Audio guide "Marisa Flórez"

We welcome you to the exhibition dedicated to photojournalist Marisa Flórez at the Canal de Isabel II Gallery. Its title, "A Time to Look," invites you to explore this photographer's work in detail, as well as the historic moment she captured with her camera: the return of democracy to Spain.

The exhibition covers fifty years of his career through 184 images, some iconic and others previously unpublished, from his personal archive. A career worthy of awards such as the National Prize for Graphic Journalism and the Culture Prize of the Community of Madrid, and fundamentally linked to the newspaper El PaísShe served as editor-in-chief and graphic editor between 1976 and 2012, witnessing the major events and personalities of this vibrant era.

The exhibition is organized into seven sections, spread over four floors. The ground floor is titled "The Beginning of Something New," a name that indicates the beginning of an era and simultaneously conveys one of the most important features of Marisa Flórez's work:

A change was taking place. A change in the way we saw things, in behavior, and in ways we lived. I tried to make what was happening on the streets, in the circles of power, in people's homes, in society, reach the public.

On this floor, we are welcomed by a series of biographical images taken by colleagues that show anecdotes and moments from the photojournalist's work throughout her career.

The remaining spaces on the sides feature examples of the most important themes from his career, such as portraits and urban scenes that depict the social changes of the time.

Finally, in the center of the room, some of his most iconic images are displayed. Famous figures such as Joan Manuel Serrat and Susana Estrada, as well as other anonymous ones, especially women, who are the central subjects of many of his photographs.

These themes will be explored throughout the rest of the exhibition. The audio guide will guide you through each thematic section and comment on some of the key images in each section.

Marisa Flórez's career will be especially linked to her images of parliamentary information.

The photojournalist, born in León in 1948, arrived in Madrid at the age of 1971 to study Information and Tourism. In XNUMX, she took her first steps as a reporter working for the newspaper Information and in 1976, with democracy recently restored in Spain, he joined El PaísSince then, much of his work has been carried out in the Congress of Deputies.

In those early years, he witnessed firsthand the drafting of the 1978 Constitution and the country's political transformation. His images from that period have gone down in history and are part of the memories of many Spaniards.

A good example is the photograph showing Dolores Ibárruri, the Passionate, and Rafael Alberti walking down the steps of Congress during the first session of the Constituent Assembly in July 1977. A moment that perfectly symbolized Spain's new historical era: two key figures of the Second Republic and the Communist Party, exiled and persecuted for their ideology until shortly before, once again transformed into public representatives.

Thanks to the horizontal format and the use of wide-angle lenses, the photographer was able to capture the context of expectation and amazement surrounding the scene, emotions that many viewers of the time would surely have identified with.

These technical decisions demonstrate one of Marisa Flórez's talents, and that of great photographers in general: the ability to react intuitively and accurately to what is happening around them.

On other occasions, images are the result of patience and waiting for the right circumstances to arise. This is the case of the photograph titled "The Two Spains," which shows Santiago Carrillo, leader of the Spanish Communist Party, and Blas Piñar, founder of the far-right Fuerza Nueva party, crossing paths in opposite directions on the steps of the Congress of Deputies. Piñar sat in the chamber behind Carrillo, so the photographer positioned herself at his eye level to capture the moment Piñar passed in front of them, aware that this image would perfectly represent the two extremes of Spain at the time.

They are photographs that are the result of the photojournalist's expertise and personal vision, but also of very long days of work:

During the first three terms, I practically lived the life of a member of parliament. We spent time there from early morning until the end; some days we even left at dawn. Add to that all the meetings that took place outside of Parliament. It was a very exciting job; something new happened every day.

Thus, in 1979, after several years of intense work, Marisa Flórez captured an image that became a benchmark for photojournalism in Spain. The photograph, known as "The Solitude of the President," showed the then leader of the Executive, Adolfo Suárez, sitting alone in the Congressional seat reserved for members of the Government.

The author, who was also a graphic editor of El País, reframed the photo, achieving a panoramic effect that accentuated the subject's sense of isolation. For contemporary readers, the message was clear: Suárez was in a moment of crisis both inside and outside his own party. But for any observer outside the context, the image is equally powerful. The photographer was able to imbue an everyday situation with historical significance: a man sitting, waiting for the arrival of the rest of his teammates.

This was the first photograph published on the front page in five columns by The country. That same year, Marisa Flórez received the National Journalism Award.

Surrounding this image, imitating the layout of the Congress chamber, are a series of iconic photographs taken by the artist during those marathon days of parliamentary work. Major news items such as the passing of the Constitution in 1978 or the swearing-in of the then Prince of Asturias in 1986, as well as everyday scenes such as Manuel Fraga sleeping or conversations in the Parliament cafeteria, form a complete mosaic of this exciting period in Spanish history.

An essential part of Marisa Flórez's work as a parliamentary photographer has, naturally, been photographing the various Prime Ministers of Spain during its democratic era. And she has done so by always seeking to go beyond their public image, also reflecting their personalities in more spontaneous, everyday scenes.

This is illustrated, for example, by a photograph taken on the day of reflection before the 1982 elections. In it, King Juan Carlos I receives the various parliamentary leaders at the Zarzuela Palace. A profound image that symbolized the Crown's commitment to democracy during a period marked by two recent coup attempts. At the same time, it is a relaxed scene where the monarch is seen offering an ashtray to those present in a relaxed and cordial atmosphere.

Among those portrayed are three figures who would have presided over the Spanish government at different times: Adolfo Suárez and Felipe González, with their backs to the viewer, and Leopoldo Calvo-Sotelo, in the background, behind the king. The monarch and members of the Royal Family were also portrayed by Marisa Flórez on numerous occasions.

The meeting that took place shortly afterward between the then president of the outgoing government, Leopoldo Calvo-Sotelo, and the president of the incoming government, Felipe González, was also relaxed and cordial. The election of October 28, 1982, gave a landslide victory to the Spanish Socialist Workers' Party, ending the Union of the Democratic Center government and beginning a period in Spanish history that would last fourteen years. González, with his characteristic corduroy jacket and elbow patches, represented the rise to power of a new generation that would mark its differences from the previous one, also in its style of dress:

We started with a single character, and they became the absolute protagonists. Each one had their own way of expressing themselves and reaching people, and that was very interesting.

In 1996, the photographer captured another historic change that was about to take place when she photographed José María Aznar, president of the Popular Party, surrounded by his campaign team. The members of the future government are positioned around the main character, who is depicted from behind, a subtle way of conveying his strong leadership.

The portrait shows them in relaxed, smiling poses, wearing shirtsleeves. Among them, Mariano Rajoy stands out, who in 2011 would become the sixth prime minister of this democratic era.

This section concludes with a photograph of the Socialist José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero, Prime Minister from 2004 to 2011. A chance image that once again demonstrates Marisa Flórez's accurate instinct. In it, he is seen, head bowed, crossing a crack in the ground, a suggestive snapshot that conveys a sense of loneliness similar to her famous photograph of Adolfo Suárez. The context was similar, as the great economic crisis of 2008 had just begun, and Marisa Flórez, once again, condensed the meaning of an era in a single image.

As part of her journalistic work, portraiture has been one of Marisa Flórez's most cultivated genres. Images of key figures from that moment in history, but also of anonymous individuals who were part of the change taking place in society.

One of the themes the photographer closely followed was the women's liberation movement and its progressive incorporation into the workforce. For example, in an image taken in October 1989, we see the first generation of female Civil Guards participating in the ceremony to award the Gold Cross of this service to King Juan Carlos I.

Flórez was keen to portray women's entry into institutions traditionally considered male, such as the Police and the Civil Guard. Perhaps because she herself was a woman in a predominantly male world: photojournalism, a field in which some female photojournalists, such as Flórez herself, Queca Campillo, and Pilar Aymerich, were just beginning to emerge.

The photographer recalls that her career was not without obstacles:

We came from a very conservative and sexist society, a society where women didn't have or receive their rightful place. I suffered sexist behavior and attitudes from official bodies; it was the norm at the time, because the laws that existed allowed it. It didn't affect me. I've always been able to work alongside the rest of my colleagues.

But the democratic era in Spain not only brought freedoms, it was also accompanied by numerous corruption scandals, such as those involving José María Ruíz Mateos, owner of the Rumasa financial group, which was expropriated by the government, or banker Mario Conde, former president of Banesto, an institution that had to be taken over by the Bank of Spain.

Both were captured by Marisa Flórez's camera. The images, although very different, showed the public the fall of these magnates from a more human perspective. The photographer captured the expressions of concern on the faces of the protagonists of these cases, which would make headlines for decades to come.

Unfortunately, Marisa Flórez's work also included images of one of the great tragedies of Spain's new democratic era: ETA terrorism. One of the photographs in the exhibition shows politician Javier Rupérez, Secretary of Foreign Affairs in the Adolfo Suárez government, hours after being freed by ETA after a month of captivity in a hiding place.

His kidnapping stood out at the time as one of the longest-running attacks committed by the terrorist group and for the strong international response it generated, with calls for his release from figures such as Pope John Paul II and Yasser Arafat. The photograph shows the politician's long-awaited reunion with his family in Madrid, after being released and abandoned at a gas station in Burgos.

And of course, Flórez also portrayed numerous figures from the world of culture, which would faithfully reflect the many changes taking place in Spain. The image of Lola Herrera performing "Five Hours with Mario" stands out. in 1978. Little could either of them imagine then that this photo would immortalize a milestone in the history of Spanish theater: the beginning of a play to which the actress would be linked for the next forty years, forever embodying in the collective imagination the role of the widow Carmen Sotillo, a symbol of pre-democratic Spanish society.

Throughout her career, Marisa Flórez has witnessed the significant changes taking place in society, but also the many injustices that continue to exist. This section highlights the photographer's interest in social issues.

Many of the images are the result of years of intense work on the ground. One example is the photographs of the demonstrations in front of the Congress of Deputies in favor of free and legal abortion in October 1983. Inside the building, the first bill to decriminalize abortion, proposed by Felipe González's government, was being debated. Outside, Marisa Flórez's camera captured the protests of women who considered the bill insufficient, as it only recognized three cases: rape, serious danger to the mother's life, and fetal malformations.

In one scene, the symbol of the feminist triangle is symbolically contrasted with the classicist pediment that crowns the Congress, an example that for Marisa Flórez, news is not at odds with an artistic vision.

The demonstration was eventually broken up by the National Police at the request of the Speaker of the Chamber, Socialist Gregorio Peces-Barba. The photographer captured the arrests of several protesters, including Carmen Roney, a Communist Party member of the Madrid Assembly, and lawyer Cristina Almeida, who can be seen in one image about to be placed in a police van. The Socialist government's bill would not be approved until September 1985. The law on sexual health and voluntary termination of pregnancy would not be passed until 2010.

Flórez also reported on the most significant health tragedy in Spain's history until the COVID pandemic: the poisoning of some 20.000 people from the sale of rapeseed oil for industrial use as olive oil. In 1989, eight years after this attack on public health, the massive trial, one of the longest in Spain's history, concluded. The photojournalist witnessed the victims' outrage at the ruling, which, among other things, convicted only 13 of the 38 accused olive oil producers and halved the number of certified deaths from this poisoning.

In addition to chasing news on the streets, Marisa Flórez has also photographed reportages that have allowed her to delve into complex issues of social interest. This is the case of the report she conducted in the Yeserías women's prison in 1981 with journalist Julio César Iglesias:

I was fortunate enough to spend several days living with the inmates and to be allowed to follow their daily lives. I only went out to sleep, which was the only thing I wasn't allowed to do. Various reports were published later. This was still when there were prisons where inmates were allowed to live with their babies up to the age of three. It was hard, because there you realize the ups and downs of these women, who on the one hand maintain this joy, but on the other, suffer from this hardship.

Throughout several articles, her images illustrated various themes: overcrowding in the then-few women's prisons, drug addiction, sexual relations between inmates, motherhood, and, above all, the loneliness of these women. The photographer's sensitivity and delicate interplay of light helped express the "lights and shadows" of prison life.

It was a subject the photographer was already familiar with, having visited Carabanchel prison in 1977 and 1981 to witness the legendary inmate riots there, which, following Franco's death, demanded prison reform.

Another example of this type of report is the one carried out at the Camilo Alonso Vega psychiatric hospital in 1993. An assignment for the first issue of the regional supplement that the newspaper El País published in the Community of Madrid. It pioneered a pioneering approach to the topic of mental health. The image we see in the exhibition conveys the suffering of those admitted to this institution, without abandoning respect and dignity, thanks to the photographer's perspective.

After several years of democracy, an event was going to symbolically close the Franco era: the arrival of Guernica from Pablo Picasso to Spain, the country to which he belonged but had never been.

The painting was commissioned by the government of the Second Republic in 1937 to denounce the horrors of the fascist bombing of the population of Guernica. After Franco's victory in the Civil War, the work, originally created and exhibited in Paris, traveled to various countries until it was finally installed at the MoMA in New York. At the express wish of its creator, the painting was to be returned to its rightful owner, the Spanish State, when civil liberties were restored.

Almost fifty years later, Marisa Flórez would reflect on the different stages of that historic moment.

On September 10, 1981 the Guernica landed at Barajas Airport amidst tight security. Just seven months earlier, the attempted coup d'état of February 23rd had taken place, led by Antonio Tejero, a lieutenant colonel of the Civil Guard. Curiously, this force was going to be responsible for protecting the work during its transport and subsequent exhibition. In many of his images, Flórez emphasized the contrasts between the presence of the Civil Guards, a former symbol of the Regime, and the painting, an emblem of democracy.

In addition to being a historical event of incalculable value, the arrival of the Guernica The transfer to Spain also represented a true professional feat for the members of the Ministry of Culture responsible for managing its transfer and exhibition. The so-called "rescue operation" began on September 1st, when conservator Álvaro Martínez Novillo and restorer José María Cabrera arrived in New York to check the condition of the painting and the drawings that would accompany it upon its arrival in Spain. The work had suffered greatly due to the international travels during its early years, but it was determined that it could be transported safely for its preservation.

On September 9, the work was removed from the MoMA galleries with great secrecy. It took several hours to take down the nearly eight-meter-wide painting, roll it up, and place it in a specially made shipping box. The spectacular packaging can be seen in some of the snapshots taken by Marisa Flórez of its arrival in Madrid the following day.

Once in Spain the Guernica It was installed in the Casón del Buen Retiro, part of the Prado Museum. At a time of the Transition marked by threats from the far right, the painting was exhibited amidst notable security measures. In addition to the protection of the Civil Guard, the presence of bulletproof glass built specifically for the occasion was notable. Due to the large size of the painting, it was not possible to complete it in a single piece, so smaller glass panes had to be placed on the sides to completely shield the work, as can be seen in the photographs.

Marisa Flórez's camera followed the entire process, which culminated in the public opening on October 25th, amid a large turnout of visitors. The date coincided with the centenary of the birth of the Malaga-born painter, who, having died in 1973, never saw the restoration of democracy in Spain.

With the arrival of democracy in Spain, a cultural explosion took place that perfectly represented the beginning of a new era.

In fact, in the early years of the Transition, many artists, both national and international, showed their support and commitment to the return of freedoms to Spain. A good example of this are the images taken by Marisa Flórez in June 1977 at the Communist Party's final campaign rally, a historic event that, despite the rain, drew 300.000 people. In one of the photographs, the party leader, Santiago Carrillo, appears surrounded by various artists, including singer Rosa León, actors Juan Diego and Ana Belén, and film directors Juan Antonio Bardem and the Italian Francesco Maselli.

Greek actress Melina Mercouri also participated in the event, appearing in another image greeting Carrillo. That same year, Mercouri had joined her country's Parliament after years of persecution by the military dictatorship of the Colonels' Regime. The future Greek Minister of Culture thus showed her solidarity with the newly established Spanish democracy.

Another illustrious visitor who also passed through Spain in 1977 was the legendary Italian journalist Oriana Fallacci. Fallacci, who in her youth had been a member of the anti-fascist resistance in her country, came to Spain to help the widow of one of the last executed by Franco. Marisa Flórez had the opportunity to accompany her on her trip for two weeks, taking some moving images of the reporter visiting the graves of those executed.

Throughout her career, Marisa Flórez has had the opportunity to meet and photograph authentic icons from different disciplines. Particularly significant is the portrait she took of photographer Annie Leibovitz during her visit to Madrid in 1992, a meeting between two colleagues. A close and relaxed image that reflects the chemistry that developed between them.

Finally, in this section we find a snapshot of Pedro Almodóvar accompanied by three of his favorite actresses, María Barranco, Carmen Maura and Rossy de Palma, in the middle of filming Women on the verge of a nervous breakdown. A world, that of filming, to which Marisa Flórez was no stranger, since in her early days she had worked as a still photographer for Spanish Television with director Pilar Miró.

Almodóvar's films, like the photojournalist's images, perfectly represented the change that had taken place in Spain following the arrival of democracy. A change that was felt both within and outside our borders. With this film, the director from La Mancha would earn his first nomination for an Oscar in Hollywood.

With this image, we conclude this guided tour, in which we have attempted to showcase key locations in Spain's recent history and connect you with the perspective of Marisa Flórez.

Photos are part of me. Through a photo, you convey who you are, how you look.

The photographs selected for this exhibition not only reflect moments, stories, and personalities, but also capture a part of Marisa Flórez's personality.