Primarily a painter and sculptor, Joan Miró was a true radical who refused to be defined by a single practise or style, drifting through Fauvism and Surrealism into a more abstract style later in life. Additionally, one of the first people he sold a painting to was Ernest Hemingway, who reportedly compared his work to James Joyce’s Ulysses. Not a bad start for any artistic career.

The Catalan artist lived a life littered with creative brilliance, but it wasn’t until moving into a studio on island of Mallorca in 1956 as a 63 year old man that he was able to move into the final stage of his artistic development.

Drawing from a host of archive materials, the Mayoral gallery in London has recreated this studio as an immersive experience, complete with 25 of the artist’s paintings and drawings. Curated by Elvira Cámara, Director of The Fundació Pilar i Joan Miró in Mallorca, and produced in collaboration with historian Joan Punyet Miró (Miró’s grandson, no less) it provides a rare window into the world of one of the greatest European artists of the last century.

We spoke to Miró’s grandson Joan Punyet Miró about growing up visiting his grandfather’s studio and the vast impact his work had on society, both artistically and politically.

“My dream, once I am able to settle down somewhere, is to have a very large studio”

Joan Miró, 1938

Robert Greer: How did Miró’s work in Mallorca evolve during his time at the studio, and to what extent do you think that was influenced by his environment?
Joan Punyet Miró: When Joan Miró settled in his new studio in Palma de Mallorca, he began to open up the boxes with the paintings and drawings he shipped from his old studio in Barcelona, and he destroyed most of them. That was a serious statement. It was Miró against Miró. The time had come to review what he had already done up to this date to, above all, try an entire new method of confronting his fears in this new large studio.

His work evolved in a freer and violent way, all based upon poetry, music and, in particular, the instinct of a primitive man. He would let his hand go free, evoking the silent voices of the subterranean and telluric forces of the soil. He was totally exposed to the sheltering Mediterranean sky, the purifying light of the sun, and the poetic light of the moon. The open vastness of the sea also impressed Miró as much as the milky way in a moonless night.

All these primordial elements made Miró a man rooted to mother nature, who was receiving the life-force of one of the purest environments of the world. This is mainly the reason why he was able to travel deep down to the abyss of his spirit to experiment with the cosmic transmutation of his art.

RG:From his early years in Paris he always struck me as quite an intense man, how do you think he changed as a person in his later years?
JPM: During his early years in Paris and his later dates in Palma de Mallorca, there is no difference. Miró always kept an intense rebellion that forced him to avoid repetitiveness and confront his art in constant evolution. Dada and Surrealism made Miró the artist we know today, but the same flame was always kept lit during his years in Palma de Mallorca.

However, there are a couple of details that have to be taken under consideration: USA and Japan. His trips to the USA exposed him to artists such as Pollock, and his trips to Japan to the Buddhist monks that made Sumi-e calligraphy – the dance of the brush led by the impulses felt deep within your soul, experienced by a strong introspection, was a key influence for Miró.

His art evolved mainly from an extraordinarily pureness and sophisticated charm, and I would say that his personality experienced the same transition. He was an extremely well informed citizen of all the social, cultural and political events that were taking place at that time. He would react instantly to all kind of injustice, and I would never forget the seriousness of his gaze when something was wrong. He was connected to the universe, and all the cosmic alterations, whether good or bad, would leave a profound and invisible scar on his soul which would leave a deep impression on his work.

RG: What was the political situation in Mallorca at the time, and how did that influence Miró?
JPM: The political situation not only in Palma de Mallorca, but throughout Spain was very difficult. We must remember that Miró was fighting against Francisco Franco’s dictatorship, and he had taken part in different protests against the regime. I remember that one day Police came to his house “Son Abrines”, and took away his Passport for a week.

Of course this situation was very violent for him, especially after Picasso’s death in 1973. His dear friend Pablo passed away and Miró felt that he had to honour his friend in many ways, helping to bring peace, freedom and democracy to Spain. Opening the Miró Foundation in Barcelona in 1975 was a victory, and helping to bring Guernica from the Museum of Modern Art in New York, to the new and young democratic Spain was indeed a great gesture as well. Justice to the new democratic spanish generations was made, and a great honor to his beloved friend Pablo as well as bringing that iconic masterpiece back home.

Indeed the political situation made of Miró an extremely engaged, and generous citizen that constructed new institutions that would help the phoenix of Spanish hope to be born again from the ashes.

RG: And how would you describe the atmosphere of Miró’s studio from the time that you spent with him there?
JPM: I was lucky enough to walk down into my grandfather’s studio with him in 1978. I was a 10 years old boy and he was a 85 years old giant. And I underline the word giant because of the great lesson of humility, respect, ethical and moral conviction he held during all his life.

In a sense, the hundreds of paintings and drawings that I saw there moved me so deeply that I would never, ever forget that day. I remember it as if it was today, the colourful and poetic musicality of those signs, birds, figures, women, suns, stars, comets, eyes, moons, that were surrounding me everywhere, watching me, staring at me, and asking me questions that I was not able to answer up to this day.

The questions about eternity, spirituality, dreams and endless galaxies and universes embracing me through the third eye of a curious child that felt everything but understood nothing. When you confront a painting by Miró, it is as travelling 35.000 years back in time, toward the time of primitive cavemen that express their needs and concerns through cave painting. Miró was exactly the same. The uniqueness of his universal language was felt all around the studio and, needless to say, the innocent eye of a 10 years old boy, connected automatically with the primitive eye of Miró.

The alchemist met his pupil and vice versa; a spark crossed the air.

Miro’s Studio at Mayoral, 6 Duke Street, St James’s, London SW1Y 6BN runs from 21st of January – 12 February