I'm A Terrible Cook, But If I

What's In Yesterday's Newspaper Is Today's Fish-and-chip Paper. If It Really Affects My Life So Badly, So Personally, Then I Would Do Something About It. When It's Really Out Of Order, Or Something Possibly Detrimental To My Family, Or I'm Driven To Such A Level That I Know That This Can Be Picked Up And Repeated Again, I Will Just Write Or E-mail The Newspaper Editor. So, In The Next Day's Newspaper, It Might Say, "tracey Emin Says This Is Factually Incorrect."

My Mum Has Never Wanted Me To Have Children. She Thinks I Would Be Destroying My Life, Even Now.

I Don't Ask For An Apology Because It's Only Tomorrow's Fish-and-chip Paper.

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.

When I Have An Exhibition, I Usually Arrange It So That If People Want To, They Can Spend Two Hours There. That Way, People Who Like It Don't Feel Cheated When They Go. I Want Them To Walk Into The Exhibition Space And Look Low And At Other Levels And Angles. The Same With Emotions. I Want Them To Be Emotionally Manipulated, To Come Out Feeling Something. I Want Them To Laugh, Smile, Feel Sad. Even If They Feel Angry, That's Okay.