This may be true. But by persistently painting and reshaping himself in the same manner as the beautiful and stealthily subversive ceramics on which he first made his reputation, Mr. Perry, a 56-year-old married father of one, has also proved himself an astute chronicler of contemporary society.
Photo Personal items of Grayson Perry perched on a heater in his London studio. Credit Lauren Fleishman for The New York Times
"I've explored the idea of default identity for a long time, and specifically how the straight, white, middle-class Default Man has taken control of society," said Mr. Perry by way of explaining the TV series, adding that the bankers had by far the most negative reaction to the work they inspired. "Men in power have always gone out of their way to obfuscate around identity, so it can't be used as a subjective standpoint. It was important that someone scrutinized that."
He believes that no particular tribe has a monopoly on self-awareness, and that an emotional numbness continues to define the modern male psyche, as many young men are undone by an inability to see themselves as "ongoing, constantly evolving projects." To this end, he thinks that the growing acceptance of explorations of gender on catwalks, design studios and sidewalks alike is a good thing, though not so fast-fashion (or high street as it's known in Britan).
"The top end of fashion is like art, but the high street is just horrendous: a huge, huge industry of churn based on making the average person feel unhappy about what they've got in their wardrobe," he said, leaning forward suddenly and placing his palms on the coffee table in front of him.
"It is so regimented, so bland. At any one point in time, 50 percent of the world is wearing denim, like you are now," he added, staring pointedly.
"With men's wear, it is even worse," he said. "It's in the nature of the modern male psyche that men are both the prison guards and the prisoners themselves, all eying each other up to make sure they behave, speak and dress exactly like other men."
Himself excepted, of course. Mr. Perry's flamboyant, headline-grabbing alter ego Claire seems fashioned from a Crayola-box-hued more-is-more aesthetic that has referenced everything from pantomime housewives to fetish queens and even Little Bo Peep over the years.
Mr. Perry is a star within Britain whose initial industry ascent came alongside such names as Damien Hirst, Tracy Emin and the Young British Artists phenomenon of the 1990s. His works regularly sell for millions on the global contemporary art market today. Shows at major public institutions including the National Portrait Gallery and British Museum have further broadened his popularity.
But it was only after he began making television pr ograms in 2005 exploring taste and class, two years after winning the prestigious Turner Prize in 2003 for his pottery, that his name really made it into the mainstream.
"I think Grayson Perry completely changed the art world in England," said Stephen Jones, the milliner with whom, alongside the singer Boy George, Mr. Perry lived a hand-to-mouth existence after he graduated from Portsmouth Polytechnic with a degree in fine arts in 1982.
"Many people understand him as being somebody who dresses up in women's clothes," Mr. Jones said. "But Grayson is also the person who introduced the world of ceramics, the world of tapestry — all these artistic expressions, which were once deemed highly unfashionable. And that is maybe one of the most exciting things about him."
Born into a working-class family in Essex, an unaccepting environment for an experimental teenager with cross-dressing tendencies, Mr. Perry was thrown out of his childhood home. An outsider to the art world by virtue of his class, and an outsider to conventional society by nature of his transvestism, he has taken it upon himself to educate, and occasionally provoke, the masses.
"Gra yson has an astounding ability to speak for the maker, the student and the audience of art," said Nigel Carrington, vice chancellor of University of the Arts London, after Mr. Perry was appointed its chancellor last August.
Mr. Perry has long taught a fashion course at Central Saint Martins. Second-year students design dresses for him, and each year he buys up to 14 outfits before wearing them to high-profile events. The project is now in its 12th year.
"We talk about Britain as having lost its manufacturing base, but we do manufacture an awful lot of students," Mr. Perry said. "It is a huge industry for this country. I don't want to be an old fuddy-duddy. I want to learn about students' influences, their cultural world, how they operate as artists. I don't actually think this generation of students is thinking as much about commercial success as previous ones. They have this Tumblr-like attitude to culture today and in how they portray it. They all appear committed to not committing."
Yet for all of his attempts to broaden minds and conceptual conversations about art in the spotlight, Grayson Perry is not a brand that has traveled far beyond British borders. There was a retrospective of his work this year at the Museum of Contemporary Art, Sydney, with smaller-scale exhibitions in places like Istanbul and Maastricht, the Netherlands. But he has never had a major show in the United States, where he is a relative unknown. "It's something I'm working on," he said.
One criticism regularly hurled at him by a barbed art media is that his is a fusty, hollow and parochial aesthetic that simply can't translate universally, and is largely propped up by his public eloquence, wit and theatrics.
"I am a public figure and this is England, so the knives are inevitably out," he said. "Anyone here who ever puts their head over the parapet risks getting shot at, and it can be a bit scary. But I feel like I am on track."
He stood up, r eady to have his picture taken. There was finally a whisper of vulnerability behind the polished veneer. "This is for America right?" he said. "I have my bitchy resting face ready. Where do you want me for my close-up?"
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