I was in the studio the other morning. I was trying to think like Joan Miró, which is ridiculous because I have no I idea how or what he thought. He grew up in a rural area and farm life was very important to him. My background is not even close. So I embarked on a different tack. I started thinking about what was going on with me.
The best I could come up with was that I was feeling squeezed.
I drew a three-fingered fist, a foot of some kind coming out of the bottom and the rest of the senses emerging from the top. I was reminded of Miró’s work and gave the unblinking eye the constellations upon which to gaze. (Miró painted a 23 paintings in his Constellation Series.)