In 1975, Joan Miró illustrated St. Francis of Assisi's poem Canticle of the Sun, which was translated into the Catalan Càntic del sol by Josep Carner in a volume published by Gustavo Gili that contained 35 images. The poem by St. Francis of Assisi and the painting by the Catalan artist bear a great affinity to each other. Both proclaim the solemn humility of that which comes from the earth, water, fire, sun, moon, trees and all plants. In very different cultural and spiritual worlds, the two works show to us the presence and endurance without which the material and commonplace seem superficial and insignificant.

The canticle exalts the voice of poetry and painting, not only in the images that the poem by St. Francis of Assisi aroused in 1975, but also in the paintings, sculptures and works on paper that Miró had produced and continued to produce at that time. A painstaking portrayal of the most humble creatures and minute details had been one of the constants in Miró's art since 1917 and 1918. It is a canticle of the sun, but also of the stars and firmament, of the moon, women and birds, of gardens and irrigation channels, of fields, flowers and grass, and does not comprise one episode alone within Miró's evolution. All of them together form a pillar of his creative activity. The title of this exhibition, Canticle of the Sun, originated in Miró's work on St. Francis of Assisi's poem but also reaches beyond that singular creation and deals with the very foundation of his painting.

Canticle of the Sun is the gathering of an important set of paintings, sculptures and works on paper kept at the Fundació Joan Miró in Barcelona which were produced from 1965 to 1978. In the early sixties, Joan Miró introduced substantial changes into his painting, which became more abstract and, in a manner of speaking, more ascetic. The artist himself has spoken about the profound intellectual tension which lies at the origin of these changes and even about the decision not to continue painting. Fortunately, this decision was never put into practice, and his works produced immediately afterwards simply confirmed the strength of his ability to create. Some of the signs and motifs that had been an inseparable part of his prior works re-emerged, though he never left behind a certain tension and detachment. His work became more severe and penetrating, but also more self-aware, as if the artist had borne in mind what limited time he still had left and needed to meditate on what he had done up to that point. Among the results of this reflection are some of the masterpieces which can be seen in this exhibition: Mujer III (Woman III, 1965), El primer rayo del día II (The First Ray of the Day II, 1966), Mujer y pájaros en la noche (Woman and Birds in the Night, 1968), Mujer delante de la luna (Woman in front of the Moon, 1974), without setting aside the series of characters and heads in which fear is wearing an ironic, if not clearly sarcastic, costume, such as Mujer, pájaro, estrella (Woman, Bird, Star) and Personajes, pájaros, estrella (Personages, Birds, Star), both from 1978. They show us a vision of reality that is both lyrical and amusing.

If anything distinguishes Joan Miró's poetics, it is his ability to contemplate diversity and encourage it, to represent the infinite variety of things and the limitless potential for their portrayal. As if by chance, as if he had not even meant to, his viewpoint reveals everything which is familiar to us or part of us within the things we see, in the heavens and on Earth, in the mountains and fields, in the others who we are and who accompany us. This exhibition aspires to offer a way to measure this ability to see and reveal, thereby encouraging us to look for ourselves while increasing our ability to feel wonderment.

                                                                                                                                                                                                  [Volver]