HEADING FOR THE HILLS
WE NEED THE STORYTELLERS
IT IS SOMETHING TO SENSE THE CONNECTIONS, TO KNOW MIRÓ DID SUCH WORK IN HIS STUDIO AT THE FARM
We were, once again, the only visitors to artist Joan Miró’s Farm at Mont-roig del Camp.
We have been to the deceptively simple and traditional white-washed bastion of surrealism three times before and there have never been more than a handful of people. Like all storerooms of stories, it opens onto so many enlightenments. You just need to dwell a while.
Many of his original works and much more are within Barcelona Parc de Montjuic’s outstanding Fundació Joan Miró., founded by the artist himself, and also in collections around the world.
Selfishly, at Mont-roig del Camp, I welcome the chance to block out the traffic on the A7 and mindfully listen to the echoes of such a vital space, to appreciate the link to Paris in the 1920s and the lights that burned so brightly there at the gatherings of the home of American avant-garde novelist Gertrude Stein.
It is something to sense the connections, to know Miró did such work in his studio at the farm, that he and his close friend Hemingway sat and talked by the fire. The Barcelona-born artist’s parents bought the farm when Miró was a troubled teenager suffering from depression. It was his refuge and sowed his love of – and inspiration from – nature.
As a young artist, he craved moving to Paris where creativity seemed unbounded. And he did so, taking with him his Catalan identity that flowered with this new perspective. The collective creativity of the city proved overwhelming. “I barely do any work here; it’s impossible. I feel that a new world is opening up in my brain.” He was befriended by artist André Masson. He became part of Stein’s circle. At her gatherings at 27 Rue de Fleurus were other groundbreakers such as Picasso, Hemingway, Matisse, Scott Fitzgerald, Modigliani and Cézanne.
Hemingway collected art. Stein told him to consider Miró. Miró was struggling to even feed himself. He saw Miró’s painting The Farm (yes, Mont-roig del Camp) and fell in love with it. Yet last week as we appreciated the farmhouse and all it means, five minutes away the beach and campsite heaved with tourists clueless to how close to genius they were.
How fulfilling it would be, surely, to have meaning and depth on a fascinating, fundamental journey to find the soul of a country that so many visitors profess to know?
So much is being done, so successfully, to preserve and educate, from world renowned architecture, art, music and literature. But shouldn’t more be done to join up all of the smaller dots? I would love to know someone was attempting to.
Talks in hotels, guided tours to astonishing places that people would have never considered visiting... from prehistory, to contemporary arts. Enthusing, engaging, educating, rather than expecting people to research or even pick up a leaflet. The farm on its own means little unless you know the artist and his compelling life.
There are so many Catalan stories to tell. And everyone loves a good story.
