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Lot Essay
In July 1938, Joan Miró found himself gripped by an intense surge of creative inspiration. Over the course of that month, he explored a multiplicity of different styles, forms and subjects across a concentrated group of canvases, moving from one idea to the next in a fluid, intuitive manner. Just a few months prior, the artist had lamented the lack of space in his small apartment in Paris, which hampered his desire to work freely, fuelling his dream of a large studio. Nevertheless, his great drive to paint remained undiminished: ‘The more I work, the more I want to work,’ he proclaimed (‘I dream of a Large Studio,’ May 1938; quoted in M. Rowell, ed., Joan Miró: Selected Writings and Interviews, London, 1986, p. 162). One of a series of seven paintings that emerged during this fervent moment, Personnages devant la lune captures the bold spirit of invention that marked Miró’s output that summer, combining a sinuous, biomorphic approach to form with a rich investigation of the materiality of his pigments.
Writing of these works, Jacques Dupin noted the striking variation that marked the sequence of paintings: ‘The techniques are so little systematized, so internalized, used so instinctively that analysis is continually put in doubt. Every statement we might venture about one of the paintings may very well be contradicted by the next. We might venture, however, that these canvases disclose an overall tendency to condense form; this is leading to the development of signs, and by the same token to greater mobility of the ensembles’ (Miró, New York, 1993, p. 230)
At this time, Miró was living in an unexpected exile in Paris, as the Spanish Civil War raged in his homeland. When he had left Barcelona for Paris in October 1936 to showcase his recent work, the artist did not realize it would be another four years before he could return home. Within a few weeks of his arrival in the French capital, the increasingly fraught and fast moving conflict in Spain led Miró to conclude that remaining in Paris was his safest option, and he sent for his wife Pilar and young daughter Dolores to join him. The artist and his family initially stayed in a series of hotels around the city, before moving to a modest apartment at 98, Boulevard Auguste-Blanqui in the 13th arrondissement, where Miró was able to adapt a small, turret room into his studio. In the summer of 1938, he enjoyed a much needed break from the family’s cramped living quarters in the city, spending time in Varengeville-sur-Mer in Normandy in the home of the architect Paul Nelson, where he began work on a mural for the collector’s living room. It may have been during this sojourn in Normandy that Miró executed Personnages devant la lune, which appears as the final work in the sequence of compositions dated to that July.
There are certain aspects of Personnages devant la lune that echo the forms and characters that had populated the array of gouaches and watercolours Miró had made during the previous year. In these works, a cast of simplified, linear personnages were typically shown interacting against a backdrop of diluted, colourful washes that shifted and mingled into one another across the sheet. As Dupin has explained, the artist often referred back to his works on paper for inspiration for his canvases: ‘Miró’s ample output of gouaches, watercolours and drawings is what made it possible for him to go off in different directions and experiment with the greatest recklessness, to sound the depths, and to conquer the unknown. These works constitute a living reservoir, a breeding ground of forms; what is brought to the surface will be put to use later in the paintings, whether through elaboration or a process of selection’ (ibid., p. 226).
In Personnages devant la lune, Miró appears to expand upon these techniques and concepts as he translates his ideas into oil paint. Here, the artist presents a quartet of fluid, elastic forms that appear to echo and mould to one another’s shapes. Against a background of softly diffused pigment – punctuated in spots by textured passages of bright blue, red, green and yellow paint – the characters are outlined in bold, black contours, their flowing sense of biomorphic figuration showcasing Miró’s complete control over his line as his brush moved across the surface of the canvas. In the upper left corner, the small crescent moon mentioned in the title is highlighted by a spot of red paint, drawing the eye and lending the black, monochrome shape a different sense of power and presence.
Unlike some of his more monstrous and anxious figures during this period, there is a sense of hope and playfulness in the present composition – after years of upheaval, political violence and uncertainty, which had coloured Miró’s artistic vision, there were now small snippets of light and levity. In Personnages devant la lune, the character on the right floats in mid-air, their arms arranged in a gesture reminiscent of a magician in the middle of a conjuring trick. Here, it is the artist’s name that appears, rather than an object, as Miró signs the canvas precisely in-between their arms. This benign, smiling figure entertains a small crowd of two, who gaze upwards, a lightness and sense of awe lighting their features as they watch. In the lower right corner of the composition, a fourth character looks on, their downturned mouth and scarlet features suggesting they are unhappy with the spectacle. Undeterred, the central trio continue on, lost in the seemingly impossible magic of their interaction.
Writing of these works, Jacques Dupin noted the striking variation that marked the sequence of paintings: ‘The techniques are so little systematized, so internalized, used so instinctively that analysis is continually put in doubt. Every statement we might venture about one of the paintings may very well be contradicted by the next. We might venture, however, that these canvases disclose an overall tendency to condense form; this is leading to the development of signs, and by the same token to greater mobility of the ensembles’ (Miró, New York, 1993, p. 230)
At this time, Miró was living in an unexpected exile in Paris, as the Spanish Civil War raged in his homeland. When he had left Barcelona for Paris in October 1936 to showcase his recent work, the artist did not realize it would be another four years before he could return home. Within a few weeks of his arrival in the French capital, the increasingly fraught and fast moving conflict in Spain led Miró to conclude that remaining in Paris was his safest option, and he sent for his wife Pilar and young daughter Dolores to join him. The artist and his family initially stayed in a series of hotels around the city, before moving to a modest apartment at 98, Boulevard Auguste-Blanqui in the 13th arrondissement, where Miró was able to adapt a small, turret room into his studio. In the summer of 1938, he enjoyed a much needed break from the family’s cramped living quarters in the city, spending time in Varengeville-sur-Mer in Normandy in the home of the architect Paul Nelson, where he began work on a mural for the collector’s living room. It may have been during this sojourn in Normandy that Miró executed Personnages devant la lune, which appears as the final work in the sequence of compositions dated to that July.
There are certain aspects of Personnages devant la lune that echo the forms and characters that had populated the array of gouaches and watercolours Miró had made during the previous year. In these works, a cast of simplified, linear personnages were typically shown interacting against a backdrop of diluted, colourful washes that shifted and mingled into one another across the sheet. As Dupin has explained, the artist often referred back to his works on paper for inspiration for his canvases: ‘Miró’s ample output of gouaches, watercolours and drawings is what made it possible for him to go off in different directions and experiment with the greatest recklessness, to sound the depths, and to conquer the unknown. These works constitute a living reservoir, a breeding ground of forms; what is brought to the surface will be put to use later in the paintings, whether through elaboration or a process of selection’ (ibid., p. 226).
In Personnages devant la lune, Miró appears to expand upon these techniques and concepts as he translates his ideas into oil paint. Here, the artist presents a quartet of fluid, elastic forms that appear to echo and mould to one another’s shapes. Against a background of softly diffused pigment – punctuated in spots by textured passages of bright blue, red, green and yellow paint – the characters are outlined in bold, black contours, their flowing sense of biomorphic figuration showcasing Miró’s complete control over his line as his brush moved across the surface of the canvas. In the upper left corner, the small crescent moon mentioned in the title is highlighted by a spot of red paint, drawing the eye and lending the black, monochrome shape a different sense of power and presence.
Unlike some of his more monstrous and anxious figures during this period, there is a sense of hope and playfulness in the present composition – after years of upheaval, political violence and uncertainty, which had coloured Miró’s artistic vision, there were now small snippets of light and levity. In Personnages devant la lune, the character on the right floats in mid-air, their arms arranged in a gesture reminiscent of a magician in the middle of a conjuring trick. Here, it is the artist’s name that appears, rather than an object, as Miró signs the canvas precisely in-between their arms. This benign, smiling figure entertains a small crowd of two, who gaze upwards, a lightness and sense of awe lighting their features as they watch. In the lower right corner of the composition, a fourth character looks on, their downturned mouth and scarlet features suggesting they are unhappy with the spectacle. Undeterred, the central trio continue on, lost in the seemingly impossible magic of their interaction.