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.

The people in Miami are so different from anywhere else I've been in America. They're so down to earth, really friendly, and quite self-effacing, with a good sense of humor. I'm not saying other parts of America don't have a sense of humor, but Miami maybe has to have a really good sense of humor for lots of different reasons, and it works. It works for me.

Because of the amount of press attention, people went to see this dirty bed, as if it was a freak show. But when they got there, they saw something else - the bed, stuff on the walls, whatever. For the Tate, it's the highest attendance they ever received for the Turner Prize show. There was a massive queue, and when you got into my bit, you couldn't move.

I want to spend my life with someone and do nice things and go on adventures, read books and have nice food and celebrate things. I don't want to spend the rest of my life in the bedroom like some people who just go to bed and never get out again.

I am fiercely independent and I probably wouldn't be if it wasn't for the way in which I was brought up

I've been slagged off completely by the art world and I don't know whether fancy being slagged off by the literary world as well. It's just too much.

I'm totally monogamous when I'm in a relationship, and when I'm not in a relationship, I don't sleep around. So when I'm not with someone, I'm really on my own.