A morning at Xavier Corberó’s place, Barcelona
Colonnades, arches, and sculptures. I have been wandering amongst them for a while. I am together with the magazine’s team at Xavier Corberó’s place (Barcelona, 1935) on a husky autumn morning. They whisper instructions and ideas to each other as they take pictures around the concrete porches on the patio. The sound of water echoes from a pond and a conclusive fragrance of gardenias fills the atmosphere. There are families of sculptures made from rough stones, brutal creatures leaning slightly as if they were having a chat.
Photographer Mari Luz portrays precious elements arranged around the architecture. Yanina, Andrew, and Diego stay close to her, seeking the best light. Observed from a few meters away it appears as if, at anytime, their gures could begin to levitate. I can’t tell amount of time we spend in the courtyard… But everything seems to rush when the bells from some church nearby ring solemnly, twelve times. We’re about to meet the master.
We wander, as in a museum, (and perhaps we are in a museum), admiring the group of sculptures on display around the room. The artist, Xavier Corberó, waits behind one of them. Formal presentation. He wears red socks, a burgundy jacket with an old-school handkerchief in his pocket, and a pin in the shape of a tiny star holds his tie.