Job Is To Unravel The "secret" Or Whatever, And You Come Across An Entity Like Me. It's Going To Piss You Off. Because There's No Great Secret, What You See Is What You Get, And Anyone Can Understand What I'm Doing. So, It's Almost Like I Make This Critic-person Redundant, Just By My Attitude, And They Resent Me For That.

If I Were Really, Truly In Love With Someone Who Was Truly In Love With Me, Then I Would Get Married, But That Would Be The Only Reason I'd Get Married.

I'm A Terrible Cook, But If I Could Cook, I Would See That In Art As Well, It's How Much Creative Energy You Put Into Something.

My Influences Were From Europe From Between 1900 And 1945. My Favorite Artists Were Egon Schiele Or Edvard Munch. I Wasn't Interested In Contemporary Art At All.

I'm Not Opposed To Commerce, Even Though I'm An Artist.