The fauna, the gastronomy and the local. All in communion in an exquisite tabernacle environment. That has been my goal to change for the first time from client to photographer in the bowels of El Rinconcillo, a small great temple of happiness. The photographic experience has helped me to live this mythical place in another way and see it with different eyes.

This is how I realized that the merit of El Rinconcillo is not that airy date of its opening in 1670. The merit, I understand, is that this bar has aged with manor, taste and wisdom to become an essential place both for Sevillanos and foreigners. It is a popular tavern for locals who prostrate themselves before their bar as a daily gesture and is, at the same time, something of a museum of sevillany for those who arrive from outside and pass through their door pushed by curiosity, word of mouth or the tour guide.

The tourist hurricane that lives the city and that, of course, also shakes El Rinconcillo has not managed to prevent that, next to the Australian who discovers for the first time the spinach with chickpeas, side by side that neighbor of the collation that reads the newspaper helped by a beer as if he were in the living room of his house, oblivious to the hustle and bustle of dozens of people. The palate enjoys at the same time as the rest of the senses, intoxicated not only by the taste of food and drinks, but also by the flavor of the place, the flavor of its history and the taste of those who frequent this sanctuary. I repeat: fauna, gastronomy and local. All in communion.

In effect, a sanctuary of the “yantar”, of the chat and the coexistence, that I knew as a client, but which I have now tried in a certain way to reflect in these photos. That “arrejuntamiento” of what here and what there, that peculiar, unrepeatable, characteristic, traditional and, at the same time, I would dare to say that even modern, now that we are so attracted to vintage. From one moment to another it seems that it will be your own grandmother who comes out of the kitchen and puts the stew in front of you while covering your legs with imaginary skirts. Or that it is your compadre who cuts the ham while a transparent-skinned blonde who does not speak or a Spanish-speaking father portrays him with the last aifon. “Verigú, miarma”, the waiter says, lifting one of the slices before letting it rest on the plate. Pure Rinconcillo.

Luis de Vega is a photographer and journalist. You can know his work at www.luisdevega.es