Robin Taudevin

Robin's Fund and Exhibitions

2007-02-27T14:33:00.000Z

Robin's Fund is now up and running exhibitions around the country. Click here for current dates and venues and info on Robin's Fund.

This blog remains a memorial blog.

'The deeper sorrow carves into your soul, the greater joy it can contain'
Kahil Gibran

2006-08-01T15:10:00.000Z

The Celebration photos

2006-07-31T10:31:00.000Z

The Set Up

2006-07-31T10:26:00.000Z

The Ashes

2006-07-31T10:23:00.000Z

The Dropzone

2006-07-31T10:18:00.000Z

Team Meeting Photos

2006-07-31T10:07:00.001Z

The Celebration

2006-07-26T15:22:00.000Z

I hadn't latched onto the idea of the 22nd being a Celebration rather than a Memorial until the very day itself. I had literally slept, eaten, drunk Memorial since the end of the exhibition in Glasgow.

A few notes to those of you who ever have the misfortune to be in the same position.

1. Don't order your photographs of your loved one online...
2. Don't order 18 packets of blu tack from Viking Direct - they lie! - They do not deliver within 3-5 days.
3. Do take liquid (or tablet form) Velerina. It won't chill you out completely but it may stop you climbing the walls.
4. You are actually allowed to enjoy yourself.
5. Do have....TEAMS!

Mum and I went up to Glasgow on the Wednesday and took some time out on the Thursday night to attend a peace vigil in Georges Square to think of those mothers and sisters devastated by loss but totally ignored by our country.

Then Friday came and it was all stations go. We had between 15 and 20 friends and family arriving in the afternoon for the initial TEAM MEETING.

Our Teams were:

Team Chairs (the definite winners...what? It wasn't a competition??), Team 12:00, Team Plan B, Team Technical Support, Team Sound System and many more. My Aunt Nella was the DJ and a mighty good one at that and four of my Boy-cousins were The Ushers.

So we all piled into my cousin Una's house with wine and tea and strawberries for our team meeting. As hideous as the situation was, it was actually fun! I was reminded of Timor, back in those first horrific days of our new life, how, despite the trauma, we enjoyed ourselves. A huge thanks to Ian and Olly Green for providing the innovative and often ridiculous ways of making us accomplish this task! Human survival is a splendid thing.

The next morning, my alarm went at half six after lying awake all night in that paralyzed and exhausted state of Worry. Cup of Kenco and I trudged up to mum and Bree and Laurie's hotel. Laurie drove us out of a gloriously sunlit Glasgow morning towards Strathallan and the closer we got to the drop zone, the closer the cloud came down to us. It was hard to differentiate the relief from the disappointment as Bree and I realized we were unlikely to jump. We did, however, pass a countryside show with Vintage Tractors.

I did my first tandem at the Strathallan dropzone with Robin when I was 18. We spent most of the day watching Star trek waiting to get up in the air. The dropzone is etched in my memory but unfortunately the route there was not! But arrive we did and carried the urn in its green Save the Earth shopping bag into the dropzone where Robin had spend so many of his weekends at university.

My eyes felt like holes in my head I was so tired and as more of the Watch the Skydive team arrived the more I was dreading both doing it or not doing it. Bree and I went in for the tandem brief. I was overcome as I walked into the hanger. Robin was everywhere. I can still feel us laughing as we gripped hands at 10,000 feet plummeting to earth, my golden brother breaking away to leave me and the instructor to waft down to earth as a dandelion clock on the wind. So silent. So free. So long ago.

As we left our briefing Bree and I knew we weren't going to do have the time to jump. The cloud was low and there were at least 10 other tandemers ahead of us. Kieran, who had been helping me organize this part of the event, explained that the cloud meant even the ashes wouldn't be what we had hoped. Because the cloud was so low, the plane had to fly at a height that would have been dangerous for us to be inside with the door open. Instead of mum, Bree and I going up in the plane and doing it ourselves, an experienced skydiver had to do it and we would all stay on the landing strip. We agreed - as long as I got to drive the buggy!

Kieran then came back with our next options. He could fly the plane so slowly it would be like it was hanging in the air, or he could fly past at 100 miles per hour. What a silly question.

One of Robin's skydiving buddies, Gerry, came with his son and told us of their base jumping antics and the time when he and Robin rescued a man, Tom Houlton who had crashed onto land. Robin and Gerry swam out to him and literally brought him back to life. Afterwards, Robin had said to Gerry "I think we need to reassess our base-jumping careers, Gerry." I had heard of this story before but never with the full details as Robin never was one to blow his own horn. It was such a delight to have Gerry a part of our group.

So out we went, Bree and I in the buggy. Following us: Our family: Nella, Ruth, Emily, Bill, Jen, Bert, Sam, Joe, Lee, Anne, Laurie; Robin's friends from JIS: Peter, Nat, Adam, Clay, Tristan, Shehriyar traipsing out to the centre of the landing strip. As we stood and waited for the plane to take off I felt that my soul would burst. The enormity of what was happening was too much to take in. For the first time, my brother's death was real to me.

He isn't coming back.

The plane took off, zoomed up and around us and then along above the landing strip and a puff of dark ash broke out of the back of the plane and hung in the air for a moment.

I first saw Robin's ashes back in Timor. I had been having a jet-lag afternoon sleep when he arrived in the urn and mum brought him into our room and left him by my bed. When I woke I saw the bag and knew what it was. I opened the bolts and saw inside a knotted plastic bag. You know when spices like cumin or turmeric get slightly stuck together and you can't resist the urge to break the clusters apart with your fingernail through the plastic? I instinctively tried to do that. But then I realized the clusters must have been bone.

Standing under the low cloud in Strathallan, it seemed fitting that there should be no one place totally synonymous with Robin. He was part of the sea, the sky, the land now ... and a tiny little bit of him inside the miniature urn around my neck. They say that to Live is to Let Go. I guess I'm working on living then.

So, all stations go back to Glasgow to set up the celebration. On the journey back I could barely move. How would I make it through the day? So paralyzed with exhaustion and fear. But I jumped out on Great Western Road and the adrenalin kicked in (with a little help from Red Bull - ick!)

Blu Tack crisis, starvation and exhaustion, sofas or benches (what a dilemma) aside, everything worked like clockwork. The Glasgow University Union Reading Room was perfect. It was intimate and warm. Big and airy. It was so fitting that Robin's goodbye to the UK should be held at Robin's university.

The night before I had drifted in and out of troubled sleep filled with white blooms and Robin's big hair of his teenage days. My dear cousin Una ran out to get us white blooms which the ladies pinned in their hair - a small reminder of East Timor.

At 2.45 DJ Nella hit the play button on the MacDonald sisters, my handsome cousins started to "ush" and the room filled. We held off kick-off until half three as there was a Rangers Game affecting the Glasgow traffic and several people were racing to get to us including Roddy who ferried/drove-foot-down all the way from Stornoway that day to remember Robin and John who looked like he hadn't bothered with the bus and decided to run all the way from Skye.

Over 100 people came. Friends, family, colleagues (and an MSP who remained incognito).

Mum welcomed everyone. She is so gracious and so beautiful. The nationalities represented and the distances traveled of the people gathered that day to remember Robin reminded her of the famous words of John Donne
"No man is an island, entire of itself;
every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main;
if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less...
any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind"
She then introduced her brother Bill.

Bill read a chronology of Robin's life. Watching my mother's brother be so moved by the tragedy that has come to our family, I thought of the complexity and depth of a relationship between siblings. I am sure it is a different experience for all; but it is a relationship unlike any other and to be cherished.

After Robin's Timor Funeral, mum came back to the UK to see my London performance of Lord of the Flies. Our dear family friend, Meryl, who couldn't be with us at the Celebration, told mum she had watched mum walk into the room with her brother and her sister on either side. Meryl said if anything like this ever happens to her, she would want her brother and sister right where Nella and Bill had been.

Towards the end of the chronology, Bill talked of Robin's annual visits to his ancestral home in Lewis and introduced a recording of his cousin Kathleen MacDonald singing 'Nuair bhios mi leam fhein. There is something about the Gaelic that strikes a chord in those who listen whether they understand the words or not. I could hear my cousins Una and Jen catching their breaths as their lungs collapsed with sobs, but mum and I just held each other, the tears running silent and salty.

Bill then introduced my cousin Una. She told the story of Robin's first blizzard. Her walking with her back to the wind and snow, covered up but for her eyes for sheer necessity (sight!) and Robin, walking headlong into the wind, jacket off, ripped t-shirt, arms spread open experiencing his first blizzard. Robin. Our cousin and brother and son and nephew and friend. Facing life head-on.

Then Peter De Jonge from JIS days, who had Robin as his best man at his wedding to lovely Nat. Pete read a Spike Milligan poem about a Kangaroo. He ended with Milligan's words which just sum it all up. "If life is a game of cards, somebody's cheating."

And then my best friend Em. Sister of Robin's best friend Olly, daughter and son of our bestest bestest bestest friends, Ruth and Ian Green. Em did a PowerPoint presentation on waste management.

I jest. Em gave a lovely power point presentation on the connection between the Toads and The Greens and 3 key places - Kotok, Sambolo and Oxford. She had photos of the various places. She told the story of a helicopter searching Robin out on the meadow in Oxford after an incident with fireworks and the helicopter hovering over Robin who was hiding, and saying through the loud speaker "Robin, come out of the bush." She told it brilliantly. Em finished with a photo of Robin reading his book upside down through binoculars. Olly featured in lots of the photos.

Em then introduced Galuh who had worked with Robin for the Truth and Friendship and Reconciliation (have I got it right?) Commission for East Timor. Galuh is Indonesian and talked us through the Islamic tradition of marking certain days after somebody's passing. She remembered her work with Robin and his dedication to such a difficult and delicate task. She finished by asking Robin on the 100th(ish) day to go free.

I then read my father's eulogy. I hadn't anticipated this task to be so difficult.
I include it here:

Ten years ago when I headed the AusAID projects in
East Timor, Robin would visit me. Then he was known as
my son. Since then, when I visit East Timor, I am
known as Robin’s father. And that makes me immensely
proud.
Robin lived life to the full. In his 29 years, he did
more, achieved more, and gave more than a thousand
people. He was totally focused on everything he did.
He became so obsessed about issues and projects that
he was oblivious to “normal” demands. This “living on
the edge” philosophy lead to his death. I am told
there was no trauma. Death was a simple transition
from consciousness to sleep.
Robin was no ordinary person. He was a man of
conviction. He was a man of passionate ideals. He was
a man who had little time for the frivolous. He was
moody. Angry. Quiet. He was direct. Explosive. And he
was loving. Thoughtful. And focused on what mattered.
He and Ally were very close. At times, they both
exploded. I remember a confrontation they had at
Tacitolu in Indonesian days when Allison became
emotional over the treatment of a sloth she saw in
terrible conditions at an exhibition. Robin was
infuriated at the expanding atrocities of the time.
They yelled at each other. Both were right in their
passions. But being confrontational was Robin’s
character, and if the issue you were concerned with
was not worthy of his agenda, the bulldozer in him
took over and – on this occasion - faced the opposing
bulldozer in Allison. That admirable quality they got
from Noreen. The concensus building they got from me.
His insights and knowledge were formidable. Pity help
you if you expressed some half baked comment on an
issue. I valued his opinion. I would seek it often.
His modus operandi was to respond dramatically with a
full frontal attack, then calm down and explain in the
minutest detail why he thought I was a moron, a galoot
or an imbecile.
His nicknames for those he loved were inspired by his
love of extreme humour Ally was Snot. Noreen was
Boot. Bree was fish. Me? I’ve already listed some.
How can we cope with the enormity of his death. Let me
use Robin’s words when describing his photography.
“I am interested in what is momentary and fleeting. I
am constantly chasing gesture and physical exchange,
and trying to find ways to chronicle the day to day
interactions between people that enable a society to
function. I am trying to learn how to use photography
to record significant themes by looking at seemingly
insignificant actions. I am excited by photographs and
endlessly interested in my own work despite repeated
failures. Over and over I will try something and fail,
creating sketches, ideas that are works in progress.
Occasionally, eventually these ideas work and come out
as photographs that have some sophistication and are
able to communicate something beyond the superficial.”
Robin’s life was a work in progress. He leaves us but
he leaves a legacy. He certainly achieved something
beyond the superficial – his contribution to many
issues, including Timor, had an impact that will
remain, as will his memory.
Obrigado barak, Robin.
We miss you.

I then introduced the one and only Bree. She read a poem so intimate and moving it challenged us all to accept and understand Robin's passing. and then she sang. I still hear her singing and her words because I too know Robin will stop me from falling towards the bottom. For the first time I really saw the woman who my brother fell in love with. And through her words, I saw the man that she had fallen in love with - my brother. A different man from the one I knew. Not completely different, but different.

And then Jamie O'Neil. This may be a new name for many of you. I met Jamie at the Positive Action in Housing memorial for Robin on the 23rd of June at Robin's permanent exhibition in their offices. I was so struck by Jamie's promise and strength and how Robin's photograph of Saida Vucaj's bedroom after she had been deported had inspired Jamie to do what he could to help the asylum seekers of Glasgow. Jamie's contribution to the day was magical. So natural and so unassuming. He is a young lad with a bright, bright future. I know many people in the room thought the same and though he never mentioned him to me, I am certain Robin agreed.

And then it was me. I asked everyone to join me in a moment's silence. I held Robin's mini urn. I only wear him when I need him and I have only needed him twice. And both times I feel a heat and energy.

The last time I saw my brother I told him of the fear and pain that I had always felt in the centre of my solar plexus. I had always known there wasn't enough time. And when I said goodbye to him from Prague I knew I would never see him again. I mourned for him that night not knowing that that was what I was doing. I spoke to him many times but when I heard he was missing I knew the time had come. There was nothing to be afraid of any more. My worst fear had come to pass. And that feeling, that empty pain in the centre of my chest was gone. And when I wear the necklace, which my dear, dear friend Laura gave me, it hangs right where the emptiness used to be. And in its place is warmth and strength.

I broke the silence with Malaika. The Swahili lullaby my mother used to sing to Robin and I over and over again to get us to sleep. I lost the words at one point and mum came in. I looked at her as she mouthed the words. There might have been a hundred people watching or none.

My strong, beautiful, wise, heart-broken mum. I am so lucky. She gave me the strength to finish the song and the catharsis was engulfing.

And then my wonderful cousin Jen gave me a huge hug and invited everyone to tea, coffee and the bar! She was great. So funny and so fantastic. What a family!

And then the party.

Em articulated exactly why the whole day was so perfect: it felt like Robin would have walked in at any moment.

There were photographs of Robin from a baby to a man. Funny and touching stories with each image. His black and white photography and a selection of his more recent work.

I had managed to get a hold of Thomas Dolby's Aliens Ate My Buick and the phenomenal Eoghan and I did a short air guitar rendition in memory of our Timor "Ferarri" driven by the one and only Ian Green and the Greens and I were transported back to trips out to Sambolo with The Keys to Your Ferarri playing on the car stereo.

Noreen raised the first toast to Robin and talked of how she had come to be his very good friend when he first came to Kingsway. He wasn't a drinker but we all were that night and later on Clay from JIS days who had flown out from the States to be with us that weekend also raised his glass.

The room was filled with talk and laughter.

I worried that I hadn't talked about Robin much. But then, I think that was the case with most people. It was a joyous reunion and also a chance to meet people everyone had heard of but not met.

And, as Em said, every now and then, you would turn and expect to see Robin sitting on a ledge or at the top of the stairs, smiling his crinkly smile down at you, his camera hanging round his neck.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I have only mentioned a few of the people who came but the turnout was tremendous and the surprises never-ending. I am currently compiling a contact list for those who wish to be contacted or to remain in contact with those they met. If you would like to be on this list, please let me know.

If you have any photographs of the day, please let me know and I will post them. And please, please, feel free to add your comments.

We have all lost Robin, but we have gained each other
ach other.

Skydive 22nd July

2006-07-13T11:38:00.000Z

Skydive in the morning
NB This is dependent on the weather

Noreen, Bree and Alli
will be at the dropzone for 8.30 to await the first flight.

Strathallan Airfield,
Near Auchterarder,  
Perthshire,  
Scotland, PH3 1L
www.skydivestrathallan.co.uk

We cannot guarantee what time we will fly or even that we will.
We will be flying by the seat of our pants on this one – true Robin style.

Please call Emily Green (see your email for phone number) if you have any problems getting to the dropzone on the day.

Robin and Alli

2006-06-27T15:35:00.001Z

Robin's Memorial 22nd July 2006

2006-06-27T11:31:00.000Z

22 July 2006
Robin’s Memorial
at the
Reading Room
Glasgow University Union
32 University Avenue
Glasgow
G12 8LX
01413348697
www.guu.co.uk
closest underground Kelvinbridge

3.00
Memorial

4.30
Tea/coffee

7.00
Buffet supper £5 a head
(email me if staying for supper)

10.30
Bar Closes

Scotsman Critique

2006-06-27T11:28:00.000Z

Exhibition for Glasgow Refugee Week

2006-06-13T19:56:00.000Z

Robin Taudevin, independent international photographer
The Tron Theatre
63 Trongate
Glasgow
Monday 19 June 10am-6.00pm
Tue 20-Sat 24 June 10am-Late
FREE

"Seeking Refuge Glasgow to East Timor – Worlds Apart?"

Two seemingly unconnected situations linked by Robin's inexhaustible desire to expose social injustice. All photographs in this exhibition were taken in the last year of Robin's life before he drowned while free diving off the coast of Dilli, East Timor where he was working for the UN and also as an independent photographer. Most of Robin's Glasgow subjects are failed asylum seekers. They fled from, and most may return to, places as volatile as East Timor. Once deported they can never return to their Glasgow lives and homes. The refugees in the UN compound in Dilli, East Timor, would be the first on board a boat to Glasgow were it sailing. Instead they return to the ashes and rubble that once were their villages.

Robin's photographs ask us uncomfortable questions and they do not allow us to look away.
He died a young man and accomplished photographer. The nature of digital photography means he was never hiding behind the camera – when those around him were waving machetes, he was literally waving his camera. Digital cameras do a lot of the technical work for the photographer; what makes Robin's digital work so exceptional was his strength and vision. He was a fearless and compassionate man.

Robin’s family would like to thank the Scottish Refugee Council for hosting this, the first posthumous exhibition of his work. The exhibition has been devised and funded by Robin’s family.

If you would like to contribute to the costs in Robin’s memory, please find the donation box at the main bar in the Tron Theatre or send a cheque made payable to Robins Fund, Covert, Broad Street, Cuckfield, West Sussex, RH17 5DX
To purchase a print of Robin's work or to inquire about this exhibition please email robinsfund@peacemail.com

The Life and Death of Robin Taudevin

2006-06-13T18:16:00.000Z

Born on the 14th of March, 1977, in Bouganville, Papua New Guinea, Robin lived a life defined by travel, international affairs, human rights, extreme sports, and photography. His most distinctive characteristic, aside from his riotously wicked sense of humour, was his clear understanding of right and wrong and his deep seated desire to expose social injustice.

Robin went to school at the British and Jakarta International schools in Indonesia and spent two years at St. Peters in Brisbane, Australia. He qualified for his glider’s license at 16. After high school, Robin spent time working with his father, Lansell Taudevin, for AusAid in East Timor. Robin read history, archaeology (and skydiving!) at Glasgow University. He spent a year’s exchange at Chapel Hill, University of North Carolina, so that he could be near a cheap drop zone and to get his pilot’s license.

As a young graduate, Robin used his inheritance from his Isle of Lewis grandfather to work as a volunteer in Guatemala. While in Central America, Robin was ejected from a US embassy for sliding down the bannister and when asked to explain his actions he replied “they were irrisistable.”

Timor Aid then employed Robin and he returned to East Timor. Robin worked in sustainable development for many international aid organisations and was regularly employed by the United Nations. He also spent some time working as an editor for his father’s publishing company, Otford Press, which focussed on human rights issues.

Robin worked as an independent photographer in West Papua, the Maluccas, Banda Aceh in Sumatra, Jakarta, Sydney, Glasgow and East Timor. Robin had a clear vision to use his photography to inform, inspire and bridge the gap between one island of suffering to the next. In the last year of his life he made a huge impact with his photographic work of Glasgow asylum seekers. He returned to East Timor to be with his partner, Bree and in the last two weeks of his life he proved his fearless desire to expose social injustice by photographing the Dili riots up close and personal.

Robin's thirst for extreme sports, I feel, was a need to escape the confines of his body; to challenge it in ever new ways, be it skydiving, base jumping, gliding, flying, long distance running, rock climbing, free diving. I think he always had a sense that he was so much bigger than his body. And he has proved that to be so.

Robin drowned while freediving off the coast of East Timor on the 14th of May 2006. When he had arrived in East Timor as a young man starting his first job he was known as Lansell’s son. When Lansell returned for Robin’s cremation he was recognised as Robin’s father. Robin died a young man, internationally respected as an individual of high moral standing and an accomplished photographer.

We must remember that he died in a place that he loved, with the woman that he loved, doing what he loved and doing it well. He lived a full life and accomplished more than most will with thrice his years under their belts.

Robin and Bree

2006-06-08T07:56:00.000Z

Robin's Fund

2006-05-31T14:35:00.000Z

There has been an overwhelming response to donate money towards a cause in Robin's name.

In light of the current situation in Timor Leste, we have decided to take the time to find the right organisation or development project that will benefit most from such generous funds which will eventually contribute to sustainable development in Timor Leste and if the amount raised is considerable, we will proceed to set up a charity.

There will be a number of fund raising events (including the skydiving in Scotland in July where my mum WILL be joining in) over the next few months and the exhibitions in themselves will be fundraisers towards the Timor Leste cause and Robin's memory. If you would like to organise your own fundraising event, please let me know at robinsfund@peacemail.com likewise, all proceeds from the sale of Robin's photographs will be credited to the fund.

Internet transfers can be made to
Robin's Fund
HSBC
sort code 403534
account number 32356058
or send a cheque made out to
Robin's Fund
Covert
Broad Street
Cuckfield
UK

Copyright

2006-05-31T14:27:00.000Z

It was always Robin's plan to sell his work and with the upcoming exhibitions and the many requests from around the world to publish his work, boring issues of Copyright are coming to the fore.
Robin states clearly on his website that his images can be used at no cost for non-profit causes and organisations. This is still to be the case, but through a process.
If you would like to publish or purchase prints of any of Robin's work please email robinsfund@peacemail.com with the details of your request.
All proceeds will go to Robins Fund

Permanent Exhibition open to public

2006-05-30T14:49:00.000Z

In December 2005 Robin glued his exhibition to the walls of the Positive Action in Housing building in Glasgow. That's one way to get your work seen.

6th Floor, 98 west George Street. Mon - Fri, 9am - 5pm.
Large groups are asked to contact us on 0141 353 2220 before visiting.

The exhibition will have a special viewing on the 23rd of June. More info as it comes.

Remember Robin Taudevin

2006-05-29T19:25:00.002Z

The purpose of this blog is to keep you updated on the events that are now in progress in the spirit of Robin.

A memorial was held in Timor Leste on the Friday after his death, by the sea. Well over a hundred people attended including his father, Lansell, who flew from Singapore, his mother, Noreen, who flew from Semarang in Java and myself, his most important and very favourite (and only) sister who flew from (randomly) Schleswig in North German, Olly Green (his best mate), Ian Green (his best mate's father and a man of super-human strength and clarity), and among many, many others who travelled from far and wide, the very beautiful and very wonderful and very, very strong, Bree.

The ceremony was an honest celebration of his life and everyone mentioned above spoke or sang. It is a Timorese custom to throw petals into the sea at a funeral, so, I sang a Gaelic song to the sea and started the ceremonial petal throwing, but as I stood in the sea, which is now my brother, shaking, I thought "who wants to stand on the beach and cry?" So I jumped in and, thankfully, Bree joined me and we laughed and swam and made Bree's very white clothes very see-through. Well, Robin and the fishes enjoyed the view.

The next morning we took a boat out to Robin's favourite diving spot and scattered some of his ashes as the sun came up over the open sea and the sparse, dry headland of Dili. The dawn was so perfect and so pure and so peaceful and for a moment the world seemed to make sense. There, in that breathtakingly beautiful spot, it all seemed to be perfect in a way that no words will ever describe. Reminding us all that our little lives are indeed so very little and so very insignificant. And that time is nothing. Who will we be in 30,000 years time? Who are we to think that we are the first and only to go through this awful pain? Life is pain. And death is life. And then the tears took hold and the blue sea - the colour of Robin's eyes winking and saying, "Go on, go on"- was just far too inviting. So in Bree and I dove again, followed by Olly, Matt (who flew out from the Sudan) and Eoghan (who works with UNDP in Dili and was on the beach when Robin drowned).

That was perhaps one of the last peaceful moments for beautiful Timor Leste as it's turmoil bubbles away. All "inessential" staff have been evacuated including Bree. (Mum, Dad and I left before the trouble really started) so Brees' plan to plant a frangipani tree - a tree synonymous with those that are lost, in the mountains where she and Robin first fell in love has been put on hold.

Mum is now back in Semarang (safe from the turmoil of the Jogjakarta earthquake where so much more life has been lost and so many more mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, loved ones are mourning and being mourned), Dad is safe in Singapore and I am based back in the UK after my mammoth European tour playing Piggy in Lord of the Flies.

We plan to hold a memorial in Scotland in mid to late July. Bree and I and MY MUM will do a skydive and set some of Robin's ashes free into the air he loved to fly through before we all have simultaneous heart attacks. The day will then be open to those who wish to skydive too, and perhaps even be sponsored to do so? In the evening we plan to hold a memorial in Glasgow which will be an exhibition of all of his photographic work.

We have a date in Glasgow for the first exhibition of his work. His asylum seeker photographs are on permanent display and will be open to the public on the 23rd of June at Positive Action in Housing, 98 West George Street. GLASGOW G2 1PJ. It will also be open on the memorial day in July. We also plan to hold an exhibition of his work for Refugee Week in Glasgow at The Tron Theatre, 63 Trongate Glasgow, Monday 19 June 10am-6.00pm, Tue 20-Sat 24 June 10am-Late.

We are also in the process of setting up an account for donations which will go towards an East Timorese cause. Our original plan was to set up a photographic scholarship fund for East Timorese secondary school students, but in light of the current situation, perhaps the money would be better used in a clinic or Timorese organisation that can help rebuild the country. More info on this as I get it.

So please keep checking this site for info on the memorial, the donation fund, the situation in Timor Leste and Robin's exhibitions. This is a global operation to allow everyone to say goodbye and keep remembering the best one of them all. There are just so many people who knew and loved Robin that it will be impossible for me to keep track of who I have told what, so I leave it up to YOU to keep yourself informed.

Be at Peace

Allison Julia

Foho Ramelau by moonlight. photograph by Robin Taudevin

2006-05-29T16:22:00.000Z

The highest peak in Timor-Leste, Ramelau. From its summit, with clear weather, you can see much of Timor-Leste, and a good distance into Indonesian West Timor.