Grayson Perry

Grayson Perry explaining 'The Adoration of the Cage Fighters' (source)

I'm not sure how I could have lived in London for more than two years and not have become aware of Grayson Perry. He's so, well, noticeable. But for whatever reason, my first introduction to this Royal Academy artist was the display in Burlington House of his tapestry series 'The Vanity of Small Differences'. This is such a detailed and slightly overwhelming work that it's difficult to know where to start in introducing it to you - assuming you were as ignorant of Grayson Perry as I. You can read about the tapestries and see them on the Victoria Miro Gallery site.

Let's just say that the work chronicles the life of a fictional modern character - a kind of contemporary 'everyman' - named Tim Rakewell. His progress from birth to death deliberately references 'A Rake's Progress' (1732 -33) by William Hogarth, which in eight paintings tells the story of Tom Rakewell, a young man who inherits a fortune from his miserly father, spends it all on fashionable pursuits and gambling, marries for money, gambles away a second fortune, goes to debtors' prison and dies in a madhouse.

Perry's six tapestries have titles which make you think you've heard that before...what exactly is the reference...?

The tapestries on display (source)

'The Adoration of the Cage Fighters' you can figure out: the Adoration of the Magi... a baby is born...there's a Madonna-like figure...There's also a plethora of modern symbols and imagery, plus text, a riot of colours and detail that can keep you absorbed for ages.

Each of the six images, to a greater or lesser extent, pays homage to a religious work.  Including Masaccio's Expulsion from the Garden of Eden, Matthias Grünewald's Isenheim Altarpiece, Rogier Van de Weyden's Lamentation and three different paintings of The Annunciation by Carlo Crivelli,  Grünewald and Robert Campin.   

The images also reference the pictorial display of wealth and status in The Arnolfini Portrait by Jan Van Eyck and Mr & Mrs Andrews by Thomas Gainsborough.  Woven into each tapestry are snatches of text, each one in the voice of a participant in the scene illustrated. 

Each image also features a small dog, reminiscent of Hogarth's beloved pug, Trump. (source)

'The Agony in the Car Park' moves along Tim's story, with Tim's stepfather as a club singer. Grayson is said to be interested in exploring questions of 'taste' -- we're hit with all kinds of almost strident images.

And so we move on to 'Expulsion from Number 8 Eden Close', as Tim and his girlfriend leave home under the watchful eye of Jamie Oliver, 'the god of social mobility'. But have they been expelled from the Garden of Eden? The symbolism rages.

'The Annunciation of the Virgin Deal' - a pun for which Perry could thank Richard Branson, of course, sees Tim become an instant internet millionaire. 'The Upper Class at Bay' visualises the problems of new money, and old.

'Lamentation' shows us Tim's death in a car accident. The text reads:

'We were walking home from a night out, these two cars, racing each other, speed past. Middle aged men showing off, the red one lost control. The driver wasn't wearing a seatbelt. He didn't stand a chance. The female passenger was ok but catatonic with shock. I'm a nurse. I tried to save the man but he died in my arms. It was only afterwards that I found out he was that famous computer guy, Rakewell. All he said to me was "Mother". All that money and he dies in the gutter.'

If you ever get the chance to see these tapestries, grab it. There are so many things to say about them -- here's a few: the themes are cliches and are cliched, and that's the point. Visually they are so riotous, in-your-face and absorbing that you can be swallowed up for hours; they are about taste and they are tasteless too. The references back to religious works is cerebral and clever and merits close pondering. The Hogarth reference - he who had such a sharp eye for his own day and age - is not misplaced. Go see them.

And meanwhile, there's Grayson Perry...Royal Academician, 2003 Turner Art Prize winner, ceramic artist, cross-dressing transvestite, TV show host ('All in the Best Possible Taste with Grayson Perry', 2010) and examiner of English taste. Well, who better? Wiki page here.

(source)

Visiting at Windsor

The Round Tower at Windsor Castle.
The moat is now an ornamental garden.

There is so much history surrounding Windsor Castle, one of Queen Elizabeth II's favourite homes, that this blog post can do little more than show you a few pictures (exterior only - day tourists can't take photographs inside), encourage you to visit yourself, point you to this link, and share the story of How I Saw The Queen.

Yes, on a lovely sunny weekend in July, Her Majesty was 'in', as she often is on weekends. The flag was flying on the Round Tower. I had worked my way through a number of luxurious and ornate interior rooms, sumptuously furnished and filled with numerous art treasures, and was exploring St George's Hall, the enormous long gallery which is plastered with the coats of arms of members of the Order of the Garter. The fire of 1992 started near here, but all is now rebuilt to the expected level of splendour.

I was about to move on to examine what further treasures awaited, when one of the docents - a particularly helpful breed in Windsor Castle - drew my attention to the courtyard outside the window. 'There's the dogs! Her Majesty will be out soon.' Really?! I peered through the dusty glass to the portico opposite, where I had just glimpsed a few doggy tails disappear. Within a minute or two, sure enough, down the steps came a short, upright figure with white hair and outdoor clothes. She too disappeared under the portico, and shortly there emerged a car; for all the world it looked like a short white haired elderly lady behind the wheel. Off to exercise the dogs in Windsor Great Park? A confirmed sighting.

I later learnt that the Queen does indeed drive, having learnt to do so in 1945 when, as an 18-year-old Princess, she was a member of the war-time Auxiliary Territorial Service. She can, from time to time, be seen driving about in Windsor Great Park like any other member of the public enjoying the weekend.

A short drive from London, on the Thames.

Local Windsor pub - recently renamed.

Local Windsor inhabitants, on a sunny summer day.

Approach to the Castle.

The venerable Castle walls.

Courtyard in front of the State Apartments.
Her Majesty is IN! (Note the portico, roughly centre.)

The ornamental moat.

St George's Chapel, resting place of monarchs, recent and historical.

'Private'.

Palace Hopping

Kensington Palace: Queen Vic

I’ve been palace-hopping lately, and Britain is not a bad place to do that. A couple of palaces I visited were royal; the other was ducal, which is almost as good. Well, if you can’t be royal...

Kensington Palace is - now - in the centre of busy London, off the Kensington High Street and not far from the Royal Albert Hall. It is surrounded by ornate gateways, trimmed gardens (literally - a gardener was making sure the trees were an even cone-shape the day I was there), and a very big park with a duck-and-swan pond and bicycle paths. In front is a large white statue of Queen Victoria, who was born in the palace and lived there for some time.

Inside, however, is a series of rather tacky and badly curated displays. I won’t say I didn’t enjoy the room showing several of Lady Diana’s gowns, but the “Lady Di” wallpaper was a bit naff. She lived in KensingtonPalace too during one period of her short, sad life.

Gallery at Kensington Palace

In the wing devoted to the arrival in England of the Hanovers - George I and onwards - I thought we might get a nice sense of the state rooms. There was a long gallery set up well, including whispered conversations between men of state of the Georgian days which activated when you sat on the cushions of the window seats. The rooms devoted to Queen Victoria were also interesting: her first meeting with parliament at the age of seventeen, all those children, the happy days with Albert round the spinet, then the long years of mourning after his death (which produced quite a bit of sniping and some resentful comments from the citizens) - these were revealing. It’s just a pity that most of the displays were marred by bad modern mobiles and caricatures, or silly attempts at light and sound shows, or poor lighting, or objects placed inside boxes with peep holes, and so on...

Blenheim - a country pile.

At Blenheim Palace, the ducal seat of the Duke of Marlborough, we had no such shenanigans. Well, actually we did have a walk-through animated show about the building of Blenheim and the various Dukes, but it was quite well done and only one little bit, so I forgive them. Blenheim was built in the 18th century on land given by and with money given by Queen Anne to the first Duke - who was also given the dukedom by said Queen. It seems she was very grateful indeed to him for leading the troops to victory at the Battle of Blenheim, defeating an upstart Catholic French king. The friendship between Marlborough’s wife Sarah and Queen Anne is also said to have played a part...

Gardens at Blenheim - a small sample

The public rooms at Blenheim, particularly the lovely ornate dining room (red, of course) and the long library/gallery, which boasts its own pipe organ, are certainly impressive. On my visit there was also an exhibition about Winston Churchill, who was born at Blenheim - you can view the actual bed - when his mother (who was, interestingly, American) was caught short with labour pains during a visit. Winston’s father, Randolph Churchill, was a younger brother of the Duke, and so Winston and what we might call the subsequent Duke were cousins. It is said that he visited Blenheim often and enjoyed it there. This subsequent Duke, Winston’s cousin, also married an American - for her money, she was Consuelo Vanderbilt. They divorced after 11 years and Consuelo became a suffragette. You can take the girl out of America and all that...

The gardens, lake and park at Blenheim are all extensive and famous. The estate is situated just outside of Oxford, near a village named Woodstock. On the day of my visit it was raining rather heavily (the car got bogged in the car park) so my stroll in the grounds was brief. But I could see in the distance, on a grassy knoll covered with grazing sheep, the victory column of the first Duke, erected presumably to celebrate himself. The current Duke gave us a video welcome, and he seemed a nice man. He and his Duchess still live at Blenheim. It must cost an awful lot for upkeep, and I hope my twenty quid helped. It was a nice visit. They have a champagne bar out the back.

Buckingham Palace

For sheer luxury and sumptuousness Buckingham Palace, present London home of Queen Elizabeth II, can’t be beaten. For the past twenty years the Palace has been open to visitors in the summer months. You buy a timed entry ticket in advance, and then you are corralled with what seems like thousands of other hopefuls and sent off on a one-way tour through the State Rooms. It is a crowded, hot and sometimes annoying experience but still I highly recommend it. The wealth, treasures and  display are awe-inspiring. The red throne room, where the Royal Wedding photos are taken; John Nash’s lovely bowed music room looking over the enormous park out the back; Queen Victoria’s ballroom (another pipe organ - she brought this one up from Brighton Pavilion, a place she couldn’t stand)....and the picture gallery! Amongst some very large and triumphant Van Dyke portraits, they have a Vermeer. Amazing. French furniture, Sevres porcelain, beautiful upholstery...and this summer they also had an exhibition showing the Queen’s diamonds (Diamond Jubilee - geddit?) I have to tell you, those are SOME jewels. I had to go back and take a second look at the enormous pink, and the drop earrings, and the state diadem...*smelling salts please*

Buckingham Palace - the back door.

At the end of the tour you are debouched into the back garden, a great quiet park in the centre of London. Except of course for the Palace Cafe, which was full to the gills with tourists, foiling my plan to have a cuppa tea “with the Queen”. But I did manage a Buckingham Palace ice cream further down the garden path where things were quieter.

And around the corner you can - as I did, for the second time - visit the Royal Mews and gawp at the Royal Coaches and the Royal Limousines, and - best of all - a couple of the Royal coach horses, doing stoic duty on display for the summer tourists.

Could you say that the Tower of London is a palace? Certainly it was once, though it has also been a fortress and a gaol. Today it houses the real Crown Jewels - these make the diamonds in the Buckingham Palace display look like a few trinkets. The present Crown of State includes the enormous “Black Prince’s Ruby”, and the Cullinan Diamonds, 1 and 2, mined in South Africa. The spooky Korinoor Diamond from India is in the crown which was worn by the Queen Mother. The display is beautifully organised and the crowd control exemplary. The information about the coronations is excellent - did you know that Handel’s “Zadok the Priest” has been played at every English coronation since George III’s (for whom it was composed), with the words, which come from the Bible, having been used at every coronation since medieval times? Me neither.

The White Tower, Tower of London.

"Jane was here"?

The Tower also has darker stories to tell. You can view the spot where Anne Boleyn (and others) lost their heads; the Beachamp Tower where Lady Jane Grey (and others) were imprisoned, with the prisoners’ graffiti etched in the stone walls; the ‘Bloody Tower’ where Sir Walter Raleigh lived his life in captivity (though relative comfort); and where the two young Princes are said to have been last seen. Did Richard III do them in, or has he been slandered by Shakespeare? And how about his brother Clarence, who was drowned in a vat of malmsey in the Tower?

What with ravens, and Beefeaters, and the Traitor’s Gate leading straight out into the Thames, the fortress palace built by William the Conquer has plenty to intrigue.

Visiting with the locals, Tower of London

‘Britannia’ Ruled the Waves

The sun deck.

A happy Queen.

It is said that the Queen cried at the decommissioning ceremony for the Royal Yacht ‘Britannia’. That was all Tony Blair’s fault, back in 1997, and we can only speculate on how that relationship subsequently went. But one thing is certain - Her Maj loved ‘Britannia’ and was never happier than when on her. This we can see in all the over-sized photographs which decorate the introductory display at the ‘Britannia’, which you can now visit moored at Leith in Edinburgh. In every picture Queen Elizabeth has a radiant smile - can I refer you, for comparison, to her expression during the recent Olympics Opening Ceremony? I rest my case.

Of course, Prince Philip was a big fan of ‘Britannia’ too, being an ex-naval man. Apparently he keeps a ‘Britannia Room’ at Windsor Castle, full of memorabilia. He is credited with saying that “other reigns built castles and palaces - this reign built ‘Britannia’.”

Ship's bell.

The Royal Yacht.

'Britannia's' mooring at Leith.

‘Britannia’ sailed for 44 years, and travelled over a million nautical miles. She not only carried the Royals on official visits to all parts of the globe, but also hosted several Royal honeymoons, and numerous family summer hols, when they’d all go off cruising the Western Isles of Scotland (an area which has the advantage of remoteness, yet is still in Great Britain, and privacy -- though presumably was fairly chilly). 

Members of the public can now crawl all over ‘Britannia’ - in fact, she can be rented out for parties. The Queen’s grand-daughter Zara Phillips had her engagement drinkies there. It is a quite beautiful ocean-going yacht, with a hull of seamless dark blue and a band of gold leaf -- no name. Her fittings and fixtures, including her engines, are practically unchanged from the 1950s when she was built. It is the only one of her homes where the Queen and Prince Phillip had input into choosing the furnishings, and when ‘Britannia’ was in use, it was filled with personal memorabilia. It is still a very personal-looking place, and I for one felt like a peeping tom, spying into Her Majesty’s bedroom...And as for being told that the double-bed in the Honeymoon Suite was brought on board by Prince Charles when he and Diana honeymooned on the Royal Yacht...excuse me, too much information.

The Queen's bedroom.

The Royal couple chose the furnishings.

A home from home.

The drawing room.

But the Official Dining Room is a very public place - it could seat about 120, and many is the famous name that was invited to dine there. It is said that it took three hours to set the tables - each place setting being measured with a ruler for exact positioning. The walls of this formal dining room are decorated with gifts received from far-flung ports: there’s a narwhal tusk, an Easter Island figure, a carved wooden fish from Pitcairn Island inscribed with the name of every inhabitant. In the sitting room, there’s comfy chintz sofas and a baby grand piano once played by Noel Coward (and Princess Diana). When the Royal Family was on board, there were fresh flowers every day, brought from the gardens at Windsor Castle if the yacht was in the UK, or provided locally when travelling.

You can peer into the Captain’s quarters, the bars and dining rooms of the various ranks, in descending order until you reach the ‘yotties’ bunks below decks. The kitchens are still used; the laundry is a massive affair: all those immaculate pressed naval uniforms. A couple of dozen Royal Marines always travelled with the Queen, mostly so that they could provide a military band when needed. They had to have dozens of different uniforms on call. There’s the Queens office and Prince Phillip’s study. There’s a special room for the Spode china, and one for the silverware. Oh, it is a yacht from the glory days of majesty and pomp, and I think those lousy Brits should give the Queen back her yacht - actually, I believe she’d need a new one, since ‘Britannia’ had reached the end of her useful life. 

Strolling the deck.

How the other half lived.

Summer hols.

She was built in Scotland, and the Scots have been entrusted with her upkeep in her retirement. The tea rooms on the sun deck are a delightful place for a cup of tea - as I expect they always were, when ‘Britannia’ ruled the waves.

A lovely cup of tea aboard 'Britannia'.

The name’s Bond. James Bond.

Bond...James Bond

British style icon, man of action and drinker of martinis - shaken, not stirred: that is of course Bond, James Bond. The Barbican is hosting an exhibition this summer celebrating all things Bond, especially his Englishness. As one quote in the exhibition puts it, women leave a Bond movie admiring James Bond, and men leave it “standing tall”. I’m not entirely sure I agree with that, or even understand it, but the exhibition turned out to be a lot of fun.

In the foyer of the Barbican, Bond (in his Sean Connery iteration) leans stylishly in his stylish Saville Row suit against his stylish Aston Martin sports car. It’s all about style. Inside on view are many of the costumes from the movies, including the sumptuous evening gowns from ‘Casino Royale’. Of particular interest to exhibition-goers are Bond’s teeny swimming trunks, and the bikinis-with-knife-belts worn by his glamourous co-stars. There are jewels, diamonds (of course), golden guns, white dinner jackets, furs and ski-suits - including a memorable yellow and red number worn by Bond as he leaves the latest blond, clad only in a white fur, in the mountain hut and goes out to ski right off a mountain side:

“But James, I need you.”

“So does England”.

There’s M’s office re-imagined with it’s buttoned leather doors, and Q’s laboratory with its clever gadgets for beating bad guys. I particularly liked the “Re-breather”, a simple device to be inserted between the teeth, enabling Bond not only to swim underwater without his SCUBA gear, but to do so in his Saville Row suit, emerging merely a little (handsomely) disheveled. 

There are snippets of the movies playing throughout the exhibition, reminding us of such classic moments as the shower scene when Bond and his lady are spied upon by a robot (“What’s he doing?”; “Oh, just cleaning up a few things”). The body of Pussy Galore, asphyxiated by being painted all over with gold paint, is recreated in full life-like splendour. Bond, strapped down and with a laser beam headed for his crotch: “You don’t expect me to talk, do you?” Bond at the casino tables of Monte Carlo (“shaken, not stirred”); Bond piloting a gondola not only along the canals of Venice but also through it’s streets; Bond tobogganing down a mountain with the girl de jour, in her cello case (the case is on display) holding her priceless Stradivarius over his head. 

Shaken, not stirred...

Ah, yes. The adventures and the contraptions become more and more ridiculous as expensive stunts (a 1977 ski stunt was in its day the most expensive movie sequence ever produced, at half a million dollars) give way to the era of digital technology (Bond’s ski-do thing hooked to a glacier, which calves off into the ocean, melting on the way, allowing him to convert his machine to a windsurfer and windsurf off into the ocean -- really??) The story boards and sketches used to imagine these ridiculous escapades were endlessly fascinating.

But in the end, and despite my skepticism, the sheer amusing campness of it all converted me to a Bond fan. So naturally I had to visit the martini bar to imbibe a ‘Vesper’, Bond’s preference in ‘Casino Royale’: gin, vodka and Lillet Blanc - shaken not stirred, of course.

Dressing the Wells

Buxton: please DO drink the tapwater.

The Romans called Buxton ‘Aquae Arnemetiae’, the Victorians flocked to ‘take’ the health-giving waters, and Londoners know that ‘the water comes from Buxton’. Buxton is built on the River Wye, at the edge of the Peak District in the middle of England, not far from Manchester. It is in Derbyshire, and it was the Dukes of Devonshire that first spotted its potential as a spa town and developed the lovely Crescent buildings, the Pump House and other amenities.

Certainly Buxton is a ver verdant place, or as one local put it - “we’re built on water here”. The foundations of St Johns Church, built in 1811, had to be supported by a number of pillars going down to bedrock, so spongy is the spring-laden land on which it stands.

Your blogger samples St Ann's Well water.

The Romans, with their unerring eye for thermal baths, first settled the area, but it came to prominence in the 18th century when it was developed by the Dukes of Devonshire, with a second resurgence of popularity in the Victorian era. 

But it is the Well of St Ann that is at the heart of all this watery popularity. It’s been a shrine to St Ann since medieval times, according to Wikipedia. The well stands in the centre of town, near the old Pump Rooms, and to this day spouts warm water - a steady 28 degrees C - available to all. It is also bottled by the Buxton Mineral Water Company and sold far and wide - the company is the official supplier of water to the English Cricket team. The label on my bottle of Buxton Water reads:

Our water fell as rain water 5,000 years ago on the rolling hills of the unspoilt Peak District. During its deep underground journey, it slowly filters, collecting lovely minerals which give Buxton water its unique balanced and refreshing taste. Day after day it rises naturally at St Anne’s Spring, in the heart of Buxton town. 

Discovered in the church...

...what are they doing?

Wandering in to St John’s Church one Saturday in July at the beginning of the Buxton Festival, we happened across a lot of busy people who had just finished decorating some large wooden shapes with clay, and leaves and petals, to make the pieces of two large dioramas. Upon further enquiry, we learnt that they were preparations for something called “Dressing the Wells”. The decorations made in the church were on their way on various local trucks to the Well of St Ann, and another well in the Higher Buxton marketplace) the highest marketplace in England, in fact). When we checked out the results, we found the colourful decorations in place around St Ann’s Well - but the supply of spring water still gushing unaided and free from deep underground.

Loaded on the truck....

....curiouser and curiouser....

The Buxton Wells Dressing Festival seems to be some sort of semi-pagan ritual of thanks. The populace not only go to all the trouble to decorate their wells, they also crown a Queen of the Wells, and Bless the Wells. This year they are also holding a fun day, a carnival, a pet show and a spitfire fly-past. They seem to be very thankful for their springs. 

As well they might be - *boom-boom*.

St Ann's Well, fully Dressed.

Upon checking into the matter further, further information has come to light:

The Custom of Well Dressing is mostly unique to Derbyshire, its origins and history are not certain but its roots are said to come from pagan customs of making offerings to Water Gods, many Wells were thought to have healing powers and during early Christian times offerings continued to be made, as a result some Wells were dedicated to Christian Saints as St. Ann’s Well in Buxton.

A Well Dressing is a picture wholly made up of natural materials on a base of clay housed within a wooden frame.The picture is a collage of flower petals, leaves, moss, bark, seeds etc. Of varying colours and textures which with the skill of the dressers bring the subject matter to life. Each Community has slight variations in the method used to make a dressing but the general principles are the same.

The things you find in Deepest Rural England. 

Buxton Intermezzi

Beautiful Buxton

“Intermezzi” are short, brief entertainments between the acts of a play or an opera. A weekend trip to Buxton (pronounced by the locals as “Books-tun”) in Derbyshire provided a charming interlude to London life. From the first moment of arrival (fast train from London, then a rather slower two-carriage diesel to the local station) Buxton pleased. It is a delightful small town, built of homogenous, presumably locally-quarried, grey stone, set in the foothills of the Peak District. It has many wonderfully preserved buildings from its hey-day as a spa town: Buxton is famous for its waters. There are fine faded old hotels, a huge dome, a pavilion, lovely gardens, England’s oldest market square, and its oldest hotel (Mary Queen of Scots staying the building), a crescent of townhouses and a yet-to-be-restored pump room - just like a mini-Bath.

Buxton's Crescent: under restoration, to re-open 2014

And there is, moreover, an Opera House. It seems that the restoration of this opera house and its rescue from use as a cinema was the catalyst for the establishment of the Buxton Festival, which has now evolved into a regular summer feats of music, art and literature.

The Palace Hotel, Buxton

Upon our arrival at The Palace Hotel, a fine old faded lady, the reception hall was filed with a capella song as a visiting choir warmed up. We checked in to the strains of “It’s a Wonderful World”, then set out to find what Buxton had to offer. It soon dawned on us that we had happened upon a real gem of a town. We were spilt for choice of atmospheric old pubs at which to lunch, and -- uh, oh! -- we found the place filled with bookshops. Buxton is, you see, also a university town, a campus of the University of Derbyshire. Apart from the permanent bookshops, Buxton was merrily hosting a a literary festival, so there were extra bookstalls sprinkled about. There was also, under the dome of the pavilion, a serious antiquarian book fair on display. Did we buy books? Of course we did. My highlight find was as copy of a small chapbook written by Virginia Woolf, and published in 1934 by Hogarth Press - which was run by Leonard and Virginia Woolf in their basement in Tavistock Square. (Without getting too excited, I remind you that some of my philosophy classes at Birkbeck were held in the very same building on Tavistock Square...but I digress...). In 1934 the small book sold for “one shilling & sixpence net”. In Buxton in 2012 it cost me £20. A bargain!

Buxton Opera House

But we weren’t in Buxton just to enjoy its ambience and its book-buying possibilities. We were here for another “Intermezzo” - the rarely-performed opera by Richard Strauss. The lovely little Buxton Opera House was hosting the opening night, under the baton of conductor Stephen Barlow (who is , interestingly, married to Joanna Lumley, though we didn’t spot her in the stalls). The maestro and the director, Stephen Unwin, provided half an hour of ‘opera talk’ before the performance, which was illuminating. 

The opera, you see, is autobiographical, and domestic. It’s the story of a squabble between the composer and his wife, and it fairly closely factual. The action takes place in Grundlsee and Vienna, Austria in 1924. Christine, the wife in the piece, is a wild and argumentative harridan, and it is said that Strauss‘ real-life wife Paulina was none too happy when she saw it. Bust as Michael Kennedy writing in the program tells us:

They were an oddly-matched couple. He was phlegmatic, easy-going, good-natured. She was volcanic, outspoken (she would sometimes decry he husband’s music in public) and she became a domestic matriarch, keeping their home immaculately clean and well-run. They adored each other and their marriage lasted for 55 years until Strauss’s death in 1949. When he died, she went to pieces and survived only another eight months. from their marriage until she retired in 1906 [she was a soprano], they gave many recitals together and he regarded her as the best interpreter of his songs. Elements of Pauline can be found in most Strauss operas. She fascinated him totally.  

Apart from its unusual domestic and autobiographical subject-matter, the opera is also musically unusual. It is very much a continuous ‘conversation’, with no interspersed arias or choruses - though it does end with a wonderful duet between ‘Christine’ and ‘Robert’. Typically of Strauss, the final music is so resplendent that you are inevitably left wanting it to go on and on...

Summer Festival, Buxton

The soprano role. Christine, is huge - she is on stage for 10 of the 13 cinematographic scenes through which the opera speed. I Buxton, the sets were naturalist and beautifully rendered, minimalist on furniture but rich with props and details. Christine was sung by Janis Kelly, and marvellously. Her husband was sung by Stephen Gadd, equally well. In fact, al the voices were excellent indeed. The opera was sung in an English translation (by Andrew Porter), which worked fine (German to English translations never seem to suffer too much). 

Strauss subtitled “Intermezzo” - “A bourgeois comedy in two acts”. The director Stephen Unwin told us that he was a theatre director whose style very much favoured a naturalistic approach. he even quoted a remark of Zola as an inspiration:

“There is more poetry in a little apartment of a bourgeois than in all the empty worm-eaten palaces of history.” 

Strauss defended his decision to write a more or less plotless opera - nothing really happens, it is like the ‘Seinfeld’ of opera - and said that his “attractive and consistent character portrait” was “more interesting than any so-called plot”. 

Unwin writes in the program: 

...this rejection of conventional opera was more than merely formal, it was a self-conscious embrace of modernism’s contention that all lives, of every type, are worthy of interest and capable of being rendered into art...

Bravo, Herr Strauss. And bravissimo Buxton.

Buxton

Buxton

Buxton locator: in the Peak District

Map from: http://www.swainsleyfarm.co.uk/getting-here.htm