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Joan Miró (1893-1983)
Artist's Resale Right ("Droit de Suite"). Artist's… Read more THE EYE OF THE ARCHITECT: PROPERTY FROM A PRIVATE EUROPEAN COLLECTIONThe disciplines of architecture and painting have been intimately intertwined throughout history, two independent strands of creative thought that have nevertheless remained bound to one another by a common interest in how people experience the world around them. When considered in conjunction with one another, they can achieve a synergistic relationship, one in which the experience and appreciation of both the painting and the space they occupy are enhanced by their connection. The following selection of works from the collection of an esteemed European architect has been assembled with this concern in mind, each work having been chosen for its ability to complement and enrich the spaces they inhabit. Born from a keen sense of social responsibility, this architect’s forward-thinking vision was rooted in the grand tradition of socially engaged housing, creating unique buildings that place the welfare of residents above the flaunting of architectural form. Allowing ample space for vegetation to grow over their balconies and transform apartment blocks into living, vertical gardens, the resulting homes are places of beauty and contentment, with proximity to water and greenery fulfilling basic human needs as well as affording countless environmental benefits. In these buildings, the architect offered hope for a way of urban living that did not suffocate the natural world, but rather embraces an organic conception of growth, renewal and sustainability. The architect’s inventiveness, imagination and eye for detail find clear parallels in the art collection he formed over the course of his collecting life, acquiring pieces by some of the most celebrated masters of the twentieth-century avant-garde, from Pablo Picasso to Francis Bacon, Giorgio de Chirico to Joan Miró, and Fernand Léger to Giorgio Morandi. One of the most striking features of this varied group is the way in which the collector has managed to create a sense of unity amongst the works, choosing pieces of a similarly intimate scale and thematic concern to generate a dynamic dialogue between each of the pieces when considered together. Focusing primarily on figurative compositions, this tightly curated group of works not only reveals the collector’s discerning eye and architectural mind, but also his passion for artists who continuously sought to push the boundaries of tradition in their art. Indeed, many of the works in the collection date from pivotal periods of transition in each artists’ career, as they began to explore new, ground breaking techniques, subject matter or styles in their compositions. There is also a strong emphasis on form and construction in each of the compositions, and a fascination with the architecturally-minded approach to structure that feeds these artists’ aesthetic practices. There is a clear focus on Cubism and its later developments, for example, from the carefully composed still-lifes of Picasso, Juan Gris and Georges Braque, to the visionary machine aesthetic of Léger which expanded upon the traditions of the Cubist language and adapted them to his own unique style following the First World War. The automatic, fluid language of Miró’s brand of Surrealism, meanwhile, is contrasted with the metaphysical contemplations of De Chirico’s dreamlike scenarios and cityscapes, which share the pensive atmosphere of Morandi’s highly subtle, architectural, still lifes. A rare example of Picasso’s Surrealist-influenced series of figures, meanwhile, finds echoes in Bacon’s disintegration of the human form, as the features of his model, Henriette Moraes, dissolve into an array of rich, expressive strokes of paint. Offering an intriguing insight into some of the most dynamic and exciting periods of the European artistic avant-garde, these works stand as a testament to the collector’s keen connoisseurial eye and deep appreciation for the connection between modern art and architecture.
Joan Miró (1893-1983)

Tête d’homme

Details
Joan Miró (1893-1983)
Tête d’homme
signed and dated ‘Miró. 2.31’ (lower left); inscribed ‘Tête d’homme’ (on the reverse)
oil on canvas
16 1/8 x 10 7/8 in. (41 x 27.5 cm.)
Painted in February 1931
Provenance
Georges Hugnet, Paris.
Josias Leão, Rio de Janeiro.
Albert Loeb and Krugier, New York (no. MRO11 5422).
Galerie Jan Krugier, Geneva (no. 2372).
Private collection, Europe, by whom acquired from the above.
Acquired from the above by the present owner in 1994.
Literature
J. Dupin, Joan Miró: Life and Work, London, 1962, no. 279, p. 507.
J. Dupin & A. Lelong-Mainaud, Joan Miró, Catalogue raisonné, Paintings, vol. II, 1931-1941, Paris, 2000, no. 326, p. 18 (illustrated).
Special Notice

Artist's Resale Right ("Droit de Suite"). Artist's Resale Right Regulations 2006 apply to this lot, the buyer agrees to pay us an amount equal to the resale royalty provided for in those Regulations, and we undertake to the buyer to pay such amount to the artist's collection agent.

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Lot Essay

‘When I stand in front of a canvas, I never know what I’m going to do – and nobody is more surprised than I at what comes out’ -Joan Miró

In January 1931 Joan Miró made a series of inflammatory statements during an interview with the Spanish journalist Francisco Melgar, in which he boldly proclaimed his intentions to bring about the death of painting: ‘The only thing that’s clear to me is that I intend to destroy, destroy everything that exists in painting. I have an utter contempt for painting. The only thing that interests me is the spirit itself…’ (Miró, quoted in F. Melgar, ‘Spanish Artists in Paris: Juan [sic] Miró,’ in Ahora, 24 January 1931, reproduced in Joan Miró: Selected Writings and Interviews, ed., M. Rowell, p. 116). Although the artist later claimed that his combative mood was largely due to Melgar’s ignorant attitude during the interview, his provocative comments offer a rare insight into the deep personal crisis that had been brewing within Miró’s creative practice for several years, causing him to question his painterly abilities and fundamentally reconsider his approach to artistic creation. Painted less than a month after the infamous interview, Tête d’homme illustrates the dramatic shifts that were occurring in Miró’s art, as he struggled to free himself of the mental block which was inhibiting his painterly practice.

Miró had been plagued by doubts and dissatisfaction with his work as early as 1928, following the completion of his ‘Dutch interiors’ series. As a result, the late 1920s and early 1930s have often been collectively described as a period of ‘anti-painting’ within the artist’s oeuvre, during which time he temporarily stepped away from oil painting in an effort to find a new direction in his art. During this turbulent phase, Miró experimented intensely with various media, incorporating found objects into his compositions, creating collages and sculptural assemblages from items plucked from the sandy shores of the beach or found scattered around his Parisian studio. However, Miró did not abandon painting altogether – several experimental series of works were begun during this period, most notably the large paintings on white grounds which occupied him for much of the first half of 1930. Indeed, he continued to explore the medium throughout the period of ‘anti-painting,’ delving into new subjects, expanding his visual vocabulary and developing a more sculptural approach to form in his work. As he would later admit, ‘What can I say, I can’t be anything other than a painter. Every challenge to painting is a paradox – from the moment that challenge is expressed in a work’ (Miró, quoted in D. Chevalier, ‘Miró’ in Aujourd’hui: Art et Architecture, Paris, November 1962, reproduced in ibid, p. 266).

It was on his return to Paris in January 1931, after an extended sojourn in Spain, that Miró threw himself forcefully into painting once again, pursuing the renewed approach to form and style that his collages and assemblages inspired him. The finely crafted paintings which followed, including Tête d’homme, were transitional canvases that proved pivotal to Miró’s subsequent development as a painter. Exploring the dynamics between abstraction and figuration, between the traditional and the unconventional, between forms that were at once painted but which drew inspiration from his experiments in collage and assemblage, these works reflected a reinvigorated and reformed outlook within Miró’s oeuvre that would usher in a new approach to pictorial thinking. Particularly striking is the manner in which sharply defined geometric elements, including triangles, quadrangles and circles, began to infiltrate his paintings during this period, lending his compositions a greater sense of structural complexity.

In Tête d’homme, Miró depersonalises the human head, reducing it to a series of overlapping, interweaving geometric shapes that reflect no more than the basic structure of the cranium. Exuding a powerful inner life, the repeated rectilinear and rounded segments knit together like a mosaic, the borders between each element sharply defined so that they retain a clear independence from one another. The composition’s highly distilled, purified style appears in complete opposition to the animated, biomorphic forms of the oneiric paintings which had previously dominated Miró’s oeuvre. Unlike the free-flowing, diaphanous, spontaneous shapes that populated these canvases, Tête d’homme and other works dating from the opening months of 1931 adopt a more sculptural approach to form, imbuing their subjects with a greater sense of weight and mass. Discussing these paintings, Jacques Dupin has written: ‘In short, his purpose became that of disciplining expression by opposing to lyricism the fruitful resistance of rigorous structures’ (J. Dupin, Miró, New York, 1993, p. 161). However, echoes of the dream paintings remain. For example, in the present composition the ‘tête’ of the title appears to float against a deep blue abyss, suspended in space by an enigmatic, strange gravity, which may be seen as a direct continuation of the similarly coloured voids that lay at the heart of the dream series. However, here Miró utilises a much richer, more saturated hue to create a sonorous effect that enhances the colours within the central configuration, and grants them a greater sense of solidity and presence in the composition.

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