When I'm out buying art materials, various people have told me how calm, easy-going, and friendly I seem. Nothing could be further from the truth. I am, by nature, misanthropic, thin-skinned, highly strung, and anxious. I'm quick to anger. Often, my hands tremble visibly. It's hard even for me to tell whether it's because of nervousness or some percolating rage. My inner tensions are so great that at night I wear a clear silicon mouth guard. Moulded by a dentist to fit over my top teeth, it minimises damage to the dental enamel and eliminates muscular ache caused by the constant, uncontrollable grinding of my jaw as I sleep. When I am not making art – when I am trying to avoid it, when I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do next – my skin breaks into a rash-like blush and my skin odor becomes acrid, sour.All this stops when I am actually making art – or putting the materials together for it. I am calm and pleasant to be around. Everything is right with the world. Even me.