The year 2006, when I came to Christie's, was a very euphoric time to be part of the art world.

For my art, there is a common theme most of the time: it is using the things we can see to search for the world we cannot see.

I have spent a lot of time in the art world, and I guess I do listen to how people speak. I'm interested in what they say and how they say it.

There is a certain vulnerability to creating art and putting it out in the world for the first time, but again, there's a kind of thrill to that as well.

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.

The world is going on a high-speed connection; the Arab revolution is still dial-up. So we have to give it a little time to download. Regimes come and go, but art endures.

The only advice I would give Christians entering the world of arts: give yourself a period of time, maybe three or four years. If you haven't made it in your chosen art form, dump it.

I can't see the film industry coming to a grinding halt any time soon. I think we may be more open to negotiations and things like that, but I think the art world tends to thrive in times of recession.

If art means as much to you as it does to me, or even if you're just exploring the art world for the first time, I invite you to turn off the boob tube, pry the Wii controllers from your kids' hands, and drag them to a museum.

It's high time for the art world to admit that the avant-garde is dead. It was killed by my hero, Andy Warhol, who incorporated into his art all the gaudy commercial imagery of capitalism (like Campbell's soup cans) that most artists had stubbornly scorned.

I took on the math-intensive art form of holography and, in my early 20s, traveled the world, living on university fellowships to pursue this esoteric craft. I didn't date much, really - perhaps because I didn't have many hormones, though I didn't know that at the time.

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