In the mid-sixties, Miro created a series of paintings in which he reduced his stock of expressive means to a minimum. The artist immersed himself in the depths of his own consciousness. In his words,
I fled to the absolute... I wanted my spots of paint to be open to the magnetic beckoning of the void... I was interested in the void, in perfect emptiness.”
Suspended in open fields of dense, vibrant, luminous color were solar disks, the flowing trail of a bird's flight, or the subtle trace of a star. They were all that was necessary to communicate his jubilant introspection on the canvas.
In The Flight of the Dragonfly in Front of the Sun, one line is enough to represent the flight of the dragonfly, almost imperceptible before the immensity of the Sun but as important as the sun itself in the eyes of the painter.