The award that Anna Pérez Pagès and Carolina Rosich deserved

BarcelonaThe first person who thought I could recommend books on TV was Toni Puntí, one Sant Jordi day. Shortly after, I was cast on a program he also hosted, a "culture container" called Election33I felt privileged to be working with him, who had always been a role model for me. I had seen him on TV so many times, and now I had him as a colleague. (A very generous colleague, by the way. Thanks, Toni.) On Tuesday, as I watched him collect the first Anna Pérez Pagès Cultural Journalism AwardI thought Carolina Rosich should represent the same role model for the generations of cultural journalists who come after us. In fact, Carolina is a role model for those who come after us, for those of us who share a generation, and I'm sure for those who came before her to cultural journalism as well. Her way of working is a source of pure pride for public television. She always covers topics impeccably, rigorously, yet relatably, with a personal style that I greatly admire.

The jury's choice, made up of Manel Carrasco, Natza Farré, Juan Carlos Olivares, Lucía Ramis, and myself, was unanimous. So was the reaction of the Espai Lliure audience when her name was announced: thunderous applause and general joy. When your colleagues recognize you like that, with such enthusiasm, it means you're doing very well. The award organizers, Anna Aurich, Julia Bertran, Neus Masferrer, Claudia Rius, Gemma Ruiz Palà, and I, couldn't be happier or more proud of this choice. I'm sure Anna Pérez Pagès would have been one too.

This award was created to honor her, because, as Rosich said in her speech, Anna was a beacon of light for all of us who work in cultural journalism. Therefore, the award was created to remember her, but also because it serves as an annual meeting point for people in the profession. People who laughed a lot at the cover of the famous Italian song. Words, words which was done by our star presenters, the showgirl Glòria Ribera and the cultural journalist Oriol Puig Taulé. Their parody captured the vicissitudes of the profession, and while one was singing "words, words, words," the other announced the creation of a cultural container program that would be broadcast "Sunday at twelve at night, of course," the cancellation of another program "because today Barça is playing" and, even today Barça is playing "and, even?

I'm convinced that all of us who work in cultural journalism have found ourselves in one of these situations. I myself took advantage of the time of the section that they canceled on the radio today, because they wanted to do a discussion about Barça, to start the article. On Tuesday, the collective catharsis was beautiful. For a while, those of us who are dedicated to the profession puffed out our chests. We were in an oasis that made us forget that, when Barça is playing and there's no section, you don't get paid. That we get paid less and less, and we protest, but to a certain extent, Because we also have to pay the rent. As a friend and I were discussing, there's a fine line between being the thorn in their side that demands space for culture, and the fear that ends up making them ignore you, for being annoying. What a tragedy, the precariousness of the sector, which makes it almost impossible to say no to anything. What a shame, the publications that are closing, the pages that are being reduced, the programs that are disappearing. What a scandal, that culture is measured by weight, and not by its quality. So many ideas for next year's song. Words, words, words.