Gaëlle Hamalian-Testud in Armenia

Gaëlle Hamalian-Testud: Exploring Armenian Roots through Photography

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YEREVAN-BORDEAUX, France — French photographer Gaëlle Hamalian-Testud has been pursuing her artistic vision for more than 30 years, specializing in humanist, documentary and landscape photography. Since 2004, her work has been showcased in numerous exhibitions. Her photographic reports from Japan, Mexico and Vietnam have inspired several acclaimed exhibitions. Hamalian-Testud has also collaborated with the Opéra National de Bordeaux, producing series such as Meeting the Artist and Behind the Scenes, which offer intimate insights into the world of opera. In the spring of 2015, she presented a series of photographs documenting Armenia as part of the Arménie(s) event at the Musée d’Aquitaine in Bordeaux. Her creative pursuits have since expanded into co-writing and co-directing films, broadening her artistic horizons even further.

Dear Gaëlle, some photographers keep their first cameras and photographs as treasured memories. Have you kept yours?

For my 11th birthday, my father offered me a choice between two gifts: a small camera or a watch. Without knowing the deeper reason, I chose the camera: an Instamatic. I used it until the end of my teenage years, though it didn’t accompany me into adulthood. A vintage 6×6 Hasselblad quickly took over, marking the beginnings of a sense of artistic fulfillment. That camera is the dearest to me, like a jewel, the one I will always cherish.

Henri Cartier-Bresson once said, “Your first 1,000 photographs are your worst.” Would you say this was true in your case?

Henri Cartier-Bresson was undoubtedly aware of his artistic aspirations very early on and knew how to explore them from the start. As for me, the unconscious worked for a long time. Being self-taught in photography, I have always struggled to grant myself legitimacy in this art. It was precisely the famous first 1,000 photos that sparked my need to express myself through this medium. Even though I found most of them to be poor, they nonetheless developed my aesthetic sense. I recall one image, just one, that I finally considered successful and that gave me a sense of satisfaction. It was through this that the art of photography began to reveal itself to me, eventually becoming an essential means of expression for my balance.

The Opéra National de Bordeaux has given you carte blanche on several occasions, allowing you to create intimate portraits and explore behind-the-scenes moments. What was it like to immerse yourself in the world of opera?

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It is an extraordinary privilege that the Bordeaux Opera has entrusted me on multiple occasions to photograph the women and men working behind the scenes, whose rare skills contribute to the success of the performances. My approach begins with meeting several of them, asking questions about their craft and their daily lives within the opera. Their desire to share their work and leave a lasting trace is often strong.

Then, I wander through the opera for quite long periods, immersing myself in their world. I take photos gradually, as people become accustomed to and comfortable with my presence. Of course, I photograph the artists during their individual and collective rehearsals, capturing their moments of intimacy, concentration, and connection before the performances, but also occasionally their emotions after the shows. I place just as much importance on highlighting the work of the seamstresses, prop makers, technicians, and all the other artisans who work in the shadows of the stage.

However, I imagine documenting “terra incognitas” must be even more exhilarating. Could you share insights about your “Ảnh đời” (Images of Life) exhibition on Vietnam and other international photography projects?

Wherever I am, no matter the place or time, my need to observe and connect with people remains as strong as ever. However, traveling elsewhere to photograph, stepping outside of myself, and immersing myself in cultures far removed from my own has always proven to be a deeply introspective experience.

I have no ethnological expertise, yet it is in the everyday lives of people that I find my greatest inspiration and joy. For instance, it was strangely during my first reportage in minority villages in Vietnam that the need to explore my Armenian roots emerged. Similarly, while working on a project in Mexican cemeteries, my urgency to delve into life itself took on a profound significance.

These works have been exhibited in several French cities, including Paris and Bordeaux, at the Musée d’Aquitaine.

Gaëlle Hamalian-Testud

Once you mentioned that your exhibition, “Hayastan. Thoughts of Armenia,” was inspired by your second visit to Armenia — a journey both to explore your roots and to let go of a burdensome past. Do you feel you achieved that?

I did not find any trace of my ancestors or family in Armenia that could have shed light on my roots. Nevertheless, the time spent observing Armenians and sharing in their daily lives contributed to my personal growth.

I came to understand that the unique aspects of my character, my way of living, my doubts, and my joy did not stem solely from my life experiences but were largely imprinted in my genes — like a memory carried by the body. This realization breathed new life into my artistic inspiration.

I’ve known two remarkable Hamalians from the Armenian diaspora: Leo Hamalian, an editor from the US, and Sona Hamalian, a humanitarian and educator from Syria-USA-Armenia, both now deceased. Could you tell me where your Armenian ancestors hail from?

A priori, these two individuals, whose remarkable human commitment is evident, unfortunately, are not part of my family.

My paternal grandfather, Hagop Hamalian, was born in Urfa. His parents were murdered before his eyes during the genocide of 1915. He was only 11 years old when he began the path of exile. My grandmother, Vartanouche Derderian, born in Malatia, fled the massacres with her mother and siblings at the same age as my grandfather.

My grandparents met in Paris as adults. They had three children, including my father.

I’m excited to hear about your collaboration with my friend, filmmaker Hakob Melkonyan, on the documentary film “Seuls,”which is set for release in early 2025. Could you tell us more about this project?

Hakob Melkonyan is such a dear friend that my bond with him feels almost familial. About 10 years ago, as he was discovering my photographs of Armenia at an exhibition, he proposed that we make a film together. At the time, I laughed, wondering what I could possibly contribute to a filmmaker! He had told me that we shared the same perspective on humanity.

At that time, I had embarked on an identity quest exploring my Armenian roots through photography. After many discussions between the two of us, we decided to write and co-direct a documentary film. It would follow a female photographer retracing her paternal grandfather’s past in Armenia after the genocide of 1915. Being a native of Armenia, Hakob had the cultural knowledge and expertise to guide me through this project.

We traveled several times for scouting trips with only one clue about my grandfather’s period of exile: the name of an orphanage where he had lived in northern Armenia — in Gyumri. Once there, our encounter with a child profoundly altered the direction of our film’s narrative. Instead of solely uncovering traces of the past, we were confronted with the chaotic present.

The making of this film demanded a profound emotional commitment, an ongoing internal dialogue that felt like a cathartic exploration, as well as the flexibility to meet creative demands. My collaboration with Hakob Melkonyan was both incredibly enriching and effective, thanks to our complementary skills and consistently aligned sensitivities.

The release of “Seuls” is scheduled for this year in international film festivals.

This extraordinary experience has opened up new avenues for me to explore in film writing and creation.

 

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