Rome, A Seizure and Autumn …

I’m back in Paris after spending about a week in Rome shooting a film festival there.


For more images of the festival and of Rome, CLICK HERE.

The whole experience in Rome was great. I spent a lot of time thinking about the cultural differences between the French and the Italians, or more specifically, the Parisians and the Romans. Here’s an abbreviated list of immediately apparent differences:

In Paris, when there are 200 people on the metro platform, it sounds like there’s 1 person. In Rome, when there’s 1 person, it sounds like there’s 200.

In Paris, if you ask someone for something, everything is a problem even when it really isn’t. In Rome, nothing is a problem even when it really is.

In Paris, Chinese food tastes like a failed high school chemistry experiment. In Rome (like in every other village, town or city in the world!) it tastes like … Chinese food.

In Paris, people eat buttery croissants for breakfast. In Rome, the same croissants are sweet and topped with sugar (and sometimes cream-filled).

In Paris, the buildings vary between 3 colors: off-white, off-white and off-white. In Rome, they look like a party of pastels.

In Paris, acting foolish in public is closely associated with embarrassment (for the fool and the observers). In Rome, it is celebrated.

In Paris, everyone is competent but nobody cares. In Rome, nobody is competent but everybody cares.

I’m interested to hear what my Parisian and Roman friends think about these observations.

I had a terrifying experience this week in a non-descript brasserie in the Marais. A 30-something man sitting by himself in the booth next to me suddenly let out a deafeningly loud scream for about 5 or 6 seconds. It wasn’t a type of scream I had heard before. Not like a scream from anger or pain or frustration. Something from deep inside. It was the kind of scream that makes you think you’re about to die, like someone is going to pull out a gun and kill everyone in the cafe. A split-second later the man collapsed like a tree from his booth and lay unconscious on the floor – smashing his head against the bar and the floor as he landed. For added drama, his plate of eggs and his glass of wine fell with him, smashing into pieces next to him as he lay motionless.

I ran outside and found a policeman and asked him to call the paramedics immediately while the bartender pushed the man onto his side so that he could breathe. The man wasn’t doing well at all and started to turn blue. It turns out the man had an epileptic seizure, but while it was happening none of us could be sure. I always thought a seizure would involve more convulsions and foaming at the mouth but I later read that this isn’t always the case.

The paramedics came and just as they got there, the man made a pretty rapid recovery. He wasn’t at all stable but was able to walk out of the brasserie with the paramedics. So it looked like everything was going to be ok. It was a pretty terrifying and memorable experience and one that makes me want to re-learn all the first aid training I’ve forgotten.

The leaves in Paris are changing colors …

Some photos of the week:

Actors (I hope!) at Les Frigos
Giant sculpture on school building
37th and newest bridge in Paris - Simone de Beauvoir footbridge

Roma ...

This week I was (and am) in Rome covering the Rome Film Festival. It’s really good to be back in Italy. So much about this country makes senses to me – the taste of the food, the warmth and informality of the people, the beauty and authenticity of the living history - just to name a few.

Sophia Loren
The festival itself has been fun although it goes without saying that the organization is … creative. One thing that stands out as unique compared to other film festivals I’ve shot is that each time we shoot a photocall or red carpet, the organizer makes a serious effort to tell us all what designer the star was wearing. He (Roberto) gets all of our attention and then in earnest says something like “Reese Whitherspoon was in Armani with Ferragammo shoes.” Only in Italy.

Here are a few experiences I’ve had during my visit so far:

I stumbled upon a nice looking hair salon and they said it would cost 35 euros for a mens cut and I agreed. Turns out I was there for almost 2 hours and I really loved the experience. First a lovely Romanian girl washed my hair for seriously 25 minutes. She gave me a message down my neck and on my head. I almost fell totally asleep. Next Marco went to work on my hair. Marco would cut for a few minutes, then talk loudly in Italian, then cut then talk. All I could understand was the word Viagra! It was really fun to watch. It turns out that he's a pretty famous haircutter. Last festival he did Richard Gere’s and Robert Deniro's hair and a few others. So I really got lucky getting him. There was even a French coiffure who worked there who would translate between Marco and me. It was really fun. Marco had great attention to detail. At one point, he put on a latex glove (which frightened me) and reached into my ear to pull out 1 hair and then said with a smile “Italian waxing”. And in the end, I sat with some fancy automatic MRI-like hair dryer surrounding my head for about 10 minutes. I really enjoyed the authenticity and the characters of the place.

One evening in a pizzeria I confused the Italian word for garlic with the word for anchovies - the words are quite similar. I was really hungry and looking forward to some good eating so imagine my disappointment when my pizza arrived topped with smelly anchovies. Just from my look of utter sadness the waitress asked me what was wrong and I explained the mistake I had made. Without hesitation she took the pizza away and brought me the garlic-filled one I had meant to order … and didn’t charge me for the first one even though it was clearly my mistake. It wasn’t so much that she didn’t charge me that impressed me but more her sensitivity to noticing I was disappointed without me even saying anything. I’m doubting this experience could have happened at Appleby’s.

Not many images that I can post this week since I don’t have a lot of time. More next week …

Human Rights Watch, Elite Models, Late Night Bike Riding

It was a relatively calm week. Did a couple of shoots for Human Rights Watch - their press conference announcing the opening of their Paris office and also an event highlighting the horrors
of landmines and cluster munitions. I learned quite a bit listening to some top experts speak on this subject.

I also went to the Ritz Hotel in Place Vendome to photograph the Elite Model Look Competition. It was the national finalsand featured the top 13-16 year old models from France that will move on to compete against the winners from other countries. I found it all quite perverse; these girls were SO young and nervous and really didn't seem like they were enjoying what they were doing at all. To see more images from the competition, CLICK HERE.

My favorite 30 minutes of the week was riding a Velib (free city bicycle) home from a party at 3:00am. The city really feels like it yours at that hour. No cars, no noise ... just beautifully lit buildings and a feeling of tranquility. I really loved it ... more than the party!

Some photos of the week:

Long ATM transaction
I can't believe it's already been copied
Dogs drinking from fountain near Pompidou Center
Fall is coming - Musee Carnavelet

“Ah bon?”, Dweezil, Hats, Lynch and The Kingdom

This week another theory about French culture crystallized in my head. It’s something I’ve noticed and have been thinking about for a few years and I am calling it the “Ah Bon?” theory. “Ah Bon?” is the expression the French use to express surprise about something they thought was one way but in fact, was actually another way. In English, the closest expression is probably something like “really?”

The “ah bon?” theory can best be described by example, which actually happened to me this week. Each time I photograph a concert, I am credentialed in advance by the record company who assure me they will put my name on a list at the door. Approximately one-third of the time when I show up, after confirming my credential the day before each concert, I am told that my name is not on the list. And I am told this with an air of confidence that one would normally have after an exhaustive check of all possible records, lists, files, etc. of who is credentialed for the concert. I feign disbelief and then tell them who I was credentialed by and produce an email confirmation that I always print out and take with me. That’s when it happens; I invariably get an “ah bon?”, another look down at the list and then a “go right ahead”. The “ah bon” theory does not speak about the incompetence of the individuals I encounter; it speaks about the confidence of their response in light of the fact that I know for a fact that they’re 100% totally wrong.

To continue … after getting past the front door, I am given my photo pass sticker clearly designating me as a photographer as well as a physical ticket (even though photographers are only allowed to be there for the first three songs and then are escorted out by security, they can’t let us enter without a ticket – “pour des raisons de comptabilite” (for accounting reasons)). I approach the man guarding the door on the stage level and show him my photo pass and he asks to see my ticket. I show him and then he tells me that he can’t allow me to enter here because my ticket is for a seat on the upper level. I calmly explain to him that I’m a photographer (looking subtly down at the giant orange neon sticker with the words “PHOTOGRAPHER” attached to my chest) and he says to me with the utmost confidence that he doesn’t care who I am but since my ticket says I’m on the upper level, that’s where I have to go. I continue that I have shot dozens of shows at this venue and photographers are always right next to the stage but once again, despite the fact that I can see a few photographers right next to the stage, he assures me, with firm confidence, that that is not the case this time and that I’d have to go to where my ticket says my seat is.

Knowing the drill, I went back to front desk and asked someone to come with me and explain to the automaton at the door that of course I was supposed to be next to the stage. The person accompanies me and explains to the confident fool at the door that of course photographers are supposed to be next to the stage. And the fool’s response? A hearty “ah bon?”

I really don’t know where this “ah bon?” mentality comes from in French culture but I’ve seen it from the highest professional ranks down to bouncers at clubs. I would be happy if anyone out there has an idea about why this happens here. It appears to me to be some sort of pre-emptive strike but I’m not exactly sure against what. Any ideas?

Shot four events this week, all quite different from each other – two of them particularly entertaining.


I went to go photograph the Frank Zappa concert (this is where the “ah bon?” experience crystallized) at the famous Grand Rex Theater and when the show started, I was very confused because I was told that there was no opening act and yet it wasn’t Frank Zappa on stage. Imagine my surprise to learn that Frank Zappa died 14 years ago and in fact, it was his son Dweezil Zappa playing his father’s songs.


Dweezil played a few songs “with” his father on a big video screen on the stage. But the night was memorable thanks to my complete confusion.


Also shot one of my favorite annual events in Paris – the hat contest held at the biggest horse race in Europe … Le Prix de l’Arc de Triomphe. This race is basically the French Kentucky Derby. Each year women show up at the race wearing outrageous hats, for three reasons: (1) they get in free with a hat, (2) they try to win an associated “Best Hat” contest and (3) they adore the attention. It’s quite a scene.

To see more women in hats, CLICK HERE.

The director David Lynch was in town to receive the French Legion of Honor from President Sarkozy. I got to go to the Elysee Palace (the French White House) to photograph the event, which was attended by other well-known guests such as Roman Polanski.

Jennifer Garner and Jamie Foxx made a stop in Paris along the Champs-Elysees for the French premiere of their movie “The Kingdom”.
And finally, my cousin spent the week in Paris and I had a really good time with her playing a bit of tour guide and passing time the way it should be passed here – chatting about life in a café. We explored parts of town that tourists don’t normally get to but I believe are very interesting to see – rue Faubourg St Denis, Bellville, etc.

Some photos of the week …

Doorman at the Elysee Palace
Sarko checks out the babes
For those times when you really have the taste for ass
Clouds above Paris