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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.

How fantastic to be rid of that linoleum in the bathroom! The tiles beneath, though not the loveliest brown are a close enough match to the rest of the tomettes in the apartment. I proposed a whitewashed parquet to go over it but that idea has been nixed…for now. I also took care of one of the sillier things that had been done–the charming glass panes in the bathroom door had been painted over–not any more! Yes, even with the addition of a sheer curtain, those windows will let in light to the hall.

My hands are ripped to pieces and my whole body sore but it feels wonderful to bring out the finer aspects of this beautiful space that has been mistreated for far too long. Remi is over at the apartment as I type, mixing the pigments and materials for the lime-wash that we will hopefully put up today. Then we will get rid of the garbage bags full of stucco and attack the paint. Did I mention that this upcoming week is the Rencontres International Photography Festival and we have friends coming to stay? 

Remi and I spent a truly fantastic day in Nimes recently. Now, I have to say that I have never been a fan of this town. It never clicked. The energy seemed a little flat. Well, sometimes all it takes is the proper key to open the door and we had three! Some of you might remember reading about the adventures that we have shared with this very busy group of friends, who, along with the Arles contingent, make up the members of the Brotherhood of The Wine Tree. A large part of our camaraderie lies in jests over which town is superior. The Nimois gave it their best shot and I have to say that I left highly impressed.

Now, I understand the genius of its architecture. How drainage systems were built through the rocks to carry down the runoff from the rain, how a contrast of descending ramps and mounting staircases allowed the rich spectators to avoid the riffraff. We even saw the secret staircase that was used by the seamen that were hired to control the enormous vellum sails that could cover the top to provide shade. Roman technology. Not bad, not bad at all.

Unlike Arles, which has been blanched to a white perfection–not unlike a movie star’s teeth–the Arena still retains a magnificent patina. All the better to feel the sense of time and see why this monument is heralded as the best preserved Arena of the Roman Era!

But oh my, was it hot. The noonday sun was drilling a hole in my head. Rather than stop off at this charming old-school brasserie, which has a perfect view of the Arena (and where I have already imbibed, I’ll have you know), the group trudged through the Historic Center of town and over to our friend Marie’s apartment. 

We passed on the way this magnificent palmier which made me think of the symbol of Nimes–a crocodile chained to the base of palm tree. It represents the idea that Nimes was given as a bounty to the  soldiers that followed Caesar into Egypt (Remi just reminded me that this hasn’t been proven, further fuel to the fire in the Arles vs. Nimes feud). 

Ah, luckily such politics have no place in Marie’s shaded interior courtyard. Another cherished aspect of this so-called brotherhood, an especially important one, is that we are all, down to the last one of us, excellent hosts. Perhaps no one takes that task more seriously than the wonderful Marie, who made nearly everything that we ate (and the table was groaning) herself. We started off with a rather lethal apero of rosé embellished with grapefruit syrup. If you are ever offered this, just say no. It is light, it is cold and trust me, it is impossible to keep track of what you are drinking. Luckily, Marie had baked gougères (think monster cheese puffs), anchovy-filled pastries, and what else? Oh, I don’t know–blame it on the wine!

I snapped to enough to take notes for all that followed. Yes, I will be stealing some of these ideas! Verrines, or yummy things in glasses, are all the rage right now in France. Marie had made two and both were insanely good: a ratatouille and goat cheese crumble and a sun-dried tomato and goat cheese topped with spicy dried fruit with rosemary sprigs. Sigh. I am so piggy, I finished one of Frederique’s verrines for her. How could she not eat that?

What else? Cherry tomatoes stuffed with brandade, a local speciality. Tomate farcie, or tomatoes stuffed with a meat, pine nut and spice mixture. Moules escabeche (mussels) and a charcuterie plate with cured ham and chorizo. Baby pizzas topped with veggies. And one of the few things that she bought at a traiteur, or caterer, round pastries shaped liked champagne corks that are filled with pork, called Patés Nimois. They were decorated with the symbol of the town–it is everywhere! On the street posts and lamps…these folks are proud of their town’s heritage….

Needless to say a nap was in order after all of that deliciousness. Marie’s apartment is a true haven in the heart of town, hidden in the back of one of the grand hôtel particuliers. Can you imagine that at one time this belonged to one family? Well, I can imagine having it all to myself as well! Yes, more patina, here in the beams and stone columns in her kitchen and the wrought iron balconies that grace the main courtyard. 

Once, we had been corralled by the others to get a move on, we once again head out. Our day was far from finished, so I will be posting more about all that we saw soon…there is still so, so much to share…

I am most excited about the light that pours through the extravagantly high windows in the afternoons. What a complete change from where we are now! That and the lovely, very Parisian enfilade or succession of rooms. 

But oh my, was I freaked out–I’ll admit it!–when we first met with the site inspector to verify the state of the apartment. Under the bright light of noon, every single crack and stain was glaring. He repeatedly noted that things were in mauvais état, terrible shape. We have so, so much work ahead of us. Not to mention that the three students who had previously occupied the apartment left it filthy. Predictable. But I mean really, to not even clean the windows? Sigh. 

In the main living room is just one of the little “projects” ahead of us. For some inexplicable reason, at some point a placard, or built in cupboard was partially covered over with the same horrific stucco that is everywhere. As it is peeling off, we will try to carefully remove it. One of the covered doors was replaced with a sheet of plywood so hopefully we can find some shutters to fit.

I brought Ben’s blanket and toy over in the afternoon and explained to him that we were now in our “new house”! As you can see, he seems to be making the transition with far greater ease than his human counterparts.

Remi’s office will be at the end of the enfilade so that he has greater privacy. And yes, that means so that I don’t bother him when he is on a deadline! One of the most important things that we have learned from working at home is that we both need our own separate spaces to be.

Goodbye Villeroy & Boch bathtub. Hello, skanky miniscule shower! Oh, my. Well, at least there isn’t a mirror, which gives me an excuse to buy yet another antique piece. Thankfully, Remi discovered that the sadly retro plastic linoleum lifts up to reveal a brown tile. It’s not attractive but thank you, I’ll take it. 

And there is nothing like a floor picnic to start things off. Tapenade, saucisson, olives and goat cheese. Yes, a second bottle of crémant — just in case! 

Time to kick off the espadrilles and relax. Well, or at least gather up a bit of strength for the tasks that lie ahead. We ended up staying until nearly 10 pm. This being summer at its finest, the light stayed with us until nearly the end. A wonderful welcome gift.