Pirouetting through childhood, twins find their own paths

Story by Karla Valdez
Photos by Malcolm Taylor

Identical twins Lola and Marie Arnaud spent their childhood in the ballet studio, creating memories together through intense training. Together, they went from 4-year-olds in leotards and ballet slippers to adolescents in tutus on pointe, but their dreams for the future turned out to be different. 

The twins, who grew up in Arles, practiced together until they were 13 years old, taking classes at the Arabesque dance school. Lola loved classical dance and Marie leaned more towards contemporary style. 

But at 16, Marie decided to venture out into a different path and conclude her career in dance. 

“I couldn’t see myself dancing for a choreographer all my life,” said Marie, who now lives in Paris. “I wanted to keep my freedom. … I was always creative and like to have control over the things I create; that’s why I’m doing chiseling right now.”

Now 19, Marie attends École Boulle, a university in Paris, where she is double majoring in design and chiseling, the art of carving wood, metal or stone to engrave a statue or make jewelry. Meanwhile, Lola is a ballerina at the Arles Youth Ballet Company, training in a supportive environment alongside passionate dancers from around the world.

See Lola Arnaud and colleagues at the Arles Youth Ballet Company practice in the slideshow below.

While Marie chose not to continue dancing professionally, she still loves to dance and practices in her free time. But she wanted her independence from the industry and was eager to discover her artistic side on her own. 

“It was not a black or white choice; it took three years,” she said. “It was not an easy choice at all. There were still things that I loved and did all my life; you just have to be ready to shift completely.”

Lola said she accepted the news that her sister was taking a different path.

“When she told me, I wasn’t sad or shocked that she quit ballet,” Lola said. “Whatever is right for her.” 

The life of a dancer is competitive and intense, not only physically but mentally as well. Lola has experienced two ankle sprains and tendonitis during her career, and maintaining a healthy relationship with food was not always easy.

“I had a weird relationship with my body and food for some years,” said Lola.

It was only as she got older that she came to accept her body and realize that food was fuel, not something she needed to deprive her body of. 

Now, at the Arles Youth Ballet Company, Lola says her directors and choreographers don’t judge or pressure her to look a certain way.

“We don’t have this mentality of treating dancers like that,” said Norton Fantinel, co-director of the youth ballet company. “Our philosophy is human and innovative, treating dancers with respect and kindness.”

Lola dedicates long hours of practice each week from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m., Monday through Saturday. This intense training prepares her to participate in performances  and competitions, from classical to neoclassical genres. 

“It is also very intense mentally because you cannot take things personally,” Lola said, noting that dance “is a main part of you because that’s all you do. It’s very hard to be detached from the intense feedback.”

But through the intensity that ballet carries, Lola has persevered and grown as a dancer these last few years, especially with the support she is receiving now at the Arles Youth Ballet Company. Her efforts have paid off.

“The first time I got a gold medal, I was like, that’s so nice, because I would look at people getting gold medals and I was like, “I wish it was me,” she said. “And then when it was me. it was very rewarding.”  

Over the years, Lola has developed healthy habits that allow her to enjoy the art form for what it is. She makes sure to take deep breaths when she feels stressed or anxious about her performances, eat healthy foods and feel energized before going on stage. 

“Dancing is very pleasing because you are in control of your body, especially if you do something technical and it works out super nice,” she said. “I love the artistic side of it, to dance, it is a sense of freedom because I like being on stage.”

Lola is in her fourth year with the Arles Youth Ballet Company, which was founded four years ago to give young dancers professional-quality training that will prepare them for careers in dance.

Fantinel, co-director of the company with his wife, Karina Moreira, said they have helped many dancers to further their careers. This year alone, they have helped 11 dancers fulfill their dreams and find jobs. 

“I’m excited to join a company and perform a repertoire that suits me to grow as an artist, and my near future goals would be to ameliorate my weak points, so that I can be as good as I can.”

Fantinel said students from all over the world come to train at the Arles Youth Ballet Company. The different cultures and languages represented creates a rich atmosphere for learning and collaboration. Everyone is able to learn things from one another, Fantinel says, while together they create a strong team. 

“Your company is a reflection of your work and values,” Fantinel said. “That is why I never work a day in my life because I love what I do.” 

Though Lola and Marie have taken different career paths, they remain close and still dance together from time to time.

“When I went to visit her in Paris during my holidays we took classes together,” Lola said. “She still loves to dance, just not professionally.”

Watch Lola and Marie perform together in this video, shot in 2016.

Lola Arnaud will perform a Tacon Flamenco piece on July 30 at the ancient Roman theater in Arles.

Left Behind: Education Barriers in Arles

Story by Morgen Lily Neuhauser

When the European Commission sanctioned France last year for inadequate efforts to make education and daily life accessible for those with disabilities, many families were not surprised. For years, parents of children with disabilities have complained about the lack of educational facilities and resources.

Serge Guerrini, a father of a boy with a developmental disability, said that things were so bad in France many families took advantage of an agreement between Belgium and France that allowed them to immigrate to Belgium because it has more services for people with disabilities. The future of the agreement is unclear. Due to overuse, Belgium has begun letting fewer families immigrate there, Guerrini said, leaving many to navigate the French special education system. 

Guerrini said that the problems in France primarily arise due to a lack of political will to make change and a lack of funding. 

“On the political level, at the national level, there are always promises,” Guerrini said. “But, in fact, the funds are not released and nothing changes. So there are no new spots created to this day.” 

Nineteen years after the passage of landmark legislation on equal rights and opportunities for people with disabilities in France, the country is in the midst of significant change in special education. The 2005 law ensures that every child with a disability has the right to be educated in a mainstream environment at their local school. The legislation was bolstered by a 2013 law introducing the concept of inclusive schools into the education code. 

Since the passage of these laws, support services have increased. According to the publication French Republic, the percentage of students with disabilities who benefited from human support in their school rose from 26% to 47% between 2006 and 2011. 

Nowadays, more and more families are asking for their children to attend mainstream schools because there are limited spots available in specialized institutions. According to the Ministry of National Education and Youth, 460,000 students with disabilities are enrolled in mainstream schools in France, which is four times more than 15 years ago. Another 11,000 children with disabilities are waiting for a place in a medical-educational institution that would best suit their needs. 

The increased number of special education students puts a lot of stress on the school system, said Sophie Poulain, a volunteer at Dyspraxia France Dys 13. The rigorous school system leaves many teachers unsure of how to handle students with special needs. 

“The school system has a certain number of boxes that have to be ticked,” Poulain said. “So a child has to be able to do such and such. And if that child simply cannot reach those goals, then the teacher finds that they just don’t know what to do.”

Dyspraxia France Dys helps form bonds among families who have children diagnosed with dyspraxia and dyslexia, said Poulain, whose daughter has dyspraxia and other conditions. The association takes its name from dyspraxia, a developmental coordination disorder, and dys, the Latin root for illness or difficulty. 

“As a parent, when we discover that our child has some form of disability or developmental difficulty, we feel very alone,” said Poulain, whose daughter is now 21. “And so it is very important to have those connections and to feel less alone.” 

Poulain also runs a parent cafe in Pont De Crau, outside of Arles, for people whose families have someone with dyslexia, dyspraxia or related conditions. Every few months, support groups meet to provide comfort and community to caregivers and other loved ones, Poulain said.

Poulain knows how lonely being a parent of a child with a disability can be, so she wants to ease that stress for others. 

“What we are doing, creating connections with other parents, that sort of thing just didn’t exist at all when my daughter was young,” Poulain said.

Poulain noticed that her daughter was not following a neurotypical path of development. By the time she was 4, her daughter still wasn’t speaking and Poulain was unsure if she truly understood what was being said to her. 

Eventually, her daughter was diagnosed with dyspraxia, severe dyslexia, ADHD and a developmental coordination disorder. As her daughter grew older, Poulain took on most of the responsibilities of caring for her. Medical appointments, filling out documents and advocating for her daughter took up so much time that Poulain had to drop down to part-time at work.  

Dyspraxia France Dys now helps by connecting families with the appropriate support services. In France there are two different tracks of special education classes within mainstream schools. Students are either placed in Sections d’enseignement général et professionnel adapté (SEGPA) or Unités localisées pour l’inclusion scolaire (Ulis) classes. SEGPA is a year-round, full-time special education program that prioritizes getting students ready for the workforce. Ulis aids students who are struggling in specific subjects. Students can be taken out for individual classes, but attend mainstream classes the rest of the time. 

“The two services are very good, but you do have to be aware that if you go into the SEGPA class, you’re gonna get more limited in terms of choice,” Poulain said. 

Poulain routinely goes to school meetings with families, helps them fill out the documents that are necessary to get their disability recognized, and connects them with the appropriate doctors. 

Other families have similar stories of an overwhelming and overly complicated system. Guerrini and his family have been navigating the special education system since their son, Silvio, was 5. Silvio was diagnosed with regression in communication with an autistic history and started receiving services in Arles around 2008. Silvio started at the public school of Gageron with an auxiliaire de vie sociale, an aide who would attend classes with him for about two or three half-days per week. Guerrini said that getting assigned an aide in Arles is very difficult and the family was able to arrange one through a local politician they knew. 

Eventually, Silvio was enrolled in “L’Oranger,” a facility in The Arles Hospital. He attended about three half-days per week. Silvio’s time at “L’Oranger” was spent with a supportive child psychologist in an environment that “welcomed children with difficulties and tried to motivate them,” Guerrini said. 

Guerrini notes that the special education system in France involves national, regional and local agencies, and poor communication among the entities makes it difficult for families to know their path. The main problems, according to Guerrini, are the need for more spots and budget allocated for needed services.

“It’s the obstacle course, so as we say, you have to hold on and not let go, keep going, and believe,”  Guerrini said. 

Guerrini advises parents in similar situations to be patient, have courage and believe in the process.

In addition to the poor coordination between government entities, parents complain about the lack of training for educators. Many teachers and aides are not equipped to handle these students as they don’t get adequate training, Poulain said. 

“If you’ve got a teacher for your child who really wants to do the best they can for them, then it can go well,” Poulain said. “But, of course, if the type of disability of the child is such that it’s very, very complicated for them to be in a group with other children, then they need more help.” 

Poulain hopes that Dyspraxia France Dys can be part of the solution one day, helping to train educators in the community. 

“Dyspraxia France Dys needs to be able to go into schools and explain to teachers the tools that can be used to help children with learning disabilities,” Poulain said. “Those tools are going to help all the children in the class.” 

Dr. Christian Pic specializes in autism and neurodevelopmental disorders. In his practice, he routinely communicates with schools and daycare centers, visiting various locations and showing staff how they could adjust the space to best suit the needs of students with autism. Pic said that accessibility is a political issue, and as a society, France must work to integrate accessibility into daily life. 

“It’s not the disabled child who should adapt to us,” he said, “but us who should adapt to them.”

Anna Cauvin and Monica Ronco served as interpreters for this story.

Books, books everywhere

Story and photos by Morgen Lily Neuhauser

From stories of what Arles may have been like back in Roman times to ones about a detective investigating the seemingly supernatural on the streets of modern day Arles, books featuring the city and Arlesian culture fill the shelves of local bookstores. With a population of less than 55,000, Arles has over 15 publishing houses, according to its Office of Tourism and the city lists nearly a dozen specialized book stores. 

Julian Frédéric, manager of the Arles BD Bookstore, said that because Arles is the only French city outside of Paris to have a major publisher, authors can write about all aspects of the city’s culture. 

“There are people who are really attached to ancient history and there are the people who want to show the city of Arles,” Frédéric said.  

Etienne Bouet launched his photobook, Contemporary Bus Stops Design (PT), at Actes Sud, Arles’ largest publishing house last week. Actes Sud was opened in 1978 by author Hubert Nyssen. Today its location in Arles houses a movie theater, a restaurant, a bookstore, various art exhibitions and a hammam. 

Etienne Bouet and his wife look over photo books at Actes Sud in Arles.

Bouet’s book is filled with images and stories of unique bus stops he has seen throughout his travels. In the book, he writes about micro architecture and analyzes the designs of various bus stops. Bouet said his book will eventually be in stores all over Europe, but it started with a book signing in Arles. 

“It’s the first time that people speak to me and say, ‘I like this book because the photography is original,’ and we speak with the fans and it’s okay,” Bouet said. “It’s the beginning of the book.” 

Readers delight in having access to unique books, said Nina Tissot, a longtime customer of Actes Sud.

By shopping in local bookstores, Tissot said that readers have a wide variety of choices and can find a lot of rare books. Browsing in the town’s many book shops is a way to find books that you normally wouldn’t have read, according to Tissot. 

She said that discovering new literature is important. One of her favorite things about reading is when she’s attracted to a cover and then discovers a remarkable story inside.  

“I like being shocked and surprised and finding something that I didn’t think I would find in a book,” Tissot said as she stood amongst books on display in Actes Sud. 

Additionally, Tissot said bookstores are a great place to meet up and bond with others over a shared passion for reading. 

Customers shop for books at Actes Sud, Arles’ largest bookstore.

In addition to Actes Sud, there are a lot of small publishers. The Librairie du Palais is a small specialized bookstore that publishes many photobooks in-house. It reopened in 2020 and has served as a bookstore and studio space for photographers ever since. 

Delphine Manjard, head bookseller at The Librairie du Palais, said that this model of publishing allows for artists to work on their passion projects, thereby producing an array of work that has very important messaging. 

“We are surrounded by images and you always believe what you see,” Manjard said. “But in photography, nothing is true. Everything is a construction. So I think photography tells a lot about our society. And it’s also a very powerful tool to change society. I think we are trying to change society with art and to try to make things better, more inclusive.” 

Bookstores like The Librairie du Palais encourage a culture and community of artists, said Manjard, and the importance of art cannot be understated. Manjard said art, specifically photography, is a powerful tool to help change society.

“I have faith in the power of artists,” Manjard said. “For example, when there is a catastrophe, when there’s something really hopeless happening, who are you going to call? You are going to call an artist to sing or to perform to bring back hope.”

Citron à Paillettes: All of Us Together

Story by Rae Daniels-Henderson
Photos by Elizabeth Coleman

Amid the rows of garmets and accessories, you’ll find a cotton-stuffed Camargue. Creatively made by designer Christine Hector, these plush companions represent many of the wild-life beloved in the regional natural park.

From the street, Citron à Paillettes blends into the facades of the Arles downtown. But once you enter the petite boutique you’re teleported into a world of color and creativity, awe and wonder. Stuffed pink flamingos fill a shelf. Bookmarks, handbags, book jackets and headbands of every color cover one wall and a photo exhibit covers another. It’s easy to tell at a glance that this is a store like no other.  

In fact, Citron à Paillettes stands out among boutiques because of its unusual business model: the people working there are also the designers and creators of the goods sold within.

Citron à Paillettes is run by a collective of nine fashion designers from different parts of the South of France who bring their own diverse backgrounds to their work. They create works of wonder, from the one-of-a-kind flamingoes, handcrafted jewelry made by a mother-daughter duo, handbags and book covers made exclusively from Japanese fabric, to feminine floral yet comfortable pieces made by the founder herself, Audrey Sigovic-Garcia. 

Patricia Romance loves accessories. In an effort to limit waste of her materials, Romance has found creative ways to use every piece of fabric. She designs a diverse line of accessories and personal goods from handbags, scarves and hats to book marks, book covers and coin purses.

“I can be inside on a rainy day, have random objects and string and I will create a necklace,” says Sigovic-Garcia. Her eyes light up as she smiles and explains that she likes creating with her hands. She presses them together palm side up and motions with them to demonstrate.

Sigovic-Garcia has been creating for as long as she can remember. She is a fashion designer, but has also worked as a project designer. Sigovic-Garcia’s clothing line is strategically named, “La Rose à Pois,” (the Polka Dot Rose). Her apparel embodies that spirit: a bold and vibrant mixing of floral and dotted or striped patterns with very feminine cuts and romantic flowy sleeves. 

The store is home to a rainbow of colors creating a bright and welcoming environment for anyone looking to bring a bold twist into their wardrobe.

Sigovic-Garcia’s ready-to-wear line inspired by post-war dress, Victorian Silhouettes and Asian perfumes is crafted from her home. She needed to find a way to reach customers to sell her designs, so she assembled a collective of talented fashion designers she bonded with over the years to have a center where eight others can share and sell their creations with the Arlesian community in a “creators space” becoming Citron à Paillettes, which in English means “Glitter Lemon.” The original space was only a few streets down but was damaged during the flood in 2003. The collective has been in the current location for 20 years now. 

During my first visit to Citron à Paillettes, I had the pleasure of meeting Eric Deveaux. I stopped and was admiring a beautiful blue, white and black floral top when he explained to me that he made it himself, “I created all of these.” He motioned to his specific section of the store displaying his other colorful dresses, skirts, and blouses. Deveaux, owner of  Sur les Traces d’un Nomade, started sewing 25 years ago “out of frustration because his arms were too long,” and has been making beautiful clothes ever since.

The flamingoes lining the walls find new homes around the world. Customers send photos of their flamingo to designer Christine Hector for her to add to a map with push pins tracking where in the world her flamingoes have travelled.

All of the designers create their pieces then bring them to the boutique to sell, they all take shifts at the store. With each visit I got to meet someone new, like Patricia Romance. 

Romance originally attended fashion school for apparel making, but found more joy in making accessories, “I love accessories and was a fan at the beginning, then I started making my own and just stayed there.” With Japanese floral fabrics, Romance makes elegant and timeless things like purses, book covers, and headbands without any trend in mind. Her brand is made from what inspires her. When Romance has no need for excess fabric she gives it to Idée du Jour’s creator Christine Hector. 

The 9 designers of Citron à Paillettes dedicate themselves to their craft creating intricate and delicate treasures for anyone.

Hector has known Sigovic-Garcia for 17 years. Before coming back to Arles she worked as a stylist in Paris. Hector goes back to Paris to teach sewing classes at three schools; ESMOD, CREAPOLE, and MODE ESTAH.  When she is not teaching, she creates her one-of-a kind decorative flamingos.

She documents each one’s destination by placing a push pin on a map at home. Hector utilizes anything that she finds to bring these majestic Camargue natives to life. When I asked about the different types of materials she used, her face lit up. She said that she found an abandoned vacuum cleaner in her neighborhood and made that into a flamingo and it now resides in her home. 

 The way that this collective has maintained their business for so long is by being “imaginative” enough and collaborating to create new moods for the store throughout the seasons. They were fortunate enough to not be affected by the COVID-19 pandemic or rent spikes, unlike many small stores worldwide.

The story has built a loyal clientele. “I create the clothes so that women feel beautiful and comfortable within themselves,” Sigovic-Garcia said.

Inspired by Japanese textiles, many of the designers in Citron à Paillettes share their fabrics to remain eco-conscious and limit waste. This collaboration also creates a beautifully curated and cohesive style within the store.

Print Media in Arles: Essential or Endangered?

Story and photos by Sophia Maxim

Laurent Rugiero heads the Arles edition of regional newspaper La Provence. He said its print edition has been hanging on the verge of extinction. 

“We’ve been saying the paper version is dead for 10 years,” he said.

Decades ago, newspapers and magazines were a common routine of Arlésian culture. Now, readers have turned their eyes to digital, and print media shops are increasingly difficult to find. Despite this, local publications continue producing print editions while adapting to changing reader habits.

Local editor in chief Laurent Rugiero stands in front of La Provence office in Arles on June 27, 2024. Rugiero feels doubtful about the survival of print newspapers.

According to Rugiero, La Provence is transitioning to a “digital first” schedule, meaning content will be published online before the paper edition.

Rugiero said he’s noticed a decline in the demand for print media and a divide in habits between younger and older Arlésians.

“It’s decreasing, and more and more rapidly because people have lost the habit of actually reading newspapers, and it’s the older generation that still does,” Rugiero said.

Maison de la Presse, next door to La Provence’s office, had been the biggest news and magazine shop remaining in Arles until its owners retired in June. 

“It’s sad, and it’s revealing of the effect that people are buying fewer and fewer newspapers,” said Clémentine Morot-Sir, a staff journalist for L’Arlésienne magazine. “They couldn’t survive.”

L’Arlésienne staff members Clémentine Morot-Sir (left) and Eléonore Colpin-Lafuma (right) hold the summer edition in front of the publication’s archives on July 4, 2024.

Maison de la Presse previously distributed a quarter of L’Arlésienne’s sales, according to staff layout designer and journalist Eléonore Colpin-Lafuma.

“We don’t know what will happen to these almost 400 magazines,” Colpin-Lafuma said.

Rugiero explained that kiosks around town used to specialize in print media but no longer exist in Arles and have become rare throughout France. In place of dedicated stores or kiosks, local newspapers have turned to distributing in supermarkets, cafes and bakeries.

An Arlésienne local grabs a copy of daily regional newspaper La Provence from Maison Soulier bakery on Emile Zola Boulevard on July 13, 2024. Some Arlésians read the paper as a part of their morning routine.

Increased paper costs prompted La Provence to decrease its number of pages per issue, Rugiero said.

Print costs have also impacted the city’s magazine, Arles Info, which aims to distribute free copies to all Arlésians by mail and around town. 

Arles has the largest surface area of any city in France, seven times the size of Paris. The territory contains many small houses and isolated villages, making distribution an extensive effort, Arles Info editor Romain Vauzelle said.

“Sometimes, the distributor has to go 25 km to distribute five magazines, so it’s not possible economically,” he said.

In 2026, print distribution companies will be prohibited from delivering publications like Arles Info when residents apply a “No Advertisements” sticker to their mailbox. Readers who use the sticker will no longer receive the magazine.

To adjust, the magazine may cut distribution to a list of residents who register for delivery and add more drop-off points throughout the city. 

“There’s a portion of people who don’t read it, so there’s some waste,” Laurent said.

While print remains central, Arles Info prioritizes its digital platform more than before.

“I think today, it’s the [search engine optimization] of all these publications that counts and how to get to people’s phones because the phone, ultimately, is the mass media today,” Laurent said.

Despite this shift, print media maintains its advantages for Arles Info, Vauzelle said, including the comfort of reading and the depth of engagement. 

“I think that when people decide to take time to read, it is much more likely to be an article in paper format than on the internet,” he said.

In contrast with digital, the print edition of Arles Info has longevity and visibility in public spaces to provide a positive image for the city, Laurent said. 

“It’s a showcase,” Vauzelle said.

According to Vauzelle, Arlésians have a strong attachment to the print magazine and complain if they don’t receive the paper in their letterboxes on time.

However, for La Provence, Rugiero said digital media meets the fast-paced needs of the daily news. 

“The advantages [of print]? There are not very many advantages anymore,” he laughed.

A copy of La Provence, Arles edition lies left behind in the grass on July 4, 2024.

On the future of La Provence, Rugiero said, “It will only be on the internet.” He estimates “two, three, five years” until its print edition is terminated.

“I understand that the new generation wants something different,” Rugiero said. “We will never be able to go back. It’s inevitable.”

In contrast to local newspapers, the staff of L’Arlésienne magazine believes its print issue will endure.

“We have strong readers, and loyal,” she said. “It’s also a political act to buy free press, so there is still always a strong base of buyers.”

L’Arlésienne staff members Clémentine Morot-Sir (left) and Eléonore Colpin-Lafuma (right) pick up the summer edition in their office on July 4, 2024.

Morot-Sir said L’Arlésienne and La Provence audiences overlap, so L’Arlésienne tries to be “complimentary” by serving a separate role.

According to Morot-Sir, L’Arlésienne magazine focuses on investigative, long-form stories compared to the daily news of La Provence. This content pairs ideally with the print format, she said.

“We value the fact that it’s an object that can last,” she said. “So I think we can treat some topics more profoundly.”

Colpin-Lafuma said the maquette, or print layout design, allows for visual strategy. L’Arlésienne produces the magazine in black-and-white, which she said saves time. They aim for the print magazine to be simple and easy to read.

L’Arlésienne layout designer and journalist Eléonore Colpin-Lafuma shows her technical process for the summer edition on July 4, 2024.

L’Arlésienne publishes most stories in print and online with a paywall that lasts until around six months after release. It occasionally publishes online-only stories for breaking news developments and sometimes suspends the online paywall to give public access.

“If it’s something really important and we want everybody, even the people who don’t usually buy magazines, to read it, we make both print and the web with a paywall or not,” Morot-Sir said.

Three staff members produce the publication, with freelance writers and photographers contributing to each issue.

L’Arlésienne prints around 1,200-1,300 copies per issue. This year, it sold 1,000 copies on average per issue. Sales vary by season, so the magazine prints more in the summer to meet demand. The publication distributes magazines in over 10 shops in Arles, including bookstores, cafes and a beer bar, and around eight more locations in the region.

“[Distribution] is an issue,” Morot-Sir said. “We need volunteers. We try to have a team of volunteers to help us. It takes a lot of time.”

L’Arlésienne plays an active role in local social issues through their reporting, Morot-Sir said. In January 2024, it covered a threat to displace Romani families living in encampments near the Rhône river, which Morot-Sir said influenced the local government to change plans.

“We heard after that that the mairie [city hall] took a step back because they were afraid of the bad press,” Morot-Sir said. “Maybe it will happen, but it’s been delayed.”

According to Colpin-Lafuma, the magazine spreads cultural rhetoric.

“There is something unifying by the common references that L’Arlésienne creates, like the cards we give out at the events with little phrases in black-and-white,” Colpin-Lafuma said. “A lot of people collect them and love them.”

L’Arlésienne journalist Eric Besatti speaks at the summer issue release party at the pêtanque grounds at Place de la Crosière on June 28, 2024. The community event was centered around pêtanque, a popular Provençal boule game.

Colpin-Lafuma said some people collect the magazine as a statement of Arlésian identity.

“I think it’s something that people really like, and also it shows appartenance [belonging] of the community, and you are proud to live here,” Coplin-Lafuma said.

Claire Fanchini and Monica Ronco served as interpreters for this story.

Notes of a Post-Colonial, Queer Exile

Story and photos by Judas Ātman

I signed up for ieiMedia’s journalism and photography program in Arles knowing I’d be less than three hours away by car from James Baldwin’s house in Saint-Paul-de-Vence. Overseas, I carried with me a question that had burrowed itself in my mind: Why did he exile himself to France?

What was happening in the psyche of this sharp witness to history that made him leave the United States for Paris on November 11, 1948? 

Baldwin’s decision to leave our country bothered me because, frankly, I judged him. Throughout my entire love affair with his work I have been frustrated by this feeling that were I to do the same, I would be “abandoning” our people, which is to say those of us who possess the same frustrations with our country and the fervent desire to see it transformed.

Anyone who knows me, knows that I speak about Baldwin and his work obsessively, as if when I read his words, I am engaging with a close friend over dinner and reporting out what he has told me. Even through this intimate love with his words, I have found myself angrily wanting to demand, “How could he leave?” How could he abandon our country that so desperately needed his sharp ability to bear witness?

A view from the bridge along Chemin de Jonquets that crosses over Canal du Vigueirat, just after sunrise. Here I walked almost every morning in the middle of my time here in order to process the many tectonic shifts of change that rocked through my body and mind.

But in my first two weeks here in Arles, I get it now. I’ve been shocked, honestly, to find myself so in love with this town I never even knew existed outside a tiny, digital photo on a random website of a random media company. It is here, self-exiled, whisked by the wind to this tiny town, a leftist eye in the swirling storm of the far-right area that surrounds it, that I am able to feel the extent of my grief when I think of my country.

I expressed a portion of this grief to Ania, the colleague and friend I met here in our program the first day as we walked together and had lunch. I told her I feel as someone who becomes increasingly more deviant and pushed to the social margins of American society, there are few options left for me but imprisonment, exile and or death. I said I’m not afraid to die.

Ania Johnston peacefully listening to Ethel Cain’s Preacher’s Daughter on the train to Arles after our loud night out in Marseilles, the first long weekend of our trip.

Ania said I was martyring myself. And she was right. Why martyr yourself for a country that doesn’t care about whether you live or die? 

Like a morning bell, the truth of this grief tolls in my mind, echoing with an almost feverish level of vision, as if I could see the world between the 1’s and 0’s of the Matrix. In a notes app on my hike around the outskirts of the city, following the dirt paths along the Canal, I wrote the following:

homeland is not a place, a person, a people, when you’ve lost your home

america is an abusive narcissistic parent. i have stockholm syndrome. i’m not american. i never was. it’s not a part of my ontology. it’s not the core essence of who i am. i am an exile. i belong to no one. i belong nowhere. my home is in the liminal margins, between worlds, between countries. i am opening portals in my mind and hoping to manifest the same boundlessness in a western world obsessed with the borders of nationalism.

Despite this moment of separation from one country, I see a new self sprouting in the fields of another one – each seed a shard of Self that blooms through stickers, graffiti, and wheat pasting I find as I walk through the winding walls of La Roquette,  my integrity reflected in the architecture of this city. 

A wheat paste poster encouraging Arlesians to vote against fascism, meaning the extreme right party, during the parliamentary elections on 30 Juin. The poster references the American rock band Rage Against the Machine, who are known for their anti-authoritarian and revolutionary views.

I didn’t know who these people were who posted them but I follow the trail — like Alice trailing the white rabbit in Alice in Wonderland, like Neo following Trinity’s instructions to trail after the white rabbit to find Morpheus in The Matrix — I leave my American self to find this Arlesian persona. And that persona is an evolving self, a truer self that enters me like a song humming a deeper resonance than I knew my own voice to be capable of.

Once I leave Arles, I have no idea how to make sense of where I’m going, because this place has struck me like a bolt of lightning, causing so many structures within myself to tumble and fall.

When home, I won’t be the same person I was before my time here. This new person I am becoming, I can’t yet say who they are, but I was told by a sommelier in Plan de Campagne, a region just outside Marseille where Ania, my colleague, and I stayed this past weekend, that I’m not meant to know how to make sense of all this right now.

The only moment that exists, he implied, is this present one: me, writing this “postcard” while sitting in the dining room of my host family’s home, my mind scrambling to understand the impact my time in this city is having on me.

 One of my last morning walks along the canal. This morning, the mist had rolled in and blanketed the fields. Finally, I had found my peace.

Growth, Connection and the Ripening Strawberry

Text and photo by Karla Valdez

From the time I was a little girl, I dreamed of studying abroad. The idea filled my imagination with visions of cobblestone streets, historic landmarks and the melodic sounds of a foreign language. 

Being able to venture out and experience life in another country was my greatest wish. Waking up to a new adventure every day while getting to create memories of a lifetime, is exactly what I wanted. 

But while this sounded exciting in my mind, the fear and anxiety of traveling to a different country alone and living there for a month scared me quite a bit. I spent the entire flight to France worried and anxious about how this experience would unfold. Every turbulent bump of the plane seemed to echo my doubts, and the ocean view below only magnified my sense of isolation.

Getting off the plane and staying in Marseille for a day before arriving in Arles caused a mix of anticipatory feelings within me. The unfamiliar sights and sounds heightened my anxiety. Arriving at the bustling train station in Marseille, filled with people speaking rapidly in unfamiliar tongues, was overwhelming. I was lost for about an hour trying to learn the train system; I even missed my train to Arles.

However, as soon as I met my classmates and host family and socialized with my advisers, I began to relax. Their warm smiles and welcoming gestures eased my nerves, and I felt the tension in my body melting away, as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. The European cobblestone streets that once seemed daunting now felt inviting; this is where I was meant to be.

The first night, Monika, the woman who is hosting me, prepared a chicken dinner with peas, tomatoes, cheese and a baguette (of course we cannot forget about the ubiquitous and delicious French bread). We paired it with a crisp rosé and for dessert, we had a velvety and fluffy chocolate mousse. We ate and talked for three hours straight and Monika showed me her beautiful garden. 

The view of Monika’s garden from the patio dinner table added to my sense of peace. The garden brings her great joy because she puts so much effort into taking care of it. She grows tomatoes, eggplant, zucchinis, herbs and strawberries. 

When I arrived on June 17, she gave me a tour of her garden and everything was ready to be picked except the strawberries, which were just starting to develop from tiny berries. 

A week later, I came home from a long day at school and Monika, her daughters and I had dinner on her patio. Afterwards, we took our daily tour of the garden, but this time it was a bit different. We all noticed the first strawberry that had ripened in her garden. 

Monika and I looked at each other, excitement in our eyes. “Have the first strawberry from my garden,” Monika said. 

“How could I possibly enjoy something you spent so much time growing yourself?”, I thought to myself. 

“Of course not,” I said. “You can have it; you grew it yourself.”

She looked at me as if she thought I was crazy. “Please take it,” she said. “It is for you.”

I felt so special and cared for in that instant. 

I carefully plucked the strawberry from the garden, honored that she had let me have her very first strawberry of the season. I bit into it and the juice from the berry dripped down my finger. At that moment I paused and I thought to myself, “This feels like home.”

At that moment it allowed me to flash back to when my mother would wash and cut fruit for me at my home in Long Beach, California. That motherly treatment and energy reminded me of my mom and translated to me feeling at home. It brought peace to my heart. The emotions I felt made me realize how much can change in the span of a week. I went from feeling scared, anxious and nervous to now feeling at peace, safe and at home away from my hometown.

Just as that strawberry grew in a week, so did my confidence in navigating a new country alone. Growth is often terrifying, but when you experience these genuine and wholesome moments with people you connect with quickly, it makes the journey profoundly worthwhile. 

The transition from fear and uncertainty to feeling deeply connected and at peace has been transformative. Especially when you’re venturing out alone, these connections become your anchor and in those moments, you realize that growth, though intimidating, is beautiful and necessary. It allows you to evolve in ways you never imagined, just like the strawberry that eagerly grew and was ready to be picked.

Cats Across Continents

Text and photos by Solange Jain

In Queens, New York City, Baya and Lennox wake up in a two-bedroom apartment, Lennox curled in a ball on the couch and Baya under Mom’s bed. They simultaneously lift their heads when they hear the bathroom door close, meaning Mom is awake and it’s time for breakfast.

In Arles, France, Luna opens her eyes to sunlight poking through the leaves of an oleander bush. She pokes her head out before jumping down and starting the walk down the street to the house. At the house she finds an open window and jumps in, waiting inside to be fed.

A cat bathes himself midday in the streets of Arles, France, licking his paws and unbothered by passersby.

When leaving for France, what I knew I would miss most (apart from my family and air conditioning) were my cats. My two furry little creatures provide a comfort and joy in my life that I was nervous to stray from. When I learned that my host family had a cat of their own, I became excited at the prospect of gaining a new four-legged friend.

But I quickly learned that pets are treated very differently in the south of France than in New York City.

At home, in the afternoons I watch Baya sit on the windowsill and survey the world from behind a glass panel. She watches buses and cars, dog walkers and business people rushing to and fro, while Lennox often rolls around on the carpet with a toy fish stuffed with catnip. Both cats know nothing other than their shoebox life, shielded from the dangers of the outside world.

When I arrived in Arles, where I am staying with the Devic family, I didn’t meet Luna until the third day. For two days she had been out in the streets, only coming home to have a quick meal once a day. I was informed that Luna spent time with her “boyfriend,” an orange cat in the neighborhood, and together they would explore the surrounding streets, napping in the shade of cars and hunting insects.

While Baya and Lennox have at most only ever felt the outside air through a screened window, the window at the Devic family home is always wide open, giving Luna free rein of both the outdoors and the house.

Luna’s boyfriend rests on the road, letting the sun of the late afternoon outline the back of his head.

My initial reaction to this approach of caring for a pet was that it was neglectful and possibly dangerous given the lack of attention on Luna and her whereabouts. I couldn’t imagine sending my cats away to fend for themselves out in the world. The more time I spent with Luna, though, I saw how content she was with her life and it seemed that being unconfined was extremely beneficial.

I began to feel guilty about my own cats’ restrictive lives. What kind of monster was I? I was confining my cats to a small New York City apartment and denying them their natural tendency.

As I reflected on my personal experience adjusting to being in a new place away from my family, I discovered parallels to the conflicting experiences of pet-owning in American cities versus the south of France.

Much like the life lived by Baya and Lennox, my life at home was safe and familiar, and allowed me to think I was experiencing the world when actually I had barely set foot in it. Now, mimicking Luna, I am exposed to the unknown without anyone protecting me, but simultaneously I am independently exploring my environment, without anyone holding my hand.

 Luna sits with her back to the camera and her head turned to face the inside in the circular bathroom window of her house. From here, Luna surveys the neighborhood below and what explorations await. 

‘Little by Little,’ Women Transcend Cultural Differences

Photos by Ania Johnston
Interviews by Judas Ãtman and Ania Johnston
Video editing by Surya Vaidy

Petit à Petit (Little by Little), a women’s collective implements civic projects throughout Arles to create a more collective community. Both staff and volunteers, led by Anne Drilleau, work out of Dans La Cuisine, a communal kitchen in the heart of the Grifeuille, a neighborhood on the Western outskirts of Arles.

Jamila Laboub, a seasoned chef, and Olga Ivanova, an apprentice work in the kitchen weekly. Over the past 6 months, the pair have grown to become “unlikely” friends. Though they come from disparate parts of the world, their kinship is a symbol of the ways that community can come together no matter their differences.

Caption: Jamila Laboub (left) and Olga Ivanova sit outside the community kitchen, Dans La Cuisine.

Below you will find a combination of media captured by the creative team on this piece: a “moving portrait” of each woman that includes a sound byte from their interview, a link to a recording of the interview conducted by Ania and Judas in the original language(s) (French, English, and some Ukrainian) as well as a full-text translation of the interview.

We have tried capture how each woman would sound in English by favoring direct translation over “fixed” translation;, meaning the syntax and grammar have been discarded for a more authentic representation of each woman’s voice.

Jamila Laboub

Enregistrement audio complet de l’entretien en français

JUDAS WILEY: What is your first and last name?

JAMILA LABOUB: Hello. So, my name is Jamila Laboub. 

JW: Where do you come from?

JL: I come… I come from Morocco. Since I was six years old, I am in France. I’ve had four children and in this education I saw this training as the center of my social neighborhood, which is to do a CAP (certificate) in cuisine for nine months and I have wanted to try that adventure. 

I got my CAP cuisine and I worked in town at a restaurant, the Arlatan, and I have worked for four months, but It was much more intense for me. So that’s it. I wanted to look for something else in the restaurant business, but that something else is in a collective or small restaurant.

I created a group to do cooking workshops in social centers or in schools or retirement homes. And next, in the Cuisine Griffeuille, they proposed other cooking workshops and I did one, two, then three and there you go, for that I found myself again here doing cooking workshops. It’s been almost two years that I’ve been here with the Cuisine Griffeuille and with the collective Petit à Petit. One and a half years now and it’s worked out very well.

Each Tuesday, Laboub hosts a cooking workshop for children.

ANIA JOHNSTON (to JW): What does cooking mean to her? 

JW (to JL): What is your reason for cooking?

JL: Cooking… What’s — what has changed in my life, or is it — ?

JW: Why cook? It’s a bit existential. 

JL: Me, when I was little, I cooked. I cooked bread, I did the cooking for my brothers and sisters when Mom, my mother, she didn’t want it to happen or she didn’t want it. It was a duty for me. Duty. I didn’t like it but I did it, I was obliged. 

Laboub removes freshly baked cakes from a tin.

Later, I was married and I saw through my children that it pleased them to taste a cake or a dish or that it pleased people. This pleased me. So, I have loved cooking in relationship with people, like you, who love mint tea; I made you mint tea, “Oh it’s so nice, thank you!” I am happy to have created pleasure with cooking. And I make family meals, and … they love it, they like this. And we try to make the world happy but now I like cooking and I feel before when … people … say there’s a therapy in cooking … that makes me a good cook.

Olga Ivanova

Enregistrement audio complet de l’entretien en français

OLGA IVANOVA: What is your first name? I’m Olga Ivanova. It’s my first and last name.

JW: And where are you from?

OA: I’m from Ukraine, from Zaporizhzhia. It’s town, where is now war… Because the war started in my country.

JW: And why are you working here at Petit à Petit?

OA: Because the war start in my – in my country. And I take my children and I go… to Europe. And … I looking for a country… who can give me house .

I’m… looking for a country who can safeguard my family. A woman here, in Tarascon, she offered me her house for my family – my girls. And I arrived directly here and I live in Tarascon, not with her, but we stay friends. We are like a French family. 

JW: Why did she give you a home?

OA: Her name is Alexandra De Chimay. Her family is Romanian – who is also affected by the war when she was very little. And when the Ukrainian war started, she decided to help a family because she lived alone, she is not married, and she has no children – and she is healthy and wants to help someone. And when we sent her our photo she, right away, she said we live together for 15 months and after the City of Tarascon will give us apartments.

Ivanova’s hands fold varenyky dough.

ANIA JOHNSTON: And what was the moment that you felt that you needed to leave?

OA: At once. It was 5 o’clock morning, the 24th of February. And there we were sleeping; it was a very nice time. And but the son of my husband tells me – he says, “The war is starting.” And the war is starting not far from the Zaporizhzhia. So we came to Kharkiv, we came to the Zaporizhzhia region, because Donet’sk it’s 300 km it was close really, to Zaporizhzhia, so it was dangerous to go back to Zaporizhzhia. And my husband, of course, we’re waiting for the war to be finished soon. But my husband said you should go because we didn’t know. You should go, you should rest down there…

JW: He’s still there, your husband?

OA: Yes. He is there. My parents are there. But, after one year, the war was not finished and we decided to find a place for to live. So we want to stay here.

Ivanova insists that she cannot be sad or cry anymore– she needs to be strong for her two daughters so that they can thrive in France even after everything they endured to get to get here.

JW: How did you find Anne [Drilleau]? How did you, like, start working at Petit à Petit?

OA: I had never – I haven’t ever been in France. I didn’t imagine that my life is here. I was working in a restaurant all my life. I work at a restaurant and now, I really love cuisine and my problem in France – it’s the vocabulary in French. Because the French language is complicated and I have lost so much time also because the war was coming quickly. I am starting to learn French much later. I think after a year. 

One year I start to learn French, but for work, I was proposed this by – Graines d’Étoiles et Des Femmes proposed this. It’s called the kitchen but first before they propose me training at Petit à Petit to be a cook, to learn vocabulary, to learn many French things – because – I think French cuisine is the best in the world, it’s the foundation for much cuisine. 

In the future I want to work with the head chef on a team, be a nice cook, maybe not chef, maybe have time to happily mix cuisines because, I see [not everywhere] but each time I arrive to a restaurant, I see that the meat is not well done.

I want to do French cuisine with Ukrainian style or maybe one day to do Ukrainian cuisine.

Ivanova pounds out the varenyky dough with a rolling pin.

AJ: OK. Last question: what does cooking mean to you? 

OA: It’s my life, because at 4 to 5 years old we are learning to cook and because when we started cooking , we learn borscht at school – we learn how to prepare borscht in elementary school. We have lessons, cooking lessons. Also I work in a restaurant all my life. I love the scene, I love taste, I do not eat much but I love – I love when food is good quality and prepared well. 

AJ: OK. Thank you very much!

Ivanova uses a jar to cut each circular dumpling casing from the flattened dough.

Curiosities of the Camargue

Story and photos by Sophia Maxim

My host father, Jacques Reygner, who has welcomed me in his home for the month, offered to take me to the Camargue. I didn’t know what to expect, but I gladly agreed. The car trip revealed a serenely unusual setting. Native white horses pranced up to us, seeking affection, while towering sea salt mounds and rose-hued salt pans appeared throughout the terrain.

Camargue horses gallop across the field to greet us. The breed is often used to herd livestock, including bulls.
A small farmhouse sits off the side of the road.
A tender horse connects with us over the barbed wire.
My host father, Jacques Reygner, strokes a Camargue horse’s mane. He approached the horses with familiarity and confidence.
A horse shakes fleas from its mane.
Mounds of sea salt are stored on the bank of the Rhone River in the Salin-de-Giraud village.
Pink salt lakes surround the area of Salin-de-Giraud. The pink hue is caused by an algae called Dunaliella salina.
A vacant dump truck used for sea salt extraction sits beside the salt mounds in Salin-de-Giraud, a major salt-producing commune.
My host father drives us past the salt mounds and heads back to town.

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