I have decided that getting ahead of schedule can be a frustrating experience; you start to grumble when contractors can't take up the earlier slot that has now opened up for them. That then leaves you with empty days that you frantically try to fill with other smaller jobs. I'm not complaining because clearly it beats being behind schedule but the trick, I suppose, is to give each job less time next year (then you will fall behind schedule but will have a month long "safety period" to fall back on). The mezzanine has fair flown up in two days and it sits proudly alone like a giant modern sculpture beneath the vast roof. Just the glass to go in and we will be able to have a party on it although guests would have to climb the zip tower to get onto the floor. There might be a PR opportunity right there.
Talking of which, I was sent a copy of an interview with James and I in this months festival edition of 'Opera' magazine. The writer, Nick Kimberley, in composing a very good piece, has quoted me as referring to myself as a 'melodramatic Italian tart'. I could tell who in the office was reading it by the hoots and snorts of recognition. I can't blame Nick for the fact that in the industry magazine, in which one would like to present oneself as a serious opera professional, one has caricatured oneself thus. Alas, one has to accept its truth. This crashed home to me this morning as I flounced out of the house muttering Neapolitan profanities at Fiora's wilful truculence over playing with the forbidden fruits of Sally's make-up bag. Melodramatic Italian tarts make no concession to the fact that her second birthday is still five months away.
I look forward to tonight when my children's school indulge in an evening of operatic endeavour. In such an environment, melodramatic Italian tarts are tolerated.
Thursday, 25 March 2010
Tuesday, 23 March 2010
X Factor and free tickets
Today's post will seem a little surreal but be patient with me.
Last night I had a peculiar dream in which I was watching a programme on TV that was a strange hybrid of the 'X Factor' and 'Britain's got talent' and Dannii Minogue began to launch into a tirade about young people not seeing enough opera (there had been a vaguely operatic act on stage). Anyway if you are still with me, hang on in there. Dannii said that she thought that all young people needed were free tickets. Then, oddly, the actor who plays the religious guy in Eastenders - who also happens to be a serial killer - Don somebody or other - came on stage to talk to Dannii; actually this is not so odd because years ago that actor did play a non-singing role in a production of Beggar's Opera at Holland Park. Alora, this actor told Dannii about this place called Opera Holland Park who give 1200 free tickets to young people (by now I was beside myself, phoning James and urging him to turn to the channel on which this huge publicity coup was happening).
Dannii vehemently proclaimed that 1200 was not enough and asked how much it would cost to provide 5000 free tickets and said she and her fellow judges, including Simon Cowell who was sitting beside her nodding in agreement, would put up the money. Don, the serial killing preacher, was impressively on top of his game and told Dannii it would cost £116,000 which is pretty much spot on.
"I would do anything", said Dannii sincerely, "to get you young buggers to the opera. This Holland Park place is going to get a big surprise tomorrow!" And the audience rose to roar her on. Meanwhile I was frantically trying to phone the programme to tell her where to send the money. And then I woke up with a horrible anxiety because I thought she would never find out where to send the cheque.
Now, that entire dream was absolutely how it happened. And when you stop to think about it, that is all it would take to genuinely bring our young people into theatres too. Just theatres - you know, pick up a paper, check the listings, go to an opera. Not dressed in pop garb, no stadium spectacles, failed pop singers or rags to riches pub karaoke singers. Just good old fashioned cultural experience given a great big kick up the arse start with a hundred grand of cash.
I'm getting in touch with Dannii's agent today and everybody reading this should mail it to everybody you know -let's get the X Factor doimg some good!
Last night I had a peculiar dream in which I was watching a programme on TV that was a strange hybrid of the 'X Factor' and 'Britain's got talent' and Dannii Minogue began to launch into a tirade about young people not seeing enough opera (there had been a vaguely operatic act on stage). Anyway if you are still with me, hang on in there. Dannii said that she thought that all young people needed were free tickets. Then, oddly, the actor who plays the religious guy in Eastenders - who also happens to be a serial killer - Don somebody or other - came on stage to talk to Dannii; actually this is not so odd because years ago that actor did play a non-singing role in a production of Beggar's Opera at Holland Park. Alora, this actor told Dannii about this place called Opera Holland Park who give 1200 free tickets to young people (by now I was beside myself, phoning James and urging him to turn to the channel on which this huge publicity coup was happening).
Dannii vehemently proclaimed that 1200 was not enough and asked how much it would cost to provide 5000 free tickets and said she and her fellow judges, including Simon Cowell who was sitting beside her nodding in agreement, would put up the money. Don, the serial killing preacher, was impressively on top of his game and told Dannii it would cost £116,000 which is pretty much spot on.
"I would do anything", said Dannii sincerely, "to get you young buggers to the opera. This Holland Park place is going to get a big surprise tomorrow!" And the audience rose to roar her on. Meanwhile I was frantically trying to phone the programme to tell her where to send the money. And then I woke up with a horrible anxiety because I thought she would never find out where to send the cheque.
Now, that entire dream was absolutely how it happened. And when you stop to think about it, that is all it would take to genuinely bring our young people into theatres too. Just theatres - you know, pick up a paper, check the listings, go to an opera. Not dressed in pop garb, no stadium spectacles, failed pop singers or rags to riches pub karaoke singers. Just good old fashioned cultural experience given a great big kick up the arse start with a hundred grand of cash.
I'm getting in touch with Dannii's agent today and everybody reading this should mail it to everybody you know -let's get the X Factor doimg some good!
Monday, 22 March 2010
Port out...
I view a glass of port as a luxury at the best of times but on a Monday night it is positively indulgent. I bought a bottle on impulse when I was feeling chilled and damp after an hour on site - the weather has turned most un-spring like again. Still, never fear, a small long range weather forecasting outfit in Cambridge somehwere (odd because they get the prevailing weather last of all over that way) have said we are due the hottest summer since 1976 or since Emperor Hadrian was in the hot seat or some such elongated passage of time.
Good. The rain was horizontal today and you'd get wet standing at the centre of the covered space at the theatre.
The mezzanine is prepared and will rise from the ground tomorrow like some constructivist set (or a giant Meccano house - pick your own cultural reference). People are starting to gaze through the fence at the build.
I'm drowning my anxieties in an ever growing catalogue of chaotic late Italian opera - Giordano's Mala Vita is the latest.
Good. The rain was horizontal today and you'd get wet standing at the centre of the covered space at the theatre.
The mezzanine is prepared and will rise from the ground tomorrow like some constructivist set (or a giant Meccano house - pick your own cultural reference). People are starting to gaze through the fence at the build.
I'm drowning my anxieties in an ever growing catalogue of chaotic late Italian opera - Giordano's Mala Vita is the latest.
Friday, 19 March 2010
Image
I'm in the middle of a series of meetings with PR companies who we may charge with supporting our annual work in this field since OHP the brand gets bigger but the office staff count doesn't.
However, perhaps by way of karmic warning, I had an encounter yesterday that demonstrated unequivocally that no matter how hard you work to foster an image, patrons' personal experience or views can quickly render all that you purport to be - or in reality are - worthless. The patron in question was objecting to our admin fee - a small charge on the entire booking and not per ticket. Anyway, the point is not so much the charge itself but the depth of feeling and expression it evoked. The letter of complaint laid a barrage of caricaturistic (have I made that word up?) accusations at our feet: 'nasty' was the least of them and if I am honest I was quite impressed by the lyricism of his opprobrium. I engaged him and feel I may have re calibrated his view somewhat but the point is that after years of happy, willing patronage, one small charge could have rightly or wrongly poisoned his whole view of us.
I do sometimes feel that the modern patron spends much of their time railing against the PR culture whilst falling hook line and sinker for it at other times. The obvious conclusion is that we buy only the message we are willing to buy. It is also a long held belief of mine that PR often seems to reach over the heads of the product's primary audience - PR for PR's sake as it were. And the unpardonable sin of believing your own PR is one that continues to be committed without end.
We need, of course to tell people what we are doing, hence talking to these companies, but the golden rule that the only kind of business is repeat business still applies. It is not lost on either James or me that no PR in the world will save rubbish work. It is also true that the best PR in the world won't change an unyielding mind even when the work is magnificent. But the devil is often in the detail and (coining, literally, yet another cliché) if you look after the pennies the pounds will look after themselves. My complaining client was not happy, I suspect, to get a reply that disagreed with him but was content to get one at all. PR, like charity, seems to begin at home.
However, perhaps by way of karmic warning, I had an encounter yesterday that demonstrated unequivocally that no matter how hard you work to foster an image, patrons' personal experience or views can quickly render all that you purport to be - or in reality are - worthless. The patron in question was objecting to our admin fee - a small charge on the entire booking and not per ticket. Anyway, the point is not so much the charge itself but the depth of feeling and expression it evoked. The letter of complaint laid a barrage of caricaturistic (have I made that word up?) accusations at our feet: 'nasty' was the least of them and if I am honest I was quite impressed by the lyricism of his opprobrium. I engaged him and feel I may have re calibrated his view somewhat but the point is that after years of happy, willing patronage, one small charge could have rightly or wrongly poisoned his whole view of us.
I do sometimes feel that the modern patron spends much of their time railing against the PR culture whilst falling hook line and sinker for it at other times. The obvious conclusion is that we buy only the message we are willing to buy. It is also a long held belief of mine that PR often seems to reach over the heads of the product's primary audience - PR for PR's sake as it were. And the unpardonable sin of believing your own PR is one that continues to be committed without end.
We need, of course to tell people what we are doing, hence talking to these companies, but the golden rule that the only kind of business is repeat business still applies. It is not lost on either James or me that no PR in the world will save rubbish work. It is also true that the best PR in the world won't change an unyielding mind even when the work is magnificent. But the devil is often in the detail and (coining, literally, yet another cliché) if you look after the pennies the pounds will look after themselves. My complaining client was not happy, I suspect, to get a reply that disagreed with him but was content to get one at all. PR, like charity, seems to begin at home.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)