Gallery Description : Sculpture is always a challenge because, unlike my drawings which are organized and presented to offer one point of view, sculpture can be seen from all angles. One must retain a likeness and still convince the viewer from all points of the compass. This challenge fascinates and inspires me. In my 1969 Exhibition, Hung By Scarfe at the Grosvenor Gallery, I was no longer restrained by the edges of the paper and my contorted cramped fingers began to grow, bulge and spill from their paper boxes and unfurl the crooked limbs and spew and sprawl across the gallery floor. I felt released, and the critic David Sylvester said to me at the time, "Now - let yourself go!" It was a great release for me. I seemed to be at the beginning of something new again.

Time Magazine, sent me on the campaign trail with Richard Nixon, the eventual victor in the 1968 American election. Apart from many illustrations, I made sculptures of Nixon and also Galbraith in my rooms at the Algonquin Hotel in New York. The maids were in despair at the crazy Englishman who spent all day and night in his room tearing up copies of the New York Times into tiny pieces, and sticking them, soggy and smelly, onto grotesque figures. I obviously wasn?t one of the Algonquin's intellectuals. They tried as best they could to clean the room while I was out buying a sandwich. Eventually, the management asked me if I would mind moving, as I was in Ella Fitzgerald's suite and she was coming back to town.

For an exhibition of my work in Osaka, Japan, I built a thirty-foot high sculpture of Gulliver in my garden. I made him entirely of welded scrap metal. The whole house and garden was full of scrap metal and oxyacetylene welding equipment. It was a disgrace. The funny thing was that my neighbour, who had complained about the previous owner of the house playing the piano, didn't say a word.