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Maspons the useful

MNAC national gallery has major retrospective of Catalan photographer’s work, with 500 of his images, including some that have barely or never been seen before

Maspons’ photos had to fulfil a purpose or provide a service He left a deep imprint on the photography scene of the 20th century

More than tak­ing them, what ex­cited Oriol Maspons (Barcelona, 1928-2013) most was see­ing his pho­tographs pub­lished. He didn’t take pho­tographs for the plea­sure of it; they had to ful­fil a pur­pose or pro­vide a ser­vice. Once done, he lost in­ter­est in them and would al­ready be think­ing about the next pro­ject. This helps ex­plain the chaos of his archive, which re­sem­bled a rub­bish dump. “He gave them no value. For him, they were even some­thing of a nui­sance,” says his son, Àlex. For­tu­nately, one of his clos­est friends was David Balsells, who founded the pho­to­graphic archive at the MNAC na­tional gallery. Dur­ing one of their weekly lunch dates, Balsells con­vinced Maspons that the best place for his archive was in Cat­alo­nia’s fore­most pub­lic art gallery.

It is ironic that the work of the per­son who fought the most to free pho­tog­ra­phy from its con­ven­tional pic­to­r­ial tics should end up in a tem­ple de­voted to paint­ing. Yet, Maspons died in 2013 happy with his de­ci­sion, apart from the caveat he would never tire of ex­plain­ing to gallery di­rec­tor Pepe Serra when they met. When­ever his work was put on dis­play, he wanted it to be clear that it was the re­sult of a com­mis­sion, for a book, media re­port, album cover, ad cam­paign, or film pro­mo­tion.

Above all, Maspons wanted to be a use­ful pho­tog­ra­pher, and ’use­ful pho­tog­ra­phy’ is the title of the ex­hi­bi­tion at MNAC that is the cul­mi­na­tion of the ad­ven­ture to safe­guard the legacy of one of Cat­alo­nia’s fore­most cre­ators. Oriol Maspons, la fo­tografía útil / 1949-1995 runs until Jan­u­ary 12 and brings to­gether 500 pho­tographs and 200 items of doc­u­men­tary ma­te­r­ial. It is a lot to get through, but if a sin­gle visit is not enough, the en­trance ticket can be reused.

How­ever, the major ret­ro­spec­tive comes late. Too late for Maspons to see it, and too late for Balsells, who is re­tired and in del­i­cate health, to cu­rate it. That job has been done by Cristina Zelich, who has brought all her ex­pe­ri­ence and sen­si­bil­ity as a pho­tog­ra­pher, critic and cu­ra­tor to the task of sort­ing through an ocean of 7,000 pho­tographs.

The eas­i­est thing would have been to stick to Maspons’ most iconic pho­tos, which we have all seen a thou­sand times, such as the image he took for the cover of Juan Marsé’s novel, Últi­mas tardes con Teresa, those he took of the first biki­nis to be seen on the beach, those of the mem­bers of La Nova Cançó and, ob­vi­ously, those of his group of friends, the Gauche Di­vine. Yet, that was not enough for Zelich, who in­sists: “Maspons is much more than the pho­tog­ra­pher of the hip­pies in Ibiza or of the Gauche Di­vine.”

Bipo­lar pho­tog­ra­phy

The ex­hi­bi­tion im­merses the vis­i­tor in a ca­reer that is much richer and more com­plex, which ges­tated in the 1950s when the de­bate on the na­ture of pho­tog­ra­phy and its bipo­lar char­ac­ter of being both artis­tic and prac­ti­cal. Al­though Maspons joined the Agru­pació Fo­togràfica de Catalunya, he soon came to op­pose what he called ’sa­lonism’, char­ac­terised by in­ces­tu­ous am­a­teur con­tests with rules that lim­ited in­di­vid­ual ge­nius. The as­so­ci­a­tion ex­pelled him.

“He wanted to be a pro­fes­sional pho­tog­ra­pher,” says Zelich. But that was just a dream in the cul­tural desert of Franco’s Spain. So he went abroad, to Paris, where he be­friended Henri Cartier-Bres­son, and to Lon­don, with his mas­ter: Francesc Català-Roca.

In 1957, he began to as­so­ci­ate with fel­low pho­tog­ra­pher, Julio Ubiña, and started de­vel­op­ing his ideas of moder­nity, which can be sum­marised in one con­cept: pho­tog­ra­phy had to “re­count its time”. He left a deep im­print on the pho­tog­ra­phy scene of the sec­ond half of the 20th cen­tury, both on his con­tem­po­raries and on the new gen­er­a­tion of up­com­ing pho­tog­ra­phers. And not only in prac­tice but also in the­ory. One as­pect that the MNAC ex­hi­bi­tion shows is Maspons the thinker. “He wrote very well,” says the cu­ra­tor, and his writ­ings will be com­piled and pub­lished by the mu­seum in the au­tumn.

Zelich has dug up some hid­den gems from the archive. On the one hand, for­got­ten ma­te­r­ial and, on the other, never-be­fore-seen ma­te­r­ial, such as the failed book the pho­tog­ra­pher aimed to do with poet José Agustín Goyti­solo about Cuba dur­ing the height of its rev­o­lu­tion­ary fer­vour in 1967. The im­ages are ex­tra­or­di­nary, but it was never pub­lished be­cause Maspons did not like the text Goyti­solo wrote.

There was an­other episode in 1967. Es­ther Tus­quets’ pub­lisher, Lumen, had asked him to ad­vise on pub­lish­ing the book Noth­ing Per­sonal by James Bald­win and Richard Ave­don, but his ad­vice was ig­nored. Hurt, he and other pho­tog­ra­phers pub­lished a signed ad in the mag­a­zine Des­tino, crit­i­cis­ing the in­dif­fer­ence shown to­wards a mas­ter­piece deal­ing with the US’ racist and clas­sist sys­tem.

Fem­i­nist protests

Ex­hi­bi­tions often leave out the darker side of artis­tic ca­reers, but MNAC has a room re­view­ing Maspons’ work with In­terviú mag­a­zine. For a re­port in the 1970s, he ran an ad in La Van­guardia look­ing for women who had been raped and left preg­nant. Fem­i­nist groups protested out­side his study. “He wasn’t both­ered,” says his son, who con­fesses that his fa­ther used him when he was small for “gonzo” ar­ti­cles. At the time he cried, but today he re­mem­bers it with a smile.

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