Inclusive efforts misfire at LUMA Arles

Story and photos by Kylie Clifton

LUMA Arles is not just an art museum. Guests enter the whimsical, stainless steel-clad LUMA Tower to meet intertwining metal slides accompanied by the eerie echoes of an hourly singing exhibition composed only of sounds. The design inspires excitement and confusion alike — a theme that continues far beyond the entrance. Inside the exhibits, visitors are encouraged to touch the work as if they’re an active member in the creation.

My visit there brings to mind “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.” Much like Charlie’s journey in Roald Dahl’s children’s book, in which a grim reality was revealed just beyond a fanciful entrance, my troubling fate awaited me beneath a staircase, one of many unique sets of stairs, this one mirrored a double helix.

Our group of American students stood together in a tired sweat as we surrounded our English-speaking tour guide. She introduced an exhibit featuring work by Diane Arbus, an American photographer who published most of her work during the 1960s. Arbus is most recognized for her style of direct and intimate photographs of “social deviants,” which often included members of the LGBTQ+ community, drag artists, nudists and sex workers.

The LUMA Arles exhibition “Constellation” is, with 454 photographs, the largest presentation to date of Diane Arbus’ work.

In introducing the exhibit, the tour guide said, “Diane Arbus’ subjects included … homosexuals and transvestites.”

My mind stopped, and I was taken back to Pride 2019 in New York City. Outside a sea of rainbow joy, transphobic protesters roared vile messages and “transvestite” was their slur of choice.

However, the tour guide’s usage was different. She wasn’t angry; she was addressing the subjects of Arbus’ work in a calm manner. I was struck. I had only heard this word paired with rage. I kept asking myself two questions: “How could this be said so casually? Is it possible they said the wrong word?”

I raised my hand, my only instrument to break the silence. “Why is it necessary to use the word transvestite?”

“Is there a different word you’d prefer?” the tour guide responded.

“Well, perhaps the word transgender or…” I offered.

Before I could finish my sentence, the tour guide told me there is a significant difference between the words transgender and transvestite. In the same breath, she said this was the language tour guides were instructed to use for a plethora of reasons — including the fact that Arbus used that word to title her works.

I knew the difference between the words and realized I should have used the word cross-dresser. The 11th edition of the GLAAD Media Reference Guide says cross-dresser has “replaced the offensive word ‘transvestite.’”

The tour guide serves as an educator and, in that role, has tremendous influence. I fear if global visitors to LUMA Arles hear a tour guide using the word, they will use it, too, without realizing how offensive it is.

This usage of this word upset me in 2019 and now again in 2023 for the same reason, but I too often forget that strangers don’t know why. I think everyone should be concerned about the usage of offensive language, but this word cuts deeper for me. I came out as transgender over eight years ago with pride and fear that still lives inside me. Today I have the privilege of “passing” as the woman that I am.

Each day I function like the entire universe knows that I am transgender. I’m always on guard, but it’s a personal battle only I’m aware of. To my knowledge, the LUMA tour guide didn’t know. This left me thinking, if she had known would she have used the word transvestite around me?

I take issue with the fact that Arbus had enormous power over her subjects. She was a cisgender white woman who was born into a wealthy family. There is a distinct power dynamic in which she held a remarkable amount of privilege over her subjects. She’s celebrated for her intimate portrayals of underrepresented subjects, but to me all of her work feels exploitative, as if she crossed a line that wasn’t hers to cross. I’m not the first to raise this issue; it was debated in her own era. 

Yes, this was language that was used at the time, but the term transgender was coined in the 1960s, and people had been challenging the gender binary long before then. It’s possible that some of the drag artists Arbus photographed identified as transgender but hadn’t begun transitioning or more likely feared to start. We don’t know, but using more neutral language or even supplying context for the word would be an act of respect to Arbus’ subjects.

Instead, the conversation with the tour guide became an uncomfortable argument. This was not my intention, and as it continued, I felt the eyes of my peers with pain. What was I doing? As a proud and open trans woman, I am acutely aware of how important it is for me to speak up, but I always forget how difficult it is to do.

At the moment the group was silent, I had to excuse myself. My embarrassing fear was realized, I was the trans woman tearing up in the corner who couldn’t handle confrontation. However, I can recognize now this was not weakness, but strength.

At the close of my tour, I wanted nothing more than to leave and never be seen again. As a trans woman I yearn to be accepted in every space I enter, and often I’m the only one in the room. I wish to be able to blend in and be quiet. This time I spoke up.

After the tour, I spoke privately with the guide. She was apologetic and pledged to speak with her superiors about the use of the word. I recognize that the tour guide was not acting out of malice, but I question the attention to inclusive language in her training.

I don’t care what she titled her pieces; Arbus should not be the authority to follow.

This is a personal reflection and does not necessarily express the opinion of The Arles Project or program sponsors ieiMedia or Arles à la carte.

Fashion history comes alive

The Fête du Costume is Arles’ most prominent celebration of Provençal tradition. It is a three-day festival full of parades, bull games, and an overall exhibition of traditional clothing. Only people with at least three generations of ancestry in the city can participate. The fabrics needed to create an ensemble are expensive. Costumes range from the 18th to the 19th century.

The festival started in 1903, instigated by local writer Frédéric Mistral when he created the Festo Vierginenco (Festival of Virgins). According to Avignon & Provence, young girls were invited to wear the dress and hair ribbon to symbolize their passage into adulthood.

Up to age 15, girls wear the Mireille costume composed of a cotton skirt above the ankles, an apron, a black bodice and a simple scarf.

After that age, they wear a more sophisticated dress style that evolved in the 18th century, with the use of jewel-colored satin fabrics, a ribbon and a habit. A delicate lace bodice and shawl complete the costume, flattering the silhouette.

The queen of Arles is elected for three years after showing her knowledge of Provençal history, literature, architecture, arts, traditions, culture and language. The queen is accompanied by women called the “Maidens of Honor,” who are ambassadresses of the region’s traditions, attending local officials at cultural and traditional events. Also present at the festival are gardians, the Camargue “cowboys,” who herd the black Camargue bulls used for the course camarguaise bull games in southern France. Camargue horses galloping through water is a popular and romantic image of the region.

An Arlesian brew

By Sophie Wyckoff

In 2016, after years of research and experimentation in his kitchen, Florent de Oliveira took the plunge and started Brasserie Artisanale Arlésienne (BAA), which now produces one of the most popular craft beers sold in Arles. 

De Oliveira is originally from Doubs, France, where he began a petrochemical engineering career, but he wanted to get involved in a profession that combined his passions – craftsmanship, nature and of course, good beer.

He launched his microbrewery in Saint Martin de Crau, 15 miles southeast of Arles. BAA is brewed with water extracted directly from under the brewery in the Crau Plain.

Elefante Remi, whose main job is to brew and prepare the beer for transportation, is the only other employee in the company.

Remi and De Oliveira’s workdays commence around 8 a.m. and end at approximately 6 p.m. From straight malt to bottling and ready for shipment, it takes around 8 to 10 hours for the entire process to occur. 

Once the brewing procedure is complete, the two men put the kegs in a warm room in their warehouse, otherwise known as a chamber. The kegs are then sent to clients, including businesses and individuals, in Arles. 

BAA has four types of beer: rice beer, hibiscus and its bestsellers, classic and brown beer. 

Photo by Sophie Wyckoff

“Our classic flavor is categorized as a blonde beer because the malt isn’t ground, which gives the beer a lighter color,” Remi explains, “while our brown beer has a chocolatey color because the malt has been ground.” 

The malt, wheat, rice and barley BAA uses are locally grown. De Oliveira carefully handpicks the hops and barley, selecting only the perfect ones to make his brew. De Oliveira strove for organic production, and his entire range of ingredients is certified as Organic Agriculture (AB) and European Organic Agriculture (Eurofeuille).

Remi and De Oliveira said brewing the perfect mixture demands pure water, hops for the bitterness and conservation of their beer, and malted barley, which will provide sugar that the yeast will feed on during fermentation. This combination develops into a sweet malt mixture that is then put into fermentation vats. The BAA is bottled semi-manually by its two employees and sent in cardboard boxes for shipment. 

Brasserie Artisanale Arlésienne is the most popular beer sold in town. When asked why or how his beer was so popular among the Arlesian people, De Oliveira responded jokingly, “Well, that’s easy; it is made with love.” 

De Oliveira pours his heart and soul into his company, making “this beer special in Arles because it is easier to drink and taste than most. I am my first customer, so why wouldn’t I want to enjoy the beer I make? This allows the public to enjoy it too.” 

BAA beers are now available in almost every grocery store, liquor store restaurant and bar and at local events in Arles.

A haven for entrepreneurs

Story and photos by Ella Ehlers

Long known for its cultural and historical significance, Arles is now developing a reputation as a hub for entrepreneurship. The city aids new businesses financially and supports them with resources and networking opportunities. 

Using local products is an important value for many entrepreneurs here, especially for those in the food and beverage industry, who can draw from the fields of rice, lavender, durum wheat and herbs that grow in the region.

Arles holds an Entrepreneurs Day each year where new and aspiring business owners can learn everything they need to know to start and sustain their companies. The annual event begins with practical workshops on real estate, financing, and legal and tax issues.  Next comes a pitch session where entrepreneurs can pose their idea to a jury of professionals and get feedback. In the afternoon, participants meet in small groups to further develop their ideas and meet potential partners. 

This special day in Arles brings entrepreneurs together and lets them fully implement their business plans. 

Initiative Pays d’Arles, a member of the National Initiative France network, is another source of support for entrepreneurs in Arles. Established in 1998, this initiative provides technical and financial support to entrepreneurs in the region. In 2021, Initiative Pays d’Arles supported 272 companies and gave out 1.6 million euros in no-interest loans. 

Magdalena Lataillade, the economic development officer at the Chamber of Trades and Crafts of the Provence-Alpes-Côte d’Azur region, said, “Arles is home to 150 businesses, and 70% of them are micro-businesses,” which are companies that have only one employee, the entrepreneur. 

Magdalena Lataillade, the economic development officer at the Chamber of Trades and Crafts of the Provence-Alpes-Côte d’Azur region, helps businesses in Arles.

Lataillade explained that Arles is a city where many people want to start their own businesses, but there is only room for so many. Lataillade’s office supports new businesses by providing them with a cheaper space to rent and helps them network with other artisans in the area. 

The Chamber of Trades and Crafts has three spaces in Arles offered to entrepreneurs at low rents to help them get started. Entrepreneurs struggle with money in the first year, so these spaces are helpful for these new businesses.   

“It depends on how they do, but often, in the first year, many businesses make less than €10,000 (about $11,000 at the current exchange rate),” she said. “People do this because of a passion, not because of the money.”

Because Arles is surrounded by orchards, rice fields and other agricultural lands, many entrepreneurs incorporate local ingredients into their products. Natural resources like salt and crops such as rice, flowers, spices and herbs can be turned into food, beverages,  sachets and other products.

Many images come to mind when imagining an entrepreneur, but they all have one thing in common: hard work. Thomas Bigourdan, the creator and owner of Bigourdan, a gin distillery in the city center of Arles, proved that persistence and hard work are essential in his business. 

“You cannot give up after one challenge,” said Bigourdan, who started the distillery in 2018.

Florent de Oliveria, the founder of the Brasserie Arlesienne Artisanale Craft Beer, better known as BAA Beer, also saw Arles as a good place to start a beverage company.

 During an interview, Oliveria explained that “this company is very time-consuming which has led to a divorce and less time with my kids.” This is just one example of how devoted the entrepreneurs in Arles are to their companies. Oliveria is very hardworking but also has a contagious passion for his work. 

“Lots of businesses are created every year,” Lataillade said. “But only the strong ones make it.”


Meet two entrepreneurs from the Arles region:

Thomas Bigourdan, founder of Bigourdan Distillerie de Camargue

Florent de Oliveria, founder of the Brasserie Arlesienne Artisanale Craft Beer


A gin that tastes of the Camargue

By Sophie Wyckoff

After 14 years working in marketing and communications for L’Occitane en Provence in London, Thomas Bigourdan was ready for a change. A visit to a gin distillery gave him an idea.

“It was while I was visiting a distillery in the East of London that I started imagining my distillery,” he said.

In 2018, he founded Bigourdan Distillerie de Camargue, a gin distillery in Arles, that uses local products like immortelle (eternal flower), lavender, sage and thyme from the region to create a unique flavor. The gin is made from 13 ingredients, most of them grown in the Camargue.

“I wanted to make a ‘real’ London Dry, fairly classic and recognizable, then give it a sharp, almost brutal Camargue temperament,” he said in an interview posted on the company’s website. “I started from the sensations and impressions that can be experienced in the Camargue – the gasp, the salt crunching underfoot, the sand burned by the sun – to translate them into taste.”

Bigourdan said immortelle, tiny yellow flowers picked from the Camargue, give a warm and dry finish to the gin. Immortelle is also an antimicrobial compound that promotes skin cell regeneration and is used as an essential oil.

Customers browse in the Bigourdan shop in Arles. Photo by Sophie Wyckoff.

Currently, two flavors of gin are available to purchase, the original and the limited edition summer flavor, which includes essence of citrus. The limited edition is distilled in two batches which contain 500 liters, so when the product is gone, it’s gone. The original flavor and limited edition summer flavor come in a 50-centiliter bottle. The original sells for 41 euros, and the summer flavor for 43 euros.

On top of gin, Bigourdan also produces and sells three ready-to-serve cocktails. Negroni Matador uses the Immortelle plant for a maple syrup taste, Soho Negroni is a sweet orange taste, and the N°1 Negroni has a lemon and orange zest that grows at the foot of the distillery. The three bottles are packaged together for a selling price of 52 euros. 

Photo by Sophie Wyckoff.

Bigourdan initially faced many challenges as a solo entrepreneur. He states how stressful his job was and how “you do everything on your own and can only count on yourself.”

Inspiring the next generation of visual journalists

Story and photos by Sam Guzman

As a young child growing up in an orphanage after his parents were killed in the 1994 Rwandan genocide, Jean Bizimana had little experience with photography, either behind or in front of a camera. When he was 8 years old, he learned how to take pictures with Through The Eyes of Children, a program that helps unsafe or vulnerable kids learn photography and videography.

“The objective of the project was not to turn us into photographers but it was to give us a way of forgetting our past experiences of the genocide, war and conflicts that we had been through,” Bizimana said.

Inspired by his experiences of telling stories with a camera, Bizimana became a photojournalist. (You can view his work here: https://www.biziphotos.com/about)

Now, at the age of 32, Bizimana is a part of a mentorship program sponsored by VII Academy that was created to help promising young photographers from the Majority World, who may not have access to formal photography education, hone their skills. The program, which started with a site in Sarajevo, opened a new location in Arles in February. 

Sharafat Ali talks with Gary Knight, CEO of VII Academy and Foundation at the program’s final reception.

Gary Knight, co-founder of VII Academy, says one of his goals for the program is “to ensure that very well trained, ethically based, young photojournalists are out there in the world, calling truth to power, holding the political classes and the corporate classes to account on behalf of the public.”

As a photojournalist, Knight traveled the world from 1988 to 2017, shooting conflict zones in Cambodia, Bosnia, Kosovo, Afghanistan and Iraq.

In 2001, in the aftermath of the Sept. 11 attacks, the war in Afghanistan and the invasion of Iraq, Knight and other photojournalists joined together to create the VII Photo Agency. Later, as the digital revolution changed the revenue models for media, they formed the VII Foundation as a way to support photojournalism and make it sustainable.

Knight brought the academy to Arles because, as the host of the annual Rencontres d’Arles photography festival and the home of France’s most prominent photography school, it already had a dialogue around photography.

“I think what we can do here is bring a little more diversity to the conversation,” Knight said.

VII Academy, the educational wing of the VII Foundation, provides tuition-free training in visual journalism. In the mentorship program, mentees undergo training for five weeks, working on such concrete skills as sequencing photos, editing photos, working with curators and writing pitches for stories. Workshops are taught by seasoned veteran photographers from around the world who understand the demands and challenges of shooting in marginalized communities.

Bizimana said in Rwanda, most people don’t understand the power of photography to tell important stories. 

“When you grow up in a country where no one understands photography, it’s kind of challenging,” Bizimana said. “Everything we learned from YouTube. We don’t have photography schools, we don’t have photography libraries.”

The Through Eyes of Children program, however, gave him the opportunity to learn. The organization lent him a camera, and he learned basic techniques. This was the spark that he needed to want to become a photographer. 

As he developed his photography skills, he sold his photographs to help pay for his studies, as well as raise funds for some of the children from the orphanage. Since there are no photography schools in Rwanda, however, he studied computer science at university. 

Bizimana attended photography workshops to deepen his skills. In 2015 he joined Gary Knight’s Canon Masterclass, a program on how to use professional cameras to make stories. That’s when he started his career. He joined his local news group, IGIHE, in Rwanda. He quit after he realized their style didn’t give him the creative freedom he craved.

Bizimana was a part of the first cohort of mentees to study at the new location in Arles, which is based in a renovated salthouse near the banks of the Rhone River. His cohort included young photographers from Nepal, India, Kashmir, Indonesia and the Philippines, as well as two from the United States.

According to Knight, the mentees have developed “very strong friendships, they have a global community.”

Ali, 30, is another mentee in the program. He was born in Kashmir, a disputed territory between India and Pakistan. He started doing photography in 2013, shooting the impressive landscapes around him. But he eventually stopped.

“It might be a paradise for outsiders, but to us, it’s a hell,” said Ali, who has been documenting conflict in the region and didn’t want his full name used.

For the past 10 years he’s shifted his focus from the places to the people. 

“My people always fascinate me, because they have stories to tell,” Ali said. To him, conflict brings anxiousness and misery, and he wanted to cover that, not just beautiful scenes. His work focuses on the harsh realities in his home country, 

Another mentee, Joshua Irwandi, from Jakarta, Indonesia, described the program as a retreat. 

Joshua Irwandi, left, talks with mentor Philip Blenkinsop after the final showcase of mentees’ work.

“I get to rest my head a little bit and then actually look at people’s work. I mean, just looking at this exhibition here, you know, like, how do people see things?” Irwandi asked. (You can view Irwandi’s work here: https://www.joshuairwandi.com/)

Knight said he encourages the mentees to think big. “What I hope to encourage them is to be… more ambitious, and more confident about the space that they occupy in the media.”

He also hopes that the relationships they formed in the mentoring program endure.

“Now they have very strong friendships,” Knight said. “They have a global community.”

Bizimana, who participated in a VII Academy program in his home country, hopes that VII Academy will return to Rwanda, so that others can learn like he did. He hopes to teach as Knight and other professors have taught him at the academy. That’s why he wants to be a journalist, he said, so he can give back to others.

Because Rwanda has little tradition of photojournalism, the 1994 Rwandan Civil War and other news in the country has mostly been photographed by international photographers who helicopter in to record the story and then leave.

“My goal is for people to say, ‘Oh we have this professional photographer in Rwanda, now we don’t need to send someone else. Because he’s there and is on the same level.”

Arles’ Performance Aerie

Story and photos by Louis Denson

Claire Nys, and six of her friends were returning home after leaving multiple parties that they didn’t enjoy on a festival evening in Arles when they happened to pass by L’Aire d’Arles. Inside, they saw people happily dancing. “Two girls dressed in long dresses, like two princesses” especially caught their eyes, says Nys, who recalls excellent rock being played on vinyl. Although they were tired, the group of women stopped to join the fun and dance together.

“We were so happy to have found a place that suited us, by chance, in this remote place, away from other parties,” says the long-time Arles resident. “It was a magical, improbable, very joyful, and pretty moment.”

“It’s a place dedicated to the taste and the image,” says its founder, Jonathan Pierredon. Pierredon utilizes the “e” in L’Aire to imply its relation to an aerie or nest. L’Aire d’Arles is “a home for all the eagles and falcons,” he says. L’Aire d’Arles rises from the hill just above the Arles amphitheater and the Roman theater. 

It’s a place to party, gather, share and discover as on any day of the week, especially during the opening week of the Rencontres d’Arles photography festival, there is something different happening on each of the three levels of this restaurant/bar.

There are many venues in Arles to grab a bite or a drink, but none compare to the versatility and diversity that L’Aire provides. Throughout the year, L’Aire d’Arles rotates both its menu and exhibitions. It presents installations of photography and videography from all over the world, music from Brazilian flamenco to Memphis underground vinyl, and food brought to Arles by chefs from Madagascar and Tel Aviv.

As you find the bathroom on the second floor you may come upon an entirely different performance and forget to return to the floor where you started. The sight of the bartenders mixing cocktails welcomes you inside and the aroma of the kitchen floats you upstairs. You can draw on the chalkboard along the stairs, or appreciate the drawings of other patrons.

The second floor is a velveteen lounge space where you can sit and talk as you dissect the everchanging art installations on both the walls and podiums.

And on the third floor, the sound of music and the breeze of fresh air call you to the dance floor and terrace where you can sit back and watch projections on the ancient walls of the city, dance the night away to music, or refresh yourself at the mini-bar.

L’Aire d’Arles welcomes artists and guests of all sorts and styles as all events are free and open to everyone. Pierredon has no criteria for who can share their work. He welcomes all types and techniques of music, art, photography and creation and works them into the venue’s busy schedule.

Arles is not known for its party scene and can be thought of as a small and sleepy town. It can be difficult for amateur artists to have a place to share their works, but L’Aire gives them a platform. L’Aire also invites the students of MoPA, Arles’ prestigious school of animation, to share projections of their films, and it hosts an annual auction for the student work of the National School Supérieure de la Photographie, with an exhibition floor and gavel bidding.

None of this would be possible without the tireless effort and passion of Pierredon and his staff. “Life is full of time, [but] time goes fast,” said Pierredon, sharing his mentality as a business owner, exhibition facilitator and active father.

Pierredon has worked many jobs, including videography for an advertising agency. The time he spent away from his son did not seem justified by pushing a company’s agenda. He wanted that time to have value, reason and passion. In his current work, Pierredon can share his excitement with his son in hopes of instilling verve for community and creation.

He focuses his energy on things that inspire him and that he can look back on and say that he is proud of. “If anything can inspire me, I’m running and jumping.” He loves what he does, the community he can welcome, and values the opportunities the city of Arles has offered him.
The feelings of appreciation are reciprocated by the Arlesian people as well. Pascal Ansell, a musician and language teacher at Arles à lacarte, says, “Jonathan has a very rare and special energy that is exceptional in Arles. He does things for the hell of it; he promotes so many events and wants to support people in what they are already doing. That is so, so precious in the Camargue as there is very, very little of that energy to go around.”

The Talking Walls of Arles

Story and photos by Ella Lepkowski

Although Arles is known as an inspiration for Vincent van Gogh, I discovered a more underground world of art while wandering its streets and alleyways. The walls are scattered with graffiti, vibrant colors, posters, stickers, and words of motivation. The walls serve as canvases not only for these underground artists but also for political activists who silently shout their opinions. 

While I am used to seeing street art throughout the metro and buildings of Washington DC where I live, I sense a difference between the intentions of the painters here and there. Here, the message is more raw. Whether it is an inspirational phrase, a personal philosophy, or a political belief, the messages that are scrawled on the walls here seem to carry very personal meaning, as if the creator wrote it in the spur of the moment, flowing directly from their minds to their paint, and onto the vibrant walls of Arles.

In contrast, of course, the street artists in Washington, D.C., create art that is often astounding and impressive, yet their activism and beliefs tend to seem more “organized,” crafted and displayed in a manner tailored for maximum audience consumption.

The graffito “helm” can be found all over the Roquette neighborhood.

In Arles, there is a greater sense of passion and fury scrawled onto the walls. These graffiti were not meticulously planned or polished. They are an immediate reflection of the artist’s inner turmoil, inspiration and pride.

Walking through Arles’s smaller alleyways and slightly barren roads, I found more and more of these personal statements. In the Washington D.C. metropolitan area, poetry and political messages are mainly saved for their designated spots, with waves of political talk momentarily filling public spaces when there is new unrest. In Arles, however, it seems like an ongoing conversation. If someone wants their unique voice heard, they make it obvious. This is moving for me as someone who typically only looks straight ahead when I am walking through the big city. 

Everything, where I am from, is impersonal, while here in this little town, it is the opposite. Among the vibrant messages, I find a sense of connection. I may not agree with every sentiment expressed, but there is something undeniably human about the act of putting one’s thoughts out into the world for all to see. 

Among the messages:

“Long live France”

“The whole city is mine”

“64 years is not okay”

“Death to fachos”

“Win your life”

In Arles, the local population has a different perspective from mine on this abundance of street art. June Ofstedal, an intermittent resident, observes, “There’s so much stuff on the walls, like posters, that it all just sort of blends together.” Those who are new to Arles, it seems, are some of the only ones who stop and observe what is written and painted on the walls, as it is so common to the residents.

Not only do individual beliefs and messages exist, but there is an obvious presence of community and conversation between the street artists, no doubt due to the small size of Arles in comparison to Washington DC. During my exploration, I stumbled upon a particularly intriguing tag: the word “helm,” written in cursive with an elongated cross extending from the last mark of the letter ‘m’. This distinctive tag is found at least thirty times throughout the Roquette neighborhood. In some locations, the tag is left untouched; however, many times, another street artist has drawn a dash over it in a contrasting color or stroke. Rather than completely erasing the original tag, the dash seems to serve as a form of protest against it, drawing attention to the clash of styles. 

The sheer repetition of the “helm” tag, appearing far more frequently than any other tag I encounter, adds an additional layer of intrigue to my exploration. I wandered around the Roquette for a couple hours, snapping photos of the tag wherever I found it. It is still unclear to me who the artist is, or what exactly it means, but I did find a couple messages next to “helm” that shed some light. 

One striking message consists of an arrow pointing towards the tag with the words in French, “This is a fascist tag.” It’s apparent that “helm” sparked controversy and garnered criticism within the local street art community. Furthermore, I observed a curious trend among those who attempted to cover up the “helm” tag in Arles. It was clear that they made a deliberate effort to conceal the cross at the bottom of the letter ‘m,’ using various methods to do so. Some opted to place an ‘x’ over the cross, while one chose to overlay it with a heart symbol. In some instances, a simple dot of paint was sprayed over the cross, effectively erasing it from view. The acts of covering the “helm” tag created a visual conversation that unfolded across the walls of Arles. It reveals one story within the inherent power struggle of street art.

Another message, written by the helm artist themselves, read, “It is not against you!” This message appeared on a wall already covered in “helm” tags, offering a glimpse into the artist’s intent, which is perhaps seeking to assure viewers that the tag was not meant as a personal attack. 

Upon further research into the symbolism associated with the “helm” tag and its accompanying heart symbol with a cross extending from its top and the singular eye, I discovered parallels to Christian imagery. The cross emerging from the top of the heart, resembling the Christian symbol of The Sacred Heart, adds a new layer of interpretation to the composition. The Sacred Heart is a religious emblem representing devotion towards Jesus Christ, and can be often seen in Christian art. 

Additionally, the eye could be a reference to The Eye of Providence, an eye that represents the all-seeing eye of God, seen on the Great Seal of the United States. This mystical symbol represents divine guidance, protection, and omniscience.

Recently, however, during my stroll through the crowds of the photography festival in Arles, I stumbled upon a previously unnoticed wall, absolutely covered with countless “helm” tags and hearts. To not much of my surprise, most of these tags had been forcefully slashed in a striking blue paint. It was by far the most fervent display of opposition I had encountered against these tags. 

Intrigued, I approached a woman standing nearby and struck up a conversation, and asked her if she knew the significance behind the tags. She said the blue slashes were a visual protest against fascist ideologies. As for the “helm” tag itself, she explained that it, along with the accompanying heart symbol, was seen by some as a representation of France as a Christian nation. The “helm” tag likely derived from someone’s name, lacking any overt political connotation, she said.

My exploration and findings in Arles serve as a reminder that street art, despite its bold and “in your face”  nature, often carries a broader intention and deeper meaning. It seeks to provoke thought, spark conversations, and challenge societal norms.

This is a personal reflection and does not necessarily express the opinion of The Arles Project or program sponsors ieiMedia or Arles à la carte.

Iel or elle?

Photo and story by Gabriela Calvillo Alvarez

The worst part of the first day of class is introductions. I dread having to come up with five fun facts about myself on the spot to share with strangers I have yet to know. When I came to Arles for my study abroad program, it was no different. I heard one of my professors explain that we would start the lesson off that way, by getting to know each other.  

She had just announced the agenda for the next few hours when she posed a question to the class about their pronouns. This part doesn’t bother me; it actually makes me feel welcome. But what I found interesting about it is that she mentioned “iel,” the gender-neutral pronoun in France. 

“Iel,” pronounced roughly like “yell,” combines the male (il) and female (elle) pronouns of the French language and has been a source of contention within the country for some time. Originally introduced by the online French dictionary, Le Robert, in 2021, “iel” has upset multiple people who don’t consider it a part of the language. 

One of the main forces against its usage is l’Académie Française, an institution that is designed to protect the French language. One of its statutes reads: “The main function of the Academy will be to work, with all possible care and diligence, to give certain rules to our language and to make it pure, eloquent and able to deal with the arts and sciences.” As of now, “iel” is not officially approved by l’Académie. 

Prior to my trip to France, I wasn’t aware that a gender-neutral pronoun existed here. I was under the impression that it would not be a popular concept. But to my surprise, it had already been a topic of conversation. 

Back in 2017, l’Académie Française wrote a statement on inclusive writing, warning that “with this ‘inclusive’ aberration, the French language is now in mortal danger, which our nation is now accountable to future generations.” This kind of reaction in regards to inclusivity reminded me of a similar sentiment that many people in my own culture share. 

My native tongue, Spanish, has gendered pronouns for most of the words included in everyday language. And similar to the French, the Latinx community has been having a hard time accepting gender-neutral terminology. While it has gained some traction amongst folks, many do not understand it and are afraid of what it means to the integrity of a beloved culture. Some of the older generations in my family are so enthralled with tradition that they perceive this push for inclusivity as almost a personal attack on them.

As a queer person, it’s hard for me not to feel a little alienated anywhere I go. Most of the time, I don’t force people to use they/them on me in my everyday life since I do feel comfortable with feminine pronouns. But in Arles, I have had complicated emotions surrounding gender because it feels like I have to overperform femininity to fit into the culture, both for safety and acceptance. Outside of the classroom, I’m in an entirely new environment and it’s hard to understand what is socially acceptable and what isn’t. 

However, I’m glad that this conversation has begun in Arles and France generally. Perhaps Spanish-speaking cultures will follow suit. Discussions about “iel” or even “elle,” pronounced like “eh-yeh,” in the Latinx community could make way for more inclusive language in the future.

This is a personal reflection and does not necessarily express the opinion of The Arles Project or program sponsors ieiMedia or Arles à la carte.

Small Streets Make a City Walkable

Story and photos by Anaïs-Ophelia Lino

“There’s a bar around the corner,” my hostess told me a few days after I had been living with her in the south of France for my study-abroad program. “You’ll see a lot of men outside, but I’ve never felt unsafe walking past at night.” It was the first time I thought about how safe the neighborhood was.

When I prepared for my trip to Arles with ieiMedia, I researched the little town next to the Rhône and its culture. I learned that French cafes close between lunch and dinner. I worried about making a fool of myself when ordering iced coffee because it isn’t popular in France. But I never considered how I would get home at night, let alone how safe I would feel, even though it’s ingrained in my routine back home.

The night before my conversation with my hostess, I walked from a pub to the apartment pretty late down the skinny streets lined with old houses and apartment buildings. Of course, harmful situations for women can happen anywhere, but I didn’t feel at risk. 

I didn’t consider why I felt this way until I had walked home with another student who said her route felt “sketchy” to her. And when a third student agreed, I began thinking about the differences I saw on her way home. Her route was sparsely lit with big, wide streets more suitable for cars.

Her walk home is very similar to my walk in California. I also have to go under an overpass and walk through a dim street. I walk on the opposite side of incoming cars and always call my mother or a friend as a sort of safety net. I change my routes and make sure no one follows me home. 

There could be many reasons why I feel safer walking in my neighborhood in Arles. It doesn’t get dark until 10 p.m. and the buildings are much closer together compared with the wide open car-oriented streets of San Francisco.  Cars barely squeeze by in my Arles neighborhood, which dates back to the medieval era, and when the sun does go down, lamps illuminate most, if not all, of the street.

When I walk in the morning, I see parents greet other parents as they take their toddlers to school and I watch friends chatting over their morning espresso at a little cafe. Seeing all the Arlesians meet for dinner or drinks while I walk home makes the neighborhood feel like a community, and I myself encounter acquaintances on the street. I also feel more efficient because Arles is so compact that I don’t have to carve out time to run across the city for a single errand. 

Meanwhile my colleagues back home talk about how American cities are so car-dependent. Anytime I encounter friends spontaneously, it seems like an outlandish coincidence instead of just a probability.  If my city was as walkable as Arles, I think I would feel more calm there as well.

This is a personal reflection and does not necessarily express the opinion of The Arles Project or program sponsors ieiMedia or Arles à la carte.

An international reporting project co-sponsored by ieiMedia and Arles à la carte.