© Nicolar Rivoire, "La Clarée"

Hi Nicolas, thanks for sharing about your recent work "La Clarée". Why did you start this visual investigation?

Nicolas Rivoire (NR): The story begins with a discussion with Ludovic Carème at a workshop in Arles, during which he tells me that there have been events involving far-right militants on the French-Italian border at Briançon, and that I might be interested. After some quick research, I see that the events in question date back to 2018, but the migration phenomenon is still present. And it's a shock, a double shock.
The first shock was to realize that I had completely ignored this subject, even though I myself had explored the Briançon region for hiking, climbing and fly-fishing. I wondered how such beautiful mountains could be the backdrop to such tragic events.
The second shock was a personal introspection: why hadn't this situation touched me earlier? Why had I developed such indifference to this crucial human problem? It was like a sudden awareness.
I began to explore these questions in greater depth: why had this subject remained invisible to me until now? Why had I felt such a lack of empathy towards it?
For a few weeks, I did some research (reading, podcasting) and I realized that the first information I found was very similar in terms of representations of migration, often confined to showing the sordid side of the situation of exiled people: photos of camps, overloaded rubber dinghies... Accompanied by the poverty of discourse: a countdown of deaths in the Mediterranean, extremely polarized political reactions, often without analysis. A very "statistical" approach to the situation, with no real humanity.
I was really at a dead end in my thinking, and eventually a podcast devoted to the notion of hospitality made an impression on me. Camille Louis was a guest on the podcast, and she uttered a phrase that would prove decisive for my project: "when theories are no longer sufficient, they must be replaced by experience".
So I decided to go there.

© Nicolar Rivoire, "La Clarée"

© Nicolar Rivoire, "La Clarée"

If I had looked at the portfolio without knowing the topic I would have said these are people well dressed and not in a hurry. Who are the people you portrayed? How did you reach out to them? Where did you photograph them?

NR: The people I photographed are all exiles, of different nationalities : Guineans, Moroccans and Afghans in particular.
As part of my project, I made early contact with people in solidarity and associations that help exiles, in particular Refuges Solidaires, which provides emergency accommodation in Briançon. This private structure, which carries out a mission that should normally be carried out by the state, enables exiles, once they arrive in Briançon, to benefit from access to healthcare and to rest for a few days in the warmth of the mountains before setting off again.
I became a volunteer with this association, and was thus able to immerse myself in the lives of exiled people, with whom I was able to establish relationships and explain my project. I was then able to photograph them during privileged moments of exchange. The photos were taken in the vicinity of the refuge.
The people photographed were properly dressed and didn't seem to be "on the way". In order to avoid a journalistic approach to the subject, I wanted to work over a long period of time, and it was important to me not to portray the people in a stereotyped or expected way. The photos were therefore taken one or more days after the people's arrival at the refuge, once they had rested and were available for it.
My project lasted around 10 months. Living in Lyon, I came to Briançon regularly, one or two weeks a month. Over time, I naturally established relationships with several exiles who had chosen to stay in Briançon (some of these people are now friends). And I was invited to live with them, in their squats. Here again, I was able to present my project and invite them to participate, which they gladly did. Some of the images were therefore taken in these squats.

© Nicolar Rivoire, "La Clarée"

As we speak French is intensifying border control to avoid migrants crossing over to France. Italy is facing an expensive challenge to manage an impressive flow of people from Africa. There's a clear conflict and Europe appears politically weaker than usual. How do you think your picture intersects this geopolitical failure?

NR: As I explained earlier, the approach taken by governments and politicians, particularly in Europe, is based on statistics and figures, which exclude human beings from the scope of discussions.
For example, this summer, the interior ministers of the various European countries "negotiated" what they call "solidarity" between countries, by trying to agree on an amount to be "paid" to the country of first arrival (Greece, Italy) if they did not agree to welcome an exile on their territory (between 20,000 and 40,000 euros).
For me, there's a blind spot here as to what exile actually is. Above all, it's a question of human destiny, and the issues raised by this phenomenon are related to the notion of encounter and hospitality, before, in my view, any economic considerations.
Radically, if we consider that politics is what determines the rules of life within a social group, the concepts of effective solidarity and hospitality cannot be avoided. Yet these are absent from the debates. And it seems to me that we're missing an opportunity to provide answers to the phenomenon we're observing, because part of civil society seems to me ready, or even willing, to approach things from this angle.
While working on my project, I was struck by the writings of Marie-José Mondzain, in her book "Confiscation des mots, des images et du temps" (Confiscation of words, images and time). In this book, she explains that "it is up to art to displace the register of action through the choice of forms". She goes on to say: "The art of images is a political art, not committed to militancy or bias, but committed to offering those to whom it is addressed a site of infinite indeterminacy capable of providing them with the stage for their action".
This strengthened my resolve to create radical portraits, most of which are frontal, at the height of the person being photographed, to emphasize the horizontal relationship between individuals. Also, in this approach, I express my desire to look at people by inviting them to look at ME. As for the distance chosen, it reflects the one I've adopted with each of them, investing here the territory circumscribed by interpersonal boundaries with "hidden dimensions" to use Edward T. Hall's terms developed in his eponymous book written in 1961.
From there, I propose images that, I hope, raise questions about the political elements considered above. I offer the viewer the chance to ask: are we ourselves ready to consider the subject on the basis of an interpersonal, intersubjective exchange? What happens at this point in the meeting? At what distance do we place the other?

© Nicolar Rivoire, "La Clarée"

More importantly, I quickly realized that, in a context of migration and welcome, looking at the other also means looking at ourselves, on three levels it seems: as individuals, as members of a local and relatively restricted group (e.g. the refuge) and finally at the level of a more complex society. So, the pertinent questions that could be asked are: are we capable of reflecting, individually and collectively, on ourselves and the society in which we live, giving priority to the notion of human relationships? If so, what scope for action and new degrees of freedom are open to me, to us? Am I capable, in this reflection, of accepting the gaze and words of others, whatever their nationality or skin color?
Finally, it seems to me that I'm offering the possibility of re-situating the term "solidarity" in its original, radical meaning, thereby assertively combating the "confiscation", the semantic hijacking, that is being made of it in the context of a political policy that confuses the human person with euros.

© Nicolar Rivoire, "La Clarée"

In the series we don't see other people beyond migrants. Yet we know there are a lot of associations, no-profit, churches and people working everyday to provide some kind of support. In your series people migrants are rather suspended in an almost romantic mountainous limbo. What is the message behind it?

NR: Solidarity is very much alive, especially in Briançon. And it expresses itself in many different ways, ranging from highly institutionalized action (the Briançon hospital, for example, has made a very early and constant commitment to access to healthcare), to assertive militant action (regular opening of squats for exiles). In itself, this is a real subject, as there is much to be explored in terms of the nature of the aid provided, its underlying intention and the way in which it is delivered, all of which is very heterogeneous. However, I chose very early on in my project not to concentrate on these aspects. On the one hand, I didn't want to spread myself too thinly, and on the other, it's relatively difficult to capture images of the solidarity workers, most of whom don't want to be photographed because they are subject to harassment and real threats from the police.
You say that the people photographed seem to be floating in the "romantic limbo of the mountains", and I like this image.
Rather than romantic, I prefer the term "poetic", even if behind the word romantic lies the idea of love, and if we join the romantic philosophers, the idea of love for nature, our nature, which is what effectively emerges from my images.
I set out with the idea of putting the human person at the center of the project and, through posed portraits, insisting on their intrinsic value, their natural beauty. Without denying the tragic situation of the people I photographed, I didn't want to essentialize them, to bring them back to this situation in an obvious way, to invite us to look at each of these people individually, probably for longer, with more attention, leaving the possibility of being seduced, attracted by the other. When I speak of attraction, it can be played out on simple attention formulated by the question "who is he/she?" or "what's his/her name?". It's already the beginning of something, of a movement towards the other that I wanted to initiate, as a prelude to a possible meeting.
Secondly, the fact that I don't situate people in a specific place or context, paradoxically brings them back to the concrete conditions of their existence at the time I photographed them. When you arrive in Briançon, with the exception of those who want to go to England, it's the end of the road, the end of physical hardship. But it's also the start of a lot of soul-searching: which town will I try to settle in? What do I have to do to get papers? Above all, it's the beginning of a veritable hell, paved with contradictory and absurd administrative injunctions, tremendous difficulties in finding a stable and relatively well-paid job, finding real accommodation, opening a bank account, etc. A veritable suspended moment thus unfolds at the Briançon refuge, with a lot of uncertainty. This is what I also wanted to show in my images.
So when it came to editing, with the help of Claudine Doury who worked with me on this project, all the photographs with an overly localized environment (refuge, city, squat) were gradually eliminated.

© Nicolar Rivoire, "La Clarée"

Studies on abandoned villages in the alps support the thesis favourable of re-settlement in these regions, instead of feeding desperate suburban areas? Yet, the feeling when looking at images (black and white reinforce this) is that this is not even a place. It's an in-between land for the migrants.

NR: I must admit I'm not familiar with the studies you mention. As far as the mountain area is concerned, it's not a place where people can settle down easily at first sight (some do, however, after a period of wandering in the rest of the country, and return to Briançon, but they're very few in number).
To try and answer this question, I can simply point to three elements.
The first is that people in exile have their own dreams, their own aspirations as regards their trajectory as exiles. I think it's very important to respect these aspirations, as they provide the exiles with the energy they need to overcome all the difficulties they're going to face. However, it's important to be honest, and I, along with many other supporters, couldn't help but report objectively on the sad reality of the "Paris" that many dream of. And in the end, despite these "warnings", it unfortunately proves necessary for people to see their dreams through to the end to realize that a change of trajectory is necessary. Many don't heed what they've been told, and go on to these extremely violent places anyway.
The second is that the local population is not ready to welcome newcomers, especially if they come from a different culture or have a different skin color. Witness the election in 2020 of Briançon's mayor, Mr. Murgia, who is constantly on the "migrant hunt", in a sordid manner, I might add. This seems to be a response to the local population's desire, for another phenomenon to be noted in Briançon is the lack of permeability between the world of solidarity and the "ordinary" world.
Bridges are virtually non-existent. A latent and diffuse racism is expressed in every institution. I could cite the real-life example of the welcome reserved for exiles in banks, when they apply to open a bank account, even though French law is clear on the subject and guarantees them the right to own a bank account.
As a further example, there are no halal butchers in Briançon, or indeed in the whole of the valley.
Finally, the third element relates to the economic dynamic present in mountain areas. Tourism is the mainstay of these areas, and if any activity is to be promoted and supported, it must fit into this framework. Initiatives to reinvest in alternative mountain activities (pastoralism, woollen work, handicrafts) are too marginal to constitute a path to integration for exiles who wish to settle down. The only jobs available to exiles are all linked to tourism, and are mostly seasonal: dishwashing in restaurants, stocking shelves in supermarkets, building apartments for tourists... Not enough to inspire the dreams of minors who aspire to gain access to more qualified work by going back to school or finding a boss capable of taking them on work-study schemes, which are non-existent in Briançon.

Several pictures introduce elements or signs of the environment and stories (as described in their captions) yet the geography (mountain) remains rather anonymous. What is the purpose?

NR: By choosing to show images of details, I wanted to reflect the vision of the mountain that I had when making this work.
From the moment I became aware of what was happening on the trails, mainly at night, I was truly moved emotionally. To the point where I kept seeing elements that symbolically brought me back to something on the order of the way of the cross, the challenge, the obstacle, the trap. That was all I could see. For me, the mountains had ceased to be a tourist attraction of immense beauty. And I wanted to show that reality.
It's true that it's very shocking to see this reality superimposed on leisure use, mainly via skiing during the day, but also mountain biking and hiking in summer. However, I've chosen to emphasize this very discreetly in my series, once again with the intention of not spreading myself too thin, and insisting on the very invisible side of the migratory phenomenon, which all tourists pass by during their stay in Briançon, myself included. There's no confrontation between the two worlds.
On the other hand, I've sought to represent the physical materiality of the border, in the many features and elements that suggest it and bear witness to its historical dimension. Indeed, the site is riddled with architectural elements that have always attempted to ensure the border's "impermeability".
From the fortifications erected by Vauban, to the blokhaus of the Maginot line, via the anachronistic Aittes wall, everything is a reminder of the tireless efforts made by man to control the physical flow of human beings. To me, juxtaposing them with the portraits highlights the futility of such devices, since man always manages to get through in the end. All that remains are ruins and rusting barbed wire.
In addition, I had frequent access to accounts and descriptions of the devices present at the Croatian border, consisting of a double curtain of wire mesh topped with barbed wire and equipped with devices that detect vibrations on them (in order to alert the police to the use of a ladder, for example). I felt a deep-seated aversion and anxiety about these "walls". Reinforced by the fact that their implementation is always accompanied by inhumane police practices (manhunting with attack dogs, physical violence, physical and psychological humiliation), all this, let's not forget, in the European area, which is supposed to be made up of countries that respect human rights! It then seemed necessary to suggest the possible evolution of the border of my own country, which in a dystopian perspective, could resemble those of countries further up the migratory routes.
As far as the mountain itself is concerned, I have to admit that all my attempts to capture something particularly meaningful about it proved futile. Quite often, I was just making a "nice postcard", and I didn't want to tamper with a sky in post-production to make it "threatening", for example. One of my frustrations with the series, I have to say, was not being able to show the mountains in wider shots, to show the extent to which people in exile are embarking on a real adventure, in an unknown and risky immensity, when they start out on this journey.

© Nicolar Rivoire, "La Clarée"

What have you learned from this project?

NR: I've learned a lot! And it continues. I couldn't possibly list here all the things that the subject of migration brings to mind.
I'm a little ashamed to admit it, but I've already learned to locate Gambia or Guinea Conakry on a map. And I've realized just how little we know about these countries. You only have to look at the poorly detailed Wikipedia pages on these countries to realize how little interest we show in them. As a photographer, access to the artistic and cultural production of these populations has also touched me.
Involved in helping exiles, as a volunteer with Refuges Solidaires, I've also discovered the complexity of this kind of aid. For example, you have to be clear about why you're helping and how you're doing it. It's very easy to reproduce, even involuntarily, a relationship of domination towards the person being helped, which reduces their autonomy when, on the contrary, they need to be fully capable and confident to continue on their way. For me, the notion of empowerment is key, and is often under-emphasized.
Of course, I learned a great deal about the migration policy implemented by European countries, its inconsistency, and above all its violence, which denies the human dimension of the exiled person and is in permanent conflict with the notion of the rule of law. A notion that is also asserted, even if it means shamelessly preaching to countries outside Europe. I'm very careful about the language used to describe the situation. For example, there's always talk of a migratory crisis. In my opinion, we should be talking about a crisis in migration policies, but also a crisis in the representations associated with this phenomenon (which undeniably serves a specific purpose), and more universally, a crisis affecting the nature of interpersonal and intercultural relations. While we know that globalization is a contemporary reality, it's paradoxical that we don't think about it more, or that we only consider it from a transactional, economic angle. As I've already mentioned, there's a blind spot here that deserves to be explored in a more proactive way.
I've also learned a lot through contact with militants. And that led me to deconstruct a lot of ideas I had on a number of subjects that can't be considered separately. And I agree with them on the need for an intersectional approach when we want to rethink the limits of our contemporary society.
From a personal, emotional point of view, I learned above all to deconstruct my fears - fears of difference, of others, of my inability to act. I discovered that simply standing next to another person meant a great deal, in terms of breaking down isolation and showing a form of tenderness. Through photography, I discovered the power and value of the relationship that can be created during a portrait session. I've always offered my prints whenever possible, or sent my images to the people photographed. And I've come to realize just how much good it does to pay attention, to take the time to really look at the other person, and to help rehumanize them. Some of them still write to thank me for what we experienced in those few privileged minutes, and to let me know how they're doing. More than anything, I've been touched by the psychological distress some people can find themselves in, and by the lack of support they can receive.
Finally, and to conclude on this subject, as I wrote earlier, looking at the other and particularly the exile, the person who presents himself to us in this way, leads us to question ourselves. A real reversal of point of view gradually took place, in a very intense and intimate way. And I've noticed that my vision of the exercise of power, politics, the organization of our societies and interpersonal relations has been completely transformed by this experience.

© Nicolar Rivoire, "La Clarée"

© Nicolar Rivoire, "La Clarée"

What kind of impact do you expect from this work in an overabundant scenario of images on migration? Which goes to how photographers can develop projects that stand out from personal narrative and embrace the debate.

NR: As I explained before, my wish is to re-introduce the human dimension into the debate. Indeed, a great deal of photographic work has been done on the subject, and I have humbly attempted to take a step aside from what has already been done, in order, I hope, to draw attention to a subject that is becoming increasingly urgent to apprehend in a quite different way from the one currently at work.
First and foremost, by inviting people to make the effort to meet, which I believe is a prerequisite for any further reflection.
By also highlighting the fact that satisfying a desire for excessive control at our borders risks altering the places where we live, transforming spaces of freedom into spaces of violence and death.
By working in the field of beauty and poetry, without aestheticization, I hope to encourage everyone to look at exiled people as they are, if we don't label them directly with the globalizing and stigmatizing label of "migrant".
Having worked in a form that try to reveals "the coherence and structure underlying life" (to quote Robert Adams in his essay Beauty in photography), I hope to open up a field of reflection and questioning for the viewer, the starting point of which would be a possible identification with the other through the tenuous but highly powerful bond that is life.

© Nicolar Rivoire, "La Clarée"

Nicolas Rivoire (website)