While researching this topic myself, I came across a discussion thread http://voyageforum.com/voyage/est_t_il_possible_gagner_un_peu_argent_avec_tres_belles_photos_D2577539/ that I found a bit disheartening...
First off, I want to say that this recurring dream isn’t impossible:
http://www.pixfan.com/entretien-avec-eric-lafforgue/
That said, it won’t just fall into your lap by chance! ;-) Believe me, just because no degree is required doesn’t mean you can approach this project as an amateur.
You’ll need to be a technical expert, invest thousands of euros in gear and software, have a unique aesthetic vision, sharp business sense, and a rigorous approach at every stage of your work—because this *is* a profession. Without a minimum of commitment and professionalism, you won’t get far... But then again, other careers aren’t exactly easier...
So, for those who already have a portfolio that triggers uncontrollable gasps of wonder at every slide show at Aunt Monique’s place, here are some great places to test your determination and skills:
http://www.lonelyplanetimages.com/prospective_photographers
http://www.theimageworks.com/cu_prosphoto.php
http://www.pacificstock.com/photographer_guidelines.asp
For those who think they’ve already created some high-resolution masterpieces, you can also invest in internationally renowned competitions:
http://worldinfocuscontest.com/
http://www.tpoty.com/2009/about.html
http://www.thecolorawards.com/
http://journals.worldnomads.com/scholarships/post/32554.aspx
Finally, you might want to start by simply showcasing your work online at low cost and submitting your photos to a massive, not-always-agreeable-but-not-hostile audience for feedback:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/28421453@N07/sets/72157614525899920/
By the way, I hope you're already fluent in English...
Happy travels!
395 similar discussions in English
Hi everyone,
I’m Pierre, I’m 19, and I’m looking for a baker position in Canada—could you help me out, please?
I’m really passionate about this trade. I’ve been in it for 3 years now, including 1 year as a qualified worker.
I’ve got a huge thirst for knowledge, whether it’s in my job or discovering the world.
If you’ve got any questions, don’t hesitate—I’m not really sure how this works here! :)
Wednesday, April 1st
Hazaribagh I’ve got a meet-up with Adam Iman, a guide and painter. He picks me up from the hotel at 10 AM. Another traveler from Bangalore is supposed to join us, but while we wait for him to arrive, Adam takes me to see the paintings his mother and sister created at Hazaribagh station. The town became famous thanks to these murals, which can also be found in several surrounding villages. This art form has earned recognition and is now protected, a sign of its cultural importance. Once the visit is over, we go to pick up the other traveler and then head to our first village: Belwara, where Sohrai art is practiced. At the entrance, a sign proudly announces that we’re entering an artists’ village, where this art is created by women organized into micro-enterprises. Some even offer workshops for those who’d like to learn this tradition.
Sohrai art is tied to the harvest season, from October to mid-November. The motifs, in natural colors, celebrate fertility and abundance. The artists use pigments from the earth: red oxides, ochre, white kaolin, and black manganese. On the walls, you’ll see animals, fish, birds—all symbols of life and prosperity. As I look closer at the murals, I start to realize that each motif tells a story. Large animals like cows or bulls often take center stage. Their bodies are filled with intricate, almost hypnotic patterns. They symbolize wealth and prosperity for the household, as well as the deep respect for cattle, which are essential to daily life. On some facades, elephants stand out—massive and decorated with the same precision. They evoke quiet strength and protection. But it’s when I stop in front of one of the houses that I really take the time to look. The wall, a soft ochre, is entirely covered in murals. Two large animals stretch out on either side of the door, their elongated bodies fitting the length of the wall. Their silhouettes are filled with geometric patterns and incredibly fine curved lines, as if every space was patiently filled. Around them, stylized plants, flowers, and small decorative elements fill every gap. The door, dark and worn, becomes almost the silent center of the composition, framed by these living, protective forms. To the right, a more colorful motif catches the eye—a flower or a stylized lamp—like a touch of light on the earth. The whole thing gives an impression of perfect balance, between the rigor of the patterns and the freedom of the gesture.
Elsewhere, birds and freer forms bring movement. Peacocks, recognizable by their stylized silhouettes, embody beauty and vitality, while fish symbolize water, fertility, and the continuity of life.
On some paintings, the scenes become almost narrative: you can make out figures, everyday gestures, like a memory of the village inscribed in the walls. The decorative frames around the doors aren’t left to chance either—they symbolically protect the house, like a boundary between the inside and the outside world.
During the Sohrai festival, cattle are led into the jungle in the morning. Meanwhile, the women finish the *aripans*—these floor paintings—and continue the wall murals. Around noon, the animals return to the village, and the bulls’ horns are anointed with oil and vermilion in a gesture of gratitude, amid the vibrant colors adorning the houses. We visit several artists, including Parvat Devi, a well-known woman who has received many awards. Her arms are adorned with intriguing tattoos, which I’ll talk about in more detail later.
On another wall, the style changes completely. Here, no massive animals—just birds occupying the space, light and graceful, as if caught in mid-movement. Two silhouettes face each other, their long necks arched almost like mirrors, while their outstretched wings seem to vibrate with the patterns that compose them.
The design is more graphic, almost airy. The lines are smoother, more fluid, as if drawn in one confident stroke. The birds’ bodies aren’t solid—they’re filled with repetitive motifs like scales, stylized feathers, and spirals, giving a sense of continuous movement. Around them, everything comes to life: flowers burst open, arabesques swirl, and even the simplest shapes seem alive. What strikes me here is the sense of lightness. Where the large animals evoked stability and grounding, these birds bring something freer, almost joyful. They seem to embody movement, the circulation of life, like a breath flowing through the village.
The colors remain the same—deep reds, intense blacks, and chalky white—but the rhythm is different. Faster, more spontaneous. As if each wall had its own personality, while still speaking the same language.
That’s probably why I’m so moved. I’d heard about these paintings from my friend Raja, and last year, I saw an exhibition in a village near my home. That first encounter made me want to come here. But seeing them in person is a whole different experience. These paintings are unique. This ancient art is passed down from mother to daughter, or mother-in-law to daughter-in-law, in a quiet, deeply living continuity. At first glance, it might seem almost childlike in its simplicity and pared-down forms. And yet, everything is thought out, balanced, mastered. Nothing is left to chance.
That apparent simplicity, combined with such rich symbolism, touches me deeply. There’s something sincere and essential in these walls—and that’s what moves me.
Hazaribagh I’ve got a meet-up with Adam Iman, a guide and painter. He picks me up from the hotel at 10 AM. Another traveler from Bangalore is supposed to join us, but while we wait for him to arrive, Adam takes me to see the paintings his mother and sister created at Hazaribagh station. The town became famous thanks to these murals, which can also be found in several surrounding villages. This art form has earned recognition and is now protected, a sign of its cultural importance. Once the visit is over, we go to pick up the other traveler and then head to our first village: Belwara, where Sohrai art is practiced. At the entrance, a sign proudly announces that we’re entering an artists’ village, where this art is created by women organized into micro-enterprises. Some even offer workshops for those who’d like to learn this tradition.
Sohrai art is tied to the harvest season, from October to mid-November. The motifs, in natural colors, celebrate fertility and abundance. The artists use pigments from the earth: red oxides, ochre, white kaolin, and black manganese. On the walls, you’ll see animals, fish, birds—all symbols of life and prosperity. As I look closer at the murals, I start to realize that each motif tells a story. Large animals like cows or bulls often take center stage. Their bodies are filled with intricate, almost hypnotic patterns. They symbolize wealth and prosperity for the household, as well as the deep respect for cattle, which are essential to daily life. On some facades, elephants stand out—massive and decorated with the same precision. They evoke quiet strength and protection. But it’s when I stop in front of one of the houses that I really take the time to look. The wall, a soft ochre, is entirely covered in murals. Two large animals stretch out on either side of the door, their elongated bodies fitting the length of the wall. Their silhouettes are filled with geometric patterns and incredibly fine curved lines, as if every space was patiently filled. Around them, stylized plants, flowers, and small decorative elements fill every gap. The door, dark and worn, becomes almost the silent center of the composition, framed by these living, protective forms. To the right, a more colorful motif catches the eye—a flower or a stylized lamp—like a touch of light on the earth. The whole thing gives an impression of perfect balance, between the rigor of the patterns and the freedom of the gesture.
Elsewhere, birds and freer forms bring movement. Peacocks, recognizable by their stylized silhouettes, embody beauty and vitality, while fish symbolize water, fertility, and the continuity of life.
On some paintings, the scenes become almost narrative: you can make out figures, everyday gestures, like a memory of the village inscribed in the walls. The decorative frames around the doors aren’t left to chance either—they symbolically protect the house, like a boundary between the inside and the outside world.During the Sohrai festival, cattle are led into the jungle in the morning. Meanwhile, the women finish the *aripans*—these floor paintings—and continue the wall murals. Around noon, the animals return to the village, and the bulls’ horns are anointed with oil and vermilion in a gesture of gratitude, amid the vibrant colors adorning the houses. We visit several artists, including Parvat Devi, a well-known woman who has received many awards. Her arms are adorned with intriguing tattoos, which I’ll talk about in more detail later.
On another wall, the style changes completely. Here, no massive animals—just birds occupying the space, light and graceful, as if caught in mid-movement. Two silhouettes face each other, their long necks arched almost like mirrors, while their outstretched wings seem to vibrate with the patterns that compose them.
The design is more graphic, almost airy. The lines are smoother, more fluid, as if drawn in one confident stroke. The birds’ bodies aren’t solid—they’re filled with repetitive motifs like scales, stylized feathers, and spirals, giving a sense of continuous movement. Around them, everything comes to life: flowers burst open, arabesques swirl, and even the simplest shapes seem alive. What strikes me here is the sense of lightness. Where the large animals evoked stability and grounding, these birds bring something freer, almost joyful. They seem to embody movement, the circulation of life, like a breath flowing through the village.
The colors remain the same—deep reds, intense blacks, and chalky white—but the rhythm is different. Faster, more spontaneous. As if each wall had its own personality, while still speaking the same language.
That’s probably why I’m so moved. I’d heard about these paintings from my friend Raja, and last year, I saw an exhibition in a village near my home. That first encounter made me want to come here. But seeing them in person is a whole different experience. These paintings are unique. This ancient art is passed down from mother to daughter, or mother-in-law to daughter-in-law, in a quiet, deeply living continuity. At first glance, it might seem almost childlike in its simplicity and pared-down forms. And yet, everything is thought out, balanced, mastered. Nothing is left to chance.
That apparent simplicity, combined with such rich symbolism, touches me deeply. There’s something sincere and essential in these walls—and that’s what moves me.
Hello,
Back in February, I booked a flight with Air France-KLM from Lyon to San Diego with a layover in Amsterdam (flights operated by KLM). The flight is scheduled for late August. My Lyon→Amsterdam flight was canceled by KLM in June, and a replacement flight the evening before was booked for me. So, I’ll end up spending the night at Amsterdam Airport to catch my flight to San Diego the next morning.
Since the cancellation happened more than 14 days before departure, I know I’m not entitled to financial compensation (EU Regulation 261/2004). But am I entitled to reimbursement for a hotel night in Amsterdam?
Back in February, I booked a flight with Air France-KLM from Lyon to San Diego with a layover in Amsterdam (flights operated by KLM). The flight is scheduled for late August. My Lyon→Amsterdam flight was canceled by KLM in June, and a replacement flight the evening before was booked for me. So, I’ll end up spending the night at Amsterdam Airport to catch my flight to San Diego the next morning.
Since the cancellation happened more than 14 days before departure, I know I’m not entitled to financial compensation (EU Regulation 261/2004). But am I entitled to reimbursement for a hotel night in Amsterdam?
When it comes to the Caribbean island of Saint-Martin, it's customary to praise its coastline and dreamy beaches—and they certainly deserve it.
But in this story, I’d like to highlight other memories, aspects, and impressions for a slightly different change of scenery.
Enjoy the read—some text and, above all, lots of photos.
« Byenveni sou zile Sen Maten! » (Welcome to the island of Saint-Martin)-- -- Full and luminous To avoid seeming too conventional at the start of this alternative take on Saint-Martin... here’s not a stunning sunrise over the sea but rather a moonrise—a less "typical" choice. And when you get to witness it, it’s a truly unique moment of contemplation. However, three conditions are essential for this spectacle: a full moon phase, a cloud-free horizon, and—most importantly—a moonrise at twilight. That early evening, all the conditions aligned—lucky us! Just above the sea, a strange glow gradually appeared. A huge moon was about to shine against a deep blue night sky.
What’s more, its light sparkled on the water’s surface—gorgeous! But so fleeting. We’re on the east coast of the island, by the wide stretch of light sand at Baie Orientale, Saint-Martin’s own. Now, just because I wanted to start with something a little different doesn’t mean we should overlook the bright sunrises you can see on this bay. They’re far more common than a beautiful full moonrise, but they also require two things: being an early riser and a clear horizon without misty clouds. Views to soak in without restraint...
Other memories of beautiful lights and lovely colors—a morning when the sun had a brief meet-up with the rain, creating a stunning rainbow.
And let’s talk about the moon again... On a clear night, a "blood moon," the result of a lunar eclipse that had turned our familiar satellite red.
-- --
A butterfly with golden wings! In the tropics, swarms of butterflies flutter everywhere, from flower to flower. They sip the sweet nectar from stamens and blooming corollas with delight.
Here, a monarch, one of the great migratory butterflies, taking its time to enjoy the pollen of this Ixora coccinea—or Japanese hydrangea, but let’s stick to Saint-Martin.
This one is an *Agraulis vanillae*, to be precise—and thanks to the internet for the ID. Photographing them isn’t always easy; these fearless butterflies often fly off before you can get a good focus, challenging both the framing eye and the autofocus! But on the island, I noticed some butterflies were much easier to shoot—those decorating a few murals. ;)
One of the graffiti artists behind several Saint-Martin murals has made it his signature. The talented Jimmy Sheik slips a little butterfly into each of his works, even if it’s not the main subject. It’s a nod to his home island, Guadeloupe, whose territory—with Basse-Terre and Grande-Terre—looks uncannily like a giant butterfly. In the photo above, a great initiative: turning this beach bungalow, abandoned after Hurricane Irma’s (2017) devastation, into a mural canvas—it’s a real success. Well done, artist!
To be continued >>>>>>