By and large, talent is in such short supply that mediocrity can be taken for brilliance rather more than genius can go undiscovered.

Being a good artist is the toughest job you could pick, and you have to be a little nuts to take it on.

The art critics on some of Britain's newspapers could as easily have been assigned gardening or travel, and been cheerfully employed for life.

Being an art buyer these days is comprehensively and indisputably vulgar. It is the sport of the Eurotrashy, Hedge-fundy, Hamptonites; of trendy oligarchs and oiligarchs; and of art dealers with masturbatory levels of self-regard.

Few people in contemporary art demonstrate much curiosity. The majority spend their days blathering on, rather than trying to work out why one artist is more interesting than another, or why one picture works and another doesn't.

I have never cared enough about money to worry about spending it, and have been fortunate to make enough to be spoiled rotten.

If you can't take a good kicking, you shouldn't parade how much luckier you are than other people.