‘You can vent your anger in your work’

Your exhibition at the 2013 Venice Biennale, “EnglishMagic” was described by some as “anti-establishment” and “aggressive”, with attacks on the Royal Family and former Prime Minister Tony Blair. Do you agree with these descriptions?
I did something culturally, based on what I felt about my country that time. I showed what I liked and didn’t like. It’s “English Magic”, not British magic. I had a hen harrier clutching on to a Range Rover. It was based on an incident in 2007 when Prince Harry and a friend were reported to have been shooting, but the case was dropped. If it had been one of us, we’d be imprisoned. So it was about privilege and power. There was another mural of St Helier, the capital of Jersey, on fire. It was an imagined scene from the near future, in which protesters against the tax-haven Channel Island’s secretive banking culture, raze the town to the ground. These are all events that would never actually happen, but I imagined them. That’s the advantage with art, you can vent out your anger and frustration in your work.

Last year, you also shot four films for “Lights Out” that commemorated the WW I centenary. How was it to be part of that history?
I made four films about death: one was an eclipse, another had a doctor talking about what happens when the body dies, physically, one had animals under the sea, in mid light, and the last had men speaking about the war. I got all the movies deleted from the internet, because the project was about death.

In one of your interviews, you refer to your work as “social surrealism”. Can you talk about this constant social engagement and also on dedicating your Turner prize to cyclists?
I am interested in news, documentary films. Right now I want to make a work on rock music. The Turner prize was dedicated to cyclists because I am one, I cycle for practical reasons. I respect cyclists, it’s so difficult to ride on the road, it’s not safe.

For The Battle of Orgreave, you got thousands of veteran miners and members of historical societies to re-enact the 1984 clash between miners and police. How important was it to get actual miners?
In Britain, we are mad about history. If you turn on the television, you’ll think the second world war is still on. I knew there were people who, every weekend, dress up in costumes and re-enact battles in an accurate way. They are obsessed about the uniform, badges, but they are not really interested in history. I wanted to re-enact a battle that was within living memory. Some of the miners were still alive and participated in this. It was a political re-enactment, like a post-mortem. There was a chance of failure, tension of absurdity and need to transcend that. Getting the miners back gave it integrity.

In 1993, when your parents were on holiday, at the age of 27, you secretly used the family home for an exhibition titled “Open Bedroom”. Do you remember what you exhibited?
I had paintings, graffiti from men’s toilets, very learned and academic, but slightly pornographic.