Josep Sou

[...] and Antoni Miró has wisely chosen to work at night at the Sopalmo workroom. A stealthy silence, lined with anonymous voices that from school through the brushes of polished perfection, in the midst of the crowd that inhabits the mind, everyone now, not melancholy, but with a certain nostalgia for the future, is taking voice and saying its own, because the painter, the artist is like a generous demiurge, given the grace of representation. Since I do not pray, the junk of life grows possible, through the will, which never stops the painter.[...]