Composition 1927

Curator: Ah, "Composition" by Joan Miró, painted in 1927. It’s a mixed media work, so the materials are part of the magic. Editor: Magic is right. When I look at it, I feel a little lost, a little dreamy. It's like gazing up at a twilight sky filled with strange constellations. Does that black shape worry anyone else or just me? Curator: Miró's abstract style really lets him play with forms. It's interesting to consider this was made between the world wars, during a period of significant upheaval and social change. I always wonder if it reflects that uncertainty. Editor: Well, to me that block grounds the image, especially juxtaposed against the weightless feeling from everything else. Is that a bird? Floating? And that wisp of yellow down below... Curator: Perhaps it's not just about representing recognizable objects, but more about creating a visual poem. I think his use of line in the artwork, like a flowing calligraphy, invites a more intuitive read, or what he thought was intuitive at least. Editor: A poem! I like that idea better than unsettling anxiety about global catastrophe! And those little scribbles within the "bird"... are they words, secrets? The bird looks innocent though. Almost fragile. Curator: Miró often used his art as a form of visual language to respond to the conditions he found himself in. We know he was experimenting a great deal around this time, particularly how form and abstraction related to social meaning. The canvas is almost dreamlike in its texture, do you feel it is almost inviting the viewer in? Editor: Now that I think about it, it’s as if he captured a fleeting feeling, something half-remembered. And the fact that it's a mixed media painting contributes to that too; you can almost feel the different textures, even though you’re just looking at it. But how "public" were images like this meant to be seen then? Was there much gallery support? Curator: He definitely carved his place in history, although this artwork seems to be an individual interpretation. A response, and something the artist might only have seen at night after dreaming of simpler forms. I’d happily have that bird dream of me tonight though. Editor: Tonight, I'll let Miró be the gatekeeper of my subconscious. It definitely changes the conversation about abstract art by letting my mind wander. Thanks.