10.15
Apartment Quite Acceptable, Av. Belgrano, Buenos Aires.
Front view…
Rear view I…
The ideal GC House, for the proposed GC Institute of Research & Practice, has appeared in Bredonborough.
For a little while, I’ve had a hunch that our property was waiting, hovering, somewhere near the centre of town, not quite on the market. This morning I went online property-searching, something I have not done for a while - and there it was! Just launched! I even know this house & inspected it when it was on the market 2-3 years ago. Friends live next door, his Mother lived here until her flying away; which brought the property onto the market last time. It is a 3-minute walk from our own front door, or 4 minutes in the rush hour.
Now. Here it is. Ideal.
The asking price is £750,000 ($1.5 million). We are only short £750,000 ($1.5 million) in getting this. I have e-mailed members of the GC community, requesting them to further the information to others in their immediate circles.
Here in Buenos Airess, when the going gets going, the Gigster gets packing I…
II…
In the morning’s paper I…
II…
Lobby call for 11.00.
17.23 To the venue I…
II...
III...
IV...
V...
VI...
VII...
Dressing Room of the English Kabusacki…
Catering…
Encircling space…
Auditorium I…
Self Portrait of the Old Goat as Artist…
Soundcheck I…
VII...
Foyer I…
II…
This is the Q&A space for Kabusacki & The LCG, after the short performance-presentation. The atmosphere is smoky…
Corridor with security…
… and without…
A c. 20-minute performance for press, with photography on the second piece, followed by a press conference Q&A.
Set up walk-in music - Glass & Breath IV. I walked-on to continue Glass & Breathing. Immediately, the photographer & flash: this despite all agreements to the contrary. The second piece for photography, this already a considerable matter for us. Soundscapes abruptly ended & I left the stage. This man-photographer, writ large, is in large part why I no longer perform in public to any great extent.
Then, returning with The LCG for 4 pieces, the photography extending beyond the agreed 2nd. piece into the third. The lights were awful, starting with spotlight & no light on the audience, changing to something else, as bad but different. Persons placed in charge of venue-lighting are sent to try me; those in charge of photography sent to curse me.
One small point: a national daily requested a duo-shot of Hernan & Robert. This question was asked before the performance, a crucially distractable time for the performance-attention. Nevertheless, this important photo & the gravity attached to the request, from a very good journalist: we agreed. Afterwards, with Hernan & Robert distracted & available – the photographer had left. This is Argentina. This is why I no longer do stupid stuff – Hernan does it instead.
The Q&A: a very different quality of experience, and good questions. We’ll read what answers we gave soon enough.
Hernan & I taxied back to the apartment, to find we were locked out…
Stairwell as art…
Achieving entry, our ride back to the venue & our ‘bus was stuck in traffic. So, a taxi it is.
01.12 Hotel Modesto, Rosario.
Waiting for us in the foyer of the ND Ateneo, Buenos Aires, the star of our tour – Kabusacki! But there is no mention of Kabuscaki on the poster…
… although we all know the truth of the matter. Fernando is our star.
Milling I…
Milling II…
‘Bus…
Who cares it’s packed?...
We drive off leaving behind an empty space, until our return…
… while Sr. Nunez leads the Team in singing an Argentinean hit of the 60s I…
II…
Into the night I…
II…
Pit stop…
Into Rosario I…
Where are we? I…
II…
A hard ride on a ‘bus packed with baggage & players with an ongoing shouted-conversation between driver & second driver for much of the way. Loud honking of the horn when we passed other ‘buses had the function of waking the sleeping. Hernan was woken from his own slumber for a ‘phone interview.
Arriving at the hotel, members of the Rosario GC & LCG family members were here to meet us: a good arrival.
o supper: a drunk man on next table was sitting with his Wife & young daughter, ignoring both, preferring his bottle of red wine, a magazine & tv tennis. Terrible emanations crossed the small space from his table to ours. When he eventually left, sometime after his family, the air noticeably cleared, immediately: his presence, an entry an unhappy place. The appropriate response is compassion although, on this evening, I confess to that being beyond me, acknowledging my failing.
Ordering our food was an adventure in itself; its arrival at the table an adventure in transportation & delivery.
A long day.
Dribble.
"Music so wishes to be heard that it calls on some to give it voice and some to give it ears."
