Jean Marie del Moral
Windows on the invisible
Workers’ demonstrations, Olympic Games, revolutions... The photographer Jean Marie del Moral (Montoire sur le Loir, France, 1952) portrayed some of the great events of the 20th century, as well as everyday scenes in factories, objects and nature. Self-taught, a nomad and a traveller, his professional life changed on the day he met the painter Joan Miró, “a poet who transmitted without speaking.”
text Juan Ignacio Orúe
photography Jean Marie del Moral
“When I was 14 I told my parents I was leaving school. I was a good student, but I got bored. I wanted to be a photographer, I was very clear about that from my 12th birthday. At first they were in despair, but then my father said to me, “If that’s truly your passion, we will support you.” So I tossed my hat into the ring, and that’s how my story began.”
In the gallery of his home in Ses Salines – rustic and spacious, with brickwork, light tones and two storeys – Jean Marie del Moral speaks of an act of freedom, of following his desire before a path of supposed certainties, shaped and planned out. For him, life is not about fitting in, but about flourishing.
The son of Spaniards exiled by the Civil War, early on he started out as a photographer’s assistant at SFENA, an aeronautical company, after writing to them for a job. That was where he learned technique, how to use plate cameras and about artificial light and developing.
Del Moral was a sports photojournalist, he took pictures of workers’ strikes in Paris, he covered the Carnation Revolution in Portugal and portrayed some of the great 20th-century artists, from Antonio Saura to Joan Miró, Antoni Tàpies, Miquel Barceló and Apel·les Fenosa, as well as the writers Emile Cioran and Marguerite Duras, among others.
His nomadic life led him to live in France, Canada and the United States, and to work for publications like L’Humanité, Fortune Magazine, Vogue, Madame Figaro, El País Semanal or Travel and Leisure. Until in 2012 he decided to settle in Mallorca with his partner Catherine. They were joined by Tita, a playful cat who strolls among the palm trees in the patio and a wooden walkway, where his simple white-tiled studio is located.
Books on Picasso, Zurbarán, Goya, Paul Strand, Motherwell and Matisse coexist in the library, alongside portraits taken by the photographer himself. A copy of the Constitution of the Spanish Republic of 1931 stands out from other texts in Catalan and French, the three languages spoken by this stocky, lively man, whose poetical vision of the image comes from the discovery of film, literature and painting, three passions he cultivates with great delight.
“Exile was dramatic for my parents, although they never complained, they were very happy people. My father was Andalusian and my mother was Catalan, but she did not support Catalan autonomy. You never completely heal from exile, it’s a deep, open wound. The solidarity of the Spaniards in Paris was moving. Every Sunday in my home, which was very small, there was a paella for ten people.”
As well as the influence of Monsieur Mallet, a teacher enamoured of birds who used to show his pupils slides, the book Provence Noire, with photos by Gilles Ehrmann, defined his future.
Del Moral takes this big, black, square volume from his library, caressing the images which still leave him in awe, like the drawing by Picasso on the front cover. “Every so often I look at this book; I’ve had it since 1966. We humans are what we see or what we have seen. When you take a photograph these vision reappear, even if it is subconsciously. I am a photographer because I like literature, painting and film. For me photography is the synthesis of everything.”
The man who changed his professional career has a world-famous name and surname: Joan Miró. “Miró was an extraordinary being, very quiet, a person who transmitted without speaking. When I met him [...]
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