Paris Saint Eriola Eriola, Aubervilliers
I live in the district of Aubervilliers Marcreux between the district Heurtault, Canal St Denis and the district Landy. I grew up since the age of four years, I am bound and emotionally I wish I could live there later. This neighborhood is my favorite because it has the look of old port, the air of favelas, abandoned industrial zone, invaded and conquered by nature. Ruins now threatened by the renovation of the neighborhood since the construction of the Stade de France. I go almost every day because I studied in Paris (I am a third year student of Film and Audiovisual Paris III Sorbonne), where I also have friends and I go for my cultural events. I have a strong sense of belonging to the place where I live. If there is a gap between the Ile-de-France and the rest of France on a number of points, the gap between the northern suburbs of Paris is so great. When I am abroad, I say I just Aubervilliers although the city of Paris is riparian. The strongest image that reminds me of Paris is its underground network of public transport where I spend a third of my time.
to Père Lachaise, I was initially looking for information concerning the history of the place. I approached a woman who seemed to work. She methodically noted on a sheet, the names on the graves, one by one. I told him: "Hi, you make the call? . Awkward. The woman, annoyed, is gone. I decided to approach a man who did the same thing, but he said in English that his group had organized a game and found that if certain dates, he earned a fan. Another man told me he was a writer and he still lacked inspiration for inventing names, that's why he was here. Fairly glaucous ...
Wall came to Federated, I skirted the wall of the cemetery, trying to find the exit. The modern building, probably a block of flats, the one I saw behind the wall and I had to shoot, gave me the impression that the suburb was there. Then I saw a line of barbed wire, which made me think about the barbed wire that separates social from the Paris suburbs. A barbed social well maintained. Is it still relevant? This wall is really solid, or trying to crack? (I also thought the disparities between different areas of the cemetery and I transposed to its scale the city of Paris: clear path, glitzy neighborhoods, device, charming places, famous landmarks, the cult of the old, broad avenues and roundabouts, carved stone and pavers, tourists, wall, old buildings, air ceremonial occasion ...)
I noticed that with a camera in hand, asking me all the tourists on their way, ravens circling above us: "Where's Jim Morrison's grave, please? . At the end of my journey, I photographed a young girl sitting alone on a bench. She told me how, with her friends, she saw his name and his name inscribed on a tomb and that panic had gripped it. What amused me in regaining the output is clear that the cemetery is very high compared to the street. Even six feet under, the dead were buried much higher. Some statues of famous people overlooking the city, as if Parisians had wanted the big spirits watch over them.
The Day After Tomorrow, j e got into his head to see what was behind the wall of the Federated and I ran into a cul-de-sac street Rondeaux . Here I met Thomas and Sophie, an Irishman and an Australian working together in England. They went around Europe by car and slept in it. I asked them what brought them to France, they told me that after seeing the film La Haine by Mathieu Kassovitz and watched the news about the riots in the banlieues in France, they had decided to visit the northern suburbs, passing through key locations. They had prepared a map with plans RATP / SNCF and collected images of newspaper clippings which I recognized a few buildings. What they thought of Paris was not very flattering: Paris, according to them gave himself a kind and we did pay dearly. This was akin to the luxury market. A product was more expensive, there was more demand. This thinking was born of a revolt on the price of a pint of beer: "11 € uros, it's just amaaazing!
I started the next day to make a turn towards Belleville. The street was gray, but colorful. Around me, old shops Turkish, Moroccan, Jewish and Chinese. After strolling to and fro along the boulevard, I fell Merchandise stalls on the ground. I will find: It was a makeshift flea market. To take a photograph, you have long parley. Often communication is difficult but the antique shops are not in bad faith. The police methods that naive tourists do not suspect. Many people have asked me how I sold my camera, others asked me my name. Amazing. The neighborhood is home, it seems, many small homes of immigrant workers. The streets were crowded, a holiday atmosphere was felt, the weather was not great. Without doubt he is the sun from the inside?
Near Place Edith Piaf, climbing up the corner of Paul Strauss and Geo Chavez Street, there is a staircase ... charming. Leaving the modest buildings and eclectic decor of the 20th district for a residential area. The paving is big and polished, the villas are overgrown with ivy and lampposts reminiscent of another era. Two elderly ladies are past, I came to meet them. They said they lived in the neighborhood and they were a little tennis to keep fit. The neighborhood, she told me, "is often used instead shooting because it is the image of a typical Paris.
Take the Rue de Bagnolet, I led an outing to Père Lachaise, rue de la Réunion. Here, the area is cosmopolitan and fragmented: Turkish, Jewish, African ... Entering the passage of the City Aubry "Villa Riberolles" I found the workshops, factories, homes, factories, with wooden facades and colorful. A place to live. Several people came out tables in the alley for lunch: "It is the custom here." The surroundings were magical. I came face to face with unusual homes in beautiful colors. I was disoriented. Before, Paris for me was the greyness. I had the feeling of being in another Paris, a Paris Haussmann who escaped.
A Ménilmontant, leaving the Metropolitan I helped a lady to be his caddy who told me: "You're the fifth person who helps me today, all people of color, you're mating, "I said," Mere coincidence ...», hoping this is true. Once surfaced, I discovered what I hoped: the area was crisscrossed by passers of all backgrounds. With a shopping street, Rue de Menilmontant populated even on Sunday. Contact with traders was easy. Street, according to them has changed and is still evolving. There are only four businesses with more than thirty years of experience, like that of Mr Najib, who is a grocer and flower at a time. I met young people who wanted their picture taken. In this Paris there, there's always something surprising or unusual. It seems not be standard. Up the street, I ran into a squat. The facade was covered with leaflets and posters, ads, art events organized by the occupants. Above, a word often returned: AC. During my time in the 20th arrondissement, I saw houses in the alternative arrangement, alternating colors, alternative activities, an alternative economy. Just like some suburbs. We often debate about the Greater Paris. At this moment, I thought the Grand Saint-Ouen, Grand Aubervilliers, Saint-Denis at the Grand ...
I had yet had no experience photographer. The fact of seeking something other than sensational, ready-to-shoot or known things is difficult. It is a mindset, a new senses, a fight against time and chance and great humility. Now that I think I understood what to do photography implies, I'm starting to change my report to Cinema (which is, after all, photography). For example, today I accept the fact of returning empty-handed. The city changes when viewed in the viewfinder because each element has special significance. The city becomes a swarm of signifiers and the photographer must be able to isolate a "slice" an image he can give as to read a page.
Explore my photo gallery:
Eriola Yanhoui
