First night.

Opening night of "Bathing With Elephants and Other Exotic Reveries".  Phil the Elephant stands calm and serene while pre-performance preparations occur around him.   We are all checking that everything is still working and in place.  Last night the pre-amp I'm using for the daxophone was showing a low battery light last night and now appears dead.  I swap the battery.  Still dead.  Jiggle the battery.  Still dead, convince myself I've put the battery in the wrong way round, there's a noise, but also the smell of magic smoke, and that is never good.  I plug the lead straight into the daxophone and it works, I'll worry about the pre-amp later (checks: it is dead).

I realise at this point that I'm quite nervous.   This isn't the first time I've performed, and I have rituals and ways of working through performance anxiety.  This isn't the first sculptural object I've made - there is a rather excellent Giant Metal Owl in our garden.  This isn't the first time I've played a gig on a novel and unfamiliar instrument just after acquiring it - my first rock gig was about two weeks after I got my first bass guitar, and my first upright bass gig was the day I brought it home.  It isn't the first conceptual art/installation piece I've collaborated on either.  However, this is the first time I've conceived, and executed an installation/performance art piece on my own - so in many ways this is my first actual piece of public 'performance art'.

There may be reviews, comments, people talking about my work, and it is all on my head.

This is novel, and I have no coping mechanisms for this.

Although this is my first piece of art, I have had some necessary and excellent help along the way.    Without my brother's help, expertise, advice and power tools the Elephant would probably not be complete, or stable, and I would probably be missing some fingers.   With the excellent tusks and painting help from Nic and Nic, and the great sounding mahogany from Ivan, the Elephant is strong and mighty.

I'm not playing the Elephant on my own.  Phil Dadson is collaborating with me.  Phil is one of those amazing musicians who can make anything sound musical.  I've heard him make a piece of crumpled paper sound incredible, so an Elephant should be no problem.  Phil is also one of the main proponents and influences of scratch made instruments and sonic sculptures in New Zealand.

So, I have a most excellent Elephant, a slide show which tells a simple true story, a prepared structure for the music, and one of the countries best improvisers collaborating with me, and my partner, who has a critical eye, supports and believes in me, and in this project.

And yet, I am nervous.

I get my cue to start and prepare to blow the first note on the side blown horn.    Although this is a traditional African instrument, the sound is that of the Putatara/Pukaea/Conch which has a powerful resonance throughout the Pacific.  It is also very easy to mess up.  I've been here before, conch in hand, lonely and exposed, and I start to panic a little as I blow the first note.  Then Phil joins in trumpeting through the trunk.  I'm not alone.  I move to the harp, my fingers are like rubber, but the notes sound true.

The new journey begins.

An instagram taken by Catherine from Metro.