We’re still in Edinburgh. We’re walking down the Royal Mile. It’s festival season. There are plenty of shows to watch, and the one we saw first was by Max Von Trapp. Not to be confused with the Sound of Music Von Trapps, but a comic magician. One of my favourite kinds. The jokes and tricks rolled fast, as did my laughter.. Kate laughs at all the jokes, even the more adult-focused ones, just like Killian did when we visited the festival when he was that age.
Saint Giles was our next stop. As you know, I’m Catholic, not Protestant. As we wandered through the national Cathedral of Scotland, I was struck not only by the beautiful organ music, but by the lack of the familiar Stations of the Cross, the statues. The centre of attention was not the Lord and the sacrifice of the Mass, but the preacher’s pulpit. I felt this lack and prayed my daily Rosary, head bowed in prayer.
I joined Kate outside, slightly perturbed by the experience.
Lunch was a kebab. Simple and delicious. Kate loved it.
It was time to move on to see Greyfriars Bobby, a wee brown dog, famous for his loyalty. The legend is such that the people of Edinburgh raised a statue to honour him, and people rub his nose either for luck or as a sign of affection. I went into the Greyfriars Pub for some Guinness, reflecting on my own dog Molly, now 16, who greets me every morning as if I’m her favourite person and gets all excited when I get home from work. I can see why wee Bobby was a legendary dog, and why he inspired so many people.
We wandered through the graveyard looking at the tombs of the citizens of Edinburgh from the past. And we found a certain Thomas Riddell who JK Rowling used in her books. Kate acquiesced and allowed me to take her photo in front of it.
We ventured towards the Covenanters’ section of the graveyard, supposedly the most haunted section. I felt nothing and saw nothing, but Kate started to have a headache. We paid our respects and decided to find Bobby’s grave at the entrance. Kate noticed the sticks put on his grave, as you might leave a favourite dog toy. She just had to go and find him a suitable stick. Bless that dog. Teaching us a valuable lesson in pure love years after his death.
We ventured back out onto the streets of Edinburgh, leaving the relative tranquility of the graveyard behind us. This was about to be the reason she wanted to come to Edinburgh in the first place: a cocktail bar. But not any ordinary cocktail bar. The Geek Bar, decorated every four months into a new theme. The theme she wanted was from a video game that she plays with Killian. Oh no—they’d changed everything… It was now all about Stranger Things on Netflix—something I had heard by name but knew nothing else about.
Liquor? Maybe quicker, but it’s not something I’m a great fan of. The lady took our order and explained the concept. I felt as if I was in Starbucks for the first time. She asked which flavours I liked, and with her expert help, I made up my mind. The drink was obviously dangerous—too smooth, too sweet—and I couldn’t feel the alcohol. Neither could Kate, who was only allowed a mocktail. I have to be a responsible parent after all. The second round was just as deadly, and I was beginning to feel very happy. I wonder why…
So maybe, at the end of all this, the real magic isn’t in the tricks or the drinks or even the famous city. It’s just—being there. Following your children into their weird, wonderful universes, and watching them set the place on fire with laughter. And really, what’s better than that?
Through the Lens of Love: Reframing Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18
I’ve been experimenting with video lately — combining image, voice, rhythm, and mood. So I made a simple film of myself reading Sonnet 18. No music. No flair. Just words and breath.
“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?”
It’s one of Shakespeare’s most quoted sonnets and one of his least thought about. Everyone knows the first line. Fewer people follow it to its conclusion — which is essentially an argument against time. Beauty fades, summer ends, but the poem itself refuses to. Art, Shakespeare is saying, holds what life cannot.
Photography makes the same claim. We press the shutter because we don’t want to let go.
I’m no literary scholar. But I’ve been married for over thirty years, and that gives you a particular relationship with the idea of love lasting. Virginie and I are not the same people we were in our twenties — and I’m grateful for that. What I felt then wasn’t what I feel now. It was the seed of it. Love doesn’t stay still. That’s its difficulty and its grace.
My son has just left home after his first real heartbreak. It was messy, as first loves tend to be. He’ll come through it — hopefully a little wiser, maybe a little gentler. My daughter still believes she knows exactly what love is. I hope I can guide her without crushing that certainty too soon.
In the North of England where I grew up, summer is short and unreliable. Shirtless Geordies drinking lager in May, ice cream vans doing brisk trade under grey skies — we know the value of warmth because we get so little of it. Here in the Vendée the summers are longer, but just as hard to hold on to. The light is different. Softer. Still slipping.
“By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d.”
Untrimmed sails. Love as a voyage. Not always calm water.
A photograph feels permanent. Look at it years later and the people in it have become slightly foreign — younger, in clothes they no longer own, with expressions they’ve since lost. Art doesn’t stop time. It echoes it.
We don’t photograph to freeze a moment. We photograph because we know it’s already leaving.
Shakespeare understood this. He didn’t name the beloved. We don’t know who the sonnet was written for. But we feel the love — and that’s the part that survives.
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see —So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
Cameras. Why? What is it that makes us pick one up? For me, a camera is not merely a beautiful object; it’s a tool—a simple box, with a lens through which light passes, creating an image on film or a sensor. Whether the box is a hundred years old or fresh off the production line, the same principles hold true. Even our phones are, in essence, an evolution of that same box. But beyond mechanics, what truly drives us to take a photograph?
The Kodak company told us it was all about “capturing that Kodak moment.” But what exactly is this moment, whether created by Kodak or any other company? Firstly, it was a stroke of marketing genius, associating a photograph with a personal, meaningful memory. Secondly, it gave us a compelling reason to pick up a camera and capture memories to share with others, possibly even sparking the first instances of FOMO (fear of missing out), which is now so prevalent in social media. Kodak cleverly linked photographs with significant memories, encouraging us to reach for our cameras. How kind of them.
Yet, let me assure you, it’s not a cure for FOMO, despite what Kodak or social media might suggest. Or at least, not entirely. I use my photography to document the world around me at a given moment in time. Photography is the only art form that allows you, the viewer, to see something through my eyes as I saw it. But while photojournalists capture our world, photography is not solely about documentation.
It’s about storytelling through images. A single photograph can hold an entire narrative within its frame, suggesting more than what’s immediately visible. But often, I find I need multiple images to fully convey a story. When I write my blog pieces, I aim to tell the story in both words and images. I guide you through a carefully curated selection, hoping that you might connect with them in the same way I did. This connection—between the photographer and the viewer—is, for me, one of the most powerful aspects of photography. Through our lenses, we offer others a brief glimpse into our world, our experiences, and our feelings. It’s a reminder that storytelling is more than just documentation; it’s about creating a shared space for interpretation and emotion.
Of course, beauty is also an integral part of why I pick up a camera. There’s something undeniably fulfilling about capturing a scene that feels, to me, perfectly composed. I like to believe I can craft a visually pleasing image and employ various techniques to do so. The idea is to present a scene so that the photograph conveys how I saw it, inspiring you to feel something. Photography is the only medium or art form that allows you, the viewer, to see something that only I saw, and because of the passage of time no longer exists.
It’s about creating art for art’s sake. In a world that constantly demands productivity and output, creating something purely for the joy of creating feels almost radical.
Then there’s the meditative side of photography. For me, the camera isn’t just a tool to create images; it’s a form of therapy. When I’m suffering from melancholia, or I’m lost in thought, stepping into the world as an observer through my camera often gives me a sense of calm. Looking through the lens allows me to disassociate from daily worries and approach the world with curiosity rather than anxiety. This small shift—seeing myself as a photographer rather than a participant—transforms the environment around me from something overwhelming into something inviting. The camera’s frame becomes a safe space in which I can explore without judgement or expectations. In this way, photography becomes a practice of mindfulness.
The process itself is deeply important. I often think of Vivian Maier, who left behind so many undeveloped rolls of film, underscoring the significance of the process itself. Born in 1926, Maier spent her life photographing the world without promoting her work. Of the 140,000 shots she took, only 5% were ever developed—a body of work unknown even to its creator. This fact alone astounds me. Perhaps she, too, was capturing moments for herself, deeply invested in the act of photography without any need for external recognition. Her legacy reminds us that the process can be as meaningful as the result and that photography has value even when the images are unseen.
In today’s image-saturated world, where everyone is encouraged to share, edit, and curate their lives, it’s worth asking if we’d still take photos knowing that nobody else would ever see them. For me, the answer is a resounding yes. Photography is more than a tool to impress, to document, or to share; it’s a means of expressing myself and, often, of making sense of my own experiences. Every image is a small act of discovery, helping me see the world more clearly or find beauty where I might not have noticed it before.
Ultimately, photography is a language, a form of communication that transcends barriers of culture, language, and time. A single photograph can capture something timeless—an unfiltered moment of life that can be understood and felt by someone across the globe. In this way, photography becomes a shared visual language, offering us a way to connect beyond words.
So, why do we photograph? Perhaps the answer is as varied as the photographers themselves, shaped by individual motives, experiences, and emotions. But whether we’re documenting, creating, or simply exploring, the act of photography invites us to see the world—and ourselves—with fresh eyes. And in the end, that might be the most compelling reason of all.
Last week’s journey through the film archives took us to Nantes, specifically the Île de Nantes. While you’ve seen my photos from that day, I’m excited to share my daughter Kate’s photos with you.
Are these images works of art deserving of a gallery? Perhaps not, but they represent a delightful exercise in spontaneity. Captured by a seven-year-old “playing” with a camera, they offer a unique glimpse into how my young daughter sees the world. There are no rigid rules of photography or composition here—just an extension of her eyes. These photos are raw yet delicate, showcasing the world as she perceived it at that moment.
These photos mean a great deal to me, particularly the one she took of me with that glorious moustache! I’ve often discussed how the journey and process of photography can sometimes be even more meaningful than the final destination. That day was a significant part of that journey, and reflecting on my own first photos from that age fills me with nostalgia.
Why the Olympus Pen EE-S Is the Best Budget Film Camera for Beginners (Even in 2025)
Pentax 17 fever is sweeping the film photography world, and I’ll admit, I was tempted. Half-frame cameras, with their promise of double the shots per roll, sound pretty amazing. But with a price tag of 500€, the Pentax 17 isn’t exactly within my budget. That’s when I rediscovered a little gem tucked away in my camera collection: the Olympus Pen EE S.
This Japanese-made half-frame beauty hails from the 1960s, the same era as the beloved Olympus Trip 35. Like its sibling, the Pen EE S features zone focusing and a selenium cell meter for fuss-free shooting. The lens is an F2.8 22.5mm Zuiko lens. The ISO settings go up to 200 ASA, unlike the Olympus Trip which goes up to 400 ASA. So, despite everything else, it needs light. The half-frame format means you get a whopping 48 exposures on a standard 24-exposure roll. That’s double the shots for your buck, folks!
Now, the idea of twice as many photos for the same developing cost is pretty appealing. But does the Olympus Pen EE S deliver the goods in practice? Stay tuned as I put this vintage camera through its paces and share my findings. Could this be the perfect half-frame hero for those of us who can’t quite swing a Pentax 17? Let’s find out!
Well, for starters, it felt very much like using the Olympus Trip 35. It’s very slightly smaller and weighs next to nothing. The shutter button is almost identical as well. Instead of having four zones for focusing, you have three, but it’s fine, and when you turn the dial, you feel a click as you enter a new zone. You point, and then press. Simple!
Let’s talk about this half-frame shooting experience. When talking about the Pentax 17, “they” talk about how the images are great for sharing on social media. A little like using your phone… This is the mindset that I had when putting in my Kodak Gold 200 to capture those famous Kodak moments in Nantes.
I found it a challenge to get used to the half-frame. “They” say that you have to take your photos as diptychs and remember that the two photos in your full frames are related, not just simple images. The idea is that when the two half frames are put together, you create a story and a suite of ideas, instead of two separate photos. I tried, and the results will show you if I succeeded. I felt that “they” were pulling my leg!
I’ll be honest with you. The idea behind the outing was to test the camera, see how I felt using it, and have a look at the results. It took me out of my comfort zone, which is something rare in photography for me. I was thinking about taking it to the UK with me to record the trip. It takes up next to no space in a camera bag and would allow me to shoot some film while back home. The idea of getting twice as many shots by using just half the frame is attractive. I’m just getting used to the reduced coverage that you get with just using half the frame.
For this outing, I decided to head out towards the Cathedral, and takes some shots of the Voyage à Nantes.
I found myself thinking differently about framing my shots and using my phone as a mental template. As for the resolution of my images, they will be half as much as using my full frame, but were I to print my photos, then I would definitely see a difference. But if they’re just for sharing on social media, then the resolution will be perfectly satisfactory.
The million-dollar question is, will I take it on my trip, and will I use it? Yes, I will. Will it be my main camera? Possibly not. Will it be more like using a new toy? Possibly, even if the toy in question is a vintage 1966 toy…
Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll put some images taken on the X100F, my more modern toy, and let you see how they compare. You’ll see the diptychs and see how the different shooting styles change the outlook and how they change the framing.
These are the X100F photos with editing in Snapseed…
And these are the half frame images from the Pen EE S… with the editing done in Photoshop using the neural filters to get rid of the scratches on the film.
In the heart of Nantes, a city bustling with life and movement, lies a haven of tranquilly—the Jardin de Plantes. With my trusty Pentax ME Super in hand and a roll of Kentmere 100 film, I embarked on a photo walk with my niece, weaving together the threads of modernity and nostalgia.
As the sun cast its gentle rays on the vibrant petals and verdant foliage, my niece and I strolled through the garden, our spirits lifted by the scent of blooming flowers and the melody of chirping birds. The Pentax ME Super, a relic of a bygone era, clicked and whirred, capturing the essence of the ambiance around us.
In the heart of this botanical wonderland, a delightful surprise awaited us – artworks from the Voyage à Nantes, seamlessly integrated into the landscape. Sculptures and installations whispered tales of creativity, adding an artistic flair to the already enchanting scenery. With each click of the shutter, the Kentmere 100 film immortalised these moments, creating a bridge between the past and the present.
Amidst the garden’s serenity, the city’s rhythm seemed to fade into the background. The laughter of children echoed, the fragrance of earth danced in the air, and a sense of peace enveloped us. The bustling streets felt miles away, replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves and the soothing trickle of fountains. It was a moment to pause, to breathe, and to find solace in the embrace of nature.
As my niece marvelled at the artistic wonders and explored every nook and cranny, I couldn’t help but recall a time when the world seemed simpler, captured through the lens of vintage cameras. The Pentax ME Super, a faithful companion, clicked away, a reminder that while times change, the emotions and memories we capture remain timeless.
In the heart of the garden, as my niece’s wonder met my own nostalgia, I realised that these fleeting moments, captured on film, became whispers of timelessness. The Kentmere 100 film transformed scenes into memories, the Pentax ME Super gave them life, and the Jardin de Plantes offered its serene backdrop.
Our visit came to an end, and the laughter and footsteps of visitors began to fade, leaving behind a quietude that felt like a hidden treasure. With a final click, I knew that I had captured not just images, but fragments of serenity and beauty, framed by the lens of a camera that has witnessed decades.
The Jardin de Plantes, a breath of fresh air in the heart of a bustling city, became a canvas on which moments of joy, peace, and art intertwined. The Kentmere 100 film told their story, the Pentax ME Super etched them onto film, and I, a mere observer, was fortunate to be a part of this beautiful narrative.
In the end, it’s the ability to capture the ephemeral that gives photography its magic. It’s not just about freezing time but about encapsulating emotions that stand the test of time. As I looked at the photographs that adorned my album, I knew that every click was a brushstroke on the canvas of memory— a reminder of the day my niece and I discovered the beauty of the Jardin de Plantes and the timeless charm of classic photography.
In the heart of bustling Nantes, a city teeming with life and stories waiting to be captured, I embarked on a captivating photowalk adventure. Armed with my trusted Pentax ME Super camera and loaded with Rollei RPX 100 and then Fomapan 100 film, I set out to explore the artistic treasures and serene corners of this vibrant urban landscape, and the latest offerings of the Voyage à Nantes. Join me as I take you on a visual journey through the enchanting Place Royale, the charming Place Graslin, and the captivating sculptures that make Nantes truly unique.
Place Royale: A Fountain of Marine Delights
My journey commenced at Place Royale, where the graceful fountain stood adorned with marine sculptures straight out of a storybook. These sculptures, by the Blegian artist Maen Florin, glistened in the sunlight and droplets of falling water. The Pentax ME Super clicked away as I framed each marine figure, capturing the interplay of water and art with the delicate precision of film photography. The Rollei RPX 100 film lent an air of timeless elegance to each shot, turning the bustling square into a tranquil haven through its lens.
Place Graslin: A Meeting of History and Charm
Next on my path was the inviting Place Graslin, a captivating square that exuded elegance and history. Here, the statue of Combronne with his coffee and glass of water, the newer version by Maya Eneva and the Cellule B collectif, welcomed me outside the iconic Cigale café, where I imagined stories of bygone conversations and shared moments. As the Pentax ME Super’s shutter clicked, the Fomapan 100 film brought forth the statue’s enduring presence, immortalising the blend of past and present that this city so effortlessly portrays.
Artistic Wonders of Cours Cambronne
A stroll along Cours Cambronne revealed hidden gems in the form of statues – “homme pressé” by the English sculptor Thomas Houseago and “éloge à la transgression,” by the famous Philippe Ramette both stunning creations from the Voyage à Nantes. These sculptures spoke of bold expressions and the city’s penchant for creative exploration. The Pentax ME Super captured their intricate details, with the Fomapan 100 film adding a touch of mystery to their narrative. In the heart of the city, a feeling of tranquilly pervaded, as I marvelled at the artistic tableau that surrounded me.
Bike Shots: Capturing Urban Rhythm
No Nantes photowalk would be complete without capturing the city’s quintessential “bike shots.” Bicycles, intertwined with daily life, spoke of a rhythm unique to urban living. With each click of the Pentax ME Super, the Rollei RPX 100 film transformed these moments into frames that held a slice of the city’s pulse. It also allows people to keep fit and be very smug about not polluting…
A Spectator of Urban Theatre
As I ambled through the city’s streets, I couldn’t help but feel like a mere spectator in the grand play that Nantes puts on every day. The camera in my hand was not just an instrument but a witness to the stories woven into every corner. With the Pentax ME Super, I was able to capture these narratives, bridging time and space through the magic of film.
Conclusion: Nantes Through a Different Lens
The Pentax ME Super, armed with its classic charm, and the duo of Rollei RPX 100 and Fomapan 100 films, transformed my photowalk through Nantes into a visual tale. From the marine wonders of Place Royale to the historical elegance of Place Graslin and the artistic marvels of Cours Cambronne, each click of the camera immortalised the city’s essence. Through the lens of film photography, Nantes unveiled its soul—a blend of history, art, and an urban rhythm that beats to its own tune.
As I reflect upon the captivating frames that now grace my album, I’m reminded of the vibrant energy and artistic tapestry that Nantes weaves. Just as the city’s sculptures and streets tell their stories, the Pentax ME Super and film quietly tell mine – a narrative of a city that thrives in its own unique rhythm, an urban theatre where I played the role of an enchanted spectator.
Sometimes watching people watch art is half the fun. Especially modern art. It makes you question what art actually is. Sometimes you have to look twice. Sometimes you think a five-year-old could do the same thing, and maybe even better. Or, as in the case of the work “Comedian” by Maurizio Cattelan, your art gets eaten by a hungry student that skipped breakfast.
I always seem to put things off, so I’m obviously running behind schedule with this piece. Simply put, things seem to get in the way. I nevertheless believe that the idea has some merit. The exhibition itself ended on May 7th, and I’m writing about it now, 20 days later. Dear Reader, I am aware that you are understanding of your humble servant and that you are forgiving.
If I want to enjoy some art in the same manner that I have been known to enjoy a cup of tea and some cake, I think about going to the HAB Gallery in Nantes’ Hangar à Bananes. If you were in town last month, you could have seen the “Une ebauche lente à venir” show, which featured recent pieces by Léopold Rabus and Till Rabus, some of which were produced just for the event. This art helps you take a second glance and discover the fun and foolishness in art. You may see it in the images at the conclusion of this post. See if you can spot two mischievous dogs and two mischievous pigeons!
Still life and landscapes are combined and delve into the artist’s basic urge to paint. Léopold’s paintings are loaded with lovely and weird animals: cows, slugs, birds, flies, dogs, and deer in the snow; a mound of faeces; chicken coops; and fields. Till’s paintings, in baroque and extravagant compositions, are loaded with trash, people, and other consumer objects.
Léopold Rabus (born 1977) and Till Rabus (born 1975) are Swiss artists that pay close attention to the reality of the world around them, and their art is full of sarcasm and comedy, challenging preconceived notions of what is and isn’t beautiful.
This piece, however, is about those who are viewing art and absorbing it all in. Or are they simply devouring culture to appear fashionable? To be in, since who wants to be left out? The French and their elitism in culture! Half the fun is watching those who make a concerted effort to “educate” themselves because it is trendy, a la Molière’s Bourgeois Gentilhomme, and those who take it all less seriously and enjoy watching the humour in the paintings and laughing at the absurdity of some of the pieces. I’m all for being an intellectual in intellectual settings where the study of art is academic, as opposed to the faux leftist intellectuals, yet at times art is about not being an intellectual. As Nike once tried to say, Just Do It!
Dear Reader, some of you might know that I don’t live too far away from Nantes and that I can be found wandering the streets of Nantes with a camera, or sitting in the pub talking with friends. So, nothing new here then. You might not know that I sometimes publish said photos of Nantes, and even the pub, with friends of course, on Instagram. I also sometimes go out and participate with other photographers in what is usually a solitary pastime.
Nantes Grand Angle, a sort of collective of photographers from Nantes, often has events (with local partners) that want to get their event onto the local social networks and get some “viral” publicity. The game is you go to the event and then talk about it on your social accounts and people might be interested thinking well, he went to see this, why don’t I go along too. It’s the basics of social marketing.
Why do I usually see photography as a solitary pastime? Because I get a certain amount of social anxiety. For most extroverts, those pushy people that are in favour now, the word “mingle” gives them a buzz that they seem to thrive on. I, as an introvert, find the words “new people”, or even the idea of “meeting new people”, “social”, or “mingle” just fill me with dread. It’s akin to going on one of those terrifying rides at the fair. It’s scary, thankfully doesn’t last very long, leaves you feeling empty, very awkward, sheepish, and makes you want to run away as soon as possible. sonds like my sex life on a good day.
So against my better judgement, I confronted my fear, and went on an outing with Nantes Grand Angle. I could always just stay at the back and be subtle and try to fade into the background. It also meant that I would visit a new place, Le Lieu Unique, which as its name might suggest, is certainly unique! The Lieu Unique also contains the Tour Lu (sans T pour le jeu de mot de merde en français, et oui, je suis rendu à ce point là !) It originally house the LU biscuit factory (des petits beurres de LU, which is another pun for the Happy Birthday song). Dear Reader, I apologise for the years of therapy that you will need to get over that last paragraph. It’ll teach you to speak French!
Right, back on track. The Lieu Unique, which indeed is unique as the name suggests, houses not only an exhibition for introverts to take photos of for social marketing, but a bar, a reading room, a bookshop, and if I’m not mistaken, a hammam, as well as a whopping great tower. It is a hothouse of culture where you can get fed, drunk, steamed, and get some culture, leading to the acquisition of a little intelligence! Maybe, depending on the order you do each activity.
I was there with my fellow photographers, some of which were annoyingly extrovert, to live the experience of Art from Taiwan in the “Eye of the Cyclone.” The Lieu Unique boss, had, uniquely, gone to Taiwan in 2018, had been to an exhibition at The National Museum of Fine Arts of Taiwan, and had invited some of the artists to come to Nantes and show their work, purely an artistic venture. Since 2018, the world has changed not only through COVID, but also because China would like to get its hands on Taiwan for economic reasons and political ones. Taiwan came to the front in modern terms when the Kuomintang government who lost to Mao’s Communists, fled Mao and fled to the Island of Taiwan, setting up a new independent government, that China still hasn’t gotten over and is still very upset about.
In the early 1960s, Taiwan entered a period of rapid economic growth and industrialisation called the “Taiwan Miracle». In the late 1980s and early 1990s, ROC transitioned from a one-party military dictatorship to a multi-party democracy with a semi-presidential system. Taiwan’s export-oriented industrial economy is the 21st-largest in the world by nominal GDP and 19th-largest by PPP measures, focusing on steel, machinery, electronics and chemicals manufacturing. Taiwan is a developed country, ranking 20th in GDP per capita. It is ranked highly in terms of civil liberties, healthcare, and human development. Again, something that China isn’t overjoyed by. So as you can imagine, such an exhibition is as much political as artistic.
So now we have set the scene, let’s get down to the nitty-gritty. The expo itself. I admit not knowing a huge amount about Taiwan, however, since visiting the expo, I have read up to find out more about its history and culture. It’s Chinese but at the same time properly Taiwanese. I will include official links to the expo and the English documentation at the end of the article. But what I really wanted to do with this article was to talk about my experience of the exposition and the way the exhibits left their mark on me.
The first exhibit, Exhibit A, or Battle City – Scene, by Chang, Li-Ren, model, just blew me away with the complexity of the modelling and the realism recreated in model form. The artist came over for the oeuvre installation and I can imagine a rather rotund Asian chap on all fours adding details to his masterwork. Not based on reality, but the artist just wants to give an impression of what Taiwanese urbanism looks like. There are cars, housing, and motorbikes, but the whole place is devoid of people. It’s very eerie, yet totally fascinating and a photographer’s dream. The whole thing is massive (7600mm x 8100mm x 2600mm), and the attention to detail is fascinating.
Exhibit B, Future Shock, by SU Hui-Yu, video, talks about a dystopian future, unfortunately, a not-too-distant future according to the artist influenced heavily by the American author Alvin Toffler, where people are drowning in information, and unethical technologies. Maybe it’s happening already? Definitely though provoking and frightening in equal measure.
Exhibit C, Braindead travelogue, YUAN Goang-Ming. At first, you have the impression of traditional Chinese brush art, but with non-traditional means, like using markers, but also gold and jade. From the centre of the painting, shoot out 10 disks of images showing the artist marking his territory in the landscape.
Exhibit D? I’m going to keep the rest of the exhibition secret, because the idea is that you go and have a look yourselves, especially if you live in Nantes! Did you really think that I would or could reveal all? No! Leave them wanting more!!! Oh ok, you can have a few more pictures, but that’s your lot. Go down there and have a look. It’s free to visit; and you won’t be left unmoved… You really get a feel of what life is like in the “Eye of the Cyclone.”
I would like to thank Nantes Grande Angle and our guide, Tanguy, not only for his welcome to the uniquely Lieu Unique but also for his great expertise. The poor man even had a look at this blog to see where I would publish my write-up. Brave too, and probably already in therapy. I hope I have done him justice!
Dear Reader, I may have mentioned before in previous articles that for my many sins, and to curb my pride, I am a musician, and some might even go further still, and remind me I am a horn player. As a musician, we can have a tendency to “do” concerts and play in them, rather than going along as a listener. I mean, of course, that we listen to our fellow musicians, especially when playing that music together. It is a team effort, after all. But not as a spectator.
Little did I know that when I went to taste some homemade beer at my friend Hervé’s house, he would invite me to take some photos of a concert he was playing in, on the 18th of June. I, of course, jumped at the opportunity. An evening of taking photos and getting to listen to live music at the same time? What a way to spend the hottest day of the year so far!
We were rehearsing together the following Friday, and he said to be at his house at such-and-such a time, and that I should just park up in the driveway. There would also be my old and very much revered horn teacher, as in my previous horn teacher, and not my old new horn teacher, nor a teacher that is old despite his great wisdom. But that is a story for another day. Hervé was going to drive us to the concert. Jérôme, my very much revered horn teacher, plays in the same ensemble as Hervé. They are members of the Brass Quintet Arabesque, made up of instrument teachers from across my particular region of France.
So, I got into the car, turned on the ignition, saw the temperature, and promptly melted. 44°C! For those who only work in Fahrenheit, body temperature is 37°C, and 44°C is 111°F. My point exactly. By the time I reached Hervé’s house, it was a mere 40°C. A tad warm, even for me!
I drove up, parked, saw my horn teacher in very summery attire, but always with a hat, saunter up, and Smaug, the family Labrador, who you remember from my last article, who does not know what sauntering is about, just ran around the car three times and jumped up to say hello, being as friendly as ever. Bless him! We quickly went inside into the shade and cool. I do like a bit of cool from time to time.
We eventually got all the kit together in the car, thanks again Hervé for doing all the driving, and set off. The way to Guérande isn’t very complicated, and it’s pretty plain sailing. We talked about everything and nothing, about my presence at the Wind Band next year, and what alternatives I could think of, about the photoshoot from the previous week, about the various instruments and would we change instrument, how much it might cost to change, and what newer instruments could bring to the table, or should I say rehearsal room…
Parking in Guérande was a doddle, and we headed to the Collégiale, or church inside the medieval walls. We dropped everything off in the church, and things suddenly became very serious. Where would we eat? The first place we tried, a creperie, was no longer serving food, so we headed to Plan B. Plan B was fully booked, but was able to fit us in. Five brass musicians, one organist, and yours truly. Luckily I don’t seem to take up much space. Simon said he had to go and shave and came back with blood on his face. Michel, the organist that would be playing with the quintet, told us that the organ in that building needed a makeover and was basically shite. Out of tune, and half of it didn’t work. That’s something you don’t really want to hear when you don’t have a huge amount of time to have the pre-concert setup and run through. Another thing you don’t want to hear is that you’re all going to have to tune your instruments up to 444hz. This basically means you’re all fecked because your instruments have been in slightly warm cars. After all, it’s boiling outside and you’ll just never make it. The brass expands in the heat and therefore will sound flatter, and at 444hz you really need to be on the sharper side. It’s a bit like me trying to walk past a slice of cake and a nice cup of tea; it’s just not going to happen… Luckily the food arrived, as did the beers, and the puds. We were happy. I had all my camera gear, and most importantly plenty of batteries in case the batteries inside the cameras gave up the will to live. Some lovely shots were begging to be taken outside the church.
What I didn’t have, especially inside the church, was a whole lot of light. For photography, light is quite important. Understatement of the year contender again… This was going to be interesting. I had been fed by Arabesque, and now there was bugger all light inside, so photography was going to be a tad tricky.
Luckily, somebody turned on the lights and I was saved. Who said miracles never happen in the Catholic Church? They did this evening. The only photos I could take were before the concert actually began because afterwards the church would fall into darkness as there was going to be drone footage shown on a screen behind the Quintet as they played, showing the church in which they were playing. This was the main idea behind the concert. Through music and film, show people the church they were in from a slightly different viewpoint. It was great just to sit and take in the music. And take in the music I did. I was always told the importance of concert-going to musicians and how it helps us develop musically in so many ways. I only had to make an effort to sit there, make no noise, and just listen and be captivated. And captivated I was! I thought the tuning was fine and not at all the catastrophe announced by the organist. But I was just here to listen to some quality sounds and not to be a critic from the Times
The first half finished with the Toccata by Charles Marie Widor from his Organ symphony number 5. Any pedal notes that were missing from the organ were amply covered by the bass notes of the tuba that seem to just go right through you. It’s also a piece of music that has, amongst others, the ability to make my eye become all watery with emotion. I’ll leave it here for you to listen to.
The interval arrived. I say that but it didn’t really make an entrance. It just happened. The public was invited to walk around the church and rediscover images from the film in real life. They could also purchase CDs of the Quintet. 10€ each, or 20€ for three. They could also subscribe and have a CD of the programme, as well as make a contribution to the Association Résonnance, who gave their name to the entire project. It also meant that I could take more ambience photos and not be in anybody’s way.
Up until then, I had been using the Canon 6D Mark II which makes a tremendous noise when the mirror moves up to expose the sensor. I was worried that I would disturb everyone and switched to the comparatively silent Fuji XT2 with the 18-55mm zoom lens, which is a 24-70mm full-frame equivalent, so a good all-rounder for reportage. During the second half, I could be seen trying to move silently the way Corporal McCune taught me to so as not to disturb my fellow concertgoers.
The second half started with the horn and trombone playing a one thousand-year-old tune for the Easter celebration. Unfortunately, the audience hadn’t cottoned on to the fact that the second half had just started and some were still talking! As soon as the other musicians appear and Hervé started introducing the next piece, they seemed to get the message and promptly shut up! They lead us through time through the Baroque, the Classical, and the Romantic periods. They ended up with Aaron Copland, and music from Grover’s Corner, whoever Grover was. I suspect it wasn’t the same Grover that lives on Sesame Street…
After the concert, we did the official group photo, and eventually said good night and see back at Hervé’s house. It was midnight, much cooler, windy, and felt as if a storm was on the way. Jérôme fell asleep in the back, and Hervé and I just chilled, talking about this very blog and photography, especially the differences between being a good amateur photographer, and a professional photographer and how the two are completely different, in the same way, that I quickly realised when doing my music studies here in France. You have to produce consistently good results, and the pressure is on. They were already doing the concert debrief about everything that went wrong. I tried to reassure them that it wasn’t a competition and that as an audience member, I had a great time. Basically, the same things that I had been taught by Jérôme. If the audience is happy, then the audience is happy.
On the way home, we saw the sky fill up with lightning and thunder. It felt magical, and also the temperature had halved. It was a mere 22°C. It felt wonderful. We got home first and had a beer whilst waiting for the others to arrive. The others arrived and there was still some English beer for them, and some homemade beer too. It received the seal of approval from everyone present. We ended saying what went wrong with the concert and how it was a learning experience. I still thought it was brilliant. So there!!
My Dear Reader, welcome to yet another article where I will try to find something interesting or witty to tell you. I have neglected you over August, but as most French people do, I closed shop and was on holiday. Since Covid and the world going base over apex, my company has decided that we only need three weeks’ holiday in August compared to the more traditional four weeks. I am about to sing the praises of my wife, so for those of you who hate the luvvy-duvvy side of things, turn away now. I take it you have all turned away.
For the first ten days of my holidays, I was camping in my living room. My wife and I literally carried our bed downstairs and set up camp. That was the less agreeable part of those first ten days. However, my wife had decided to decorate our bedroom and change all the furniture and replace it with nice new furniture from the infamous Swedish flat-pack place that we all know. I have a love-hate relationship with flat packs. Firstly, they’re heavy and hardly fit into the car without all the seats down and your wife in the back of the car telling you how to drive, you bloody moron! Secondly, they take up an awful amount of space in the garage whilst your wife gets to grips with decorating the room. Painting the ceiling, putting up wallpaper you agreed to ages ago because it’s easier and you love avoiding conflict. You don’t sleep well because everything feels strange in the living room and it’s hot too. Thirdly, they have to be taken upstairs to be put together and there’s always something missing, and you know it’s going to be your fault, you useless fool!
Anyway, with the help of friends, my son, and a mad screaming bitch, sorry, wife, we now have a haven of peace. We not only have a haven of peace, but fitted wardrobes that took three days to put together, but look great, and I have a cabinet for all my photography gear and, most importantly, a desk.
She is a champion, and let me assure you all, she has become human again! It has been a life-changer.
During the pre-let’s get this done otherwise I’ll go mad, clear out, we found some films that needed to be developed. You do not know what might lurk on those reels of film, but you tell yourself that you must have taken them, so it shouldn’t be too bad. I took in 9 rolls of film in. I was told by the amiable lady that if any of them hadn’t been exposed that there would be no charge for the development. Seems fair.
I returned to get the films and the contact sheets. That still sweet lady told me I would be in for a surprise! She was right. I looked through the sheets of paper and saw images of my son, who was still a toddler, and having baths, and being dried by his mother and his godmother. It took me right back to the end of the last century! My beard was in colour in those days!
Encouraged by all this photographic success, I went out and took even more photos. For those of you who follow me on Twitter, or Instagram you will have seen the stories and saw the cameras for the day: the Mamiya C220, and the Pentax ME Super, which were both gifts from a former teacher, and now a friend of mine! Merci Mr McM!
I do like taking photos and using cameras. There’s something I don’t think you knew!! It was good to be back out. I am now double jabbed. Thank you to that lovely lady at the chemists who reassured me and said that I wasn’t the only guy in the world that has a phobia of injections. Not only am I double jabbed, but I also have my Covid Passport, so I can go to the pub again without having part of my brain scraped out by a nurse with a long plastic thingy! I have rejoined the general population.
If you’re wondering what the French title of this article is doing there, let me explain. Quickly though, I’m already at 750 words here. The Rentrée is the re-entry into normal daily life after the summer holidays where people just weren’t there. The children go back to school. Those of use in employment, go back to that employment. Our extracurricular activities start again. Last night was my first wind band rehearsal in over a year (thank you, COVID), and it feels as if some relative normality has come back into my life.
Back to the photos. I shot the square photos on the Mamiya C220, using Ilford HP5+ film shot at box speed, developed in Ilfosol 3, and I took the other photos on the Pentax ME Super, using Fomapan 100 film developed in the same chemistry. Fine grain with the Fomapan and not something I’m used to, but a change is good, right? Oh, and I took them at the Hangar à Bananes, and HAB Gallerie in Nantes.
It has been a quiet three weeks over here in France. I went to see my wife’s family in Brittany, and strangely enough I could go out, take some pretty photographs, and not get any grief from my mother-in-law. Yes, miracles can happen.
England and football had definitely come home just before buggering off to Rome. Those three poor lads who missed penalties and got so much flack for it. Disgusting. I listened to the match on the radio in the car on the way home, but got home before the penalties, which would have been too horrible to listen to. At least we got further than France, and beat Germany. Small mercies, people, small mercies!
My eejit son got back with his ex-girlfriend, but apparently with “different rules,” and “different bases,” and asked me to accept everything wholeheartedly. Very optimistic, that boy! There are more red flags in that relationship than in the last Congress of the Chinese Communist Party… And to quote the genius that is Forrest Gump, “and that is all I have to say about that…” I’ve been forbidden from saying anything else. It happens, I suppose…
They have jabbed once me. I think there is definitely a conspiracy about the COVID vaccinations. Why don’t the injections hurt like hell, the way they used to when I was a child??? What is this utter madness? As of the 21st July, the “passe sanitaire” has been imposed, firstly on theme parks, cinemas, and libraries, where more than 50 people can gather. As of the 1st August, you cannot go to restaurants, cafés, shopping centres, and basically anywhere where everyday French life happens. The President sounds like a scratched record, vaccinnez vous, vaccinnez vous! Strangely enough, people are starting to feel a little iffy about the whole situation.
There are now huge demonstrations against this “passe sanitaire” and people are comparing it to the “Ausweis” that people had to carry about during the Occupation. Has Macron committed political suicide? Many are hoping so. I’m for people being vaccinated but want it to remain a choice. Aren’t we free to refuse a medical act? Have Liberté, Égalité, et Fraternité, just disappeared from France? Many think so.
A friend had his 26th birthday, so the weekend before, I took him up to Nantes to buy him his present. As we are still allowed to frequent cafés etc, we enjoyed ourselves and only had two teas, and one visit to the pub. Such restraint! I was amazed. I could have taken him to at least another two places. He dared to tell as we were ordering tea number two, that he was no longer hungry! I quipped, you don’t need to be hungry to eat this… These youngsters!
I am still allowed to wander the streets of France, and might keep doing it and my goal, this week, is to take some photos of the Voyage à Nantes Art festival! I might not be able to sit down and have a pint, but I’ll be a brave boy about it! Yipeeeeee!
