I decided to leave England. I got a really cheap ticket that had 10 stops along the way. I eventually ended up in Australia, where I became a keen surfer and rock climber. I stayed for a few years.

When my visa ran out, I came to Hong Kong. I knew a couple of people here and crashed on their sofa.

I worked in a bar, then got a job as a laborer, working on the Tsing Ma Bridge.

It was fun. If the weather was bad, you didn’t have to work. I went home and painted.

The government banned high-access work, so I was suddenly made redundant.

I was DJing on weekends and running my own parties, so I had a backup income.

Then the government banned raves. I lost my day job and my weekend job.

I went to a lot of galleries, and they all said no. I cut out the gallery system and did it by myself.

I didn’t sell anything for a while, but eventually I started getting commissions to do portraits. A lot of those people were rich and well connected, and they really championed and promoted me.

Suddenly I had a waiting list. It snowballed from there.

I sold my first painting here in 2003 for about $500. Couldn’t believe it. I thought, “I’ve made it!” Now the paintings are worth anywhere from $200,000 to $1 million for the big ones.

I am working on my first solo show in London, and someone else has helped me produce an enormous installation in New York. Both those projects happened because there is not much happening for me here.

In New York and London, people are like, “Who the fuck are you?” You think: “Wow, I need to get back to Hong Kong, where I’m noticed.”

It’s really humbling, which is good.

The truth is, if I do really well overseas, my profile will be a lot bigger.

The bigger my profile is, the more power I have to actually have a positive influence on the community at large.

Hong Kong is a difficult place to be a local artist. I think every artist feels it.

I’m doing OK. But it’s no fun being at a party when you’re the only one dancing.

Wherever it is in the world, I don’t give a shit. Whoever gives me a space, I’ll make art in it.

I am not leaving Hong Kong at all. I’ve put a lot of time, energy and effort into this place.

Hong Kong made me as an artist. If it wasn’t for the struggle with adversity, I probably wouldn’t be making such big, bold paintings.

It’s so infectious and dynamic here. You’re in this neon landscape—this living, breathing, grinding, driving, twisting, turning, amazing environment.

Hong Kong needs love, nature and culture—all these socially enriching things that seem to be missing because we focus so much on material things.

We have everything we need to solve all the problems in this city: all this money and power. We could clean the air, make a better quality of life here, and celebrate creative people—not just the wealthy.

After being diagnosed with cancer, I was scared of dying for about 24 hours. The next morning, I thought, “I’m gonna own it.”

I spent a year thoroughly depressed, thinking it was gonna come back and get me.

The insecurity of cancer is going to stay with you forever. But we’ve all got issues, right?

I’ve flirted with money and fame. I was taking any commission that came my way. But it didn’t make me happy.

The most important lesson I’ve learned is to keep my mouth shut. And realizing materials and ego were the wrong thing to pursue. What I really should have been chasing all along was love.

 

HK Magazine talked to Simon Birch at last month’s TEDxWanChai.