I was 17 years old the first time I heard about Magaluf, I heard that there was a great disco, a mega disco where the music reverberated and made the dance floor vibrate, the dj opened the Saturday session with an intro of the four seasons by Vivaldi and at the end I put that hard four-by-four beat, almost the same beat as my racing heart, absolutely carried away by the laser lights and virtual reality screens that made our nights so short that we needed the day to complete them, we were young and magalluf was the mecca of our excesses, the eighties were glorious, great discos, Sinatra’s, Tokio Joe’s, Bananas.
Thousands of young British, Scandinavian, French, Spanish, Magaluf was a precious piece of coast, full of lights that warned the final approach of the planes on the west coast, the planes fed the hunger of tourists from their insatiable appetite. But the golden beam of his legend gradually became opaque on its reverse and Magaluf plunged into its own shadows: the cocktails were poisoned, the drugs were adulterated, the people became more and more ugly and the streets became a garbage dump of broken bottles, vomiting, fights, gangs of prostitutes, traffickers, pimps, pickpockets and a sad parade of people eager to fall victim to it all, bodies in an alcoholic trance close to coma, groups of twenty-somethings waiting in line his fellatio by prostitutes camouflaged between the hammocks on the beach and others drugging his clients to rob them in their induced delirium.
Time flew, I think I returned to Magaluf about 20 years later, it was summer too, the same masses of people up and down Punta Ballena, those 35 thousand noisy people, blondes, brunettes, mulattos, mestizos, fat, tall , ugly, tanned and sunburned from the hangover, dressed in bright colors and showing dangerously a lot of ass and many tits, some of them were completely naked, it didn’t matter that it was night or that they were in front of other people showing some kind of decorum; the same faces altered by ethyl alcohol, the same public relations offering the same free shots and three-euro drinks, the same altercations with the police and the same deaths, each year more than after a hellish night they ended their life by throwing himself into the void or into a pretended and accessible pool eight, ten or twelve floors below, ending in one night his short existence of 17, 20 or 22 years, falling face down on a concrete floor of a hotel two, three or three stars superior all inclusive, where after cleaning the blood still fresh from the night before of the young dead tourist, at ten o’clock, you will be able to enjoy the open bar again until midnight, where everything will start again exactly the same.
And the pandemic arrived and suddenly Magalluf entered a world disease called greed, the same one that has taken us to where we are now, with millions of dead and sick, greed has taken away, peoples, countries and continents, it has returned to smoke and ashes, you could no longer travel, you could no longer celebrate, the party was over and the neon lights, the lasers turned off, the drunken tourism ended and the planes flew empty, like specters, their wake alone. It made us remember that they were there, but that they did not bring or bring anyone. And when Magaluf died, its skeleton could only reveal to us that the disease was of mortal necessity and that behind it and its merriment and bustle only the halo would remain: a halo of overcrowded buildings, faded posters, chipped signs, rusty signs, faded photographs , empty stores, deserted beaches, broken dreams and the only longing for hope that remains when it fades, death, freedom, silence and memory.
Emanuel Lopez haar is an autodidact photographer (Porto Cristo 1976). Passionated of photography since 1999, he started on basic analogy cameras, developped by himself when he was in charge of a minilab. He did inherited the taste of perspective, composition and colours from his mother, an impressionist french Paintress (Simone Haar) and as her he did learn all from life, nature and people, doing his very firsts individual exhibitions since 2001 until 2005 – and receiving different prizes from Local authorities, autonomical government and various photographic and artistical associations. Member of the Visual artists association from the Balearic islands and awarded whith the youth photography Funding from the Conselll de Mallorca in 2004, Yearly photographic exhibition of the Foundation Barceló in 2003, Finalist from the ART JOVE Prizes in 2003 and 2002 and Finalist in PREMIOS CIUDAD de PALMA in 2004. His taste for photography is the same taste for life: Purism, honesty and always pursuing a relative atemporally touch of nostalgia from the past.