WATERFRONTS IN ISTRIA, CROATIA

ROVINJ

NOVIGRAD

DID MAGRITTE HOLIDAY IN NOVIGRAD?

Novigrad is in Istria, Croatia, not far from the more well-known seaside resort of Porec. One of the town's features is a kind of loggia that stands all on its own, unattached to any larger building. These municipal loggia were typical of Istria, and placed on the external side of fortified walls. The one in Novigrad dates from the 16th Century. I imagine that these loggia were viewing points, places where the citizens could go and admire the view, i.e. when and if the town wasn't under siege.

Margaret and myself recently spent several days in Novigrad, which had the uncluttered relaxed air of an Irish seaside town in the 1960s, except that the weather was better. The first time I saw this loggia it reminded me forcefully of a painting by Magritte. Not any painting in particular, but for me the sight of the loggia standing alone (why wasn't it attached to a palace or something?), with its three windows looking out on empty sea, as in the above photo, evoked a strong impression of Magritte's style of surrealism.

How fast the horizon flies where suddenly

after aeons upon aeons of empty sea

a petrol tanker's spit of flame ignites.

(from Eugenio Montale's 'La Casa dei Doganieri', in my own translation.)

Speaking of Montale reminds me that we noticed (or rather, heard) a lot of Italian holidaymakers in Novigrad during our stay. Istria was historically a colony of Venice on account of its salt-works, and the Italian connection is long established. Anyway, it is not a very long drive from Trieste to Novigrad.

 Photos by Margaret (not Magritte)

LIMERICK POETRY FESTIVAL IN BERLIN

On 18th June last, I gave a presentation in the Academy of Arts, Pariser Platz 4, near the Brandenburg Gate, on behalf of Cuisle Limerick City International Poetry Festival, at the Berlin Poetry Festival organized by Literaturwerkstatt. The morning session was a kind of 'Poetry Market' in which representatives from various poetry festivals and projects throughout Europe, together with spokespersons for events in Canada and Chile, shared information and experiences. Each delegate had up to ten minutes to present their festival or project (although the official deadline was five minutes). One of the topics up for discussion in the afternoon session was 'The willingness of European Festivals to invest together in co-productions of poetry and other arts products'. In addition, it was agreed that a petition to governments, regarding imminent draconian cutbacks to arts budgets, would later be sent around by e-mail for the signature of everyone present.

JOHN ARDEN AND MARGARETTA D'ARCY AT CAHERAWONEEN

Renowned playwrights John Arden and Margaretta D'Arcy read in Jan Sutton's house at Caherawoneen, near Kinvara, from a script on George Moore's attempts to engage with the Gaelic League, to an audience of friends and admirers, Sunday 5 July 2011.

Among those present were poet and author Fred Johnston (with his dog Tristan), poet Knute Skinner and his wife Edna Faye Kiel.

In an olde worlde atmosphere befitting the historical subject of the script and the grammatically perfect Victorian dialogue of some of its protagonists, tea was served, and (among other delicacies) scones with cream and jam. An unknown labrador took an intense interest in my scone, but in this picture he seems, temporarily at least, to have given up hope of sharing it.

LANE WITH TWO DISTANT FIGURES IN BARREN LANDSCAPE

I seem to have a predilection for photographs of barren landscapes with figures in the distance. They are evocative. Where are the two figures going? Is this the beginning of a story or could it be the end? In Yevtushenko's poem, the old schoolmaster fades into the snow at the end, as the children watch him from the classroom window: 'a little longer and he will be so white/ we shall not see him in the whitened trees'.
Evocative of ends and beginnings: of leaving a scene or entering a new scene.
Perhaps one of the figures is luring the other into the barren landscape for a fell purpose.... Perhaps they are going to examine a curious set of markings on a rock....
Or maybe this scene is from the middle of a novel, and the two figures are taking a walk together to try and resolve a crisis....
In any case, the scene is in the Burren, near New Quay, on New Year's Day 2011.

SELF-PORTRAIT, UMBRIA, EASTER 2011

He pauses on the balcony steps for a photograph. He looks a bit fragile: he was admitted to hospital with suspected appendicitis only a week before. That was in Limerick; now he is in rural Italy, in Umbria, on a farm which has been converted into apartments. The stone staircase leads up to the one he has rented for a few days with his wife. Two friends from London are renting another apartment at the bottom of the stairs.
The wall to the right of him has a couple of bird's nests in its crevices. To the left, a winter supply of logs for the huge open fire in his apartment is covered by polythene, and the wisteria has been excessively trimmed by the landlord. Beyond the wooden framework for a summer canopy, and some trees, a bluish haze of countryside suggests itself.

It's a few days later and he's in Perugia with his two London friends, on the Corso Vannucci, beside the famous fountain of Works and Days, refurbished over a decade and railed in now to prevent vandalism. Not one of the three of them is getting any younger, but he looks better in this photo, less etherial, more sensuous, with a trace of healthy insouciance.

The same setting, this time with herself, his wife, on the right; the photographer photographed.

ADDENDUM. Fascinating Italian phrase: In bocca al lupo. Meaning literally "into the mouth of the wolf", this expression is used to wish well to people undergoing competitive ordeals like exams, driving tests, interviews for jobs and so on. It seems on the face of it similar to the English expression 'break a leg' said to actors before a performance, i.e. it is simply a contrary way of wishing good luck by stating the opposite. However, it occurred to me on waking this morning (still under the influence of my few days in Italy) that the saying could go back all the way to Romulus and Remus, the twins who were abandoned at birth and carried off in the mouth of a she-wolf to be suckled and reared, and who went on to found the city of Rome.

RETURNING TO ITALY

Here we are, Margaret and myself, in the summer of 2008 among Italian friends. The setting is a converted farmhouse in the countryside near Perugia. On Friday (29 April) we are returning for a few days to the farmhouse, where we spent a most amazing and creative year in 1994 – 1995. We are looking forward to meeting these friends again after almost three years, which is the longest period we have stayed away from the place since our year's sojourn there.
The area has become the setting for a gothic novel, 'A Year's Midnight', which I hope to publish shortly. I have already published a number of excerpts from it on this blog, e.g. 'A Desecration of Considerable Magnitude' and 'The Canine Position on Abortion'.
The idea of the novel was a sort of 'what if?' proposition. What if the year we spent in Italy had been a complete disaster, instead of a complete success? Imagine two characters like yourselves, who arrive in the heart of rural Italy with a five-year-old child, knowing practically nobody, with only a rudimentary knowledge of the language, hoping to make it a period of renewal, and everything gradually goes haywire for them.
It is largely thanks to the people in this photo, and a number of others, that we can look back on that year in Umbria with such affection and vivid memories.