MEDITERRANEAN SUMMER / L’ESTATE MEDITERRANEA

On a Friday morning in July of 2014, I woke up and checked my emails in bed. I had one from the PX3 photographic competition that is based in Paris, a press release. That’s strange, I thought, why would they send me a copy of a press release? I logged into my account and saw that I had won a Gold, Silver and Bronze award in the competition. I had stayed at my Mum’s house that evening and I remember wandering upstairs and saying, I think I’m going to go to Paris. The photos were to be displayed in an exhibition at Les Recontre d’Arles – the biggest and most famous photographic festival in the world. I re-read the press release and saw who the judges were that had been involved and who would be at the opening of the exhibition and they listed National Geographic and many other big and famous names. I knew I couldn’t miss it. There was one slight problem though – I had no money in my bank account!

That was the Friday morning, the exhibition opening was the following Tuesday. To get there in time I would have to leave on Monday night at the latest. I had decided in my mind that I was going to go but I had no real way of getting there. I was owed a few invoices but I wasn’t sure when that money would come in and it certainly wouldn’t come in before I was meant to leave. So I had it in my head that I was going but I knew I wasn’t going because it wasn’t really possible.

The more I thought about it over the weekend though, the more I realised I had to go or I would regret it forever. I had already missed out on an exhibition opening in New York and was pretty devastated about that. Before work on the Monday, I went to see my Dad at his work and said I was going to Paris that night. I had decided I would borrow the money for the ticket to get there and then would use the money that I was owed when I was away – that would come through soon enough. Dad told me I was being ridiculous and didn’t believe me. At work, I asked the photographer that I was working with what he thought about it all and he said he’d be fine without me over the next few days that we were meant to work together and that it was an opportunity I’d be crazy to pass up. With that, I called Dad back and he ended up booking a one-way ticket for me for that evening. It was so close to the flight departure that he couldn’t book it online, he had to do through a travel agent. I got home from work, chucked everything I could find in my snowboard season bag (huge!) and went straight to the airport, nearly missing the flight.

Because I only had a one way ticket, I was told that they may give me grief at customs when I arrived in Paris. They said I might be asked to show my bank account to prove I had enough money to survive and to purchase a return ticket, or that I might be forced to purchase a return ticket on the spot in front of them. As I approached the front of the queue, there was one particular woman that looked incredibly grumpy. The whole time I was thinking please not her, please not her. And of course I got her! She was so grumpy though that she very briefly looked at my passport and then just waved me through!

I had the press release with some info on it and the invite for the exhibition opening and knew nothing else about what I was meant to be doing. I knew that I would have only a couple of hours to get down to Arles in the south of France and that I would arrive late to the opening but I figured it was better late than never. I raced straight to the train station and bought a ticket to Arles as soon as I landed in Paris. As I was sitting on the train, waiting to depart, I turned on roaming to get an idea of where I needed to go once I arrived. The problem was, the address of the opening kept coming up as an address in Paris. With 3 minutes to departure, I showed the conductor the address I needed to get to and she said that it was in Paris, not Arles! Crap! I got off the train just in time! I ended up finding a hostel in the city centre and it meant I actually had a couple of hours before I needed to be ready!

I got to the exhibition opening and my photos were nowhere to be seen! It turns out that this exhibition was for the winners of the curators competition and that my photos were to be show at the photo festival! So I headed to Arles the following day!

The festival in Arles is spread over the whole town. Galleries, hotels, restaurants and shops all have photos on display. And I couldn’t find mine anywhere! Even at the address in the press release. And because of the language barrier, I couldn’t communicate with the gallery owner to find out more.

I ended up making friends with a Belgium couple, Kathleen and Pieter, who were there to see the photo festival and who also happened to speak perfect French! Seeing that I had come all the way from Australia, they offered to help me find the photos! Upon speaking to the gallery owner, it turns out that the winning photos had been displayed in a digital exhibition on the opening night of the photo festival, before I had even left Australia!

The gallery owner did ask to see my photos however and ended up asking me to do a solo exhibition! Things don’t always work out as planned but this seemed to be working out even better! We organised a digital display of a series of my other photographs, along with writing about the subjects and we set up as a little cinema on the street. I was surprised how many people showed up and it ended up being a really lovely night. After my time in Arles, I decided to stay in Europe for as long as my money lasted.

Towards the end of my trip I was invited by a photographer I had met in Arles, Michel Dupré, to assist in some photoshoots in Paris that he was working on and to go to some events during Paris Fashion Week. For one of them, someone had won the opportunity to have a photoshoot directed by him and with his assistance. The winner, along with a crew and the editors of the magazine had flown over for the shoot. I arrived to assist on this photoshoot at 8 am, after having taken an overnight train. I had packed every expensive thing I owned into the one bag so that I could keep it with me if I needed to move on the train. When I arrived in Paris, I have no idea why but I moved the portable hard-drive I was travelling with and my wallet into my other bag. I just felt I needed to. Later that afternoon my bag was stolen. I lost all of my camera gear. My camera, every lens I owned, most of my memory cards (I had photographed the boys at my friends wedding and thankfully had put that memory card in my wallet), my computer, everything. I had been having trouble with my computer and backing up my hard drive – both were full and I didn’t have the money to buy another. The photos you see here are all I have left. They are from France, Italy and Spain.

My favourite photos from the whole trip were taken in a park in Barcelona. I still remember them vividly. I was sitting in this park with friends I had made and there were people on tightropes, people blowing bubbles, people playing soccer. Unlike anything I had seen in my life. The evening light was beautiful. It was stifling hot. It was dusty. The light was picking up the dust and shining on the sweat on peoples bodies and faces. It looked amazing and I was sitting there taking photos as we were chatting. I lost all of those photos. I was so disappointed. One day I would love to go back there but I know it will never quite be the same.