Lost and Found in Translation

A non-French speaker in Paris is like a fish out of water that can order a crepe but will get the death stare while doing it.

Tu comprends?

That’s why, when I heard there would be a translator going with us to the market on Sunday, I jumped at the opportunity to get some good investigative work done. Coralie, our translator, transcends the limits of being, not only a Parisian, but a kind and thoughtful human being as well.

La crème de la crème.

Anyway, she accompanied us to the flea market at Porte de la Chapelle, the northernmost stop on the 12 metro line in Paris; not necessarily the most glamorous market, but one that would end up yielding a story with depth and humanity.

“Out of the flea market,” you say?

Mais bien sur.

However, in the process of attempting to dig up a story, I discovered what most journalists trying to do their job probably discover at one point or another…

It’s just not as easy as you hope it’s going to be.

First of all, I wanted to get some nice b-roll of the market without having to ask every single vendor if

1. they spoke English
2. it would be okay if I, a student from the United States, filmed their goods
3. it was okay that I was using the film for some larger purpose

So, I took the short cut and filmed whatever I wanted without consent. This resulted in vendors telling me not to film after I had already gotten the film I wanted and, in one instance, an artist almost physically accosting me after I had shot some of his art without his consent.

Is this appropriate? Is this the way it should be done?

I’m not sure. I think that’s the whole point. There is all this gray that we, as journalists, must constantly navigate. I didn’t feel completely comfortable shooting that artist’s work without asking him, but there is another part of me that is trained to think, “Shoot first; ask questions later.” And still another part of me that knew I had no intention of stealing his work; but rather which wanted to make art out of his art-to give his art more exposure than perhaps it would have ever received without my filming it.

This sounds presumptuous. It is presumptuous. At the same time, I don’t really know any other behavior.

Without trying to be too romantic, I think this is the American way. A shared experience-An artist who recognizes another artist. Uncertainty, exploitation. Trying hard to be better than you are. To be better than we all are as human beings.

Whether French or otherwise.