The Collection


I didn’t set out to sell prints.

Not really.

For years, I’ve shared images here — not because they were “good,” or “marketable,” or even finished — but because they stayed. They lingered after the shutter closed. They returned to me in dreams, in quiet hours, in the slant of afternoon sun months later.

Some moments refuse to be forgotten.

So now, carefully, tenderly, I’m offering six of them — made physical. Not mass-produced. Not disposable. Just… present. As they were meant to be.

Each print is produced through WhiteWall on museum-grade archival paper, using pigment inks rated for over 100 years. Made to order. Shipped with care — because if you’re making space for one of these in your home, I want it to feel like a conversation, not a transaction.

There’s no rush. No countdown. No pressure.

Just paper, ink, and a moment that mattered.


1.
Title: Path to the Pavilion
Location: Hangzhou, China — 2024
Caption:

A path curves toward still water — where ancient pavilions meet modern hills. The past doesn’t fade here; it leans in, softly.


2.
Title: Reflections on the Canal
Location: Shaoxing, China — 2024
Caption:

Old eaves and new towers share the same mirror — history and progress, neither dominant, both held in water’s quiet gaze.


3.

Title: Skyline of Absence
Location: Noirmoutier (viewed from mainland), France — 2022
Caption:

The sky writes its own language — contrails like scars, posts like ghosts, water holding silence. The island waits beyond the frame.


4.
Title: Coastal Sky, Vendée
Location: Near Fromentine, Vendée, France — 2021
Caption:

A long exposure blurs time into cloud — the sky moves, the sea holds still. This is not a storm. It’s the coast breathing.4. Coastal Sky, Vendée — Near Fromentine, 2021


5.
Title: Vespa & Whiskey
Location: Nantes, Quartier Bouffay, France — 2023
Caption:

A Vespa parked with purpose — a crate of Irish whiskey lashed to its back. Not delivery. Not advertisement. Just life, paused, in a cobblestone alley.


6.
Title: Steam and Sizzle, Shenzhen Night
Location: Shenzhen, China — 2024
Caption:

Smoke rises over skewers, prices flash in neon — food everywhere, people nowhere. This isn’t chaos. It’s rhythm. And hunger.


And then — because I believe in the power of the overlooked — there’s a seventh.

🎁 BONUS PRINT — Available for a Limited Time
7.
Title: The Smallest Museum
Location: Alnmouth, Northumberland, UK — 2023
Caption:

No grand entrance. No ticket booth. Just a wooden shed under open sky — holding stories too small to shout, too true to ignore.

It’s available for a limited time — for those who appreciate the quiet corners of the world.


I don’t make photographs to sell.
I sell them because some moments refuse to be forgotten.

If one of these finds its way to your wall, I hope it does more than hang there.
I hope it reminds you that some things are worth keeping — exactly as they were.

Take your time. These prints aren’t going anywhere.

— Ian
ijmphotography.net

A New Chapter for IJM Photography


Hello, dear reader.

In a world that often feels unmoored, I’ve found grounding in the simple act of making and sharing photographs. I’m pleased to share that IJM Photography is now officially a registered micro-entreprise in France—a quiet but meaningful step forward.

Next month, I’ll be launching a small, carefully curated collection of print-on-demand photographs, drawn from images I’ve shared here over the years. To begin, I’m offering six 8×10 inch prints—some in rich colour, others in classic black and white—each printed on museum-grade archival paper and ready framed.

These are more than pictures. They’re fragments of light, memory, and place—moments I’ve carried with me, now offered to you.

I hope one of my images finds a home with you.

While the print collection launches next month, if you’d like to support IJM Photography today, donations of any amount are warmly welcomed.

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Notes, January 2026


Welcome to this strange new world—where nations are treated like commodities, and young people stay silent whenever they don’t feel concerned.

I’m not talking about the clusterfuck that is Trump’s lingering shadow over Venezuela, or the absurd spectacle of U.S. leaders eyeing Greenland like real estate. Nor am I pointing fingers at the eerie quiet from European students and campuses while protests rage in Iran.

Maybe I’m not saying the world is going to hell.

But let’s call a spade a spade: something vital has gone missing.

Any sense of decency—gone.

And what a good job I’m not depressed.

Oh wait.

Shit.

I think back to a year ago—to the China tour—and how I still smell it on my skin. Not literally, maybe. But in the way my pantry fills with new ingredients, in the way I stir-fry now without measuring, just feeling. And the sauces I make…

Google Photos keeps nudging me: “1 year ago today.”

And just like that—I’m back there.

A before and after.

Definitely.

I see the same friends at rehearsals and revel in the memories we made.

I also look to the future. This sick leave has given me space to rest—and I feel the energy slowly returning to this body of mine.

On New Year’s Eve, my son did some “daddy-sitting” for me. I shared the evening with his friends—and for once, I didn’t feel like the spare tire, or a discarded condom in a student halls of a residence.

I felt… present.

The beard is gone, and of course my daughter hates it. At least she didn’t cry this time, like when she was two.

I’ve actually gone out and shot some film: a roll I started during summer holidays and finished in Montaigu, and another I exposed in the cathedral in Nantes over Christmas.

The first photos I’ve taken indoors since the fire.

I’m getting there.

Trying to be present in this new crazy world—where our leaders are anything but leaders, and older ways of doing things seem to be shifting beneath our feet.

I don’t know where we’re going.

But we certainly seem to be on our way…

Come along if you like.
I’ll keep the window cracked — just enough to let the light in.

Never Complain, Never Explain


Content Note: This post discusses depression and emotional exhaustion. Please read with care.

That was the old Royal Family rule—stoic, impenetrable, forever above it all.

I, alas, am not royalty. I’m an overthinker with a camera and a blog, and I owe you nothing… but I’d like to offer a little explanation anyway. Call it common courtesy. Or perhaps just the need to name what’s been happening.

So here’s the situation report from IJM Photography.

I haven’t written in a month for two reasons.
First: the season. If you’ve followed this space for a while, you know I’ve long wrestled with melancholy—especially as the days shorten. This year, it hit harder than usual. I made it through November, but only just. By December, I was physically and mentally exhausted.

Second: my health. After a conversation with my manager and HR, I was referred to the médecin du travail. She diagnosed me with dépression aiguë—acute depression (not the cute, Hello Kitty kind)—and noted a heart murmur. Frankly, I was relieved to have a name for what I’d been carrying.

She ordered me to go straight home—not back to work—and to see my GP the next day. She mentioned my brain chemistry was “in a bit of a mess.” Which, in its odd way, reminded me of three things:

  • — I have a brain
  • — I have a heart
  • — and I am profoundly tired

Not broken. Just worn thin.

I was referred to the local Centre Médico-Psychologique. There, I broke another unspoken rule: when the nurse asked how I was, I didn’t say, “Fine, thanks.” I told the truth—calmly, factually, without blame—about the weight I’d been under since returning to work after my accident, and how even the resilience I’d inherited from past generations suddenly felt out of reach.

To my surprise, a session with a psychiatrist opened up right away. He was kind, thoughtful. We talked about identity, belonging, and the quiet strain of straddling cultures. He said I carry “the mindset of an immigrant”—and that perhaps I’ve become more French than I realize. He suggested working on communication with my spouse, and that a trip back to the UK might help me reconnect with myself.

He might be right. If funds were no object, I’d book the ticket tomorrow.

For now, I’m taking things one day at a time. Resting. Recharging. And slowly returning—to my camera, to my words, to myself.

Thank you for waiting.

— IJM

Nikon FE Review: Features and User Experience


Hello Dear Reader. I know you are an astute fellow, and that you never miss a trick. You will have noticed me talking about the Nikon FE. I will share something with you. I actually bought one at the end of last year from my HR director, but wanted to have the right time and places to start using it. One can’t rush this kind of thing.

Some of you might even say, “I thought you were a Fuji guy, or a Canon guy, or even a Pentax guy.” I hate to disappoint all those of you attached to a particular brand, but I am above all “a guy.” Mind you, this was my first venture into Nikon-world. Not a Nikon D something…. I went slightly more old school as I have been known to go before.

Why the FE and not the FE2, or even F3? The guy was selling an FE, that is why. Now that is out of the way, let’s have a look at this camera. First and foremost, it’s a really sexy camera reminiscent of those used in the 60’s by National Geographic photographers. It’s not, but that’s by the by. It actually came out in 1978. Secondly, this particular one was in full working order, always a plus; the price was fair for the camera’s excellent condition. I may be a collectionneur, but a camera is there to be used. Did I say it was a very sexy camera? I did. Oh good.

As I am wont to do, I took it out for a test drive to Nantes, and took it round Bouffay. And the pub… just enough to get a feel for the wee beastie. A roll of Ilford HP5 at box speed and I was ready to go. Verdict? So far so good. I must have done just 10 shots that day, and came back to it later, much later, to finish the roll. The feel in the hand was fine, and what I’m used to. The lens I have is a 50mm f/1.8, aka the nifty fifty. Usability? Aperture priority, which I enjoy. And the one thing that tickled me pink was being able to see the aperture ring through the viewfinder. Very useful…  It’s since journeyed to Lourdes, the mountains, even Northumberland—never once feeling like a limitation.

Does it have auto focus? No. It doesn’t. It has manual focus, which I find easier to use. I prefer to choose myself rather than have modern technology do everything for me. Yes, I use it on my DSLR, but I don’t use that the way I do when doing film photography. Here’s a surprise for you: I am not built for speed. I am built for comfort and won’t be hurried. This kind of SLR suits me to a T.

I know some of you little techies out there need specs about a camera, so for you lovely people, here you are:

Nikon FE – Quick Specs

  • Production: 1978–1983
  • Type: 35mm manual-focus SLR
  • Exposure: Aperture-priority AE + full manual
  • Metering: Centre-weighted TTL (match-needle in viewfinder)
  • Shutter: 1–1/1000s + B, electronically controlled (requires battery)
  • Viewfinder: Fixed eye-level pentaprism (~93% coverage) with aperture & shutter speed display
  • Lens mount: Nikon F (AI/AI-S compatible)
  • Battery: 2× SR44 (or 1× CR1/3N) – note: the camera can operate at 1/90s (M90 mode) without a battery
  • Weight: ~590 g (body only)
  • Fun fact: One of the smallest and lightest Nikon SLRs with full AE.

Is it ‘better’ than the Pentax ME Super? Not objectively—but it fits me. I prefer Nikon’s take-up spool, and that viewfinder aperture display? That’s the clincher. Pentax glass is glorious, no doubt. But this? This is my beastie.

I’m over the moon to have this addition to the working collection, and I have to go and finish the film that’s still inside it. So yes, I enjoyed using it; yes, it wasn’t foreign enough to scare me. Do I have any regrets? Absolutely not! It works just the way I need it to, and when it comes to cameras, isn’t that all we need?

致我在中国的读者们:一封感谢信A Letter of Gratitude to My Readers in China


亲爱的中国朋友们

写下这封信,不仅是为了感谢你们访问 ijmphotography.net,更是为了向你们表达我内心深深的感激——感谢你们在2024年末至2025年初我访问中国时,给予我的那份无言却真挚的善意。

当时,我作为一名圆号演奏员,随法国“卢瓦尔河畔交响乐团”(Symphonique des Bords de Loire)来到中国巡演。我们有幸在几座令人赞叹的音乐厅中演出,但真正打动我的,远不止是建筑的华美或音响的精妙,而是你们细致入微的款待。

我至今难忘后台为乐团精心准备的蜜橘——有的已细心剥好,有的整齐切开,果肉晶莹,清甜沁心。那是我一生中吃过最美味的蜜橘,回国后我再未尝到过如此滋味。还有中场休息或演出结束后,工作人员悄然奉上的茉莉花茶,香气清雅,温润入心。那不仅是一杯茶,更是一份无需言语的尊重与欢迎。这些看似微小的举动,却饱含深情,成为我此生珍藏的记忆。

虽然我还不会说中文(但我已认真考虑开始学习!),但在那段旅程中,我从未感到自己是个“外人”。因为许多情感,本就超越语言:无论在广州还是格洛斯特,父亲对孩子的爱都是一样的;无论在长沙还是巴黎,摄影师追逐的都是同一束光;无论在哪个舞台,音乐家聆听的,都是音符之间那片珍贵的寂静。

我已回到家中,并开始为家人烹制更多中式风味的菜肴。这已成为我们家的一个小仪式——借由日常三餐,将那段温暖的回忆重新带回我们的生活中。。

能以客人的身份,而非游客的身份,走进你们的国家,是我的荣幸。而如今,能与远在万里之外的你们,通过影像与文字彼此相遇,同样令我心怀感激。

如果您愿意了解更多关于那次旅程的故事,我写下了一系列随笔:
《中国系列:管弦乐之旅》
以及后续文章。

谢谢你们——
昔日的盛情款待,今日的耐心阅读。

谨致谢忱,
Ian James Myers