In typical art geek fashion, I found my way to the Vancouver Art Gallery the other day to check out a new exhibit, "The Colour of My Dreams in The Surrealist Revolution in Art". I was always interested in surrealism but I was never obsessed with it like I was with abstract expressionism. Generally speaking the whole experience was great because the whole concept was so well organized, thought out and curated that you can't help but enjoy yourself. There were numerous artists featured in the exhibition: among them was André Bréton, Max Ernst, Man Ray, Joan Miró and Salvador Dalí from what I remember. The amount of work displayed was comprehensive and extensive–with poetry, painting, sculpture and photographs all included. They even had a copy of André Bréton's Manifeste du surréalisme (1924) that was laid out on display which I somehow managed to read and understand. And who knew that André Bréton drew?
Though there were many incredible artworks on the walls, I became increasingly drawn to Joan Miró's work alone. Maybe because I have seen so much of his paintings in MOMA and the Guggenheim that it was lodged in my subconscious but I am pretty sure by now that I am infatuated with his work (not the artist himself per se). I began to look him up online and soon came across the photos of the artist himself when he was young (above), the artist in his atelier at a much older age (below) and the artist at work (far below). We always imagine the artist to be in some kind of perpetual state of suffering and look scruffy, unkempt, and disheveled as a result. Miró here however proves us wrong by looking ever so elegant, composed and polished. Note his well tailored clothing, leather footwear and complementary colours of navy, red and camel. I have to say as an amateur painter myself, how does he manage to stay so clean? Then again, he is no Jackson Pollack but Joan Miró, a consummate surrealist of sartorial elegance.