Frank Corcoran

“The sea! Oh! The sea!” Now lovely late September washing or laving or lapping at the deep heart´s core ( see my newest work for solo harp ) , synaesthesia gone all Turnerish, dawns and evenings mirroring more than these fingers can. Eye cannot see nor ear hear nor vice versa at that Tirrhenian coast where Etruscans and Greeks and Parthians and Romans and Goths and Lombards and Huns and Franks all were suitably cowed and dandled and lulled and laid at this sand-and-sea line, like as the waves move toward the pebbled shore ( or its roar , if there is a storm out at Elba or Giglio Island ). Kinetic art ?Maybe Debussy´s La Mer-ish art was a swindle, eh ?