This is Perpignan!
Pierre Boulat
«Based on the 42.5 parallel, the charming town of Perpignan generously shares this latitude as an agreable neighbourhood … Orvieto and his Fra Angelico, Sarajevo and its photographic museum of horrors, Byzantine and its “it is Byzantine !”, Tashkent and its Uzbek markets, the Gobi in Chinese “Ca-mel”, Vladivostok and its railway terminal, Sapporo and its Haïnous listed in every photo magazine, Rochester… hey yes ! So then, Perpignan, a town forgotten by the media, with its two highway exits, one towards the East, the other towards the West and for 5 years, thanks to a tenacious municipality and a few decision makers it has its great fresco made of the Rich Hours of Photography.
Having successfully participated in the 4th Visa Pour l’Image I promised myself to come back modestly a second time to this festival, trying to get closer to the secrets that make up Perpignan’s charm. Ten days of shooting with the help of a good guide to discover what is going on underneath.
This is Perpignan !
Preview
The Palais des Rois de Majorque … the Hyacinthe-Rigaud museum … the place Arago … the Castillet … the place de la Loge … the sea… the St Jean Cathedral … St Jacques and the Cross of decency … and the rest !!!!
And what a rest ! as you slow down the pace you discover within a quadrilateral of a few thousand square meters a gigantic museum where you meet the soul of the discoverer.
The giant coleopterons collection ? on the third floor on the left in the street … Facing it, the old man with 7500 well catalogued thoughts leans out over the balcony of a small interior courtyard which has been closed for about fifty years; a miniature dreamy virgin forest, Rousseau with a colourless night gown, a bowl of soup with wine, everything is there.
The hairdresser shampooes at the back of a XVth century patio, next to a hip shop established in the XVIIth century. Dali, weary from the staggering opening of the station, abandoned his carriage in rue d'En Nabot. For fifteen years it has been disappearing under spider webs in a forgotten shed.
This is Perpignan !
In the shade of St Jean, the frozen forged iron banister takes you to the appartment where Georges Sand lived with Chopin between their trips back and forth to the Balearic. Furniture, panelling, hangings have all been protected by three outstanding women, who on top of that let a sandal wood scent dear to Georges Sand drift in the air.
And again and again. Southern love, Mediterranean spirit and the disliked but beneficial Tramontane wind to sweep the misdeeds of mediocrity away.
This is Perpignan !
Pierre Boulat
