Letter from Madrid
"When Benedikt Taschen extends an invitation to go somewhere, to see something, it is best to go" - Impressions of the Taschen Collection and Martin Kippenberger show as seen by Eric Kroll
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One of the missing Madrid pieces was flamenco and I found that, by chance, on my own with Ximena, my Spanish model friend, the last night I was in Madrid. We had gone to a remote bar to see the erotic work of Spanish photographer Sebastian Navarro. I had liked it SO much and it reminded me of the work of Terry Richardson that I had seen that morning at the Taschen Madrid office when the new book, Terryworld arrived.
I insisted Sebastian and his girlfriend, Sandra, take me back to their loft apartment to see more of his work (I work for Benedikt Taschen). We looked, took photographs, looked some more, then around 4 am I heard the rhythmic clapping of flamenco. Sandra directed me to Candela (Calle Olmo, 2), a small bar with a cave below the bar for true gypsies. Upstairs, I watched men break into dance with other men clapping around the dancer for minutes at a time, then just as suddenly, there would be only the recorded flamenco music coming from the bar speakers and the solo dancer and his friends would return to chatting and drinking while standing along the bar. Sometimes young girls would come into the bar in small groups and get gobbled up by those against the back wall. Just before 6 am we left to find a nearby Argentinean restaurant still open for dinner. After all, I had a plane to catch at noon.
Page 1 2 3 4 5
Page 1 2 3 4 5
One of the missing Madrid pieces was flamenco and I found that, by chance, on my own with Ximena, my Spanish model friend, the last night I was in Madrid. We had gone to a remote bar to see the erotic work of Spanish photographer Sebastian Navarro. I had liked it SO much and it reminded me of the work of Terry Richardson that I had seen that morning at the Taschen Madrid office when the new book, Terryworld arrived.
I insisted Sebastian and his girlfriend, Sandra, take me back to their loft apartment to see more of his work (I work for Benedikt Taschen). We looked, took photographs, looked some more, then around 4 am I heard the rhythmic clapping of flamenco. Sandra directed me to Candela (Calle Olmo, 2), a small bar with a cave below the bar for true gypsies. Upstairs, I watched men break into dance with other men clapping around the dancer for minutes at a time, then just as suddenly, there would be only the recorded flamenco music coming from the bar speakers and the solo dancer and his friends would return to chatting and drinking while standing along the bar. Sometimes young girls would come into the bar in small groups and get gobbled up by those against the back wall. Just before 6 am we left to find a nearby Argentinean restaurant still open for dinner. After all, I had a plane to catch at noon.
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