My attention was drawn today to The Grange Park website where Wasfi Kani has a blog. Well, where she has an empty blog because she evidently doesn't want to do it! Ironically, James doesn't want me to do this one either. Although I haven't made many posts, I have found them moderately therapeutic and something of an aid to putting the day or week’s events into some sort of perspective. Wasfi is someone with whom we have spent the odd evening burning the midnight oil and to be honest, I can’t imagine her writing a blog but I am sure an insight into her life at Grange Park would be entertaining. Maybe I’ll interview her for mine? Or maybe she’ll be smiling knowingly at me come the summer, safe in the knowledge that she resisted entering the Blogger universe.
At this time of year, as we are about to send out booking forms, we become eager to get a feel for the patrons’ reaction to the forthcoming season. This year, there is an early indicator – a special springtime lecture by Barry Jobling on the wonders of Montemezzi’s L’amore dei tre Re. Booking forms were sent out three days ago and already the event is sold out. I believe the Friends are trying to arrange another lecture to cope with the demand. There are 130 places on the lecture at Leighton House. How refreshing that so many people want to learn about this magnificent piece, which bodes well for the production in July. We have talked about the opera for years (at least eight) and I find it hard to believe that finally we shall see it on our stage. Naturally, one is concerned that those we have so persistently and forcefully encouraged to support it, will actually like it. Even if I say so myself, we have rarely been wrong in that respect and calamity has been held at bay. But the past ten years of mining the rarities so successfully really has been most rewarding. Yet the knowledge of past triumphs will count for zilch come the first night of L’amore. It will be one of those evenings when critics you never knew existed will be in the house along with the established scribes and people from around the world will be in attendance. Usually, there is a school of thought that the rarity being presented is a weak work (hence it’s rarity) but oddly, in the case of L’amore, it is widely considered to be a work of substance and quality. We shall see. But the journey for many will begin with those lectures at Leighton House in the springtime and I cannot imagine a more thrilling way to begin the run-in to the big opening. As an aficionado of the work, I shall feel a little like the critic on first night, keeping a wary eye on what Barry does with it. I suspect he will ask for me to be excluded from proceedings.
Tuesday, 16 January 2007
Friday, 12 January 2007
Pieces
The unimaginative title of this entry refers to the myriad pieces that we are all juggling to fit into the puzzle that is this most important of all seasons. Although I should add, there is an expression in London -"Doing my pieces" - which essentially means being driven mad. I'll make no further comment on that.
Building a new theatre has, up to this point, felt very much like a purely functional exercise. One just dives in and deals with all the practical issues, architects, engineers, designers, seating companies and the like. There is a domino effect in that one problem solved opens the door to another and so on. Raising the lighting rig means you have to reassess the stage height; giving more legroom means finding more foyer space, putting a staircase here means moving a bar there etc. I have started to feel like one of those variety plate spinning acts. And then there are contractors who don't deliver as promised, or those who tell you about new costs that weren't there before. But recently, as we drill down into the detail of things, some of the tasks have taken on a more creative aspect. There have been surreal moments, like the recent meeting with the seating manufacturer. Our office is pretty crowded and there is very little meeting space so we often decamp to the coffee shop opposite where we can get (as on this occasion) 10 people around a table with large plans and drawings (and have good coffee at the same time). The company brought with them a sample seat on a frame and there were a few odd looks as we debated the thickness of padding and upholstery, the shape of the moulding for the buttocks, lower back support and the height of the backrest. We chose midnight blue upholstery by the way. Despite the incongruity of this meeting and venue, it was refreshing and rewarding to at least get to think about nice aspects of the build. After all of the recent talk of soil sampling (we sit on London Clay in case you are interested) kilonewtons and hexial screws, a bit of interior design offered light relief. Next week: carpet colours.
James and Kate are really under the cosh at the minute. Chorus casting for six operas is quite a feat. James likes to use boards on the wall (he's no Luddite, he loves his Blackberry). Pencilled in cast members are ritually inked in with black pen once signed and it's a lovely visual representation of how the productions are coming together. Right now, the wall is fast filling with black pen as he and Kate recruit what seems like hundreds of singers. They need a break.
So would Clarinda, my assistant, if she hadn't just come back from two weeks in the Far East. So many tasks have passed to her whilst I find myself so embroiled in the theare project. But she sails through them with ease. I often need something to moan about and she provides little grist for my mill but I really shouldn't complain. Editing a magazine comes as easily to her as filling the website, doing Equality Impact Assessments are brushed off as nonchalantly as audience geographical analysis. I'll find a weakness though, I will. Since she doesn't make coffee, I am proposing she does it more often. Even the cleverest people can make shit coffee. And there is nothing like moaning about bad coffee. What with Clarinda, Kate, Claire & Kiki (Friends' administrators) and Lucy, our new events manager, we have a terribly well educated and well spoken office. Since James and I are neither, I think we should be commended for not having chips on our shoulders and offering them all an opportunity. Anyway, I doubt any of them would be happy in proper jobs.
Building a new theatre has, up to this point, felt very much like a purely functional exercise. One just dives in and deals with all the practical issues, architects, engineers, designers, seating companies and the like. There is a domino effect in that one problem solved opens the door to another and so on. Raising the lighting rig means you have to reassess the stage height; giving more legroom means finding more foyer space, putting a staircase here means moving a bar there etc. I have started to feel like one of those variety plate spinning acts. And then there are contractors who don't deliver as promised, or those who tell you about new costs that weren't there before. But recently, as we drill down into the detail of things, some of the tasks have taken on a more creative aspect. There have been surreal moments, like the recent meeting with the seating manufacturer. Our office is pretty crowded and there is very little meeting space so we often decamp to the coffee shop opposite where we can get (as on this occasion) 10 people around a table with large plans and drawings (and have good coffee at the same time). The company brought with them a sample seat on a frame and there were a few odd looks as we debated the thickness of padding and upholstery, the shape of the moulding for the buttocks, lower back support and the height of the backrest. We chose midnight blue upholstery by the way. Despite the incongruity of this meeting and venue, it was refreshing and rewarding to at least get to think about nice aspects of the build. After all of the recent talk of soil sampling (we sit on London Clay in case you are interested) kilonewtons and hexial screws, a bit of interior design offered light relief. Next week: carpet colours.
James and Kate are really under the cosh at the minute. Chorus casting for six operas is quite a feat. James likes to use boards on the wall (he's no Luddite, he loves his Blackberry). Pencilled in cast members are ritually inked in with black pen once signed and it's a lovely visual representation of how the productions are coming together. Right now, the wall is fast filling with black pen as he and Kate recruit what seems like hundreds of singers. They need a break.
So would Clarinda, my assistant, if she hadn't just come back from two weeks in the Far East. So many tasks have passed to her whilst I find myself so embroiled in the theare project. But she sails through them with ease. I often need something to moan about and she provides little grist for my mill but I really shouldn't complain. Editing a magazine comes as easily to her as filling the website, doing Equality Impact Assessments are brushed off as nonchalantly as audience geographical analysis. I'll find a weakness though, I will. Since she doesn't make coffee, I am proposing she does it more often. Even the cleverest people can make shit coffee. And there is nothing like moaning about bad coffee. What with Clarinda, Kate, Claire & Kiki (Friends' administrators) and Lucy, our new events manager, we have a terribly well educated and well spoken office. Since James and I are neither, I think we should be commended for not having chips on our shoulders and offering them all an opportunity. Anyway, I doubt any of them would be happy in proper jobs.
Monday, 8 January 2007
Grey, grey, grey
As my colleague Clarinda puts the final touches to the Friends Preview - a weighty, glossy tome designed to introduce the season to our large contingent of loyal patrons - I took a stroll up to the theatre site for a meeting. The expanse of grass in front of the old house that we build the theatre onto every year was looking sad, rutted and the worse for wear as as result of days of rain. Soon, diggers will move in to create foundations for the new canopy masts and support cables using a mixture of concrete and ten foot long "screws" in the more delicate places. Once done, they will hide their work with re-landscaping. But picturing all of this endeavour and how it would all look come the first night of the season was a herculean task given the wind ripping through the park and carrying with it horizontal rain. Everything was grey; the sky was grey and even the grass and trees looked grey. It is a frequent theme of discussion in our office that it is as if we gather about us all of the obstacles one can imagine and then one by one try to clamber over them as we try to create one of the leading summer opera festivals in the land. I am almost certain that such an event could only happen in the UK. Our European counterparts have so much less to worry about - least of all the weather. I always hope that our Friends can make the leap of imagination that will carry them from a wet, dreary January to a warm, thrilling July.
A significant decision of sorts was made today which along with the steadily growing bustle of the office and new starters (it's getting crowded) signalled a real lifting of the working mood. I say "of sorts" because we had already made the choice of producing Donizetti's effervescent comedy "La fille du regiment" in 2008. It would be a first production of the opera for the company so there is always a sensible caution afoot as we gently feel our way along the line of works by the great composers. James and his assistant Kate went along to the dress rehearsal of the ROH production this morning and came away convinced that we will do the piece justice in our environment. It is helpful that Kate has studied the work academically. Apparently the tenor Florez eased through the dreaded procession of top C's that the piece is famed (and feared) for. Equally impressive was Natalie Dessay (whose "Bell Song" from Lakme I have been luxuriating in recently), oozing class and effortless, bright toned grace. The passage of high notes in quick succession that Donizetti gave his lead man often mitigate against the production of this work - finding tenors prepared to take it on is difficult. However, the general opinion is that Donizetti wrote the passage brilliantly, giving his singer every chance to prepare for each new escalation. It is a fantastic piece and the positivity of J and K means we are fully engaged with it now, even at this early stage.
By our usual standards, the 2008 season is awash with levity since Simon Callow's production of The Magic Flute will follow the opening pair of Trovatore and the Donizetti. We tend to be known for our tragedies (as Dickie Attenborough once said to a journalist friend of mine, "Every tear a dollar love") but it is nice to feel the fresh, sweet breeze of audience laughter dizzying it's way through the house.
A significant decision of sorts was made today which along with the steadily growing bustle of the office and new starters (it's getting crowded) signalled a real lifting of the working mood. I say "of sorts" because we had already made the choice of producing Donizetti's effervescent comedy "La fille du regiment" in 2008. It would be a first production of the opera for the company so there is always a sensible caution afoot as we gently feel our way along the line of works by the great composers. James and his assistant Kate went along to the dress rehearsal of the ROH production this morning and came away convinced that we will do the piece justice in our environment. It is helpful that Kate has studied the work academically. Apparently the tenor Florez eased through the dreaded procession of top C's that the piece is famed (and feared) for. Equally impressive was Natalie Dessay (whose "Bell Song" from Lakme I have been luxuriating in recently), oozing class and effortless, bright toned grace. The passage of high notes in quick succession that Donizetti gave his lead man often mitigate against the production of this work - finding tenors prepared to take it on is difficult. However, the general opinion is that Donizetti wrote the passage brilliantly, giving his singer every chance to prepare for each new escalation. It is a fantastic piece and the positivity of J and K means we are fully engaged with it now, even at this early stage.
By our usual standards, the 2008 season is awash with levity since Simon Callow's production of The Magic Flute will follow the opening pair of Trovatore and the Donizetti. We tend to be known for our tragedies (as Dickie Attenborough once said to a journalist friend of mine, "Every tear a dollar love") but it is nice to feel the fresh, sweet breeze of audience laughter dizzying it's way through the house.
Friday, 5 January 2007
The paperless society?
The end of the first normal-ish week sees my output of reports growing by the day. I don't know about the paperless society but if it ever arrived anywhere, it chose not to alight at the station marked "Local Government". It is an unavoidable reality when one is dealing with public money that one has to justify and explain everything that is done. Today I have done more justifying and explaining than you can shake a stick at. On top of reports about seating, mezzanines, screw anchors, block foundations, conduit surveys and bore-hole sampling I found time to write a briefing on our marketing and sponsorship activity to date, complete with strategic ramblings, postcode lists and sundry jargon. I need to get on with several 100-page contracts now. I'll be a qualified lawyer by the end of this season.
Next-door James is trawling through names and CVs with conductor Brad Cohen. On the day James is seeking to close off roles for this season's Nabucco, talk is growing of the cast for the proposed 2008 production of Trovatore. Talking of Brad Cohen - he almost leapt into the office bidding everybody a Happy New Year as he went. Nobody has any right to be that chipper in this office at this particular time of the year. Brad is a very talented musician and has been responsible for some of our finest moments in the pit and despite his oft-breezy (mis) demeanour he is terribly serious about his work. James and I are particularly fond of his straight-talking manner. It is always easy to propose an idea to Brad because a) he will tell you straight away if he thinks it is bollocks and b) the shock of hearing the dismissal is soon relieved by the soothing balm of the realisation that indeed, you can be sure that if he thinks it is bollocks - it is. Both outcomes tend to save us a lot of time.
I finally managed to get to hold of Jim Naughtie this week after a bit of phone tag. Jim often writes programme pieces for us and I love the breathless passion with which he talks about opera - both in his articles and in conversation. I find him to be one of those people (and there seem to be many of these in my world) from whom you pick up a nugget of knowledge every time you speak to him. He was of course presenter of Opera News on the BBC and is a monumentally gifted broadcaster in my view. Anyway, he agreed to join James and I in a studio to record a series of podcasts about the forthcoming season (very much like the ones we did with Simon Callow for 2006). Going mic to mic with a man who has grilled Prime Ministers and Presidents on the UK's flagship radio news programme will seem a little odd (perhaps I mean ludicrous?). I think I have the upper hand with respect to L'amore dei tre Re at the moment but I have to send him a CD of it and so no doubt, when he has assimilated and considered it, I'll feel as though I've never heard the bloody thing before. Hopefully we'll have those done in the early spring and available on the website soon after that (for free of course).
I still feel some trepidation when fulfilling the obligations of this blog. Blogs have become a kind of counter-culture and James referred to a programme he'd seen lampooning them. Worse still, there is always a danger of corporate blogs turning into an online version of a David Brent monologue. Feel free to warn me when this is happening. The temptation must be to make an entry for the sake of doing so. When you are filling in the incident report telling me I sound like David Brent, please take the time to point out that answering a telephone is not especially riveting. I do worry that there is something presumptuous about writing of one's daily travails in an office and thinking that there are people who will find what you do as you earn a crust to be interesting. There can be no doubt that if I am to make these presumptions and thus succumb to the vanity inherent in doing so, this whole enterprise should at least possess manners enough to have a point. But more pertinent than all of this is the expression James related to me from the aforementioned programme (and I paraphrase); "Blogs are like inviting people through your door in order to call you an arsehole". Nobody has ever waited to be invited to do that before so I suppose there is some small measure of comfort in that.
Next-door James is trawling through names and CVs with conductor Brad Cohen. On the day James is seeking to close off roles for this season's Nabucco, talk is growing of the cast for the proposed 2008 production of Trovatore. Talking of Brad Cohen - he almost leapt into the office bidding everybody a Happy New Year as he went. Nobody has any right to be that chipper in this office at this particular time of the year. Brad is a very talented musician and has been responsible for some of our finest moments in the pit and despite his oft-breezy (mis) demeanour he is terribly serious about his work. James and I are particularly fond of his straight-talking manner. It is always easy to propose an idea to Brad because a) he will tell you straight away if he thinks it is bollocks and b) the shock of hearing the dismissal is soon relieved by the soothing balm of the realisation that indeed, you can be sure that if he thinks it is bollocks - it is. Both outcomes tend to save us a lot of time.
I finally managed to get to hold of Jim Naughtie this week after a bit of phone tag. Jim often writes programme pieces for us and I love the breathless passion with which he talks about opera - both in his articles and in conversation. I find him to be one of those people (and there seem to be many of these in my world) from whom you pick up a nugget of knowledge every time you speak to him. He was of course presenter of Opera News on the BBC and is a monumentally gifted broadcaster in my view. Anyway, he agreed to join James and I in a studio to record a series of podcasts about the forthcoming season (very much like the ones we did with Simon Callow for 2006). Going mic to mic with a man who has grilled Prime Ministers and Presidents on the UK's flagship radio news programme will seem a little odd (perhaps I mean ludicrous?). I think I have the upper hand with respect to L'amore dei tre Re at the moment but I have to send him a CD of it and so no doubt, when he has assimilated and considered it, I'll feel as though I've never heard the bloody thing before. Hopefully we'll have those done in the early spring and available on the website soon after that (for free of course).
I still feel some trepidation when fulfilling the obligations of this blog. Blogs have become a kind of counter-culture and James referred to a programme he'd seen lampooning them. Worse still, there is always a danger of corporate blogs turning into an online version of a David Brent monologue. Feel free to warn me when this is happening. The temptation must be to make an entry for the sake of doing so. When you are filling in the incident report telling me I sound like David Brent, please take the time to point out that answering a telephone is not especially riveting. I do worry that there is something presumptuous about writing of one's daily travails in an office and thinking that there are people who will find what you do as you earn a crust to be interesting. There can be no doubt that if I am to make these presumptions and thus succumb to the vanity inherent in doing so, this whole enterprise should at least possess manners enough to have a point. But more pertinent than all of this is the expression James related to me from the aforementioned programme (and I paraphrase); "Blogs are like inviting people through your door in order to call you an arsehole". Nobody has ever waited to be invited to do that before so I suppose there is some small measure of comfort in that.
Wednesday, 3 January 2007
Bah Humbug
3rd January 2007
The first proper day back after the Christmas and New Year holidays became something of a half-hearted affair since I had my two children with me. I was in the office long enough to exchange a few words with James (producer) who recounted a Worst Christmas Ever story involving an obstreperous oyster and a Christmas Eve that sounded not a little like The Night of the Living Dead. I think we were all glad to be returning to something resembling normality. I am sure James was. Christmas comes at an inopportune moment for us at OHP. It’s very much like the lovable but weird uncle who turns up at your house unexpectedly just as you are about to tackle wallpapering the ceiling; you are pleased to see him; there are moments of levity and pleasure but you simply want to get on with the decorating.
It is about now that the season suddenly and mercilessly begins to loom large on the horizon. It has been a devilishly busy and awkward autumn what with the acquisition of the new canopy and seating facilities (a project still not concluded but not far off). The process of buying the new theatre is one of those projects that so consumes you, with the paperwork, the reports, the negotiations, that often you forget what it all means. Pregnancy is like that and I rather think the first night of the season will be a bit of a shock. Quite apart from the physical changes to the site and stage, there is the small matter of having 200 more seats per evening to sell (what happened to the pregnancy analogy? Ed). James has been contemplating a two-year plan for the first time and we are trying to assimilate a new events officer. Now, as the quicksand period of Christmas begins to vanish behind us there are a plethora of deadlines and milestone events that seem to act like a rope, drawing the first night of the new season towards us with ominous rapidity. It is about now that we begin to finalise materials to send to the Friends so that they can book their tickets. Sixteen thousand tickets will be sold by the middle of February. There is nothing like the surge of hope and expectation such a block of tickets represents to galvanise you. James has almost completed the casting for the season, which is something of a miracle given the normal schedule, and there are only the last few roles to fill now. And then all hell breaks loose for the production department.
We also have some serious new sponsors to take care of. Korn/Ferry have happily, detailed a person with whom I have a good relationship to marshal their sponsorship from their end. It will make life so much easier. I had an email from them today advising me that there were a couple of spelling mistakes in a draft article I had written so they won't be missing a trick. It can only be good for us all and an exciting three years beckons.
So it's onto the sales push both of tickets and of the all-important hospitality element that brings much needed additional income. It's not easy; the wind is howling and the rain is falling and we start to ask thousands of people to contemplate sitting in the outdoors. I think even we have trouble with that one.
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