Marina Abramovic’s work is laced with a fascination for faith – and St Teresa of Avila is one of her heroes

There are three places in human society, says Marina Abramovic, where the mind can be put to its best use. “These are the sanatorium, the prison and the monastery,” she says. “In each of these places life is regular and the body is a tool – it’s like a watch. It needs ­regularity so the mind can go free.”

Of the three, she says, it’s the monastery that’s most ideal. “Why? Because to be in a sanatorium, you have to be sick. If you’re in a prison, you’re there against your will. So only in a monastery have you made the choice to be there.”

There’s an air of monasticism around the in-person Abramovic: her signature outfit, a long, black robe, is almost nun-like. Add into the mix her rich voice and heavily accented English, and she’s a standout ­presence in any company. She and I are talking in a tiny, dark, chapel-like space tucked away in the heart of London’s Mayfair; gazing down on us is a Poor Clare nun who looks in the same tough cookie mould as Abramovic herself. The nun is Mother Jerónima de la Fuente and this likeness was painted by Diego Velázquez in 1620 just before she set out from her native Spain for the Philippines, at the age of 66, from where she never returned. The expression on her face suggests she’d stand for no nonsense whatsoever, and the way she’s brandishing her crucifix is distinctly weaponesque.