“The only thing I had left in those days was poetry… The artist does not live in bliss.” – Joan Miro

A brilliant painter seeks refuge somewhere – anywhere – during the rollercoaster of horrors that became the 20th Century.

The ladders he paints seem to be wishes for absolute creative freedom, even amid totalitarian governments on every side.

But was his progressive radicalism a scream among genocide, war and murderous -isms?

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