Antonio Vivaldi reveled in the art of naturalistic painting. His Opus 8, a set of 12 concerti grossi, opens with “Le Quattro Staggioni” (“The Four Seasons”), each of which is a finely crafted landscape on the canvas of the musical staff.

Just in case the listener might miss the point, the Red Priest even included a poem about each season in the published score, whose date of 1725 is probably many years after he actually composed the music. These pieces have been topping the charts continuously ever since: If you doubt their ubiquity, just try walking the streets of Venice without being accosted by hawkers in period costume passing out leaflets advertising that night’s performance.

In the spirit of ecumenicalism, St. Luke’s came to St. Bart’s to perform these marvelous aural vignettes. Although there has been a noticeable deterioration of muscularity in this fine orchestra since the rather mediocre Donald Runnicles replaced Sir Charles Mackerras as director, the group is still capable of the type of protean stylistic play that has made it a local minor miracle. Having performed for many different conductors in the course of the past year – including Sir Roger Norrington, whose quixotic demands of vibratofree performance practice are counterintuitive to many of these accomplished musicians – the Orchestra of St. Luke’s soldiers on, seemingly capable of changing colors as effortlessly as a chameleon.

On this night, a mere 15 musicians plus harpsichord continuo presented the four concertos as individual standalone pieces. Annie Bergen of WQXR radio was on hand to recite the poems before each presentation. It wasn’t exactly Dylan Thomas reading Yeats, but it was fine. What made these introductions instructive was that the violin soloist provided an obbligato of thematic references for individual images. To reinforce the separate nature of the concertos, there was a different soloist for each of the first three tone poems.

The small group produced a gentle, sweet, warm sound. The concert mistress, Krista Bennion Feeney, performed “Spring” in varying shades of refined quietude. (She returned for “Winter.”) The mood was reflective, as well. Would it be too confusing to describe it as autumnal?

This entire low-volume concert was the perfect antidote to the souped-up CD versions of the Vivaldi wherein the pitch level is consciously raised above A440. It also provided a rational alternative to the harshly accented and dynamically unstable music videos of Julia Fischer and Nigel Kennedy. The “Danza pastorale” proved especially soothing, a steadily rocking solace. My only quibble with Ms. Feeney’s otherwise solid performance was her lack of a singing line in the Largo. She seemed much more determined to separate every note of melody from its mates. Perhaps she has had one too many sessions with Mr. Norrington.

The best performance of the evening was by Mitsuru Tsubota, who spearheaded the “Summer” section. Her fast passages were more exciting than her predecessor’s, but still tasteful. Her Adagio sang with seemingly infinite lyricism, and her thunderstorm, backed by only the two cellos of Daire FitzGerald and Myron Lutzke and the double bass of John Feeney, was spectacular. Plus she had the pleasure of the bird imitations, a signature Baroque touch as arresting as the soft folds of fabric in a Bernini marble statue.

Finally, Mayuki Fukuhara provided a lively account of the hunting party that is the crux of “Autumn.” He was the most accurate of the trio of soloists and the strongest exponent of emphatic accents. These three fine violinists and their differing styles provided significant splashes of color that kept this overall performance from slipping down into the realm of the cliche.

Many concerts at St.Bart’s are held in the chapel, but this extravaganza took place in the main church, where echoes of Leopold Stokowski still reverberate. It is difficult not to hear music in this magnificent room without thinking about that marvelous orchestral arrangement of Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D minor. And the capacity crowd – many of whom had come for dinner as well – attested to the enduring maxim that to lure the public back again and again, it is much better to rely on quality than trendiness.