Femme, oiseau, étoile, constellation 1977

Here, Joan Miró puts pencil and crayon to paper, creating a world of symbols that feels both playful and profound. Miró’s artmaking feels like a dance; he's improvising with shapes and lines, letting one form lead to another. The surface of the paper is left bare, allowing the beige to become a backdrop to the black lines. These aren't just any lines; they're like pathways through a dream. See how they curve and intersect, creating a sense of depth and movement? And those touches of crayon, like flares of white, almost like a kid just scribbled on the page, but with a real sense of placement. That single star in the upper right, it anchors the whole composition, reminding us that even in the most abstract forms, there's always a point of reference, a connection to something larger than ourselves. Think of Paul Klee; Miró and Klee share this love of the childlike, of creating art that feels spontaneous and free, as if pulled straight from the subconscious. Art is an open question, not a closed statement.