Vivaldi: one concerto and 500 variations of it…

they say: “While Beethoven wrote seven concertos, Brahms four and Bach, Haydn, Handel and Mozart at most a few dozen, Vivaldi wrote over 500 (and more are being uncovered each year)! When you’re that prolific, some recycling and lapsing into formula is inevitable.” the funnier version would be that Vivaldi didn’t write hundreds of concerti but only one concerto hundreds of times! i fell in love with Baroque violin virtuoso, Giuliano Carmignola, a few years back; it was astonishing to hear Vivaldi’s over-exposed, over-played (ad nauseam) “Four Seasons” in a different way: the presto of summer has never been this fast combined with some feverish allegro sections.



listen to some of his music, or even better watch the short video clip – he’s amazing; Carmignola has mostly played with the Venice Baroque Orchestra using their period-instruments which makes the performance sound the way that the old Venetian, Vivaldi, would have imagined, composed and conducted it…

unfortunately, the above images are not mine – i tried to catch his southern california concert a couple of years ago but he stood us up! got sick on the plane from Venice or got scared of our governor.

Paris, 6 am

so i woke up this morning at 5 and headed towards trocadero. the idea of seeing the Eiffel Tower by itself was enough of a reason – the last time i was up this early for a photo shoot was in prague, last may.


the pigeons and me weren’t completely alone… a couple of Parisian lovers were watching the sun rise.



i started walking towards saint germain; Paris’ saturday morning streets were empty but for trash collectors, some late party goers walking back home and the omnipresent american joggers; even my least favorite bridge, pont Alexandre III, looked majestic in the golden morning hue.


i ended my promenade with a café crême at Deux Magots.


Gustave Moreau

this was an interesting museum because you could see where the artist lived – his work has never seemed very interesting to me but i thought a lot about my dear professor Ungvari when i was looking at Moreau’s study: there were many beautiful books and various collections of small drawings; the whole room was bathing in a quiet amber light.