by Jon Nazca
It’s Sunday, and the last bullfight of the week. People from Malaga are exhausted from so many days of fiesta and bulls. There isn’t much traffic around the bullring so I get there earlier than other days.
The temperature is a suffocating heat and not too many people are there yet, only a few brave souls sitting in the stands waiting for the bullfight.
I take my time, I’m a little more relaxed than other days, and try and take some pictures of people in the stands. My attention is directed at three women, who appear to be from another region. An old man waits, looking impatiently at his watch. I direct my attention to him, as he sits surrounded by so many numbers painted on the stands.
These are not good times for bullfighting, at least in Catalonia, where the regional government voted last month to prohibit bullfights as of 2012. But here, in Malaga, tradition rules and the spectators swarm to the fair each year to enjoy the spectacle.
It’s 7:00 pm, everything gets underway. I take my position in the ring to shoot some pictures of the bullfighters and their assistants being presented in the ring. Intense concentration and seriousness is reflected on their faces. No one present knows what is about to unfold. In a certain way, it is reminiscent of gladiators preparing for a fight, being presented to the spectators hungry for a spectacle.
