See Beth Jump

MONA – the always surprising Museum of Old and New Art in Hobart – is one of my favourite places to sing.

Considering that it was never designed as a performance space, it has some of the best acoustics around for a capella intricate harmonies that dive and weave around the twisted staircase where we often end up spread over several flights and three levels.

And being MONA, we can’t just stand and sing in neat rows in our normal choir blacks.

No, there’s staging, and lighting, and the dreaded boiler suits. And something we’ve dubbed choralography, where we range far and wide through the galleries before hopefully ending up in the same place and on the same note.

All of which is terrifying. And thrilling – when it all comes together, which it usually does roughly around the time of the performance.

One of my favourite parts of performing at MONA is the chance to hang out in the galleries after closing time. Given that MONA is three dimensional and our rehearsal studio is not, the chance to actually walk through our staging and see what works, and what needs to be adjusted, is crucial. There’s never enough rehearsal time, so we have to try to make the most of it.

This means there’s very little time to stop and appreciate being behind the scenes at “our” MONA. Even on the day of the performance, when we front up with our Artists Passes and get shown to the Green Room – a converted loading bay complete with inflatable couches, fresh fruit and donuts – I have to work very hard at finding a moment when I can stop and say “We are so lucky – this is such a wonderful opportunity”, and really appreciate the thrill of the occasion.

Instead, we’re warming up, changing into our boiler suits and white sneakers and trying to learn the last of the German off by heart (a challenge for a non-German speaker – it’s just phonetics to me).

Then we’re following our stage manager up the stairs from the loading bay and making our way to the Nolan Gallery where after a few anxious minutes (is that woman really going to do an encore when we’re on such a tight schedule?) we start our Gregorian chant and process through to Bitfall (turned off during our performance).

We meet up with two other groups coming from other corners of the gallery. We sing something in Russian (more phonetics) and from there we head up the twisted staircase where our white boiler suits ($5.95 from Bunnings) provide the blank canvas for lighting which we only appreciate after the event, thanks to photos from friends.

We sing about the stars. Some choristers move off the stairs and accompany us on glasses, pre-tuned to the required notes. We do an original arrangement of Stairway to Heaven by our Chorus Director June Tyzack, to a rousing reception, then exit up the stairs after some contemporary choral music (Spanish this time).

Then there’s barely time to strip off the boiler suits and sneakers and change into all black, head to toe, for Blinded in the Barrel Room. Last year we performed Black Bach where we sang Bach Chorales in pitch darkness. It was so popular we’re doing something similar this time – eight performances over two days, telling the story of John Taylor, ophthalmologist to royalty and probably responsible for making Bach blind.

The Barrel Room is under The Bar at MONA. Not usually accessible to the public, it’s cool and smells pretty much like you’d expect a room full of barrels of Moorilla‘s best vintages to smell. There are some dusty magnums lying around in crates on the floor during rehearsal but they’ve been tidied away by the time of the performance.

The audience files in then we take our place in the middle and the story begins.

When Bach’s lights go out, so do ours.

Singing German in utter darkness is a challenge – getting our notes, starting together and staying together, but when it works it’s spine-tinglingly good.

When we finish with Mahler and the lights come back on, at least one person is in tears.

“Let’s aim for two, next time,” says our Director.

Some people – like Janet Holmes a Court – come back more than once.

And then it’s all over. We pack up our boiler suits, hand back our Mahler scores and head for the bar. Our Artists Passes get us a healthy discount on drinks and there’s plenty of debriefing to be done.

We’ve performed at MONA’s Synaethesia twice, but this was our first MOFO and it has been lots of fun. Let’s hope it’s not our last.

And there’s always Dark MOFO.