I can't write. I can handle bits of simple-minded advert copy or a poster slogan, so answering questions is about all I'm good for.
It's obvious nonsense, but it makes nice people feel good about themselves to do their bit for the planet. It's vanity of a grotesque kind to believe that mankind, and our 'carbon footprint', has more impact on the future of Earth than Nature, which bends our planet to its will, as it sees fit.
I have made so many mistakes, and such really stupid ones, I would start blubbing away if I could remember even half of them. But do not dwell on cock-ups, I say. You don't learn by your mistakes - at least I don't - so best to blunder on making fresh ones.
I have spent too long being able to manipulate the answers I want from market research to rely upon its findings any more than I do weather forecasts.
I don't know very many people in the art world, only socialise with the few I like, and have little time to gnaw my nails with anxiety about any criticism I hear about.
Artistic credentials are au courant in the important business of being seen as cultured, elegant and, of course, stupendously rich.
I may not be much good at most things, but if I didn't have the pleasure of planning and installing shows, and doing it better than anyone else, I would have stopped buying art many years ago.
Some people in the art world bemoan the hedge fund millionaires spending freely to acquire ostentatious displays of wealth and coolth for their giddily chic designer duplexes. Others bemoan art being treated as a commodity. But most of the bemoaning is because the art world is stuffed full of bemoaners, bemoaning about everything.
Many people cycle or swim to keep trim. But if swimming is so good for the figure, how do you explain whales?
I find the theatre faintly embarrassing for the actors performing on stage. It seems rather showy-off in an undignified way.
By and large, talent is in such short supply that mediocrity can be taken for brilliance rather more than genius can go undiscovered.
