About ten years ago I gave a lecture under the title ‘Art and the Economy’ at a symposium on cultural policy held in Canberra. In introducing the topic for a generalist audience, I speculated on what the twin subjects of the lecture might look like if they took on human form. Being an economist myself, I was licensed to poke some gentle fun at my own profession, so I suggested that the economy as a real person would certainly be male, somewhat overweight, prone to hypochondria, garrulous and inclined to neglect his personal freshness – in short not the sort of individual you would relish sitting next to on a long aeroplane flight. In the same vein, I went on, art would just as certainly be female, smart, unpredictable and somewhat intriguing. The metaphor seemed to strike a chord with the listeners; perhaps it is that everyone enjoys a joke at economists' expense, or perhaps it is more that the idea of art as mystery, a riddle whose secrets are not easily unlocked, has a wider appeal than we might think. I proceeded in the lecture to ponder the following question: suppose these two individuals ran into each other at a party, would they have the slightest interest in each other and, if they did, would they perhaps get together? If so, I asked, what sort of relationship might develop between them?