When I was at school, I hated art. Growing up in north Wales, I was not able to scrape higher than an E in my final exams. I wasn’t too bothered; I thought I wasn’t going to pursue it as a career.
By the time I was about four, I started sleepwalking. At night, I used to go under the stairs and scribble on the wall. I have a distinct memory of sitting in the doctor’s waiting room, aged seven, to get checked out. The doctor was adamant that there was nothing to worry about, and advised my parents to “let him get on with it”.
