From the Picasso museum, of an artist I assumed I knew a lot about, to the Joan Miro Foundation, of an artist which - to my shame - I had very little knowledge. Luckily, this is another of Alasdair’s formative memories of Barcelona, and so a must-see.
Within minutes, I’m captivated. All of it is so varied but so obviously of a single mind. I love it.
I know it’s a little bit hammer/nail, but there’s some pieces which definitely betray what I think would be Miro’s influence on Don Hertzfeldt, which is properly interesting to see and consider.
Like Picasso, his works in other media are just as present, but also, more impressive. There’s some very large fabric works, proper floor to ceiling, of birds that I try to do justice through photos but can’t. Alasdair and I take different photos of a sculpture from many angles and find new interpretations in each one.
Alasdair’s main memory is of the insane sculptures dotted around the balconies, which are tantalisingly visible through the windows in the distance, but on this rainy, windy day, they are out of our reach. Alasdair forlornly takes some photos on maximum zoom levels, and we depart. But hey, there’s something to come back for at least.