"As soon as I put the costume on, the very first time, the character was there. I didn't need to think about it. I just put my hat on, painted clay on my face, looked in the mirror and all of a sudden saw this person.

My first job [as Albert Stone] was with the National Gallery in Melbourne. They'd asked me to find a famous painting and make a human statue to be placed inside a frame. I chose a painting by Magritte. Stone background. Two stone people. One's facing away and the other one's facing the front. I just loved the greyness.

Making the costume was the hardest part. It took me five months and a lot of trial and error to get the right effect. It's a coat treated with rubber, paint and foam - gets heavier by the year with all the glue.

September 13, 1995 - Albert's birthday - the gallery's opening. It was a fancy dinner for 300 people. I just stood still for an hour and then came to life for about 45 minutes.

The character didn't have a name then. A friend said I felt like an Albert. A few weeks rolled by and I said, 'Albert who?' Albert Stone. Of course.

My favourite place to perform is Southbank. Sometimes pigeons land on me. Occasionally one will do his business which people find funny. Kids get a shock when they try to climb me and realise I'm not actually made of stone.

Albert falls in love with people in the crowd, steals kisses, gives away roses. He has a stone bubble pipe to make kids smile. A stone bone for dogs. Chupa Chups, a stone dummy, a stone camera that squirts but never hits anyone.

Albert creates this blanket of stillness. He helps people slow down. Being still, there's moments that come into your space all the time. When you're rushing around in life, you miss them. Albert is just there. And people connect with that.

All my attention is focused on what's happening. A leaf floating down, the breeze against my face.

The tiniest things. If I see -someone walk by, then I'm almost like that person walking by. It's as if I don't exist.

My background is a mix of mime and dance and clowning - I studied and worked in New Zealand - but Albert isn't really any of these. He is me, but he's not me. Does that make sense?

As Albert, if my mind wanders, so does my crowd. If I'm not concentrating, the crowd will leave. If Anthony's mind kicks in, if I disengage from the experience, then others do, too. Albert's been proposed to, filmed by travel shows, photographed by millions.

People come up to the box and rave on about their lives or drugs or Amway or God. They give him advice, presents. A choir of 60 people has sung to Albert. He's been told jokes, been surrounded by Hare Krishnas. He's danced with a 90-year-old woman. Albert once gave a flower to a woman from my local cafe. She didn't even recognise me. It's a bit like Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.

One time this guy was wielding a knife. Albert just observed what was happening and the guy went away. The audience was a bit worried but Albert stayed carm. If I was Anthony, I would've made a big deal about it.

There's an intellectually handicapped boy and his dad who come to see Albert every few weeks. The boy's about five or six, and he's always worried when Albert steps off the box. It's part of my act. Albert wants to explore his space, but the boy is desperate to put Albert back on. Once he put Albert back the wrong way round, and then it clicked. He came back and turned me around.

When I'm travelling overseas, Albert observes the different customs. I generally don't steal kisses from Asian people, unless they're Westernised. Muslim women are so flirtatious beneath their veils.

As Albert, you get to witness some amazing things. Albert brings out kindness in people, I think because he's so helpless. People have to help him up and down from his box. There's always someone who keeps an eye on Albert, make sure he's alright.

If it's over 30 degrees, Albert goes on holidays. Winter is best. I don't mind light rain - grey on grey. If the rain gets heavy, I never pack up quickly. It's important to finish what you're doing. After being a dancer, training eight hours a day, being Albert is relaxing. My brain can shut off. After three hours, washing off the clay, I find it hard to speak. Words seem so limiting.

I work at Christmas parties, conferences, flower shows. The reaction is universal - it doesn't matter who you are, people are willing to connect. We've all got a kid inside and maybe Albert's job is to discover that kid."

Anthony Verity spoke to David Astle from the Weekend Australian