Miro, was a son of Barcelona but that doesn’t make him any less a painter of Paris. He made his first trip to Paris at the age of 26 and there after lived and painted every winter there until he fled Spain for Paris permanently during the Spanish civil war in the 1930s.
On my trip to Paris I got to know Miro’ a bit better, through is artwork. I had never realized how political it was before. His burned paintings, which he did later in his career, were to protest the establishment, the political state, and even the art world. He considered it painting with fire. He wrote ‘The artist does not live in bliss. He is sensitive to the world, to the pulsation of his time, to the events which compel him to act. This is bound to happen. This is not an intellectual attitude but a profound feeling, something like a cry of joy which delivers you from anguish.’
My son and I were talking about art the other day and he was saying really anything could be art. I disagreed. I insist it must either have esthetics, an expression, or a message. To be good art it must have at least two of the above. Perhaps great art has all three?
Certainly Miro has all three.
Painting in the Shadows of the Paris Bohemians 