America always seemed to me this foreign land that I imagined I could escape to if I needed to get away - and I think that came both from the fact that I was born there and from watching so many American movies when I was a kid.
My parents signed me up for classical guitar lessons, which made for two years of the most depressing Wednesday evenings.
In film, there's this kind of constant fear that you're going to be doing too much. That may be an unfounded fear because I love sizable performances on film, especially when they're by performers who push the boundaries of what people deem the right kind of size.
I'm pretty good at saying no to things, at discerning between what I'm supposed to do and what I'm not supposed to do.
I have no interest in being known as a celebrity; 'celebrity' is a pretty disgusting word. It's part of the brainwashing of the culture, part of the false idolatry of those that are only human, and I don't want to participate in that.
I worked in a Starbucks that wasn't very popular - before the big coffee boom in London. My boss didn't take kindly to my incessant sitting. I was like, 'Look, I've dusted everything, the stockroom is all figured out... I would rather sit now so I have the energy when a customer does come in.'
I'd much rather be in the world than in some ivory tower somewhere.
I read Naomi Klein's 'No Logo' when I was 15. It's one of the things that's shaped my relationship to fame - to endorsements, to selling things.
I sincerely want to help create beauty in the world and move a culture of separateness back towards community. I really, really do, and I think art is a powerful way of doing that.
I'm always having a crisis of faith, with everything. People who are certain are terrifying to me. That's how religious wars get started.
In secondary school I was floating - I wasn't passionate about anything. I did a little sport, but it was pretty joyless because the competitiveness was too much to bear.
I have very strong feelings about what modern fame means, and the toxicity of it.
