Author: Heather Robinson

Isn’t it funny how our oh-so carefully constructed worlds can fall apart in a day? Luckily, I am just talking about an apartment and nothing worse but still couldn’t help but smirk over all of the times that I moved a statue two millimetres to the left or right while looking at this mess. Today was my first day doing boxes and I am proud to say that I did all that you see and then some. My oh, we do have things. Some, like Remi’s slides, are a living testament (literally, for if you don’t know, film is actually alive, I love that) to our world and how it is changing on several levels. As are we. Remi woke me at 7am yesterday so that we could take over our best paintings and such to the new apartment before the traffic restrictions in the  Centre Historique hit. How interesting that so many of our pieces don’t interest me in the slightest anymore. They were for another us, somewhere else.

I am on the fence with some of my books. It is a luxury to keep them, trophy-like, on a shelf. But I am not sure that someone as nomadic as myself has the right to hoard so many words. And the clothing, the highest heels of another life altogether? Well, I guess I am not entirely ready to let go of that alter-ego just yet. 

At one moment when my muscles were screaming so that I had to take a break over a glass of water in the kitchen, I spied a green dragonfly perched on the windowsill. Remi believes these crystalline creatures are the harbingers of good luck and so now I take it so. Surtout because at that moment, my random itunes was blaring the famous duet from Delibe’s Lakmé. Something so gorgeous in the midst of such chaos and yes, I’ll take all of the encouragement that I can these days. Frankly, I am just grateful to not be at the new apartment, where we have been painting/cleaning until 10pm every night this week.

My heart has been on a bit of a roller coaster. Do all Leos hate moving as much as I do or is it just because of the frequent changes of my childhood? As often as I have done this (I now consider myself to be a master packer), a part of me is deeply disconcerted. And yet it is just another address two streets over and not an entirely new life. How odd I am and how important it is to turn towards the new–how fortunate to even have the occasion. Of course, I know that. But for the moment, it is just the prospect of getting to decorate that is getting me through! I am deeply, profoundly tired but still looking forward to what could be. Hope swooping in, making a dramatic save once again.

 

Ooh, a little gift from the powers that be. Extremely exhausted, Remi and I left the apartment to go and pick up our boxes for the move. And a good thing too, considering that it is next Monday. Afterwards, we stopped by Troc’ Soury, where I happened upon our first purchase for the new apartment. Hooray! Right there in front of me, voila, the light for the entry hall. And…at only 18€ a far cry less expensive than a very similar new version that I had planned to order from Morocco. Of course, with a new light, it would take decades to achieve the patina of this beauty. I am delighted and can’t wait to see it lit–but there are spider webs and the remains of a nest inside it! Something to look forward to for the new apartment. But now, it is time to start packing…

So now, as then, it will be one of those down to the wire pushes. Because, frankly, for the moment, we are having too much fun. A fantastic couple that we both adore came from Paris to see the highlights of the Rencontres International Photography Festival. So many shows, spread out throughout Arles. Last night was the “Night of the Year” (well, personally that would be the Oscars, but to each his own) and it doesn’t get more downtrodden glamour than that. Or at least that is how it seemed to me after entirely too much rosé.

The lure of the Rencontres was evident the next day as we baked under the roofs of the former factories that repaired the trains on the Marseille line, known as the Ateliers SNCF. More about that another time, as this particularly down-trodden lieu holds the key to Arles’ future. Rusted iron beams, cracked walls make an oddly appropriate setting for the avant garde of the photography world. Apparently, it is a fitting enough for Frédéric Mitterand, France’s Minister of Culture, who toured the exhibits as we eyed his bodyguards. I love that France has a Minister of Culture and that his role is considered to be so important. Let’s hear it for a country that still believes in the power of its creativity.

Remi and I just returned from participating in a manifestation or demonstration that was organized by France’s union for professional photographers. The point was to raise awareness about how the decline of the droit d’auteur, or the price that a photographer is paid for the use of his images, is drastically hurting photographers worldwide. This is a subject that is very dear to my heart, as it has affected me directly. 

As many of you know, my companion, Remi Benali, has been a professional photographer for over twenty years. His work has appeared in leading publications throughout the world including Time, Newsweek, Vanity Fair and National Geographic. Due to the economic crisis, magazines are producing less content, which means fewer assignments. That loss of income was partially balanced by the sales of Remi’s images that have been distributed to image banks such as Corbis and Getty. However, with the arrival of websites like Flickr, where images can be obtained and used without charge, the image bank sales have also taken a nosedive. Remi has been told of photo editors at magazines that are given a bonus for coming in under budget and they do so by sacrificing the quality of the content by using free or inexpensive images. Everyone loses in that case as the public loses interest in the magazines, as they no longer offer a unique perspective. We know of at least five photographers that have been forced to give up their profession due to this turn in events. Press photography as we know it, is endangered. 

I know that this a tough subject to bring up in the blogosphere, where little thought is given to a photographer’s rights and need to be paid for their work. Why, for example, are there several of Remi’s photographs (along with some of my text) on Pinterest despite the fact that they are clearly marked as copyrighted on his website? Musicians have fought to stop illegal downloads of their work, as has the film industry. Photography should also have the same protection, one that goes beyond slapping on a photo credit on a stolen image.

I was happy to see that Lucien Clergue also participated in the demonstration. As the first photographer to have been elected a member of the L’Académie des Beaux-Arts de L’Institut de France, he is putting a very public face to this increasingly alarming problem.