At Colita's house
Visiting Colita's home is a journey in every sense. She lives on a little street in the Sants neighbourhood, an urban oasis steeped in character. And once inside, you travel to the centre of her world. Because her home is a living reflection of her personality, and her personality a living reflection of her home; it is impossible to know where one ends and the other begins. A world of her own in every sense.
Tail born in the heart of Barcelona's Eixample one August in 1940, during the afternoon siesta and on his feet. In a 44-year career, he has held more than 40 exhibitions and published around thirty photography books. His work is extremely vast, spanning nearly 50 years of history and every conceivable genre through photography understood as culture. A body of work free of inhibitions, brimming with humour, which conveys the pulse of the moment, be it a feminist demonstration, the chaos of dressing rooms during the Golden Age of the Paral·lel, the vibration of the Gauche Divine seventies, the bustle of the Ramblas or the joy of a gypsy fiesta. Her gaze is unique and unique is her photography.
«My home is my den, my Linus blanket, surrounded by my animals, memories and photos of the people I love. It's the place I have no need to leave to have a good time.»
I find her busy, in front of the computer, a cat on top of the desk and many matters on her hands: a letter to Vargas Llosa, an interview for Harper’s Bazaar, the upcoming exhibition, and the project that has absorbed her in recent years and will absorb her in the coming ones: 19th-century pioneer women photographers.
She is an extremely generous person who loves attention to detail. I look around and struggle to focus on just one (besides, her dog Flora won't stop licking my hand). There are many things, so many things. Her house is a sort of personal museum and art gallery, crammed with mementoes of the illustrious friends whose friendship her generosity has cultivated over the years. Family photos and finds from her expeditions to the flea markets—«I'm a rag-and-bone woman,» she tells me, «I love going to flea markets and rescuing pretty things from oblivion or taking in plants I find lying discarded in the street. I also love mixing old, high-quality things with colourful Ikea furniture.»
And paintings, lots of paintings. Colita treasures an art collection that more than one person would covet: Leopoldo Pomés, Ràfols-Casamada, Frederic Amat, Brossa and Dalí, among many others. «They don't have to be Mirós to hang them up... I just like them, whoever they're by.»
And books, DVDs, her collection of T-shirts bought on the internet, boats and small shrines that she makes in her spare time, and all sorts of objects, like a huge Leica given to her by her brother, a Groucho Marx big-headed puppet or a dentist's display case where she keeps all her old cameras… «I'm a bit of a collector, but I'm not a fanatic,» she tells me. I find myself in Colita's Ali Baba's cave.
«I've always been very lucky with houses. I was born feet first on this modernist table (the one she uses as a desk) in a house on Calle Diputación by Paseo San Juan. It was a very classical house, full of Valentí furniture. I wanted to have a darkroom to develop my photos and my mother didn't want to get rid of anything, so I moved to a 200m2 flat on Calle Valencia at Enrique Granados. A gorgeous flat, with coffered ceilings and spectacular stained glass windows. It was love at first sight. I can view hundreds of houses until I find one and know my search is over. I lived there from 1975 to 2000.»
«I’ve always lived in very large houses. I like space! I need to move around! Besides, if I didn't, where would I put all this? I’m surrounded by clutter… And animals! I’m obsessed with gaining space. Besides, photography generates a load of paperwork, negatives, archives… Any day now I’ll donate my DVD collection to a retirement home and wouldn't bat an eyelid.»
We go down the stairs and I almost come face to face with his other dog, Blas (this one isn't as affectionate), and he shows me the lower part of the house, where there is a little sitting room, the kitchen, and his bedroom, carved out of a lovely garden dominated by a life-sized sheep statue. We don't go outside because it's raining... So he makes himself a coffee and when he opens the fridge I'm amazed by how empty it is inside, in stark contrast to the rest of the house... «Looking at my fridge, it's obvious cooking isn't my thing...» He laughs. We laugh.
I ask him about his beloved Barcelona, to which he has paid so many tributes. «I go out very little. Here I have everything I want and need. I used to love Las Ramblas and Barceloneta, but nothing is as it was anymore... Cheap tourism has degraded everything... And what about the Sagrada Familia? Same again. Souvenir shops one after the other... And the new Diagonal project? It's a disgrace, pure theatre because in the end they'll do whatever the fuck they want... It's a shame what is being permitted and what is being done to the city. Barcelona used to be an old lady and now she's an old whore. There's a lack of imagination, daring and cosmopolitan spirit. This Barcelona is no longer mine...».
Here my journey ends. And I walk through Sants on my way back to my world, thinking about everything I've heard and learned this morning, which is a great deal. I think of Colita and Monapart, and how one has been a chronicler of the past of this city by which she today feels let down, while others, from the conviction that a better Barcelona is still possible, work to share with you things, places, experiences, and authentic, mind-blowing people like her.
[Photos © Gemma Buenaventura]
