Berlin, 1920
Three women star in the story that inspires this new collection, Maggie, Petra and Elena. I never met them in person, but I guess my great-grandmother did, because her letters appeared in the secretaire that had always occupied the corner of the window in her room, and that I decided to fix by myself in another of my attempts not to go crazy during these months of confinement.
What started out as a cloud of dust stripping the patina of years on a piece of furniture that had always fascinated me for how modern it looked, for my great-grandmother's, ended up becoming a reading festival on my sofa, sunk between cushions, where I met the three protagonists of my next hours, days, months, and of our new adventure aboard Lo de Manuela.
The discovery of the letters made me reflect on the relative nature of my tantrums. Not only did these women manage to keep their friendship alive for years and across distance, but they overcame a war and a subsequent pandemic, and when it seemed the world could not get any more gray and desolate, they saw it blossom differently, exultant and euphoric. Pain had scarred their skin, but the survival instinct and art gave them back the oxygen they no longer had.
Lying on my couch I felt a mixture of relief, admiration and excitement: The women of my family had once again come to my aid by giving me a new destiny for my wandering spirit, since reading the letters that miraculously appeared in an old piece of furniture has led me to travel through the decades to reach their authors, and those of you who know me by now will already know that my thing is travel and the stories behind them.
This collection takes us to Berlin in 1920, an effervescent and feverish city after the First World War. The city of revolutions, the arts, bohemianism, intellectualism, eclecticism, feminism, and diversity. The cradle of the Bauhaus and the new Kabarett, two catalysts of art, thought and leisure, which attracted like a magnet all kinds of artists, architects, writers, journalists, musicians, dancers, and among them, our three new muses who, coming from different countries and social realities, met and knew how to accompany each other.
...Faced with this story that we are beginning to discover today, I can't help but think that the ashes of anguish and despair are fertile ground for new ideas and ways of expressing them. the ashes of anguish and despair are the fertile ground for new ideas and ways of expressing them, and that fills me with a hope that I want to share with you.
Welcome to Berlin, 1920
