summer in paris
PHOTOGRAPHY INSPIRED POETRY COMPETITION
FINALISTS
Kristin Sanders
A Review of Your Summer Vacation
I saw the photo of your summer vacation and I succumbed. To jealousy, to grief, drowning in the bronze beauty of it all. I mean I was impressed. I saw the pile of tan limbs framed and felt sad to be here, freckled pale and alone in Paris. You were happy and I was happy for you. Within weeks I’d be whisked off to my own trip, posting nearly nude mirror selfies for proof, my own limbs later sandwiched against a man who even bought my flight. I’d be happy, I think. But it isn’t the same is it, something about being young on a trip with friends, I haven’t done it in years. And even then, we didn’t look like that. What I understand about life is that someone always has what you think you want. And you are always getting what you believe you deserve. I do have friends, but not the way this photo shows: like night sequins sparkling and daytime touching skin to skin, glowing in the heat. I do have love, but not the way we expect: a wedding, being a wife, knowing the answer to why are you here on this hot continent and not your own, cold in the AC, comfortable?
Vicky Farschon
Chaise : PuissanTe – Seule – Cou sur pattes
Seuil – Seule qui puisse Hanter mon soleil vert d’été. Ce soleil d’herbe coupée. Cet été Relocate, cartonné, mouvementé, imbibé de départ, d’arrivée.
CHAISE : Chante des berceuses, Se nourrit de la Terre, Pieds de fer enracinés, Nous tourne le dos, se laisse admirer.
VANITEUSE !
Bleue comme une herbe Vénusienne.
Vinyle – Mélaminé, comme dans la cuisine de mes Ainés.
J’lai bien connu cette Chaise, Chez moi, petite j’y devenais Grande déjà.
ÉGOïSTE ce trône se repose dans la nature, il fredonne un Prévert métallique vibrant dans sa chair. Chair. The Chair. This Chair. Chair de chaise.
Couple de signes, paille d’or, l’herbe chante une mesure – Frichement – poussée.
Au premier plan « La Chaise » ne sert à rien. Tout est vain.
En plan serré « La chaise » ne sert personne. Tout résonne.
Chaise corps qui me porte, me dévore. Rien ne sert à la chaise. Rien ne sert. Tout
m’oppresse - Cet été parisien comme les étés Prussiens. Rien ne serre, sauf son corps
sur la chaise qui enlace le mien.
C’est l’été à Paris, Amour frais de canicule, de ma bouche coule des envies, la distance me les ravit.
Assis ou debout sur sa chaise.
Absent Présent
à son aise
DISPARU
L’important n’est pas la chaise, sujet qui ne vaut rien, l’important c’est le refrain de ce matin d’été volatile et fugace qui m’a lié dans la fiction d’une réalité où vingt-quatre heures d’une éternité ont passées.
AMANDA MURPHY
To say you love Paris in the summer is like saying you love breathing
unless you are allergic to the specific mix of lipstick & grime
or to girls kissing on the banks of the canal at midnight
or to the eclipse of the color black
the uniform worn every day except the days
between June 1st and August 31st when it’s skin:
knees & belly buttons
collar bones & napes under messy buns
the grime is still there but honeyed by a lighter air
toes come with rings & picnic park dust
plastic cups & tired limes laze in gutters
broken birds peck old baguettes & cherry pits
sunrise trashmen rinse the smell of stale beer &
“I don’t wanna go home” into cobblestone cracks
clear the way for one last kiss before the doors close
one last breath of night
before the clink of spoons on zinc
petrichor & warm butter
Martina ziegenfuss
Sit straight.
Don’t slouch.
Do you want to grow old all hunched over?
Do you want to grow old?
Do you?
Surrounded by wild grasses, wild life
Water moving all around your feet.
Maybe you will jump in.
But you sit
Back straight
In that chair.
Afraid of who will notice that gradual
Curve turning you into
A question mark.
It happened.
You thought you were going to swim in this blue field
In this blue water
In this blue
How could you even consider it?
You’ll turn into that broken back fish
We pulled from the stream.
The one that refused to swim straight.
That’s what will happen if you don’t sit straight.
That’s what will happen.
You cannot bend to the whims of these
Tangled branches.
Stand up.
mitalee mehta
a fever dream
the canicule, you, me, the canals
you couldn’t tell my sweat from my tears
you reached for my hand, I was flushed with Winter
I reached for yours, you looked back at Spring
instead we lingered over sunset Chablis
telling our little jokes &
turning our laughs into souvenirs
of the last time we saw each other
YANN ROUSSELOT
They left the city parks open all night
from Boulogne to Vincennes,
from Luxembourg to La Villette.
They left empty pastel chairs,
picnic blankets with corners tucked into the earth,
oily threads of fat pulled from cured meats,
dog ends and bottle caps. We left
beads of sweat in the grass to mingle with the dew,
our names scored into the bark of every ash and oak,
our worries and desires
tinkling with all the other broken glass in the bins.
I left my lover without a drop of water
baking on the platform at gare Saint-Lazare
waiting for a train unfit to run
steel tracks that had expanded in the heat—
expanding like the rest of us,
reaching for things we had learned to forget
just to get through the winter.
We left the fans on overnight
dreaming of white noise,
the empty chairs now draped with damp linen.
Left the sun to its own devices.
Left the apocalypse for another day
as the song and dance of Paris went on,
murmuring to the moon,
oblivious to its own mortality.
Samuel Lopez-barrantez
Giorgio never considered
his fortune that first day in Ithaca,
legs tangled beneath an Ionian sun
with three empresses and a king.
Much of Ancient Greek wisdom has been forgotten,
words inscribed in the Land of Delphi:
know thyself is all well and good
so long as thyself is not drowned in drink;
nothing in excess is a fine way to be—
hard to sip ouzo in moderation—
but beware of emotional excess,
particularly pride, envy, and grief.
Giorgio spoke from his chest but not his heart
as he recounted his dreams
for the third maxim at Apollo’s Temple
is the most elusive, an amphibian of sorts:
certainty is ruin,
make no promises you can’t keep.
With ouzo eyes in the Land of Icarus
and tan skin baking beneath
Giorgio hurried his journey to Ithaca,
squandering the moment
with three empresses and a king.
featured photographers
POETRY COMPETITION PHOTO SELECTION
Joseph Calvo
Joseph Calvo is a Paris-based portrait and fashion photographer known for clean, expressive imagery that blends elegance and edge. His work captures character, style, and emotion with precision and calm direction.
“My goal is to show the inherent qualities of a person that comprise their humanity. I create an environment in which one can shed the façade the world expects and connect to their true selves.”
Natacha gonzalez
Franco-Barbadian photographer living in Paris, Natacha has spent over 13 years documenting institutions, cultural organizations, businesses, and creative communities. Her work is shaped by a cross-cultural perspective and a deep interest in the people, relationships, and environments that bring stories to life.
“For me, photography is about connection: meeting people, sharing a moment, and creating images that feel alive.”
Hugo Jouxtel
Born in 1987, Hugo Jouxtel is a Paris-based director and photographer known for capturing live music in urban spaces. Blending documentary instinct with analog-inspired textures, his work explores the fragile line between fiction and reality, revealing something fleeting, uncanny, and quietly true.
“As a child, the word "photorealism" thrilled me. Since then I have unconsciously been chasing this striking "impression of reality" better mastered by the surrealists. To borrow from Robert Bresson, I only try to "show what, without [me], might never have been seen.”
Tanguy Mendrisse
Tanguy Mendrisse is a photographer born into a lineage of artists. As the third generation to carry on his family’s creative legacy, he runs a generational art gallery and works across film, portrait, landscape, still life, and street photography with a distinct artistic vision.
“Looking for creations is about searching for yourself and the most important thing is not the destination, it's the journey.”
AUGUSTA SAGNELLI
Augusta Sagnelli is a professional photographer with over ten years of experience servicing an international clientele from boutique businesses to globally recognized brands. Her attention to detail, intuition, and care for the photoshoot experience sets her apart from most other photographers.
“I give a lot to my clients both through my technical abilities but even more so, through my emotional and intuitive ability to understand them, their vision, their goals of their photo session.”