Everything I draw ends up wearing a bow-tie

Almost everything I am, I owe to libraries. When I was a child there were no great libraries around.

Libraries still for me have this extraordinary charge. When I get in one, I feel this buzz, it is almost sexual. Behind these bound copies are voices - people murmuring to you, seducing you, dragging you into their world. I suppose if I have one campaign I can really get behind it is saving libraries. Everyone surely has the right to access the voices of the past.

I am incandescent with rage at the idea of horoscopes and of crystals and of the nonsense of ‘New Age’, or indeed even more pseudo-scientific things: self-help, and the whole culture of ‘searching for answers’, when for me, as someone brought up in the unashamed Western tradition of music and poetry and philosophy, all the answers are there in the work that has been done by humanity before us, in literature, in art, in science, in all the marvels that have created this moment now, instead of people looking away.

The image to me … is gold does exist, and for ‘gold’ say ‘truth’, say ‘the answer’, say ‘love’, say ‘justice’, say anything: it does exist. But the only way in this world you can achieve gold is to be incredibly intelligent about geology, to learn what mankind has learnt, to learn where it might lie, and then break your fingers and blister your skin in digging for it, and then sweat and sweat in a forge, and smelt it. And you will have gold, but you will never have it by closing your eyes and wishing for it. No angel will lean out of the bar of heaven and drop down sheets of gold for you. And we live in a society in which people believe they will. But the real answer, that there is gold, and that all you have to do is try and understand the world enough to get down into the muck of it, and you will have it, you will have truth, you will have justice, you will have understanding, but not by wishing for it.