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It's a Changing Rooms moment for James Holloway, the director of the Scottish National Portrait Gallery.

Probably the episode when a woman returns to find Carol Smillie and her team have thrown out her nice ikea lightshade and replaced it with half a tree and a length of fairy lights.

Only it's not his house but the ground floor of the 19th Century gallery which has been given a makeover by a number of street artists.

They've been invited in while the Edinburgh gallery is closed for a multi-million pound refurbishment.

I was last here in April when the last visitors were leaving and the place was neatly stacked with boxes.

Today's scene couldn't be further from that - the air is thick with spray paint, there's barely a piece of wall left unpainted.

The carpet has been ripped up, holes punched in the exhibition walls - the artists have clearly made this place their own.

Some are designers, others graffiti artists, among them the Highland duo Dufi - alias Al MacInnes and Fin Macrae - who're working on a giant Scottish Jesus.

As well as the giant stencilled face and hands they're working on today, they intend to add the single word answers they received from people around the country when asked what Jesus means in modern day Scotland.

And while that might ruffle a few feathers, will this exhibition? Has it legitimised graffiti art? Or made it a bit too safe?

"I think Banksy legitimised graffiti," said Fin. "We're just carrying on that tradition.

"It's not exactly edgy when you're sitting in a nice warm gallery, eating your sandwiches, instead of perched on a wall with your backpack full of spray paints, ready to run.

"But this has been great because you have time to work with other artists, to talk to them, to see what they're doing.

"Getting that time has been the most important thing."

The project was inspired by the 19th century mural in the gallery's entrance hall which depicts the great Scots of history.

Rough Cut Nation targets more everyday Scots, not Robert the Bruce but Robert Bruce, a heart patient. Elsewhere, there are huge images of a cancer patient, a priest, someone's grandfather.

And, while it may seem chaotic, curator Richie Cumming says it has rules like any other artform.

"If other artists don't like the work, they'll paint over it, add their own work," he said.

"It's quite an interactive process and will make it much more interesting. And I don't think it will stop when they public come in."

As to James Holloway, once he got over his Changing Rooms moment, he admits it could be just the boost the portrait gallery needs.

"We don't want to lose our regular visitors - and while they might be as surprised as me - it's quite a fantastic use of the space and if we can bring street artists in, and their friends and widen our audience, it will have been a really important project."

Rough Cut Nation is at the Scottish National Portrait Gallery from August 7th as part of the Edinburgh Festival of Art. Check their website for details of live music and other gallery events.

I'm making a whistlestop tour of the Manchester International Festival, while working on a radio documentary.

MIF is one of the newest festivals on the calender - and there's been quite a buzz about this year's programme, the second staged.

First stop is Manchester Town Hall, where the historic committee rooms are a riot of noise and colour.

The whole building has been handed over to the festival for The Great Indoors - a series of free events for children.

There are huge queues and Event Full notices everywhere but we sneak in at the back of a cake decorating workshop - minature chocolate versions of Manchester Town Hall abound - and peek into another room where the air is thick with paper and feathers, ripped up and thrown into the air.

A long hallway is full of sculpture made from recycled objects - plastic bottles and boxes, and other rubbish made into towering works of art from which the marble busts of the great and good of Manchester now peek out.

Over the top

After that, it's off to the Palace Theatre and Rufus Wainwright's first opera.

Prima Donna - like the singer itself - is flamboyant, colourful and over the top.

A sort of Sunset Boulevard with arias, it tells the tale of reclusive opera star Madame Saint Laurent who hasn't sung in public since a disastrous premiere many years before

It's essentially an opera about opera - and as such it ticks all the classic opera boxes - outrageous villains, lavish costumes, unlikely plot twists and a dramatic death.

Perhaps the only thing missing is a memorable tune - it's lavish and lush and beautifully performed by the orchestra of Opera North but i'm not sure anyone will be humming the score for years to come.

The purists may sniff but it's enormous fun, and touching too.

Impromptu concert

And when did you last go to the opera and sit two seats away from a man in a blue satin figure-hugging dress?

Or spot the composer being mobbed as he left the stage door?

After that, it's off to Manchester Art Gallery where French cellist Jean-Guihen Queyras is performing Bach beneath the swirls of a stunning white art installation made by architect Zaha Hadid.

The concert brings it all full circle - quite literally - as the music which inspired the art is performed inside the artwork.

Then it's back to the festival tent for more Rufus Wainwright, this time in an impromptu concert with his mum - the folk singer Kate McGarrigle - a thank you note which is relayed across the festival on big screens.

I'm not the only Scot in town.

There are a few Scottish organisations represented, informally perhaps but no doubt quietly checking out the competition.

Wooing audiences

Most are impressed that the festival has acquired such a buzz in just two short years.

On top of that, its director Alex Poots is an Edinburgh boy, who cut his teeth on the Edinburgh International Festival.

He insists Manchester isn't in competition with Edinburgh, despite the fears expressed in the Thundering Hooves reports and he hopes there's scope for working more closely to avoid clashes.

But now that they've noticed, I suspect many organisations north of the border will be keeping a close eye on its progress.

And for all that it's the new kid on the block, festivals could learn a lot from the MIF experience - about wooing newer and younger audiences, on thinking outside the box and on understanding that less is sometimes more when it comes to a festival.

And to that end, if you miss this year's Manchester International festival (which ends on Sunday), you'll have to wait till 2011 for the next one.

I have a confession to make.

I've been covering T in the Park for more than a decade. I've been backstage, frontstage, on the stage. I've been there when they've been building the stage, and in the days when you didn't need a road map to find the staff car park. But I've never experienced what many people regard as the central experience of T in the Park - camping.

This week, I took matters - and my sleeping bag - into my own hands and joined the 20,000 people who set up camp there more than 24 hours before a band even takes to the stage.

By half past five, the campsite is heaving, mostly young people, lugging crates of lager up the hill behind them, but there's a good scattering of veteran concert goers. The atmosphere is high spirited, and noisy but not intimidating. Many of the groups know each other and have already set up camps within camps.

There's an obviously increased security presence, following last year's stabbing of a fan in the campsite. Fans seem pragmatic.

"It could have happened in any city on a Saturday night," says Dave, who's here with his daughter and her boyfriend.

"But because there are so many paramedics on hand, they were able to react very quickly. I think that's what makes the difference."

Chief Supt Craig Suttie of Tayside Police agrees. "Compared to a lot of Scottish towns on a Saturday night, this has a low crime rate. Last year's incident was a terrible one, but hopefully an isolated one. This year, it's about reassuring people, letting them know we're all around."

Police officers patrolling the site are part of a 2,500 strong team which includes everyone from stewards to welfare officers. Above them, the area is monitored by cameras - including the infra-red ones on the hot air balloon "blimp".

The strategy seems to be to avert problems before they happen.
A drunken boy, roaming the site isn't arrested. He's escorted back to his tent, given water and urged to sleep it off.

It's a relatively quiet start - the real challenge comes when the remaining 45,000 campers arrive, augmented on the day by a further 20,000 non campers.

Speaking of non campers - my night under canvas at T was noisy, cold but uneventful. The cameraderie of the campsite began to wear off around 2am, as did my usual love of the music of Johnny Cash - just not played in the wee small hours.

And reader, I cheated. My tent - a teepee large enough to accomodate a family of five - was already up when i got there, the air bed full of air, and a proper shower and toilet block just a hundred yards away.

After 10 years of waiting, some experiences just can't be rushed.