An artist's Art Nouveau apartment high in the hills above Barcelona
I think it’s the highest house in the city,’ says artist Sergio Roger. He leads the way up a short staircase from his and his partner Fernando Ansorena’s bedroom, through a door and onto a little balcony that wraps its way around a tower. There can be few better vantage points from which to take in the wide, expansive sprawl of Barcelona. Directly ahead is the domed top of Fabra Observatory; beyond that La Sagrada Familia; then the distinctive new high-rises of El Poblenou and, further away still, the Mediterranean.
It was across this sea that Sergio first splashed down in the international design scene, during the rather subdued, Covid-affected Milan Design Week of September 2021. His work, a series of soft sculptures draped and stitched in antique linen, mimicked marble archaeological finds of Roman and Greek antiquity. As The New York Times explained, ‘His sculptures look like stone; they feel more like pillows.’ He says he is influenced by contemporary artists such as Ernesto Neto, as well as Louise Bourgeois and Joseph Beuys, who used textiles as their medium.
Sergio’s series of fabric busts, statues and columns was called Textile Ruins and was exhibited in the crypt-like basement of the influential design gallery Rossana Orlandi. It appeared in countless best-in-show roundups and also caught the eye of two individuals who would take Sergio’s work to new audiences. The first of these was Claudio Corsi, who heads up the antiquities department at Christie’s in London. Within two months, Claudio was exhibiting Sergio’s sculptures alongside the millennia-old artefacts and marble sculptures in one of his sales. ‘It was a dream come true for me, seeing my work in dialogue with the ancient artworks that had been my inspiration for so long,’ Sergio recalls.
The second was David Alhadeff, founder of the American design shop and gallery The Future Perfect. This September, he will present Sergio’s work to the US market for the first time with a solo show in his Casa Perfect townhouse in New York’s West Village.
Such success was a few years off when Sergio and Fernando found this house, which was built in 1912 and sits on the peak of Tibidabo hill overlooking Barcelona. ‘Or the house found us,’ Sergio says with a laugh. ‘Isn’t that what people say in magazine articles like this?’ The search was spurred on by their decision to live together, with their only real requirement being that they find somewhere away from the hubbub of the city. The house is an example of the Catalan Art Nouveau – or Modernisme – style of architecture, the most famous protagonist of which was Antoni Gaudí. It is a style that has left a lasting legacy here; the couple’s house was built as Barcelona began to expand, creeping towards and eventually up Tibidabo.
It is easy to see why they wanted to live here. And why they were not put off by early signs that the house was haunted. As the saying now goes, recollections may vary, but suffice it to say that, a brief period of waking with night terrors, and phone calls to the police and fire brigade, was summarily ended with a visit from a friend, who is also a shaman, to put any unwelcome spirits to rest. These days, the house is nothing short of heavenly.
The building was long ago divided into two apartments, with Sergio and Fernando now renting the one on the top two floors. The slope of the site and its position in the bend of the street mean that each apartment has its own entrance and gardens. All the rooms on the main floor of Sergio and Fernando’s home radiate off a long central hallway. The floor here would originally have been tiled but, unusually for a house in Spain, it is now carpeted. ‘The man who lived here before had more of a “British” style,’ Sergio suggests somewhat regretfully.
At the back of the apartment are the bathroom (which has retained its original floor tiles) and two spare rooms. Towards the front are Fernando’s office, which overlooks the garden, the kitchen and, finally, the large sitting room and adjoining dining room.
With a largely putty-coloured backdrop, pops of colour have been introduced through furniture, art and objets, either collected or created. To a large extent, this approach was directed by what the couple were allowed to do in an apartment that they rent, but it also chimes with the exterior of the house, where red-painted woodwork stands out against a sand-toned render, all majestically crowned with a polychrome tiled roof.
A series of pitched roofs allows for luxuriantly high ceilings in the wide rooms. The sitting room has simple, skinny mouldings and a curvaceous Art Nouveau plaster fireplace as a focal point, gathered around which are a mishmash of vintage finds and inherited family pieces. It has such a lovely atmosphere: a tranquil and easy space to spend time in, where light and the breeze found high up on the hill pour through the open windows, creating a gentle billow of linen curtains.
The ceiling in the kitchen is at a 45-degree angle, its thick rafters a particular hazard; spatial awareness is probably one of the most important skills required for anyone cooking in it. ‘It’s completely impractical, but I love it,’ Sergio says. On days like the one when I visit, however, meals are cooked on the grill outside and served under a jasmine-covered pergola. Spaces like this are a luxury in any city, as is the little pool just below the terrace.
The couple have carved out a pretty idyllic life for themselves up here, far above the city. In fact, once they moved to the area, they found themselves redirecting their attention to the smaller towns on the other side of the hill, which is where they now do most of their shopping or run their errands. The city itself is where they go for work (each has a studio in the Gothic Quarter) or for the nightlife. That said, Sergio has recently taken on a second studio far nearer home. Set within an old textiles factory, it is a grittier, more industrial space than his original studio, which is in an 18th-century townhouse in the city below. But it will allow Sergio to fulfil his ambition to work on a more monumental scale. His largest pieces – Ionic Columns – are currently around three metres in height, but he wants to go far bigger. He mutters something about recreating the ruins of a Greek temple and there is a flash of excitement in his eyes.