Casa Fornells

Barcelona isn't just the Gothic Quarter or the neon-lit chaos of the Rambla. If you want to understand the soul of the city’s upper crust—the industrial titans who built this place while the rest of the world was still figuring out steam engines—you have to head north. You head to Sarrià-Sant Gervasi, specifically to Avinguda del Tibidabo. This is where the air gets thinner, the trees get taller, and the houses start looking like fortresses designed by someone who had a very beautiful, very expensive nervous breakdown.

Standing at number 35 is Casa Fornells. It’s the work of Joan Rubió i Bellver, a man who spent years in the shadow of Gaudí but eventually decided he had his own story to tell. And that story is written in brick. Not the boring, industrial brick of a London suburb, but a jagged, polychromatic explosion of ceramic and stone that looks like it was pulled straight out of a dark fairytale. Rubió i Bellver was a master of the 'structural' side of Modernisme. While Gaudí was playing with melting shapes and organic curves, Rubió was obsessed with what you could do with a simple rectangular block. Casa Fornells is his masterpiece of geometry. It’s got these sharp, defiant towers and windows that look like they belong in a medieval castle, but the whole thing is wrapped in a skin of intricate brickwork that changes color depending on how the Mediterranean sun hits it. It’s an architectural flex that has stood the test of time since 1905.

The first thing you notice when you stand outside—and let’s be clear, you’re staying outside, as this remains a private residence—is the texture. It’s tactile. You want to reach out and run your hand over the rough stone and the smooth, glazed ceramics. The wrought ironwork on the balconies isn't just functional; it’s aggressive, twisting like vines that might actually grab you if you stare too long. It’s a house that demands respect, which is fitting, because the people who live up here didn't get here by being shy.

The neighborhood itself feels like a different planet compared to the sweaty, tourist-clogged streets of the center. It’s quiet. You hear the wind in the pines and the occasional hum of a high-end German engine. Walking up Avinguda del Tibidabo is a workout for your calves and a lesson in class structure. You pass one mansion after another—Casa Roviralta, Casa Muley Afid—each one trying to outdo the last. But Casa Fornells has a certain grit to it. It’s not 'pretty' in the conventional sense. It’s handsome. It’s sturdy. It’s the kind of place where you’d hole up during a revolution and feel reasonably confident about your chances.

Is it worth the trip? If you’re the kind of person who needs a gift shop and a guided tour to feel like you’ve 'seen' something, then no. Stay in the Eixample with the rest of the herd. But if you appreciate the quiet genius of a building that doesn't need to let you inside to impress you, then yes. This is one of the best architecture spots in Barcelona for those who want to escape the Gaudí-mania and see something raw. Grab a coffee in Sarrià, start the climb, and just look at the damn thing. It’s a reminder that architecture used to be about more than just floor space—it was about ego, art, and the stubborn belief that a pile of bricks could live forever.