Untitled [plate LVI] 1958

Curator: Ah, "Untitled [plate LVI]" by Joan Miró, created in 1958. It's deceptively simple. What does it conjure up for you? Editor: Stark. It has the austerity of a forgotten astronomical chart. Minimalist, even though I'm sure the hand of the artist was quite involved in producing it. Curator: You nailed it with 'the hand.' There's an intimacy here. Miró allows you to watch his subconscious playing on the page. A wisp of an idea becoming a fully realized form, like a musical notation. What about the physical artwork? Editor: Let's talk materials. It's a print, right? Likely a lithograph, given the period. Look closely; you can see the texture where the ink meets the paper. It’s almost palpable. Each impression would be ever so slightly different, the hand of the artisan present in even a multiple. Curator: Beautifully put. The green feels like a secret garden viewed from outer space and the arc above with white dots gives it an ethereal magic. Perhaps this evokes the hidden structures and rhythms of the universe? A green heart, black consciousness and a divine link running through it all. What do you make of it, grounded as you are? Editor: The process is equally enchanting. I’m imagining Miró collaborating with master printers, carefully selecting paper stock and pigments. Those imperfections that some might overlook, that’s where the real story lies! Each blot and subtle shift in pressure represents labor. There's human touch in every aspect of the printing process which really adds a dimension. It really shows here in this composition with two primary shapes which appear to defy gravity, Curator: It all loops back doesn’t it, to a deeper more thoughtful appreciation. Editor: Absolutely, it grounds the ethereal! Curator: Gives you wings. Editor: It sets sail for the factory, haha.