I have never understood Joan Miro's work; I can't even be sure how to pronounce his name but I guess the "J" sounds like a "Y" because he's Spanish. Unknown.
Here's "The Smile of the Flamboyant Wings" and what do you see.
I see a boy riding a bicycle while he flies a kite which is strung to his head and then there's other stuff.
Ed: the star on the ground is his lost innocence.
How do you know that?
Ed: I made it up.
Yah, and the art critic of the finest kind says, "Oh, oh, oh, I just love the vibrant use of color."
But ... refresh my memory if you would, li'l snowflake, but what the hell else does an artist, except Rembrandt, ever do except make vibrant use of color.
Mystery Lady fancies a Cincinnati artist from the 19th Century, Duveneck, and he painted in similar somber tones to Rembrandt so he was somewhat distant for me. (WIKI: Frank Duveneck)
Note to ML: it kind of tickles me that I remember his name.
Here's an example from Duveneck which is considerably more colorful than I've described above and, to my taste, it's more expressive than Rembrandt.
"The Portrait of Maggie Wilson" (1898)
For me, there's life in Maggie Wilson's eyes and there's some story we don't know. I can't tell if she is happy or she is pissed off but I'm curious to find out.
As to Miro's kid on a bicycle in the sunshine ... man, I just don't know.
Here's "The Smile of the Flamboyant Wings" and what do you see.
I see a boy riding a bicycle while he flies a kite which is strung to his head and then there's other stuff.
Ed: the star on the ground is his lost innocence.
How do you know that?
Ed: I made it up.
Yah, and the art critic of the finest kind says, "Oh, oh, oh, I just love the vibrant use of color."
But ... refresh my memory if you would, li'l snowflake, but what the hell else does an artist, except Rembrandt, ever do except make vibrant use of color.
Mystery Lady fancies a Cincinnati artist from the 19th Century, Duveneck, and he painted in similar somber tones to Rembrandt so he was somewhat distant for me. (WIKI: Frank Duveneck)
Note to ML: it kind of tickles me that I remember his name.
Here's an example from Duveneck which is considerably more colorful than I've described above and, to my taste, it's more expressive than Rembrandt.
"The Portrait of Maggie Wilson" (1898)
For me, there's life in Maggie Wilson's eyes and there's some story we don't know. I can't tell if she is happy or she is pissed off but I'm curious to find out.
As to Miro's kid on a bicycle in the sunshine ... man, I just don't know.
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