Preparing for just exactly what ? Misty carols and mystical cooking , a strong red bottle, little children, late capitalism’s late collapse, the epiphany in the ordinary ( we hope ) and something to save the banal or the trivial or both. Full belly or vacuous mind, mountains of food for thought. The angels did sing. Pentatonically, Celtic-Chinese, I presume. In my new AN IRISH CAROL we expand from one voice to soaring four, from the simple to the full-throated roar and back again. Simple. But I thought of it first.
Art in the small. Nor was the “Irish” world of Aingeal MacCraith , 1640-ish, any less ” baroque” than Bernini’s Rome , Borromini’s unfortunate sword, his Christmas dinner. “Dun” = “Palazzo” , certainly, so also ” the dusky heart”, therfore “yearnings”, therefore ” intimations of immortality”, all that and more at this wintersolstice.