MIGUEL SERRANO
I finished my History of Art degree and decided that the best thing I could do was to find a job that was tailor-made for me while I was studying for the civil service examinations. The Plata was looking for waiters and I thought that I might be in with a chance. While I was waiting for the interview, however, I heard a voice behind me: it would be a waste to hide that body behind a bar, when it deserved a stage. That’s how my artistic career took off. For years I had been part of university drama groups, but I had never worked in drama in a professional capacity. My act only lasted five minutes, five minutes in the limelight. Between one performance and the next I would get dressed and go out to stroll around the area. I used to like to sit down on one side of the Plaza de José Sinúes y Urbiola, or at the corner between the Calle Eusebio Blasco and Calle Verónica, because I had worked out that that was the halfway point between the Roman Theatre and the Teatro Principal, between the two stages, and I had managed to become part of the age-old tradition of dramatic art in the city. At other times I used to walk down the Calle Alfonso or wander round El Tubo and I would go in and have a drink in any bar, thinking about my naked body beneath my coat, about my excessive use of make-up and the idea of representing someone else. I would look at people and try to decide if they were good actors or really awful ones. There were times when, if there was an interesting exhibition on at the Palacio de Sástago, I would leave home early and rush through the exhibition halls, go up the stairs, hunt out the really high ceilings and imagine that I was also a work of art and a simulation and one of the objects of desire. Before returning to work, before taking my clothes off and revealing myself again, I thought about the great farce, about the great joy of life.
I finished my History of Art degree and decided that the best thing I could do was to find a job that was tailor-made for me while I was studying for the civil service examinations. The Plata was looking for waiters and I thought that I might be in with a chance. While I was waiting for the interview, however, I heard a voice behind me: it would be a waste to hide that body behind a bar, when it deserved a stage. That’s how my artistic career took off. For years I had been part of university drama groups, but I had never worked in drama in a professional capacity. My act only lasted five minutes, five minutes in the limelight. Between one performance and the next I would get dressed and go out to stroll around the area. I used to like to sit down on one side of the Plaza de José Sinúes y Urbiola, or at the corner between the Calle Eusebio Blasco and Calle Verónica, because I had worked out that that was the halfway point between the Roman Theatre and the Teatro Principal, between the two stages, and I had managed to become part of the age-old tradition of dramatic art in the city. At other times I used to walk down the Calle Alfonso or wander round El Tubo and I would go in and have a drink in any bar, thinking about my naked body beneath my coat, about my excessive use of make-up and the idea of representing someone else. I would look at people and try to decide if they were good actors or really awful ones. There were times when, if there was an interesting exhibition on at the Palacio de Sástago, I would leave home early and rush through the exhibition halls, go up the stairs, hunt out the really high ceilings and imagine that I was also a work of art and a simulation and one of the objects of desire. Before returning to work, before taking my clothes off and revealing myself again, I thought about the great farce, about the great joy of life.
The Teatro Principal, opened in 1799 and remodelled several times, has staged the best of the performing arts throughout its history.
© Daniel Surutusa
© Daniel Surutusa
Sala del Teatro Principal, renovated in the late 19th century by Ricardo Magdalena based on the Scala de Milán.
© Daniel Surutusa
© Daniel Surutusa
Roman Theatre, with a seating capacity for six thousand people, 1st century.
© Javier Romeo
© Javier Romeo
Inner courtyard of the Palacio de Sástago, from 1574, current offices of Zaragoza Provincial Council and exhibition hall.
© Javier Romeo
© Javier Romeo
Frontage of Sástago Palace, on Coso Street.
© Angélica Montes
© Angélica Montes
The neo-mannerist, eclectic-style Aragón Bank. Designed by architect Manuel del Busto in 1913.
© Angélica Montes
© Angélica Montes
New York high-rise building in a Classic style adapted to the scale of Zaragoza. La Adriática building, designed by Joaquín Muro and Trinidad Silesio in 1948.
© Angélica Montes
© Angélica Montes
Modern glass architecture appropriates the images of the old city.
© Angélica Montes
© Angélica Montes
Calle Alfonso, laid out in 1866. Pedestrian precinct leading into the huge Plaza del Pilar.
© Angélica Montes
AUDIO© Angélica Montes
The alleys inside El Tubo, a place for snacking and traditional food right in the historic centre of the city.
© Angélica Montes
© Angélica Montes
The objects adorning some of the bars and restaurants in El Tubo reveal its long history.
© Angélica Montes
© Angélica Montes
El Tubo is an ideal place to meet up for tapas, exquisite gastronomy in small portions to accompany a wine or beer.
© Angélica Montes
© Angélica Montes
Calle Cuatro de Agosto, one of the streets of El Tubo.
© Angélica Montes
© Angélica Montes
Méndez Núñez Street surrounds El Tubo.
© Angélica Montes
© Angélica Montes
The long life of the Neo-Mudéjar style. Chamfered corner of a building in the Calle San Jorge.
© Angélica Montes
© Angélica Montes
A Mudéjar church-cum-fortress within the medieval city. Parish church of San Gil Abad, erected in the 14th century and restored in the 18th.
© Angélica Montes
© Angélica Montes
Former Zaragozano Bank building, designed by architect García Ochoa Platas in 1928.
© Angélica Montes
© Angélica Montes
Tower of the former Church of the Sacred Heart, adapted for the permanent Rosario de Cristal Museum exhibition.
© Angélica Montes
© Angélica Montes