a house is not a home # 2
(can negre by josep maria jujol)
sant joan despí

Originally a country house, Can Negre was transformed into the fairytale building that is today by architect Josep Maria Jujol in the early XXth Century.
Jujol was second to none but somehow overshadowed by contemporary maverick Antoni Gaudí. The two of them, along with others, dotted the city and its suburbs with awesome buildings that have no parallel anywhere else; many of them virtually unknown, even by locals!
More of Jujol coming up soon... and hopefully some interiors too.

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enric miralbell

If you've been following this blog you know that I very rarely get personal. This time I will.
It's been a year since my good old buddy Enric Miralbell passed away. Right in the middle of the summer, his favourite season.
His daughter Amaranta, Giovanna and myself went together for a last goodbye to that ugly place where they turn lifeless bodies into ashes. We cried a little, we smiled a little, we had a flat tire and it felt cold in spite of the heat and very very lonely.

Without a doubt, Enric was one of the most creative and talented persons I've met. Being around him was tremendously inspiring and a lot of fun.

Back in the pre-digital era he was a very sought after backdrop painter in the advertising world. Walking with him into those sound stages to a massive white wall waiting for him to work his magic on it was scary. Seeing him at work and twenty four hours later witnessing the final result was invelievable.

Enric was happiest when doing his own thing: painting, designing furniture, sketching while on the phone or fixing an interior. He had a way with houses, he loved them and they seemed to love him back. His huge classic apartment in the center was really impressive, the beach house we shared for a while in Sitges was everybody's favourite refuge, the depressing dive he once bought in a degraded area was soon featured in interior magazines and his place in Arraial d'Ajuda-Brazil was a colonial jewel amidst lush greenery where he spent his last happy days. And no, he wasn't rich; he just had imagination, lust for live and exquisite taste.

Enric was a true original that didn't follow trends and wasn't afraid to experiment with different styles, although he had a very personal one. Somewhere between organic beach hut-chic and scandinavian coolnes, that was his place.

His eyes of blue, his pasta dishes, our conversations till the wee small hours, our bad boys nights out...so much to miss.
It's hard to believe in the afterlife, don't you think?
Just in case: Enric, if you are there somewhere, we all say hi.

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