Isabel Steva (Barcelona 1940-2023), known as Colita, was a Catalan photographer with over 50 published books and many famous portraits, including those of Orson Welles, Gabriel García Márquez, Carmen Amaya, and Joan Miró. This interview was conducted following the release of his book “Els interiors de l’Illa de l’Eixample” (“The Interiors of the Eixample Block”).
We are chroniclers of our time, like notaries of reality
Are cats more photogenic than dogs? [A cat is walking on the table as the interview starts, conducted in Colita’s home in the Sants neighborhood of Barcelona]
Well, while it’s simpler to photograph an animal than a child, for example, nothing is easy. Cats do whatever they feel like all day… But, as I said, nothing is easy, not even landscapes, because you always have to wait for the right light. It’s not the same to have a day with wonderful light as a day with hazy, awful light. Everything requires its work, its style, its patience… Català-Roca used to say that one of the photographer’s virtues is patience. For example, if you want to photograph the cathedral’s facade, you have two options: either you photograph it with no one in the frame or with the ambient activity happening in front. In both cases, you need patience: to wait for no one to pass by or for something interesting to happen, something that gives you a glimpse into the life passing by there: tourists, children, skaters, sardana dancers, “gegants” (giants in Catalan parades)… anything.
This is also explained by Cartier-Bresson with his “decisive moments”…
Yes. “Arriving and grinding” rarely happens in life. Most photos are just a matter of waiting for something to happen; except when you go to photograph those “animals” who get crucified in the Philippines, where stuff is already happening. If you want a Cartier-Bresson type photo like the one of the boy jumping over a puddle in a depressed area of Paris—which is a beautiful photo with marvelous lyricism—, it’s very hard that you arrive there and the boy just happens to pass; you might have to wait a bit. You say, “There’s a good photo here, I’ll wait to see if anything interesting happens.” For urban photos that reflect life and show how our times are… You need to wait. If you’re taking a photo at a subway exit, you might have to wait five or six exits until a special group of people comes out and you say, “Damn, I’ve got it!” Even if you have to wait half an hour or an hour. The miracle happens rarely, and when it does, we call it a “photo” [fotón] or, as Oriol Maspons says, a “core” [pinyol].
In the book “Diàlegs a Barcelona,” which reproduces a conversation with Xavier Miserachs from some years ago (late ’80s), you claimed that “photography is indispensable for people to believe that something happened”.
Yes, we are chroniclers of our time, like notaries of reality. Everything that happens daily in our lives, if there’s no photograph to certify it, it’s much harder to believe. They say a picture is worth a thousand words… I wouldn’t say that, rather that words are very necessary. In fact, a caption can completely alter a photo and strip it of its meaning. That happens every day.
Has your relationship with the writers been difficult?
Since I’m a freelancer, I haven’t had too many problems. For example, when I worked at TeleXprés, I never had any trouble. Now journalism has changed a lot; and I don’t think for the better. Politics and advertising weigh heavily… But in my case, I haven’t had many problems with writers as few have dared to boss me around. I’ve had more problems with designers. Sometimes they think photographers are worthless, to put it plainly, they place themselves above the photographer and completely distort your work, altering the frames and modifying whatever they want.
In the conversation with Miserachs, you were against advertising and even said that “working in advertising is selling yourself for a plate of lentils.”
Well, that’s a boutade, as the French say. There’s something about advertising: there are wonderful things, for example, Guy Bourdin is an extraordinary fashion photographer. Richard Avedon is another. But you make an ad today and no matter how wonderful it is, everyone will have forgotten it by next week. On the other hand, the day-to-day work of a documentary photographer gains more value over time. We care about advertising for the money, nothing else. It’s like throwing your work out the window. Besides, it’s becoming less and less the work of photographers and more of film directors.
You identified yourself as a historian of the 20th century once.
Yes, modestly, all of us who’ve done documentary work are 20th-century historians. Our images are history; I have pictures from Carmen Amaya’s funeral, the Montserrat occupation, a portrait of Rafael Alberti, others have the 23-F… We are undoubtedly historians with cameras.
You must be pleased with the new center opened in Gracia, LaFotoBCN.
Of course, it’s an important step forward. Moreover, they are well-focused, and if they have the strength to maintain it—since this takes a lot of work—and they get some funding, I foresee a good future for them. It’s the first time in many years I see something like this. It’s aimed at explaining photography as a cultural event. How could I not support it when this is what I’ve fought for all my life? To not only be considered snapshooters and drudges of “this dam is inaugurated”… We are much more than that.
Does the content of a photograph take precedence over its aesthetic?
When you have content, the photograph gains greater strength, and it’s also easier to work with content. The emotion of a demonstration, like when Ernest Lluch died, is conveyed in photography; with content, there’s more power. But if there’s no content, you might end up giving it because you do. If I go out, and my neighbors are chatting in their aprons, that’s also content if you give it. Not everything is the Afghanistan war.
In 1987, you said Barcelona had evolved a little. After the Olympics, would you agree that there was a kind of revolution?
It was very difficult to get rid of the Francoist crust in Catalonia—I won’t say Spain because I know it less. After so many years, democracy came, and everything had to be done. Naturally, we were in a hurry, especially my generation, which endured the Franco era. Pasqual Maragall, who was a mayor we were very lucky with, and before him, Serra—let’s not forget him although they later took him to Madrid—, started projecting a European city because it wasn’t like other European cities. It was a dirty, old city—in the pejorative sense—, with obsolete infrastructures… Everything had to be redone, and the city was put on the world map.
Isn’t a dirty, old city more sincere, more spontaneous?
Well, that’s the discourse of an outdated progressive with dandruff. A city must have its charm and dignity as an old city, not marred by modifications from architects who’ve lost their minds. Paris is an old city, but it’s not disgusting; it’s splendid. The same goes for London, Rome… They are old cities but full of history and cultural strength, and obviously, beautiful. Dirt and beauty don’t go well together. I like beautiful things.
You know the area where 2004 Forum will take place because you photographed the Besòs river in the book “El riu que veia passar els trens” (with texts by Patricia Gabancho).
I love capturing the transformation of things, and before, the Besòs was simply a poisonous river. An anecdote: the last flock of sheep was coming down from Montcada, and when I saw it, I stopped to talk to the shepherd. I asked, “Do the sheep drink from the river?” “Well, they’re very smart; they know they can’t drink from the river,” he replied. But I insisted, “What if one does?” “Ah, it dies!” he answered [laughs]. Now it’s splendid: children play, people walk and ride bikes… The flora and fauna are returning. I suppose someday there will be non-mutant fish there…[laughs again]. They’re going to remove the high voltage towers. It went from being a sewer no rat could survive because they were fried by what came down the river to being a place to stroll. It dignifies this traditionally neglected area. The entire metropolitan area has significantly improved. In the ’80s, I did a project on the metropolitan area with Miserachs, Maspons, and Català-Roca. The change over fifteen years has been spectacular. I stand by the facts; if anyone doesn’t believe it, let them go see.
Almost fifteen years ago, you complained about the technical limitations in photography. Has digital technology liberated it?
Yes, we only work digitally at home now. We haven’t entered the darkroom in two years. Those who adapt will thrive, and those who don’t will fall behind. Right now, digital cameras are a matter of price and features. But in a couple of years, there will be 80 models to choose from. You have to wait a bit until you can say, “With this, I can work for five or six years.” I’ve gone from being terrified of my computer to not being able to live without it.
So, has the black and white versus color dilemma ended?
It’s a matter of taste. Look at Woody Allen, for example. He loves black and white but makes color films. There are themes for black and white and others for colour. For photographers of my generation—I started in 1963—, color didn’t exist because there were few color magazines. It evolved over the years, but publishing in color was tacky because it reproduced poorly. I just did a book on Castelldefels, obviously in colour. But my flamenco book was in black and white. Different languages, and you have to adapt the language to what the theme requires.
Among all the people you have photographed, is there one you have a special memory of?
There are many I cherish and remember perfectly. Wonderful, amazing people… Orson Welles gave me ten minutes of his life, that’s incredible. Carmen Amaya, although I didn’t enjoy her long because she died. Max Aub, an excellent character. Quino, the creator of Mafalda, wonderful. Rafael Alberti, endearing. Dionisio Ridruejo, Terenci Moix, Jaime Gil de Biedma!… Friends who left me many photos and a sadness inside when they passed away. I wouldn’t want to forget anyone. Miró was a charm, Ana María Moix, the Nova Cançó people, Ovidi, Serrat… I’m also the photographer of my neighbourhood. So, when a child is born or there’s a wedding, everyone comes to get a photo. That’s what we’re for, we don’t know how to do anything else.
To finish, what’s your best memory of Barcelona?
My best memory of Barcelona was the first time I became aware and realized I had a wonderful family and lived in a city I liked. I don’t know how to explain it better. Some people don’t quite like the city they live in. I immediately liked the city where I lived… My dad took me for walks, you know? Those walks with my dad and mom taking me to the zoo on Sundays and then buying a little cake, Passeig de Gràcia… Those bourgeois but lovely, touching things… Very soon I realized I lived in a city that felt like home. Often I go out to the street in slippers… The last nice memory of this city was today when the postman came, and I said, “Oh my God, what a beautiful day!” And he said, “It’s gorgeous” before even stepping out. Every day I say, “What a wonderful city!” I’m a big fan of Barcelona, what can I do? I wouldn’t have liked to be born anywhere else. In short, my best memory has yet to happen. I hope it will be when I die and say, “Argh! Long live Barcelona!”