Can and contents

Some of what we experienced in London last weekend made me wonder about contemporary culture. Would we really throng to the vast and sumptuous Saatchi Gallery, for instance, to see those enormous American abstract works of art (they seemed utterly baffling and indeed hideous to me), were it not free to enter and a mere stone's throw from Sloane Square station?

Ditto, the Telling Tales show at the V. & A. This again has a sumptuous setting (as the V. & A. is looking splendid these days). The pieces of furniture etc. on display are - we are told - known as Design Art: "they retain their role as functional objects, even if their usability is often subordinated to their symbolic or decorative value," in the words of the handout. So, we see two large blobs of red urethane on the floor with the title "The Lovers' rug," the urethane representing the average quantity of blood in two people. Cosy?

I was pleased to be able to get to the Serpentine Gallery for the first time: what a great space, and how lovely to be able to look out from it over Kensington Gardens! I admired too this Summer's temporary pavilion outside, by Kazuyo Sejima & Ryue Nishizawa of SANAA. But the exhibition? Jeff Koons has been working on a Popeye series over the past seven years: we are therefore treated to an array of huge, lurid cartoons, and brightly-coloured sculpture - something for instance looking like a rubber ring, crushed between a pile of plastic chairs, but which is in fact made of aluminium. Entertaining, and skillful work, but life-enhancing?

Certainly not in the way the BP Portrait exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery was. As usual, it was fun to criticise the judges' choice of prizewinners, but here there was plenty to admire and be grateful for. Interestingly, very few were self-portraits this year.

In the evening, we went again to the Tête à Tête Opera Festival at the Riverside. Here, the surroundings are none too luxurious for contemporary opera; but was this opera? I enjoyed it last year, for its novelty and nerve; but this year it was just tiresome. Four pieces over the two nights, and none worth repeating, was my view. Even a rather charming piece by Glyndebourne Youth Opera, "Who am I?"

tête à tête - The Opera Festival

Riverside Studios, on the Thames at Hammersmith, has been hosting a fortnight of fringe opera, under the enthusiastic artistic direction of Bill Bankes-Jones. The Festival ends this weekend with a visit from Scottish Opera. (They bring five recent works, including one I see directed by Ida's Godfather Frederic Wake-Walker.)

Caroline and I went along on Wednesday evening to sample what was on offer, meeting up with some old friends. It was a heartening experience, particularly after the disappointment I felt with some contemporary music at this year's Cheltenham Festival. Committing oneself to a full evening of Birtwistle, Adès or even Adams requires courage; but everyone it seems can hope to enjoy something during a session with tête à tête at the Riverside.

We saw no less than seven operas, including some work in progress. The excitement began with a snippet about the travails of a knife thrower's assistant, rather splendidly staged in the Riverside's foyer. Just as we were wondering when it was to end, the "orchestra" (which consisted of an electric keyboard) collapsed onto the floor.














Next up, on stage this time, was a little two-hander, one of the singers spending the entire performance in a "zorbing" pod.

This has to be a first, but (like the foyer number) it may also be a last. "Flam", which followed it, composed by Orlando Gough (one of the founders of The Shout), is an altogether more weighty piece. This entirely a cappella music drama was performed with great virtuosity by Rebecca Askew and (see my main photograph) Melanie Pappenheim, together with Michael Henry. With its faint echoes of the Oxen of the Sun, "Flam" will I'm sure be seen elsewhere. It might spoil your fun if I told you the plot.

Size Zero Music Theatre's two offerings were less successful. Though the Manchester-based company shows some potential, better material needs to be found. Before this, though, there was a delightful duet by members of the tête à tête company between an archetypal Prince Charming and his Sleeping Beauty - Snow White - Little Red Riding Hood (all rolled into one): this holds a lot of promise for when more worked up.

Finally, the weird and wonderful Carysfort Stories: this was not so much opera as bitter sweet jazz revue, performed by Georg and Thomas, a couple of Austrian buskers, along with Loré Lixenberg.
The set featured a bar stool, on which two silent women took turns to sit, and a tent, illuminated from behind. All the performers live in or near Carysfort Road, Stoke Newington, from where they brought along this rather low-key drama of local life: Lake Wobegon comes to London. The versatile Loré Lixenberg confined herself to the tent throughout, declining to emerge even for a well-earned curtain call.

This was an appropriately bizarre end to a long evening, throughout which energy levels remained high. It has to be amazing value for £25, inclusive of supper in the buzzy Riverside Studios café, a true festival atmosphere.