Sunday Sounds

The bustle of bells pronounce Sunday magic;

Full peal across the bright pastel space,

Where pale sea meets busy harbour,

Hazy sky meets jewelled balloons

And conversations murmur and burble. 

Sounds rising and falling, 

Interlacing in an endless swirl of persistent rhythmic clouds,

Echoing the multitude of percussive noon bells across the city.

Appealing to each other like friends in friendly greeting. 

The Croatian Literary Baroque

Bartol Kašić (1575-1650)

On my island of olive growers and fisherman I feel as far away from the baroque as is possible. The landscape is dotted with tiny café latte tinted stone chapels, perfectly contrasted with the pine green forests and iron rich soil. These appear to have sprung out of the earth, so sympathetic are they with their natural, yet cultivated surroundings. Human in scale and spiritual in content, they are reminders of a simple, aesthetic and pure faith. This seems to be what the architects of the baroque were trying to bulldoze in their efforts to appeal to the emotions and senses of the wavering congregations. Revision here is quite entertaining, and what follows is a fleshing out of the notes that I'm working through - it is inevitable that an art style which I really don't like has produced so many posts!