As you might expect from the world's most famous, most expensive, living artist, Jeff Koons knows a thing or two about being interviewed. No, he says, not in the quiet back room of the Pedder Building's Gagosian Gallery: he wants to sit amid the exhibition, his first major one in Asia. Two chairs are carried in and suitably placed for the conversation.

But first, a photo session. He stands in front of one of his seven Hulk Elvises, ready for his close-up. If you met Koons in his suit and tie on the street, you'd guess he was either a banker or a Mormon; he has the clean-cut, dental insistence of practised salesmen. Today, however, he's a little weary. He'll be 60 in January and although he's in great shape (all of it on display in Vanity Fair's July issue, for which Annie Leibovitz photographed him nude), he flew in from New York the previous day and he's concerned about what needs tweaking. The pale eyes dart around the room, the brow furrows; he's a perfectionist, assessing everything.