Les Tendresses De La Lueur De La Lune À L’Aube Croisée Par Un Bel Oiseau 1954

Joan Miró made this painting with oil on canvas, and when you look at it, you get the feeling he was working in the heat of the moment. Just look at that dominant black figure, heavy with impasto, so intensely present against the ethereal blue background. I can imagine Miró, brush in hand, circling this canvas, trying to figure out how to get this creature to come into being. Those confident strokes must have been pure instinct. You can see the way he allows the medium to be itself, thick and textured. The smattering of white dots almost feels like he's pinned down the figure, holding it in place. And those bold red eyes! They stare right through you, as if daring you to interpret them. It’s almost like a visual poem, a language only Miró could speak. It reminds me of other artists who also weren't afraid to tap into the subconscious, like Gorky or even Guston, in his later years. Each artist speaks to the other, doesn't he? He reminds us that painting is an ongoing conversation.