The city of Silence
A great city is, unfortunately for many, a great desert.
What has not been yet told about the work of the artist from Alcoy, Antoni Miró? An avalanche of words at least, very sensible, sincere, bold, educated, etc., Moved by the dense literature from the Sopalmo’s painter. A lot of reflections, spiral reasoned and analytical findings have been built as a basic corpus of knowledge of his creative work. Well. Then we go about our particular work. From the modesty, but also from the passion, favoured in this case by affection, we have to say to our people, plowing a path, also a bit difficult, and less attractive. The paths of intuition and emotions, we think the fray if that means the vast pictorial approach of the painter’s work, will help us to practice an approach from the marrow to the finest flavourings that flows on the surface of the skin.
If we consider traditional rhetoric, the twin city and silence seem to be a contrary claim, because the citizen trance happens far from what we consider, silence. But not in this particular case. Antoni Miró’s pictures present busy cities by a heavy silence, carry and a very difficult thing to swallow. Cities, in order to present creative, or significant substance of character´s information. Men and women living alone, just watching, throwing his hand for aid, which ooze misery as an improper striking of an uprooting of humanity. Remember the words that now makes us play Valeri Màxim: “les ciutats són un miserable reducte on es contenen totes les humanes derrotes”, to signify the symbolic value of the deserted city, which encourages the fundamental irony in the buildings where RAE (Royal Spanish Academy) power, even as a cultural power, embrace the tragic men´s solitude who say, and do not speak, elusive sad eyes. Sometimes cars are the traces of a civilization captivated by the euphemisms of emptiness of welfare as: “Ciutat gran, soledat gran”, and we take it in advance. All of these facts, solitude and silence, and the chemistry of the disinherited grows round the sewage that have become the real cities and perhaps people too.
We believe, very sincerely that Antoni Miró, with firm Spartan discipline, quieten and surrender, the urban landscape that surrounds him, or know the best scene, and invite us to keep the voice of silence. In a daring leap into the air, rushing us to contemplate the precise images that we have build in the symphonies of the absence or the partake solitude. The sun man alive, and die alone, although we realize that advantage to push his hands into the complex realm of the desperate need for affection. Antoni Miró likes to show his Pindar in his Odes when he often get a greater impression of things when he is silent when everything is silent. Silence hurts because it is a true reflection of the shortcomings of the pressure. Silence, check out the mystery of everyday life, immersed as we are sick in the jungle of cities, now powerless to build tenderness, and perhaps the recognition of others. Recalling Sartre: l’enfer, c’est les autres.
Empty cities, with much difficulty encourage the pores saturated with misery, rush, as if an ordinary chemical reaction is involved, as the bulk of past. The curve at Grandma’s back hurts us, the beggar’s outstretched hand repels us, the cigarette hidden from the passer-by asks, at least, if there is a strong irony. The man stretched out, fed up with cheap wine, announces the possible collapse castle of high living to the ridiculous sayings. Recomanar sobrietat al pobre és grotesc i insultant a la vegada. És com dir que menge poc aquell qui es mor de fam, we borrow it from Oscar Wilde.
The fury that is almost, imperceptible, but remains very much in the words we never said, slipping through the tips of the pictures so well painted that finishes as well exquisitely illuminated. A fury that is chewed for toothache of understanding, deep as the throat from the heart of suburban. At the epicentre of chaos smouldering vehicles, saturating the atmosphere of chemical decay, balsam of collective suicide. Cars that do not make noise, escape likely a path of history. Sometimes everything looks like sleep. The mystery lives on the dreams, and in this case Antoni Miró, does Joseph Conrad, as: vivim com somniem: sols. Silence is very confident, it can happen, by the deep occult magic of hope worked, slowly, and for men, also for Antoni Miró, a resource type audible, if now we hear the voices of feeling and cordial smile will happen. Silence is the wall surrounding the wisdom, says an old Arab proverb, 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. El silenci és el gran art de la conversa William Hazlitt’s opinion. Cobra is the silence because there is a unique visual communication strategy, or is the same, because the silence dwells in the need of joy and benefits communication.
From the painting, to the cultivation of the art of Antoni Miró, and the ways of silence recognized in the distance met again. Each one is going to do much work for culture itself, of course. Silence itself, covered with hard work of uncompromisingly devotion, holds his own pass into the main area of culture. Emerge worlds, build buildings, striking, perhaps neuralgic, pressing citrus fantasy and lived so many lives that enable effective gathering of free-men-culture really well. Or just the raw-material culture is frank that feeds the primary substance of hope. We already have something. Unamuno also attests: solament la cultura dóna llibertat. It can take as a guarantee for the future, and Antoni Miró knows perfectly that it is a north that has always guide our particular conversation with the painting. His particular creative universe that makes it easy, as nothing else allows a civic engagement and embrace with passion to live on earth. When we talk about culture we are saying that is not a mass culture, a culture filled with the disproportion and victories, a culture that pushes the wheel of pointless consumption, a culture of bustle and so caustic, no. It is but a culture rooted in the warm area, a culture that makes profits without realizing it in, no noise, but weighing a drop of essence over the dress on Sunday. La cultura és una cosa i el vernís una altra, it helps us to qualify Ralph Emerson. Well, Antoni Miró paintings live free, simply; within the pictorial object of a very reality that is a trip involving the basic human compassion, and understands the criterion of austerity because of it. To smell the indifference, we have good examples in cities where silence lives furiously. We hate to admit, that Antoni Miró’s paintings have become more and more Robert Filliou’s, steeped in elusiveness. And this seems fine. Nietzsche also reminds us that simplicity and naturalness are the ultimate aim of culture.
At no time, all we have been scrapping over this short paper to approach the artist Antoni Miró, his creative work, and visual impact, remains far from the realm of beauty. We cannot forget, nor want, this is an artist and his works conquer, through in-depth and patting the crumbs precise of beauty that are required to attend to be a complete man. Where the commitment to society is very clearly reasoned and accurate. Surely this is not a beautiful use, rather we are witnessing something that could cite the work of someone who looks out of existence through the eyes that orbit around the condition of humanity. Natural exercise for Antoni Miró, would appreciate the gift that we do when visiting at last time the other, the essence of a fragile memory. Because also, as David Hume says, beautiful things exists in the spirit of the beholder. A kind of communicating vessel in the exercise of looking see and recognize the talent, also captivate capacity on the sensitivity of individuals. And this is very fantastic. Because beauty is immortal in art, as Da Vinci use to said. His culture gives us the journey towards knowledge, and since we know that very well, we are set free.