Not getting it is the new getting it

Stravinsky’s ‘The Rite of Spring’; a work that led to fisticuffs on its first performance, and something I’ve always had trouble listening to. One night last summer, I was forced to pump up the volume on my stereo in order to give a little hint to the Clampitts downstairs that whatever social event they were having in their so-called garden, it was quite unacceptable at half-past midnight. I’d hoped that ‘The Rite’ would chase them off, but they were impervious to it, and not just because they were a bunch of (not recovering) alcoholics.

As far as I know, not a single punch was thrown at the Glasgow Royal Concert Hall last night, though if I had been Deneve, I’d have had very strong words with whoever was responsible for maintaining the hearing-aid loop, which was whistling like crazy throughout the concert. Last night may just have been the night when I stopped fearing this piece and started to believe that I could actually enjoy it. The augmented orchestra helped, although the BBC SSO appears to be able to achieve that kind of noise with just a couple of extra brass players. Following the lead of both Bill Chandler and Deneve, himself, I decided to concentrate on the complicated rhythms of the work, instead of looking for a memorable tune, and this appears to be the key to cracking the code of ‘The Rite’.

Prior to the concert, Associate Leader, William Chandler, who hasn’t aged much in the 20 years since he joined the orchestra, gave a very entertaining and informative talk on the evening’s programme. He waxed lyrical about Debussy’s impressionist style and told of the row that accompanied the commissioning of Samuel Barber’s Violin Concerto, before relating the tale of the fight that broke out at the premiere of ‘The Rite’ in Paris. Chandler also alluded to the fact that the evening would see the penultimate appearance of Stephane Deneve as Musical Director, and the Maestro himself later remarked on his love for the word, and its bittersweet meaning last night.

What can I say about Deneve? Unfortunately, I have to start with my shame and embarrassment at my only ever having attended one concert of his prior to last night. He has been a breath of fresh air, and I doubt that there are many conductors with a personality and enthusiasm to match his (Runnicles take note). From the moment he walks on to the stage, with that mop of curly hair trailing behind his beaming face, he exudes joy. With his little speeches before the concert and his gestures to the players and the audience and the end, his obvious rapport with, and love of, both the music and the Glasgow crowd is clear to see, and he will be sadly missed. He is inimitable, that is clear, and no one should expect to see his like again here for a long, long time. I fear that, if his successor can’t engage with the audience in a similar way, the RSNO may revert back to its staid, boring old self, and all his work will have been for nought. We will see him again. He is destined to become the new Jȁrvi, returning once a year to grace us with his charm.

What of the concert, itself? Opening with Debussy’s prelude to the afternoon of a faun (later, I promise), with Katherine Bryan providing the famous flute solo, Deneve had the audience eating out of his hand long before the virtuoso, Canadian violinist James Ehnes gave us his take on Barber’s concerto, and, not content with one encore, the Caprice No. 24 by Paganini, he gave us a second, the Third Movement of J.S. Bach’s Third Sonata for Violin, and all this as Deneve sat with the basses. After this, came the interval. After that, ‘The Rite of Spring’. It was over all too soon.

Earlier in the day, I went to the Gallery of Modern Art for more from the Glasgow International Festival of Visual Arts. I saw a pile of sawdust, some plastic bags and sellotape put together (what else can I say?) by Karla Black

I saw, amongst other things, items by David Shrigley and the Turner Prize winner Martin Boyce, then I went to an exhibition of photographs by Alan Dimmick, whose father I worked with many years ago. All of the photos were of arty types from Glasgow, almost all of whom I had never heard of, including the woman who was wearing a t-shirt with the words ‘Not getting it is the new getting it’. All this modern art, and I still wasn’t getting it. If I had thought that the sawdust was bad, I was unprepared for what I saw at the Centre for Contemporary Arts. Sadly, the CCA, unlike GOMA, does not allow the taking of photographs, not that there was much to snap.

First up, a projector on a pile of rubble and a little picture on the wall near the floor. Next, an actual table tennis table, and anyone could play. This was, apparently, ‘Ping Pong Club – Cultural Situations’ by Julius Koller. At the end of that space, Walter Sickert’s painting of Jack the Ripper’s bedroom. In the room next door, pencil drawings, at least one of which wasn’t suitable for the kids wandering around the place, and a video loop of a guy tumbling down (up, actually, as it was backwards) stairs near Woodlands Terrace. This appears to have been ‘This sort of thing shouldn’t happen round here’ by Rob Kennedy. Back to the room with the table tennis; three large TVs sat side-by-side, and the same video showing on all three, again, by Rob Kennedy, entitled ‘Have faith or pandemonium’. There was also a film in the cinema, but I have no idea what it was called. Finally, I went upstairs to the Intermedia Gallery, where I was greeted by a large ghetto-blaster and two video monitors on the floor. This appeared to be something about videos of training shoes on YouTube, by someone called Charlotte Prodger. I left, unimpressed.

When faced with such things, it might help to remember that someone created them; someone put their heart and soul into them, whatever they are. Not getting it is the new getting it? That’s not really the problem, is it? People are being ‘paid’ for this; they are being lauded for this; they expect that unsuspecting members of the general public (i.e., not just their pretentious, arty pals) will spend time looking at whatever the hell is in front of them. Arty farty nonsense? Art for art’s sake? Pretentious for the sake of it? I have no idea, but, at a time like this, I feel the need to appropriate a phrase from an e-mail I received recently: ‘if this is art, then art is easy’.

As they day drew to a close, the ‘supermoon’ became the focus of attention (though it turns out that it may have been at its most super at 4am!). I was forced to resurrect my 30-year old Canon AE1, with 75-300mm zoom and a 2x tele-converter, and I just happened to have a roll of film sitting on a shelf. Sadly, this camera is very clunky, and my cable release appears to jam every so often, so I have no idea what, if anything, I took pictures of, but this is what I got with my IXUS230 compact. It just looks like any other moon (and, according to Pete Lawrence, no more special than the last supermoon).