Pablo Saavedra de Decker: “My Mother Hated War”

The exhibition “Marie-Laure de Decker, a Look at Current Events” at the Maison Européenne de la Photographie in Paris highlights the work of this photographer, who died in 2023.

She photographed the side-effects of the 20th century conflicts, from Vietnam to apartheid in South Africa, via Pinochet’s Chile, Chad, and Bosnia. Also featured are her portraits of celebrities: Valéry Giscard d’Estaing in his living room, Marcel Duchamp playing chess in Cadaqués, and Catherine Deneuve dozing in the back of a car.

Her son, Pablo Saavedra de Decker, played a key role in this retrospective, sorting through hundreds of thousands of negatives to revive his mother’s commitment and give her the place she deserves in the history of photography. Out of love, too.

Blind interviewed him on the occasion of the exhibition.

Before you started promoting your mother’s photographic collection, what was your personal connection with photography? 

Pablo Saavedra de Decker: My mother never encouraged me to take photos. In the 2000s, with the arrival of digital technology, she told me: “Don’t do this job, it’s changed.” At a fairly young age, I understood that following the same path as a relative who had excelled in their field could be dangerous, unless you had that same job passion in your guts. I didn’t have that appetite, even though I like to take photos as an amateur.

How did you experience balancing her demanding career with family life? 

Marie-Laure wasn’t well-known to the general public at the time, although she was highly respected by a select circle of photographers. So her fame didn’t affect me. What was unique was that she took me on assignments from a very young age. We traveled together to South Africa during apartheid, to Tanzania, to Lapland, to Indonesia, and to Chad, where we met the Wodaabe, a magnificent nomadic people who have now disappeared. My mother didn’t just bring me into the world; she showed me the world.

What memories do you have of these trips? 

A mixture of joy and fear. These journeys were exhausting. In Chad, we had to walk for weeks in the dusty savannah, crossing the bush. Marie-Laure and I were often sick; we took turns catching malaria, but we took care of each other. It brought us much closer.

What was your role on the field?

I was her assistant, carrying her bags, charging her cameras, holding the reflector, and looking out for her. Sometimes that meant protecting her, like during an altercation with a man who absolutely didn’t want to be photographed and wanted to hit her. I had to step in to defend her. Another time, still in Chad, we were hit head-on by a racehorse that charged into the crowd. It fell on her camera, breaking a rib. It was my duty to protect her.

You never hesitated to accompany her on assignment, despite the difficulties? 

No, those trips were extraordinary. I realize now how lucky I was to have been able to meet these magnificent people. I never refused to accompany her, until the birth of my son. After that, I had other responsibilities. Marie-Laure continued to travel with my little brother, Balthazar, until her serious car accident in 2007. She was then on dialysis until her death in 2023.

How would you describe your mother’s personality?

Marie-Laure was a totally original personality! They closed the factory she was made in, they don’t make human beings like that anymore (laughs). She was full of life, full of color. Very demanding too. She was always fighting against something. Against the cowardice of everyday life. Against stupidity. She was also a great storyteller. She knew how to captivate a table of 20 people with her travel anecdotes. Everyone listened, speechless, to the improbable adventures of this woman who stood out. She loved humor. And she was always very chic, naturally elegant. She often dressed in Indian style.

This presence is reflected in her portraits… 

Absolutely. She saw the dignity and beauty of people. Her piercing gaze, her very green eyes, allowed her to capture the souls of the people she photographed. People felt naked in front of her. 

She was also a very loving person, right?

Her demonstrations of love were memorable! When we were children, when I left for school in the morning with my little brother Balthazar, from the top of the 5th floor, she threw rose petals that she had planted on the balcony, so that our path would be paved with flower petals.

Which photos or series touch you the most? 

Her photos of Chad are sublime. Her work on South Africa also particularly touches me because I was able to see, with my own eyes, the violence of apartheid that she denounces in her photographs. The memory of one man, in particular, comes back to me. We were having lunch in a restaurant outside when an old man who lived on the street came to ask us for money. We gave him some, of course, and Marie-Laure invited him to sit with us. We had lunch together, he told us his story and said, “Look what my boss did to me.” He lifted his shirt and showed us his back, which was lacerated with whip scars. That marks a child’s eyes forever…

Other women photographers have covered conflicts: Gerda Taro, who didn’t hesitate to show photos of corpses; Lee Miller, who sometimes resorted to cynical staging to provoke a reaction in the viewer; or Catherine Leroy, who showed the action of combat. What distinguishes Marie-Laure de Decker from them? 

She chose never to profit from the suffering of others. Her strong personal ethics forbade her from making money off the back of someone dying before her eyes. She never showed violence or blood straight ahead. She preferred to capture the beauty of men, not the ugliness of war. Her approach was profoundly human, centered on the stories and faces of the people she met. Hence a sense of nobility and gentleness in her images.

Your mother rejected the term war photographer. Why?
 
She didn’t like being pigeonholed. Although she covered many conflicts, she was first and foremost a photographer. My mother hated war and wanted to show humanity in all its dignity. Her good friend, the photographer Noël Quidu, was on the front lines in the field. He was obliged to show the horror to move public opinion. Marie-Laure thought that was great to do. But she took a different path, aligned with her personal philosophy. 

You appear as a child in several of your mother’s photos. What can you tell us about these photographs? 

Childhood is a central theme in her work. These photographs remind me of Sally Mann’s work, even though they weren’t taken with a photographic chamber. Marie-Laure loved the freedom and joy that childhood represents. She took many family photos, funny and lighthearted. Of my cousins, of me, of my brother. Her photos of children are naturally graceful, very pure. She also took many animal photographs that were not shown at all. 

How do you and your brother share the tasks of managing your mother’s assets? 

My brother, Balthazar [son of the great criminal lawyer Thierry Lévy], takes care of the legal and administrative aspects. For my part, I took care of the images. It started during the confinement that I spent in the Tarn, alongside my mother. Out of idleness, since I could no longer practice my profession [as a DJ, dancer and performer], I began to sort through his archives. Until I realized that his work represented a heritage treasure!

Was your mother aware of the value of her work? 

She didn’t care. She wasn’t interested in fame. I’m often asked, “Why wasn’t your mother more famous than that?”. But it’s hard work to be famous! You have to be in the right place at the right time, attend the right opening, shake hands, be diplomatic. All the things she hated. She had a strong character, which is often seen as a quality in men, but strangely never in women. And she didn’t like to compromise. Paradoxically, she was also saddened by having to fight to try to make a living from her photographs. She suffered a lot of humiliation.

When did she distance herself from the world of photography?

When she returned to France after the Bosnian War, she was deeply affected by the violence of the war. She then decided to leave Paris and move to the Tarn region, to the countryside, far from the conflicts. Her photographs became more bucolic. She was happy there.

Did she encourage you to manage her archive? 

At first, she was skeptical. She said to me, “Good luck, my boy.” But when I started selling her photos, she saw that things were moving in a good direction. I think she secretly dreamed of me being her agent. I realized later that it was my mission to give my mother the place she was unable to create for herself during her lifetime.

You also plan to publish her autobiography at the end of 2026. What can you tell us about it? 

Marie-Laure had an extraordinary life. Her autobiography is magnificent and incredibly romantic. Her life is worthy of a movie! Her experience in Vietnam is a mix of Apocalypse Now and The Killing Fields. In Chad, it’s like reliving the adventures of Lawrence of Arabia. And that’s how it is! Each of her trips has an epic dimension, whether it’s to Chile, South Africa, or India. She took her chance, again and again. She was well rewarded because she died relatively old considering her journey.

What are the next steps to promote her work? 

We are at the beginning of a cycle of recognition for Marie-Laure. The exhibition at the MEP is just a start. In addition to the publication of her autobiography and the organization of other exhibitions, I am looking for the right person who will have the ambition, talent, and desire to show Marie-Laure’s life in a documentary. Not in 52 minutes, but in a segmented way to tell the whole story of this incredible woman. I would also like to have a biopic about her released within ten years. All the material is there. It’s a godsend! This is a way for me to resurrect my mother.

You are a bridge between your mother and the new generation. What message do you want to convey? 

I want to give Marie-Laure the place she deserves in the history of photography. It is vital to highlight inspiring figures for young girls like my daughter Nîn, who is 13. I believe the time for women to be recognized has finally come. By sharing my mother’s work and life, her courage and freedom, I hope to inspire young women to believe in their dreams: “If Marie-Laure can do it, then so can I!”

The exhibition “Marie-Laure de Decker — The Image as Commitment” is on display until September 28, 2025 at the Maison Européenne de la Photographie.