My New Year's Eve is always 2 July, the night before my birthday. That's the night I make my resolutions. And this year scares the life out of me, because no matter how successful, how good things appear, there is always a deep core of failure within me, although I am trying to deal with it. My biggest fear, this coming year, is that I will be waking up alone. It makes me wonder how many bodies will be fished out of the Thames, how many decaying corpses will be found in one-room flats. I'm just being realistic.

I thought it would be my one and only exhibition so I decided to call it My Major Retrospective.

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.

Strolling on the plateau of life, desperate for the mountain, I never thought that I would get this far. It's only art that has carried me through, given me faith in my own existence. But now I am approaching a point in my life where I desire more.

I really love animals. My cat is my little soul mate. He's not just a cat, he's my friend.

Art is like a lover whom you run away from but who comes back and picks you up.

When it comes to words I have a uniqueness that I find almost impossible in art – and it's my words that actually make my art quite unique.