The curious thing about an activity such as Cardiff Singer of the World is that it is largely confined to the evenings. This means that there is usually an odd disjunction between daytime and evening activities. Today has been no exception. We spent the day at the Museum of Welsh Life, at St. Fagans, a few miles outside the city. It is an ambitious project by which an entire collection of buildings associated with the ordinary lives of Welsh people have (by some means I find hard to imagine) been dismantled and re-erected in the grounds of a large country house. There are cottages, workshops, chapels, shops, from all periods going back to the Tudor period.
Some of the experience has been simply curious, and some of it disturbingly emotional, such as visiting a tiny cottage resembling the one in which I spent a part of my childhood. Parts of the day have called to mind Stanislavsky’s ideas about “emotion memory” in which isolated and apparently trivial images can set in motion significant chains of emotional connection.
Last night’s round of the competition was better than the first, I think. The winner was a young soprano from the USA, Lauren Michelle. It has been interesting in that it has become clear that an intelligent choice of programme counts for a lot when it comes to gaining recognition. So far, however, none of the contestants has put in the kind of performance which absolutely pins you to your seat.
I have been reflecting on the huge difference between the requirements of my own type of art, and this. I do like meeting the public, and hearing their response to my work, but that does not involve performance. I dislike any hint of that in painting. Once I did undertake to do a demonstration and disliked it very much. I’m not sure that I would want to do that again, although I’m not sure exactly why.