I’m writing this purely to avoid doing my tax return.
Yesterday I met with Anthony the orchestra conductor and we chose a tailcoat for next Friday at the Tate. The man in the shop unspokenly seemed to think it was for our wedding and that I was his bride to be, and gave me tips about adjusting the waistband. I will not be sewing anything thank you.
We wondered afterwards if they might have given us a discount if we’d said BUT THIS IS FOR A PERFORMANCE AT THE FAMOUS TATE BRITAIN. We could have offered to put up a sponsorship banner behind Anthony so when people thought The Home of British Art they would think Moss Bros too.
Given all the preparation, it feels strange that we haven’t rehearsed. We’ve talked in depth about how the performance will differ from the original Southbank event, we’ve decided how he should step onto the podium, pause, pause and step off it again, we’ve decided when someone has to step in if something goes wrong, and what constitutes going wrong, and I’ve written a very pedantic schedule of what will happen between each of the seven performances – but no actual rehearsal.
The Southbank performance went equally unrehearsed and I think was stronger because of it: it was an exploration both for the conductor and for the passing audience. There’s no way of rehearsing a thing like this without actually performing it at the same time – and certainly no way of practicing the scenario in advance, as the scenario will continually renew itself moment after moment.
I think the important thing will be to keep all the practicalities clear and out of the way, so that in the end there’s nothing to do but the performance. In light of that, it’s nice to reflect that the performance itself will consist entirely of practicalities and their mirrored responses.
Oh the matter.
