A house for artists and machines.
A creative studio based in El Raval, Barcelona. We experiment with art and technology, fiction and reality.
In a near future, one Barcelona neighborhood secedes from the city — literally. Its music arrives first: character themes released one by one, until the melodies are neighbors before the show is.
A small, mute, easily startled robot who lives in the barrio and will soon start taking walks. He doesn't advertise anything. He's a character whose episodes happen on the street.
A short animated tale — flat gouache on old linen, forest green and antique gold. A neighborhood rag-and-bone man, and a transmutation. From black to gold, as the craft demands.
Twenty years of melodies written by hand — themes, leitmotifs, scores for worlds that don't exist yet. The machines don't compose here. They dress.
We believe in work that breaks form but stays hummable.
Everything in this house starts by hand — a melody on a keyboard, a story in a notebook, a character sketched until it breathes. Then the machines come in. They don't invent; they dress. They give one person the orchestra, the film crew, and the animation studio that used to take a hundred. The test never changes: if you can't hum it, we don't ship it.
We're not interested in AI as a topic. We're interested in what it lets a story do — and the most interesting thing it lets a story do is step off the screen. Fràgil is our proof: a fictional character who physically lives in the neighborhood. He has no episodes to stream. His episodes happen when he passes you on the street. When a story can walk past you, the border between fiction and reality stops being a wall and becomes a door.
That's the edge this house is built on. Not effects, not discourse — a real neighborhood, made slightly mythic, entertaining from the first second to the last.