L’Egyptienne 1977

With lithographic ink, Joan Miró conjures a figure in “L’Egyptienne.” The velvety blacks and graphic shapes make me think about the joy and labor of printmaking. I try to imagine Miró in the print shop, collaborating with artisans, thinking about how the marks will translate from his hand to the stone. There's a real sense of play here, like he's making up a character with each layer. Look at the way the red circles pop against the black, framing these playful eyes. The composition feels like a collage, with shapes floating freely around the central figure. It's so cool how he mixes abstraction with just enough recognizable form to hint at a face. Miró had a knack for making the ordinary seem magical. He's in conversation with the likes of Klee and Kandinsky, but his voice is all his own. He reminds us that painting can be a space for invention, where the rules are bent and broken to reveal new possibilities.