“Il faut de tout pour faire un monde”. And coincidences are not always random.

I went to Joan Miro’s retrospective exhibition at Tate Modern in London, a extraordinary and complex exhibition of his paintings and drawings.

I always liked Miro for his sincerity and apparent simplicity, but did not know of the extent to which he was involved in politics, a strong and constant interest throughout his life.

Around the same period that I had visited Miro’s London exhibition, an acquaintance of mine, fine artist himself as well, visited the Miro Sculpture exhibition at the Dina Vierny Foundation in Paris.

My aquaintence’s critic of Miro’s sculpture, as well as his artistic values, knowing that he is a professional artist too, with experience, had surprised me.

I couldn’t help but be amused by him when he stated that the Catalan master’s painting “is good, the ceramics can work, but his sculpture.. well, Miro better should have stopped there”.

Perhaps the only one who was supposed to stop was my dear acquaintance.

I was so delighted with my Londonian stay that I did not want to ruin that evening – nor for myself nor for my perfect glass of Brouilly which with all these comments, didn’t feel offended.

Seeing the exhibition, I tried to imagine what Miro’s life was like and the life of those around him. t’s not easy to live with an artist.

I thought of Pilar, his wife, what it must have been for her to be with him, share his inner struggles and political concerns in the context of which all his paintings, even those he made for her and that were dedicated to her, had all an underlining political comment.

I understood that the image I had of this great artist, broke. I somewhere wanted and was hoping to see a less frowning, upset or angry character, soul, when creating such beautiful works. I wished maybe that he would be more in love, more romantic.

I wanted to give him in my understanding a bit of serenity, of hope, perhaps even a smile.

I had thought of him (and wanted to know him) more joyful, happy, going through the years and through life issues with more sunshine, or even with wit, humour in his soul.

I was left almost breathless, motionless, for long minutes in front of the Blue Triptych, one of my favourite works of his.

His paintings have an unic quality to give off an fantastic intensity and extraordinary light. I never tire of seeing Miro’s work, time after time.

I wanted to take a photo to immortalise somehow that moment for myself. But at that same moment, the supervisor appeared with the kind mention that photography is forbidden.

I managed however to take two mediocre pictures with my iPhone, just for myself, to be able to experience and find again this Blue Triptych, whenever I would miss it, or feel in the mood for “blue”.