The NS Interview: Tracy Emin

"I don’t need a life model, I am my life model”

What are you trying to convey on the NS cover?
That art and culture are dead - it's the state that Britain is in financially after 30 years of ill-considered government. The tragedy is that it's the arts that have kept Britain afloat during this fucking drought. And it's the arts that are the first things to get slashed.

Do you blame Labour?
I think Labour was appallingly shit towards the arts. People like Andy Burnham, they're philistines. This sounds snobby, but in the Tory party - Jeremy Hunt and Ed Vaizey - they know about art. I'm having lunch with them; they're in touch with artists.

How did you vote in the last election?
I voted for the Conservatives. I live in a democracy; it's up to me who I vote for. We've got the best government we've ever had.

Have you always been a Tory?
It's not about party politics; it's about the individuals. I think Margaret Thatcher should be tried for crimes against humanity.

So how do you engage in politics?
The best thing to do is to vote for the best thing for yourself and then make the country a better place, not vote for old-fashioned, out-of-date ideals that don't work in Britain any more.

What is the purpose of art?
Art is the soul of all countries. If you rip that away, they become nebulous, moronic societies.

How did you know what kind of artist you wanted to be?
I didn't want to be a debutante having a day out. I wanted my art to make a difference, to show people, especially women, that you can be an
artist. You don't have to be a man with a beard.

Was it difficult to become established?
I left school at 13, so to get into university was a bloody triumph. It's always been a struggle.

Why is your own life your principal subject?
I don't need a life model - I am my life model. I've drawn what I know.

Has your celebrity overshadowed your work?
It's a big thing, as a female artist, to be recognised in the street. It isn't normal. But I make a living out of my art. It's my vocation. I'm not
a celebrity.

Is there a side of your art that you feel has been ignored?
I've made work about God and love, but it's sex, sport and scandal that sell. If I'm going to put my dirty knickers on my bed, what do I expect? But just because I'm provocative doesn't mean that people have to go around raping me.

Is that what it feels like?
Yes. When you read the newspaper and it says, "She's nothing but a media whore," you think: "No, I'm not. And they're putting me on the front cover, so they're the pimps."

Is integrity lacking in contemporary art?
Matisse lived in the south of France and he hung out with the Vichy party. For me, Matisse misses a few notes for that. Being an artist, you have a responsibility for your art, but you also have a responsibility for being a correct person.

How do you maintain integrity in your work?
You're presuming that I have integrity. A lot of people wouldn't.

Do you feel critics have been unfair to you?
People aren't cruel about my work; they're cruel to me. But I'm bigger than them. I'm tougher than that.

Is your legacy important to you?
I don't have children and I'll never have children. I don't have a partner. I'm weird. It's about self-preservation and understanding that there's only one person who's going to look after you, and that's yourself.

How do you want to be remembered?
I'd just like the work to be looked after. The Tate has a big room of my work, so a little bit of me stays within history. Also, I have a trust - my studio will become a museum.

What does it feel like to be a subject of study?
I was going to apply to Kent University to do a PhD on myself - I know I'm misunderstood, so it would be good to put it down in writing.

Is there anything you'd like to forget?
Sometimes I'd like to forget who I am.

Is there a plan?
There's always a five-year plan. Even when I thought there was no future, I had one.

So what's your five-year plan now?
I'll be 52 [in five years]. I hope my life will be a lot quieter. What I'd love is someone to look after me. But I don't think that's going to happen.

Are we all doomed?
No, we're not. We have to fight, we have to have faith and we have to look after each other. It's not preaching - it's common sense.

Defining Moments

1963 Born in London
1989 Completes MA at Royal College of Art
1994 Holds her first solo show, "My Major Retrospective", at White Cube gallery
1999 Shortlisted for Turner Prize
2005 Publishes her memoir, Strangeland
2007 Becomes a Royal Academician and represents Britain at the 52nd Venice Biennale
2008 Major retrospective at the Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art

Sophie Elmhirst is features editor of the New Statesman

This article first appeared in the 11 October 2010 issue of the New Statesman, Melvyn Bragg guest edit

Ralph Steadman for the New Statesman.
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Tim Farron: Theresa May is "the prisoner of the Ukip wing of her party"

The Liberal Democrat leader on his faith, Blairism and his plan to replace Labour as the opposition. 

This is Tim Farron’s seventh general election. His first was in 1992, when his Tory opponent was a 36-year-old called Ther­esa May. He was just 21 and they were both unsuccessful candidates in the Labour fortress of North-West Durham. He recalls talking “to a bunch of ex-miners who weren’t best pleased to see either of us, some kid Liberal and some Tory”. Now he sees his former and current opponent as “the prisoner of the Ukip wing of her party . . . I think it has rendered Ukip almost pointless – she is Ukip now.”

May was elected to parliament in 1997, but it took Farron until 2005 to join her. She leads the dominant Conservatives while he heads a party of only nine Liberal Democrat MPs. Still, their reversal of fortunes gives him hope. “After the 1992 election, every­one said there’s no way for a non-Tory government, and it turned out there was. So let’s not assume it’s a given there’s a Tory government [for ever].”

In April, I accompanied Farron to Manchester Gorton, in the lead-up to a by-election that was cancelled by May’s decision to call a snap election on 8 June. Still, the 46-year-old’s party has been in campaign mode for months; Lib Dems spoke of using last December’s Richmond Park by-election to test their messaging. It clearly had an effect: the incumbent Conservative, Zac Goldsmith, lost to their candidate, Sarah Olney.

Brexit, to which the Liberal Democrats are vehemently opposed, will be a dominant theme of the election. Their party membership has just exceeded 100,000, close to an all-time high, and they have enjoyed much success in council by-elections, with more to come in the local elections of 4 May.

However, any feel-good factor swiftly evaporated when Farron appeared on Channel 4 News on 18 April. He was asked by the co-presenter Cathy Newman whether or not he believes that homosexuality is a sin, a question that he answered obliquely in 2015 by saying that Christianity started with acknowledging that “we’re all sinners”.

This time, he told Newman, he was “not in the position to make theological announcements over the next six weeks . . . as a Liberal, I’m passionate about equality”.

The Channel 4 interview divided opinion. One Liberal politician told me that Farron’s stance was “completely intolerable”. Stephen Pollard, the influential editor of the Jewish Chronicle, described it as
“a very liberal position: he holds certain personal views but does not wish to legislate around them”. Jennie Rigg, the acting chair of LGBT+ Liberal Democrats, said it was “as plain as the nose on my face that Tim Farron is no homophobe”.

Farron declined the chance to clarify his views with us in a follow-up phone call, but told the BBC on 25 April: “I don’t believe that gay sex is a sin,” adding, “On reflection, it makes sense to actually answer this direct question since it’s become an issue.”

For his critics, Farron’s faith and politics are intertwined. He sees it differently, as he told Christian Today in 2015: “. . . the danger is sometimes that as a Christian in politics you think your job is to impose your morality on other people. It absolutely isn’t.”

Tim Farron joined the then Liberal Party at the age of 16 but didn’t become a Christian until he was 18. Between completing his A-levels in Lancashire and going to Newcastle University to read politics, he read the apologetics, a body of Christian writing that provides reasoned arguments for the gospel story. “I came to the conclusion that it was true,” he told me. “It wasn’t just a feel-good story.”

In speeches, Farron now takes on the mannerisms of a preacher, but he had a largely non-religious upbringing in Preston, Lancashire. “I don’t think I’d been to church once other than Christmas or the odd wedding,” he says. “I went once with my dad when I was 11, for all the good that did me.”

When we meet, it is Theresa May’s religion that is in the spotlight. She has condemned the National Trust for scrubbing the word “Easter” from its Easter egg hunt, a row it later emerged had been largely invented by the right-wing press in response to a press release from a religious-themed chocolate company.

“It’s worth observing there’s no mention of chocolate or bunny rabbits in the Bible,” Farron reminds me. “When people get cross about, in inverted commas, ‘us losing our Christian heritage’ they mean things which are safe and comfortable and nostalgic.” He pauses. “But the Christian message at Easter is shocking, actually, and very radical.”

British politics is tolerant of atheists (such as Ed Miliband and Nick Clegg) alongside those who, like David Cameron, are culturally Christian but whose faith is “a bit like the reception for Magic FM in the Chilterns: it sort of comes and goes”. But the reaction to Farron’s equivocation on homosexuality prompted many to wonder if a politician who talks openly about his faith is now seen as alarming. Nebulous wishes of peace and love at Christmas, yes; sincere discussions of the literal truth of the Resurrection? Hmm.

Tim Farron’s beliefs matter because he has a mission: to replace not only Jeremy Corbyn as leader of the opposition but Theresa May in Downing Street. Over lassis at the MyLahore curry house in Manchester, he tells me that Britain is facing two calamities. “One is Brexit, indeed hard Brexit . . . and the other is a Tory government for 25 years. We have to present a genuine, progressive alternative that can not only replace Labour as an opposition, it can replace the Tories as a government.” This is ambitious talk for a party with nine MPs. “I understand the ridicule that will be thrown at me for saying those things: but if you don’t want to run the country, why are you in politics?” He pauses. “That’s a question I would ask most people leading the Labour Party at present.”

What does he think of May, his one-time opponent in North-West Durham? “She strikes me as being very professional, very straightforward, somebody who is very conservative in every sense of the word, in her thought processes, her politics, in her style.” He recalls her 2002 conference speech in which she warned Tory activists: “Our base is too narrow and so, occasionally, are our sympathies. You know what some people call us: the nasty party.”

“In many ways, she was the trailblazer for Cameron in being a softer-focused Tory,” he says. “It now looks like she’s been trapped by the very people she was berating as the nasty party all those years ago. I like to think that isn’t really her. But that means she isn’t really in control of the Conservative Party.”

Voters, however, seem to disagree. In recent polls, support for the Conservatives has hovered between 40 and 50 per cent. Isn’t a progressive alliance the only way to stop her: Labour, the Liberal Democrats, the Greens, the SNP and Plaid Cymru all working together to beat the Tories?

“Let’s be really blunt,” he says. “Had Jeremy Corbyn stood down for us in Richmond Park [where Labour stood Christian Wolmar], we would not have won. I could have written Zac Goldsmith’s leaflets for you: Corbyn-backed Liberal Democrats.

“I’m a pluralist,” he adds. “But any progressive alliance has got to be at least equal to the sum of its parts. At the moment, it would be less than the sum of its parts. The only way the Tories are losing their majority is us gaining seats in Hazel Grove –” he ticks them off with his fingers, “– in Cheadle, in the West Country and west London. There’s no chance of us gaining those seats if we have a kind of arrangement with the current Labour Party in its current form.”

What about the SNP? “Most sensible people would look at that SNP manifesto and agree with 99 per cent of it,” Farron says. “But it’s that one thing: they want to wreck the country! How can you do a deal with people who want to wreck the country?”

There’s no other alternative, he says. Someone needs to step up and offer “something that can appeal to progressive younger voters, pro-Europeans and, you know, moderate-thinking Middle England”. He wants to champion a market economy, strong public services, action on climate change, internationalism and free trade.

That sounds like Blairism. “I’m a liberal, and I don’t think Blair was a liberal,” he replies. “But I admire Blair because he was somebody who was able to win elections . . . Iraq aside, my criticisms of Blair are what he didn’t do, rather than what he did do.”

Turning around the Tory tide – let alone with just nine MPs, and from third place – is one hell of a job. But Farron takes heart from the Liberal Party in Canada, where Justin Trudeau did just that. “I’m not Trudeau,” he concedes, “He was better-looking, and his dad was prime minister.”

There is a reason for his optimism. “I use the analogy of being in a maze,” he says, “You can’t see a way out of it, for a progressive party to form a majority against the Tories. But in every maze, there is a way out. We just haven’t found it yet.” 

Stephen Bush is special correspondent at the New Statesman. His daily briefing, Morning Call, provides a quick and essential guide to British politics.

This article first appeared in the 27 April 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Cool Britannia 20 Years On

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