The aim of this exhibition was to combine my photography with the literary works that take place in my hometown. I immersed myself in the books by Alicia Giménez Bartlett, Jaume Cabré, Ildefonso Falcones and Carlos Ruiz Zafón. Further I tried to create a visual experience for my descriptions, which reflect individual events. All motifs were photographed in Barcelona.
In his book “The Angels Game”, the author Carlos Ruiz Zafón describes how a long tunnel was found in the middle of the last century from the Cemetery of Forgotten Books to the basement of an old library. Today this library is sealed. You can find it in the ruins of a former synagogue in the Call district.
In his book “The Angels Game”, author Carlos Ruiz Zafón tells of a shop for magic articles on Calle Princesa, which is still there today. It continues with the people Marlasca, who passed away, and Roures, the owner of the new shop. Another protagonist is Irene Sabino, who worked in night clubs and shabby bars. Supposedly she later worked as a prostitute on the streets in the Ravel and lived in misery.
In his book “Marina”, author Carlos Ruiz Zafón tells us by Benjamín Sentís, whose body was found in the Ciutat Vella sewer system. Born in Barcelona, he was eighty-three years old. Nobody knows how his dead body got into the canal, which has been closed since 1941.
Alicia Giménez Bartlett’s book “Messengers of Darkness” is about a candle shop in Barcelona that also sells votive candles. It is about a very special and rare candle that is handcrafted in Avila, has a certain color and gives off the smell of incense when it burns. Only four or five boxes of these votive candles are ordered annually.
In his book “The Angels Game”, author Carlos Ruiz Zafón tells of a man called Andreas Corelli, who is writing a letter to a certain Señor Martín. He wants to meet him to make him an offer and suggests dinner in a small villa as a meeting place. He rented it and it is located on Calle Olot, corner of Calle San José de la Montaña, next to the entrance to Park Güell. He suggests the next Friday, the 13th of the month, at 10 o’clock in the evening. He closes the letter with the wish that he would be very happy if the visit was made possible.
In his book “Marina”, author Carlos Ruiz Zafón tells us about memories that are sunk in the sea of time and that sooner or later reappear and wash ashore. And it’s about a memory that is moving back into the present after 15 years. Back then, a young lad wandered around in the haze of the Francia train station, associated with Marina’s name, which like an old injury re-emerged. Don’t we all have a secret that lies deep within our souls? This very scene in the old train station of Barcelona that pops up in my mind is my sunken secret.
In her book “Messengers of Darkness”, Alicia Giménez Bartlett tells about the pedestrian zone in Barcelona’s old town. It was late in the morning. Crowds streamed through and the old, closely spaced houses lay in the sunlight. The streetscape was full of harmony and a sense of peace. I heard a street musician playing the flute. The office I worked in was gloomy and I thought of all the people who could enjoy the sunny side of life.
In his book “Cathedral of the Sea”, author Ildefonso Falcones tells of the young couple Maria and Arnau, who got married over two months ago in the church of Santa María del Mar in Barcelona’s Gothic Quarter. The wedding was performed by Father Albert. Since they were married now, there was a higher wage in their guild. Now they could finally build a house on the beach. Family and friends also helped set it up.
In his book “Confessions”, author Jaume Cabré talks about the protagonist’s mother, who grew up alone. Nobody took her ever to Barcelona’s amusement park Tibidabo in the hills beyond the city. Perhaps that was precisely why she did not want to know why I was interested in a machine that swallowed coins and then moved and behaved like a human. It was the time of the dictator Primo de Riveras, there were deaths in the streets, the residents were embittered and the city was colored in sepia. It was in the twenties of the last century.
In his book “Marina”, author Carlos Ruiz Zafón talks about the Calle Princesa in the middle of Barcelona’s old town. The street housed old palaces and houses that seemed to have fallen out of time. House number 33 was particularly tough. The number could hardly be seen on the facade. I entered. The narrow corridor reminded me of the cloister of a historic church.