In the bag got me to thinking about utterly inconsequential things, but it occurred to me that there's a giant tapestry by Joan Miro that hangs in the East Building of the National Gallery and there's the utterly magnificent Carnival of the Harlequin, also by Miro. Even in memory the painting looms and changes with its vaguely biomorphic forms in a tanguy-like space--a celebration in flat-world.
I have always liked Miro, but find that I like him more and more. He really was a master of space and form.