Wow, this is such a great and totally unexpected question! I would like to precise this by saying that the only tenets of astrology that concern me are those which pertain directly to me, which is in itself very Scorpio. I consider the following my most Scorpio aspects: I love talking about death and dying, I have a deep interest in spirituality but a general distrust of people who claim to be spiritual, I really like savoury and vinegary foods, I have greasy skin, a complex relationship with Madonna and her work (both the pop star and the religious figure), and I wear contact lenses.

Many of my paintings are Scorpios, this is true, but not all of them are born under this most auspicious of signs. I think the best way to distinguish these works would be to look for some of the following characteristics. Portraits in profile are Scorpio, as well as portraits that feature particularly marvellous noses. However, portraits of people with Roman noses are Capricorn. Paintings of precocious children tend to be Scorpio, particularly a toddler at rest hatching up new shenanigans – Scorpios reading this will understand. Paintings of drag queens are Gemini, but paintings of women or men who look like they’re in drag but aren’t are Scorpio. Paintings which I claim to be of myself in drag are Cancerian. Paintings of The Beales of Grey Gardens are Scorpio (unless I have painted the Libra man).

I could write an addendum to Sun signs on this but I’m going to exhibit uncharacteristic restraint and stop talking about this. I am more than happy to discuss this at length with anyone who wishes to contact me.

Underneath this semi-Edwardian veneer of eccentric spelling and enthusiastic punctuation (!!!,…?), I am actually quite the pragmatist. Teaching was always my in-case-of-emergency-smash-glass career option. What I didn’t expect (be warned this is trite) is how much my children would inspire me. The children I teach are dry, wry, witty, aloof, sardonic, effusive and brutally honest. It’s been really refreshing, and to be honest, I consider it quite a privilege to be working as a teacher. That being said, I am constantly robbing Peter to pay Paul time-wise. I’m incredibly good at managing my time. My diary does look like King Tut’s tomb, but in one thousand years, archeologists will unearth my writings and be amazed at how this young homosexual got everything done.

NO! NO! Jesus, I’m so sorry, I don’t want to wish you bad luck at all! I chose October because it’s when all the shopping centres start to put out Christmas things. It’s that time of the year when people see a bit of holly and get scared of Christmas coming. I think if you could glean one thing from this interview is that I love confusion and contradictions. The drama, madness, and raw human emotion that come with feeding a Christmas cake brandy for six months before the time is the zeitgeist which feeds me.

Well, Christmas is Jesus’ birthday. I think it really appealed to me because it is slightly sacrilegious – but more charming than offensive. It’s the sort of thing a child can get away with and an adult can’t. Like I said in my artist’s statement, happy birthday Jesus! is something I remember announcing with glee as a child, secure in the knowledge that no one can be upset with me because I am 6. The title Happy Birthday, Jesus! is very tongue-in-cheek, but very sincere.

I think I’m into Christmas because I’ve never really had it. I wasn’t in touch with any of my extended family relatives as a child, so I had no grandparents, cousins, or aunts and uncles. Christmas was either a very forced, insular affair where we (my immediate family) very tensely tried to tolerate one another in the house all day. Otherwise, it was experienced as an addendum, shipped out or taken in by godparents/family friends/university pals/landladies (love you Di).
I think I’m into Christmas because I’ve never really had it. I wasn’t in touch with any of my extended family relatives as a child, so I had no grandparents, cousins, or aunts and uncles. Christmas was either a very forced, insular affair where we (my immediate family) very tensely tried to tolerate one another in the house all day. Otherwise, it was experienced as an addendum, shipped out or taken in by godparents/family friends/university pals/landladies (love you Di).

I don’t want to be too discursive about the exact ‘when and where’ of each painting. If I become really famous, I want to be like Andy Warhol, I want to wear a bad wig and only respond to interviews with only ‘yes’ or ‘no’. If I went deep into my process, what would stop the public from saving themselves a bit of money and googling ‘tense domestic situation good lighting vintage seventies glamour’?

Some of them have a story, some are self-contained. My Edward Hopper paintings are a little story; I feel those paintings talk to each other even though their source material is totally unrelated. The titles are the viewer’s springboard to look at my work in the right way. Not to be prescriptive, but a left-of-centre viewpoint is all that stands between my work and shabby chic. I like to think that if someone encounters my work with this title, this strange decontextualized image, now they need to solve the Rubik’s cube and shout ‘Jumanji’. If my strategy is successful, I think it means that my work is more accessible to people and functions more effectively as a piece of art, as opposed to being my art therapy that went too far.

Well, I love the Internet culture and partake of it as often as I can. Besides being a really wonderful stream of revenue, I think it provides a platform where I can communicate directly to people who like my work. I love making friends on the Internet. I was talking about my art being accessible – I think being available outside of the codified experience of a gallery gives artists and art lovers a greater scope to interact with one another. But I don't think galleries are unnecessary. Being able to mount an exhibition and display a coherent slab of thought is an important exercise. Both platforms complement each other well and artists have the opportunity to marry them very effectively.
Once again, going back to the slab of thought I carved, I think the downside of Instagram, Facebook, Twitter is that people (me) get too caught up in making work to please followers. It’s so tempting for one (me, I, the artist Fanie Buys) to just make things formulaically to get likes. It’s important for artists (me) to do this sort of thing (an exhibition) to develop their practice.

Edward Hopper means so much to me. His work has such a sense of narrative, or rather the promise of narrative. Everything is quiet, contained; something might happen, it may not. His paintings are always a clear sense of being in the present moment. I grew up in a small town called George. It’s picturesque and conservative. In one of my (many) retail jobs, I remember sitting in a store window, looking at the lawn of my old primary school, and my boss saying, ‘this time every day you can hear the grass growing’. There’s something about being so incredibly bored for so long that really makes you look at the world around you.
When I look for inspiration, I like to see observed moments. Something recognisable but… not. I love Laura Ashley and Biggie Best catalogues, the interiors of Matisse, Vuillard, Wyeth. Sargent did a painting called The Daughters of Edward Darley Boit, which I can look at for hours. These four young girls, almost all looking at you, and you know they know. I want to be those little girls so badly. The composition, the title, the light, each human figure has a totally different and realised character. Yes, it is a very good painting, I love it, very nice.

It’s about creating noise in the photographic sense. When one photostats a picture over and over again, it becomes distorted and, eventually, it is an abstract composition. I’m doing the same thing manually. My paintings are not as much artworks as they are fragments of a performance. Like a child faxing a picture from a magazine that they like to their nanny (which I did, it was an AIDS awareness poster; I couldn’t read, I just liked the ribbon). I’d like to move to a stage where my work is far less figurative.

Kinda impressive. Thanks. Well, I want my work to be more than just paintings on the wall. I want it to be an experience that fully embodies the wonder of a child and the jadedness of a twenty-something homosexual. The sculpture is supposed to be hilarious and gross and beautiful. I wanted the pieces to look like paintings. Whilst making them, I was thinking about Melancholia, a work by Penny Siopis. I really like the seductiveness and repulsiveness of oil paint as food, of things masquerading as food but looking appetising. A lot of people say the sculptures make them hungry, which is great!

This is my worst thing. Firstly, I have been as good as gold this year. I’ve eaten all my vegetables and have shared my toys. Now, onto the next matter of business. I hate presents. No matter how nice or heartfelt the gift, my first thought is, ‘what do I get this person so that they won’t hold this over me, what can I do to make them feel guilty’. I am too self-conscious, however, if you think I deserve a little present, I’m happy to DM you my wishlist.