When the man in the street, that much maligned but elusive homunculus, thinks of modern painting--if he thinks of it at all the chances are that one of two names will be uppermost in his mind. Modern art to him is either Dali or Picasso.

Combining a fine collection of both men's work with equally excellent representatives of two other notable Spanish moderns, Joan Miro and Juan Gris, the present exhibition at Boston's Institute of Modern Art is not only this season's most colorful and significant showing but also one which will attract many who are not regular gallery-goers.

It seems to this reviewer that most of those who attend the showing will come to see the Dalis and emerge praising Picasso or Miro, for despite the nineteen examples of his work displayed, the eccentric Catalonian comes out low man. Contrasted with the incomparable originality and vigor of Picasso, the earthy, humorous gaiety of Miro, and the quiet perfection of Gris, Dali's fantastic, delicately-detailed creations seem forced, superficial, and at times rather cheap.

Shown with other surrealists--perhaps Ernst, Tanguy, or Tchelitchew--the faults would be far less obvious, and the imaginative and fastidious qualities of Dali's art would emerge. Here, his miniaturist style seems fussy, his conceptions both bizarre and trivial, his composition crowded, and his symbols--crutches, telephones, and flabby amorphous heads--typed and repetitious.

Juan Gris, least-known artist of the four, was, with Picasso and Braque, a founder of Cubism, and remained, far more than they, a constant adherent of Cubistic methods until his death in 1927. Cold and monotonous at first glance, Gris' ascetically detached still-lifes reveal, upon longer acquaintance, an almost architectural formal structure, an ingenious flattening and simplification of natural forms, and a sure if quiet color sense.

Gris' appeal is more obvious when he uses brilliant colors, as in the vibrant "Violin et Guitare," or more imaginative, as in the melancholy "L'Arlequin," while his mastery of line work is demonstrated by a pair of fine lithographs, "Marcelle la Brune" and "Marcelle la Blonde."

Disclaiming abstractionism and surrealism alike, Joan Miro paints gaily-colored fantasies, filled with cavorting, infectiously-jovial organisms, figures in a symbolism which is both intensely personal and completely charming. As a young man, Miro was influenced by the Dadaists, and he has been frequently accepted as a surrealist, although the simplicity and individuality of his idiom far transcends surrealism.

Outstanding among the present collection of ten paintings are the brilliant and exciting "Harlequin's Carnival," the naive "Birds and Insects," with its cheerful blue background, and the mysterious and suggestive "Composition."

Little can be said by this reviewer to glorify the artistic contribution of Pabic Picasso, without doubt the most versatile, influential, and powerful of living painters. Passing through period after period, perfecting each and then aspiring further, the prolific Picasso betrays no weariness or loss of power at 65.

The most recent picture in the Institute's show is dated 1933, antedating the great anti-Fascist mural, "Guernica" by four years, so there is little revelation here of Picasso's more recent work, and there are also no paintings from the celebrated "blue period." From the "pink period" is a beautifully-composed gouache, "The Bathers," and from the "classical period," "The Sigh."

The powerful and immensely influential abstractions are well represented by some eight oils; this reviewer particularly liked the striking "Still Life on a Table," the sensuous and flowing "The Mirror," and the austere, powerful "Bather Standing."