Sometimes the Saturday morning pfaffing takes far too long and extends beyond the reach of From Our Own Correspondent, even into notional Moneybox territory, not that anyone other than sickeningly-moneyed boomers ever listens to that. On Friday I took advantage of the late opening at Tate Modern to see the Saloua Raouda Choucair show, and the last few rooms of the Paul Klee, which I had to rush through at the recent Members’ evening, not having allowed enough time. Walking back to St. Paul’s to head back to my affluent inner suburb, I saw lots of fencing and banks of seating, which I realised must have been for the Lord Mayor’s Show on Saturday. Hmmph – they got in the way.
Today Ian told me that I could enter St. Paul’s without charge as a result of the ‘show’, which fitted in quite well with my wish to see the RIBA Forgotten Spaces show at Somerset House. However, I dallied so long that I was worried I wouldn’t get in. When I arrived, I saw lots of people streaming away from the cathedral and a few groups heading towards the entrance then disconsolately away. Thinking that somehow this prohibition didn’t apply to me, I walked up to the entrance, only to have this confirmed by a guard. Tsk.
At least it wasn’t far to walk to Somerset House, and I even remembered the way from an excursion to Yorkshire Bank late last year. The ice rink is now in force and I didn’t think that many people would be interested in the RIBA display. In fact, there were quite a few. It begins in a narrow passageway, with four Lightwells showing entries to the competition. Further on a seat with umbrella had been provided. The main set of entries was in the Deadhouse. Each one has two large cards, one explaining the overall plan on top, then one below with specific details for what the project would provide. Some of them have sculptures in adjoining alcoves, including bicycles, trees and a model of the Post Office Tower. For some reason the Silvertown Flyover attracted several entries – just too attractive a spot to urban improvers? One parent I heard told his son it was
to which he replied
Intellectual stimulation? My legs hurt and I want to go home
A much younger child announced with some pride that he could turn one of the screws on the mini-scaffold.
I had planned to go next to a free part of the Rest Is Noise weekend at the South Bank, so I headed there, slightly puzzled that there were lots of people heading into Somerset House from the Embankment. There were even more outside and my progress up the steps to Waterloo Bridge was very slow. The bridge itself was closed to traffic and full of people, reminding me of nothing so much as walking away from a football match. Then I remembered that there was to have been a fireworks display along the Thames at 5pm, perhaps explaining some of the strange noises I’d heard while in the Deadhouse. I found the sign for the Rest Is Noise events, down in the (…) Spirit Level. I found where I thought the performance should be, but the door was closed and it looked like a video was being projected, which didn’t seem right. However, that was the correct space and I did enter later, halfway through.
Conlon Nancarrow was one of many musicians I heard about only because of the sadly extinct Mixing It on Radio 3 in the early nineties, filling up many SA90s. Because of this, even the music is rather austere and unapproachable, I don’t miss a chance. In the ‘White Room’ they’d effectively recreated Nancarrow’s studio with projections and a display of his scores, with the player piano at the other end. One of the seated people had her eyes closed for large parts, which seemed incredible to me, because it’s extraordinary to be able to watch the operation of the piano, observe the patterns of holes on the sheet before they’re read then see their manifestation on the keys. Once it had finished (the pieces are restricted to around 10 minutes by the length of the piano rolls), Dominic Murcott was surrounded by people asking questions (which also permitted close-up gawping at the instrument). I agreed with him that recordings of this music just aren’t the same, because they miss the noise of the pump and the risk that the machine will break. One person said he’d heard Nancarrow on John Peel, which I don’t remember, but would like to be true. While the player piano was intended to be able to reproduce the full dynamic range of a pianist, Nancarrow used it in a rather extreme way, exploiting the fact that the instrument could surpass human capabilities. He’s doing this again several times on Sunday and I’m very tempted to go again, to hear his introduction and a piece in its entirety. (He was kind enough to give me a very quick summary, including why he was included as part of the ‘superpower’ segment of the festival). Plus there are small shots of free Tequila available.
After some research, I decided to forego Gravity at Curzon Mayfair in favour of Nosferatu the Vampyre at the BFI, which is showing for quite a while but this was on the large screen at NFT1. Late as I was, I was able to buy a good seat right in the middle. Stunningly good, as ever from Herzog, and I was pleased to see the kindly man from Kaspar Hauser as Van Helsing. A very different (and effective) performance from Kinski, and a rather young Adjani was very good, too. As you’d expect, the ending is more bleak than redemptive.