Dutch Interior (I), 1928
It takes a lot for me to consider getting on a plane and flying to NYC into the jaws on winter. But reading Holland Cotter's review in the NYT of Joan Miró: Painting and Anti-Painting 1927-1937 at MoMA got me thinking it might be worth it.
The enticement began with this passage:
"The exhibition illustrates, step by step, exactly how Miró stalked and attacked painting — zapped its conventions, messed up its history, spoiled its market value — through 12 distinct groups of experimental works produced over a decade. If, in the end, painting survived, that’s neither here nor there. The story’s the thing. Crisp, clear and chronological, the show reads like a combination of espionage yarn and psychological thriller set out in a dozen page-turning chapters."
Close up of Dog from Dutch Interior (I)
Then, there are the dogs, the strange, exotic beings from his Imaginary Dutch Portraits series. Although, I am not 100% sure the flying white and blue creature in Dutch Interior (III), is a dog. I interpret it as one, and I think Miró would be fine with my subjective take.
Dutch Interior (III), 1928
Finally, Cotter sums up Miró's journey through these decades and the exhibition itself:
"He must have been exhausted. I was when I reached the last gallery, but exhilarated too because I felt I’d been through something: not the blockbuster slog but the experience of one artist’s creative process and the experience of an exhibition as a form of thinking. Like reading a book, the process makes you part of the trip, not just a witness to it.
In this case the trip is fairly demanding but one I suspect that audiences with even a casual interest in how art is conceived and made will enjoy. From beginning to end, the particular audience I had in mind was a special one, art students.
For them the show could serve as a manual of anti-authoritarian moves. Unpopular Mechanics of Painting, you might call it. But it could also be a guide to living a creative life. This is particularly true for students who are under pressure to choose a single medium (painting, say) and stay with it; to firm up a signature style and stay with it; to get to the market early and stay there.
To these requirements, the Miró show says: no, no, no. Change mediums, like habits, as often as possible. Make your signature look a no-look or every-look, and keep changing that. Get to the market early if you want, but then go home and stay there awhile and work. Then stay longer. Destroy the artist you think the world thinks you’re supposed to be, and you’ll start to find the artist you are."
Well, I was ready to book a ticket east. Then, I stopped by MoMA's website and discovered their comprehensive online exhibition of the show. Awesome! In my cozy, sun-filled office, I took Miró's journey myself. Of course, nothing can compare to seeing these works in person, some are 7 feet tall, but for a hot-house flower like me. This was pretty great.
Joan Miró: Painting and Anti-Painting 1927-1937 runs until January 12, 2009. For more info visit MoMA.org.
(But I am still not forgiving Holland Cotter for calling Picasso's Le Rêve kitsch.)
Related Links:
17th Century Dutch Dog Paintings
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