Belonging to the fourth generation of an antiquarian family weighs heavily. But he is passionate about letters. And Artur Ramon came to doubt whether to dedicate himself to journalism or literature. Then they sent him to Rome for a summer, “and you have to be very insensitive to be in Rome as a teenager and not fall in love with art”. This is why, also gallery owner and historian, he combines profession and hobby.
He studied at Técnic Eulàlia, in Sarrià. Every day at playground time, I saw J.V. pass by. Fox with the hat. Years later, in his early twenties, he had the opportunity to meet him and the wisdom not to show him some poems he had written. Foix, charming, dedicated Chronicles of the ultrasound to him. Station with shaky font. He would die months later, and between the pages of the book, Ramon keeps his memory. At the funeral it was promised that he would try to get all the first editions; some are very rare, like Gertrudis or Sol, and sadly, the runs were short. More or less at the same time, they offered him part of the library of Josep Barbey, president of the culture commission in Barcelona in the 1920s, and undersecretary of economy in the Republic. He had many dedicated books, and Ramon thought it would be nice to make a collection like that.
It started with Catalan authors. Little by little I would add first editions. Highlights include those by Verdaguer and Adrià Gual, and a jewel of modernism by Pin i Soler with drawings by Triadó; and ‘Oracions’ by Rusiñol –1897– dedicated to his doctor, the chronicles he made Des del Molino with drawings by Ramon Casas, L’auca del señor Esteve. Artur Ramon’s ex-libris – the work of Rosanna Casano – stamps books by Espriu, the first editions of Carner, Viatge a Rússia, which Josep Pla dedicated to Néstor Luján. It has the Almanac of the Noucentists with paintings by Nonell and other artists. It was difficult for him to find the only issue of the magazine Arc-voltaic, directed by Salvat-Papasseit, with works by Miró and calligraphic poems. He was excited to discover in ‘Prisión flotante’, from 1939, drawings made by his grandfather, who was taken on that ship. Everything beautiful, in perfect condition.
“This is like memory”, says Ramon: “It adds up”. He entered the Generation of 27. First editions of Gerardo Diego, Jorge Guillén, Pedro Salinas; Poet in New York, by Lorca, La realidad y el deseo, by Cernuda. A book by Valle-Inclán dedicated “to the mythical Dulcinea”. A signature of Machado in ‘Nuevas canciones’; the Antología poética’ by Alberti dedicated to Francisco Rabal, “the actor of Spain we love”, Rome, 1957, and a drawn fish; and notes and underlines by Rabal himself. In addition, books by Cansino Assens, which I discovered through Borges; and Umbral and Gómez de la Serna, who signed with a fuchsia “Ramón”. A first edition of Femmes, by Verlaine. The editor Jaume Vallcorba liked Jean Moréas. While she was with him in Paris, she found Le pelerin passioné, also with dedication. Above all, accessible by a ladder, the tomes of La divina comédia translated by Sagarra, with manuscript pages.
Ramon understands the book as an object, and in these almost 25 years – the same years as the eldest of his three children – they have always accompanied him. He has never been tempted to sell them, “perhaps it is a bit anachronistic and fetishistic, to acquire the first work of authors you really like”. I took them to this apartment when they arrived, fifteen years ago. In front of a Miquel Barceló and next to the room’s window, there are two armchairs where his grandfather received customers, in the old gallery. They are super comfortable, he says. Sit here and read. Mobile phone away, to avoid interference. Sometimes he listens to music. A friend of Muñoz Molina, he knows what kind of jazz he likes, and he senses what was playing while he was writing No te veré morir, by the cadence and rhythm of the narration. He also reads Argullol’s latest, he was his aesthetics teacher. He loves to have stacks of books.
He reads as soon as he gets up, everywhere, as exercise or as a drug. He is obsessive: when he hits on a subject, he needs to read everything. This summer he focused on Stendhal. In the office, he shares a bookcase with his wife, Anna. There are the classics, Don Quixote, Proust, Flaubert, and others more contemporary: Javier Marías, Chirbes, Bernhard, Houellebecq, Murakami. In the house of Montseny, Latin American literature, Acantilado, art and essay. He says that he is very lucky to relate to people of culture and a lot of curiosity: “It’s a game of mirrors that works as a refuge”.
