Miguel Ángel Sánchez's library: the thought that caresses

Miguel Ángel Sánchez is worried about what he's going to miss: exhibitions, films he won't see, concerts he won't attend. "There's so much wonderful literature!" he exclaims. He doesn't understand why people aren't obsessed with reading. It's been his lifesaver. And he feels like he doesn't have enough time to read everything he'd like to. He says that removing the humanities from the curriculum is a tragedy, and recalls Marina Garcés in New Radical Enlightenment : we have never been so informed and, at the same time, so incapable of thinking.

He's been organizing books for weeks. Half of his library remained in boxes, moving from one house to another, until he and his wife, Ana, and sons, Bruno and Mario, arrived at this one near Collserola, surrounded by trails for running and cycling. As he dusts them off, he travels back in time with each copy: Where did he buy it? Where did he steal it from? Who gave it to him? Who lent it to him (and never returned it)? Sánchez was on his way to working in the family business where his brothers still operate when, in 1997, he went to New York for two weeks. He stayed there until 2001. His English was beachy, and he enrolled at the BMCC; then in Art History at Hunter College, a stone's throw from the Whitney, the Guggenheim, the MoMA, the Met, and the Frick Collection. He cultivated a passion that would eventually lead him to direct the Barcelona gallery ADN.

The prying gaze

Type of shelving Custom-made, white, about eight meters long, and a 1950s ladder bought at the Mercantic Place It is divided between his house, the open-plan space where his two children study, “a little cabin we have in Osséja, where the French literature students are,” the ADN gallery and the Paris speakeasy, ADN Marais. Alphabetical order by author and theme: philosophy, social science, economics, narrative, art and a small part of cooking He has been influenced by 'Estrangement from the World', Peter Sloterdijk (Pre-Textos), “how the drive we have towards transcendence has been perverted towards the need to change your body”; 'La comédie humaine', Honoré de Balzac, “drives me crazy and excites me” The latest 'Doppelganger', Naomi Klein (Paidós); 'The Decline of Democracy: The Seduction of Authoritarianism', Anne Applebaum (Debate); 'The Order of Capital', Clara E. Mattei (Capitán Swing), “I'm interested in understanding the hole we're digging ourselves into.”

He is interested in how social dynamics invade the realm of aesthetics and vice versa. He also views "a very skin-deep philosophy; not a top-down analysis, but a diagnosis of interpersonal relationships in the lonely circumstances we live in, thoughts that are like caresses." Garcés and Josep Maria Esquirol contrast with syncopated readings of Houellebecq, "literature that's almost cocaine-fueled, its images are dizzying." He was influenced by Peter Sloterdijk's The Strangeness of the World . He jumps to Žižek. He often reads four or five books at a time.

He would love to write, but he knows he would never finish, turning into a Balzac character.

Even as a teenager, he enjoyed seeing exhibitions ("he was the odd one out of the group"), but he doesn't know where that impulse came from. There were no books at home, and his parents never took him to the theater. They were from a small town in Murcia, Campico López. His father arrived in Barcelona in 1957 at the age of nineteen; he dug ditches for urban development, then took on assistants and bought a backhoe. From that generation he watched work and work, Sánchez has been left with a feeling of guilt that prevents him from allowing himself to sit idle, and a need to finish what he starts—books included, even if they bore him ( The Magic Mountain seemed to feel eternal).

The gallery bought a space in the Marais in Paris, surrounded by wonderful bookstores that, he says, are his downfall. When he gets hooked on an author, he devours their entire work. From Naomi Klein to Delphine de Vigan, whose titles he picks up eagerly even though they pain him. He remembers phrases years later because he mulls them over for days, like one by Foenkinos that says we shouldn't shy away from potential fears. He's read and reread Balzac's The Human Comedy . Now he's reading Maupassant. Marsé introduces him to Genet, and he comes to Eugenides from Paul B. Preciado and Despentes, and Míriam Solá. He likes Chesterton, Bulgakov, Piketty, Valentín Roma. Also Javier Gomá Lanzón and Baudrillard.

He's bulimic, interested in everything, and ideologies don't matter much to him. He studies Portuguese and still can't read Pessoa, but he can read Saramago. He gets up around six and finds time to read. Always on paper. He travels a lot, and the plane gives him hours with his headphones on. He owns 3,000 vinyl records and is a collector of the Fluxus movement, with pieces by Dietmann, Brecht, and Esther Ferrer. Since surrealism can't be understood without Duchamp ("you'll never finish it"), he's brought Duchamp's Endgame by Kendell Geers from Belgium.

He gives away many books, but believes that they are not always appreciated even though there is no better life investment.

In this part of the house where the sun shines brightly and his children study, there are also art theory books, monographs, and catalogs. And a few shelves dedicated to gastronomy. His wife owns the Vulcano and Arrocet restaurants in Sant Cugat, and he's a bit of a cook, "but not one for sophisticated products; I make chickpeas with cuttlefish that are mind-blowing." He gives many books as gifts, but he feels they're not always appreciated, something he doesn't understand, because he can't think of a better investment in his life: "The world doesn't read enough to be halfway sane." He would love to write, but he knows he'd never finish, transformed into a Balzac character.