In 1906 that most innovative of british architects, Sir Edwin Lutyens, built his first completely classical country house. His client was a rich Yorkshireman who, understandably, was anxious to see not only that he got value for money but also that he got exactly what he wanted. Touring the unfinished building with the architect, the client was shown the proposed position for a black marble staircase. ‘But I don't want a black marble staircase’, he said, ‘I want an oak one.’ ‘What a pity’, said Lutyens. Some months later they visited the house again and the client was surprised to find the black marble staircase installed. ‘I told you I didn't want a black marble staircase’, he protested. ‘I know’, replied Lutyens, ‘and do you remember I said: “What a pity”?’

What can explain Lutyens's apparent readiness to ride roughshod over his client's wishes? Was the marble staircase that important? The first Lord Balfour (who, as it happens, was Prime Minister at about the time Lutyens was working on that Yorkshire house) is credited with having said, ‘Nothing matters very much, and very few things matter at all.’ That might well be a useful maximum for a politician, but for an artist or a musician it won't do: in the work of artists, points of detail do matter – and matter a great deal.