Untitled [plate LXII] 1958

Curator: Let’s take a look at Joan Miró’s "Untitled [plate LXII]", a print from 1958. Editor: I’m immediately drawn to the singular spiral shape, floating there. The blue ink against the stark white… it feels almost playful, yet a little lonely. Curator: Yes, playful, I think, is right. The method Miró uses in printmaking during this period—allowing for texture in the application of ink and chance in the registration—becomes part of the final piece, and a new way to see and realize form. This departs somewhat from pure abstraction, right? The printing process isn't entirely hands-off. Editor: The spiral itself is heavy with cultural meaning. Think of ancient symbols, pathways, the unfolding of the universe…and yet Miró’s rendering feels so childlike. It's this primal connection to visual language that makes it feel familiar, but not fully legible. The way that it hangs there isolated brings the image into relief. Curator: You've really nailed down how he utilizes symbols. Considering what art supplies were easily available to work with at that moment in time, it must have been an opportunity for the Surrealists like Miro, to go big with gestural abstraction. This looks almost improvised! The Art Informel movement was really emphasizing those aspects of work, the moment and the material coming together, like an expression from nothing into something tangible. Editor: The seeming simplicity is deceptive. I’m convinced that Miró intentionally utilizes that ambiguity. A symbol can’t truly function without it. Does this drawing symbolize more, or nothing? Curator: It's fascinating to see how Miró was committed to art-making throughout the artistic movement in history, and I appreciate his process in action as a visual language. Editor: Agreed, there is still mystery in Miró. An exercise of visual archetypes laid bare, almost primal, for anyone looking at it to imagine.