HOW WE MET GRAYSON PERRY & RICHARD SLEE: `Few friends will tell you

Winner of last year's Turner Prize, the ceramicist Grayson Perry (left), 44, was born in Chelmsford and trained at evening classes. His work is now widely exhibited by, among others, Charles Saatchi. He has a female alter ego, Claire, and lives in London and Eastbourne with his wife and daughter.

Born in Carlisle, Richard Slee, 57, won the Jerwood Applied Arts Prize for Ceramics in 2001. He trained at Central School of Art & Design and is now professor at the London Institute. He lives in London and Brighton with his partner and has one daughter.

GRAYSON PERRY

Richard asked me to give a talk at Camberwell Art College in 1994 and we got on. I was quite surprised when I met him. I thought he'd be younger because his work is young. It's caustic, sleek and mischievous and Richard's not like that to look at. But when you hear him talk you can see where the work is coming from. He's polite and nice, but he's dark underneath. When he gets into a studio, his teeth come into play. His work is a slow burn. It seems simple and innocuous at first but the repercussions of the ideas in it can be quite dark. He's the only contemporary ceramicist I would openly support.

Then, in 1996, I was asked to open an exhibition in Carlisle we were both in. I went up there and took Claire along. I was nervous because I'd never had Claire do public speaking before. She'd gone to openings and things, but I'd never put her in the spotlight. It was an experiment. I was in my period of transition, when Claire went from being slightly furtive to being comfortable and open. I always want to challenge myself and so I follow the line of potential embarrassment.

So I got all dressed up at this B&B. I think I was just wearing a trouser suit and looking like somebody's mum. I got to the gallery and outside I met Richard with his mum and dad and they were very sweet. He hadn't met me as Claire before but I don't think he gets fazed. His mum and dad were perfectly lovely twinkly Radio 4 parents. And the evening went well.

We met at lots of art dos. Then he asked me to write an essay about his work for a show. I like writing and I found writing about Richard's work exciting - putting my need to entertain into a different box, one of support and friendship. Writing about a friend adds an element to the discipline: how to get something that's meaty but that maintains good will? So much of criticism, especially in the arts, has an edge of careless cynicism about it which, if the authors were writing about their friends, they would have to lay to one side or lose their friendship. I don't think that cynicism is necessary. I often say to people, "Make happy art", it's much harder.

One of Richard's best qualities is that he arrives on time. Wider character comes out in quite small ways and being punctual is an important thing. And he's funny. He gets my jokes. I don't have to translate. Plus, he gives me employment opportunities by way of a bit of teaching. Most of all, I always feel comfortable with him. I don't have to adapt myself. Not that I do with others. I think being sane is being the same person with everyone. I never feel Richard has any spooky corners that I have to tiptoe around.

RICHARD SLEE

I met Grayson before I met Grayson the person because I'd seen his work. We were both in a 1993 show called the Raw and the Cooked. Physically, we met on 10 November 1994 at 12.30pm at Camberwell. I know because it's in my diary. I was then head of ceramics and I'd invited him to give a talk to my students. We got on well. He was articulate and open, honest to the point of lacking diplomacy. I thought it a good quality. And still do. He's interested in people and was on that day with the students. He lays his soul bare.

Then, in 1996, we were both showing in an exhibition about print on ceramics called Hot Off the Press. The curator asked me to formally open it. I refused because it was in my hometown of Carlisle and I would have folded up and stuttered. I'm the opposite of Grayson. I don't have that public confidence. So, at my suggestion, he agreed to open it and met my parents and my sister. They were very taken with him.

It was, I believe, the first time that Claire, his alter ego, had spoken in public. This was a northern town on a Friday night and it must have taken an enormous amount of courage. There was this sudden realisation among the audience that this was a man in women's clothes talking to them. My mother asked afterwards, "Where does he buy his clothes?" My father said, "What beautiful hair." And then my mother said, "I suppose there are a lot of people like that in London."

We later attended Claire's coming-out party, but whether he's dressed as Claire or himself, Grayson's the same person to me. There's no difference. It just happens he's wearing a dress.

Since that evening in Carlisle we have been, I hope, mutually supportive. He wrote a catalogue essay for a show I had. I was pleased because it was perceptive, but I was taken aback by Grayson writing that he's surprised how old and craggy I look. It is seared on my memory, but it's honest. It's not bullshit. Anyway, it's what he says about the work that is important.