Weeks go by, and I don't paint until finally I can't stand it any longer. I get fed up. I almost don't want to talk about it, because I don't want to become self-conscious about it, but perhaps I create these little crises as a kind of a secret strategy to push myself.

A father draws boundaries and calls a halt, whenever necessary. As I didn't have that, I was able to stay childishly naive that much longer - so I did what I liked, because there was nobody stopping me, even when I got it wrong.

Without form, communication stops... without form, you have everybody burbling on to themselves, whenever and however, things that no one else can understand and - rightly - no one else is interested in.

I don't think I can do this - painting under observation. It's the worst thing there is, worse than being in the hospital.

As a little girl, I was athletic: 'Oh, mom, look at me. I can do cartwheels.' I was one of those annoying kids. I craved the spotlight. I had the feeling since I was little that the stage was my home.

People think of me as a privileged young girl born to wear a chiffon party dress. I was born into a big acting family, and although I absolutely adore them, it's taken me time to work out how or where I feel comfortable.

None of my family are musicians, but there was a lot of classic rock and country going on. I always wanted to sing. As soon as I expressed an interest my mom was super supportive of me.

If we were to inspect ourselves or members of our family and our friends, we would see that we don't really have to go all the way overseas to be mystified - we can be mystified right at home.