Conclusion: Reflecting on the Philosophy of Photography


As we reach the end of A Photography Philosophy Series, I hope this journey has been as rewarding for you as it has been for me. Through these articles, we’ve explored the philosophy behind why we photograph—going beyond equipment and technique to dig into the heart of what makes photography so meaningful. Each theme in the series has shed light on a unique layer of photography, from capturing emotions to telling stories, reflecting identity, building connections, and even embracing impermanence.

We began with Why Do We Photograph?—a question that sits at the root of every image we capture. For some, photography is about preserving memories; for others, it’s about self-expression, documenting moments, or sharing perspectives. Over time, our reasons for photographing often shift and evolve, bringing more layers to our work as we grow. This first article set the tone for the series by reminding us that photography is a deeply personal journey, and our motivations shape each image we create.

Then we delved into The Emotions of Photography, exploring how images can carry feelings, from joy and nostalgia to solitude and contemplation. Photography allows us to express emotions that words often fail to capture, communicating through light, composition, and mood. Each photograph holds the potential to resonate with viewers in a way that feels both personal and universal, offering a window into the photographer’s emotional landscape.

The Art of Storytelling in Photography came next, where we looked at how images can create narratives—small windows into people, places, or moments that form part of a larger story. Photography has a remarkable way of capturing both detail and the bigger picture, allowing us to document stories that speak to shared experiences or unique perspectives. In a world full of words, photographs can often tell a story with a quiet eloquence.

In Identity and Self-Expression, we explored how photography offers a chance to express who we are and what we see. Our images inevitably reflect parts of ourselves—our backgrounds, our worldview, and our personal journey. For many, photography is as much a journey of self-discovery as it is a creative practice, helping us find our own voice and share it with others. Photography encourages us to see ourselves more clearly and to reveal something of that to the world.

Then came Connection Through Photography, a theme close to my heart. Photography, as we’ve seen, can forge connections—between photographer and subject, among fellow photographers, or with viewers who see something of themselves in the image. These connections remind us that we’re not alone in this world; they foster a sense of community, shared understanding, and empathy that goes beyond language. Photography has a unique power to unite us, even if only for a moment.

Lastly, we explored The Philosophy of Impermanence, where we reflected on the fleeting nature of each photograph. Every image captures a moment that can never be repeated, lending photography its unique poignancy. Impermanence reminds us to treasure the moment and see beauty in the transient. Photography, like life itself, is filled with unexpected moments, and it’s often the imperfections or mistakes that give images their authenticity and depth.

As we close, I invite you to reflect on your own photographic journey. What drives you to take photographs? Which themes resonate most with you—capturing emotions, telling stories, connecting with others, or perhaps embracing impermanence? These reflections aren’t just theoretical ideas; they form the personal philosophy that shapes how each of us approaches photography.

Ultimately, photography is about connecting with the world and each other through shared moments and meanings. If this series has encouraged you to think more deeply about your motivations, experiences, and the meaning behind your work, then I hope you’ll carry those reflections forward. Photography gives us a way to see, to understand, and to share in ways that words alone can’t.

Thank you for joining me on this exploration. I’d love to hear about your own experiences—what drives you, what connects you, and how photography shapes your view of the world. Let’s keep the conversation going and continue building a community of thoughtful photographers, one image at a time.

The Opening of the Film Archives – April 2017 On the Border


Good evening Dear Reader.  Some of you may know that I live in France, despite being originally from the UK, and despite probably having gone native after living here for 30 years.  I have even been accused of being a little “Continental” whatever that may mean..  I live in the west of France.  You could think that I live in Nantes just judging by the quantity of photos taken in that city.

I actually live in a smallish village at the very northern edge of the Vendée and my village borders the “la Loire Inférieure” or to use the more modern term “la Loire Atlantique.”  Our department number is 85 and theirs is 44.  I’m not saying there is any animosity between the two, in the same way that there isn’t any animosity between the inhabitant of Lancashire, and God’s own county of Yorkshire.  Absolutely none at all.

You now know where I am.  Let’s have a closer look at that area through the lens of my Canon AE1.  This series of photos was taken along my route to work.  You can see the milestone on the road where the border between the two departments finds itself.  

The trees along this stretch form a natural tunnel, creating an otherworldly atmosphere as sunlight filters through the canopy. Capturing that interplay of light and shadow was my goal with the Canon AE1. Despite some doubts about its metering capabilities, the camera performed admirably, and I’m thrilled with the results.

Since I took these photos, some of the trees have been cut back, making these images even more precious. They preserve a fleeting beauty—a reminder of how photography can immortalise moments before they change forever.

At the base of the hill runs a quiet stream, tame in spring but often overflowing in winter. Its stillness offers another perspective, reflecting the surrounding trees and clusters of mistletoe hanging high in their branches. These reflections, captured on film, reveal a different kind of magic—a mirror-like calm that contrasts with the lively interplay of light above.

This installment of the Film Archives is a tribute to the quiet beauty of my daily commute. Through these photographs, I hope to share not just a sense of place but a moment in time that speaks to the power of film photography to hold onto the ephemeral.

Opening of the Film Archives, Château de Clisson, February 2017


I had obviously taken a break with the Canon AE1 and spent the whole of December and January in hibernation, as most grumpy bears of my age do. Get Christmas over with, then go back to bed… I like my bed. No, I love my bed!!

Spring was just around the corner, and Kate had managed to awaken the beast and proceeded to tell me what she had planned for the day. It included me, a camera, and the Chateau de Clisson. I had just been “told” by my daughter, and off we headed to Clisson.

Now, the Chateau de Clisson is no small affair by any means. It dominates the centre of the town, sitting atop a hill as an imposing structure. I remember Kate having begged me on numerous occasions to actually go inside, and this time I acquiesced.

It was the perfect opportunity to not only document the inside of this historic site but also to let my playful daughter do what children do best: be cute, or as they say in French, espiègle. At that age, she was still content to pose for the camera, unlike the moody teenager she has become. Yet, sometimes, that same playful nature still manages to shine through.

If you’re curious to learn more about the history of the Chateau de Clisson, I’ve included a link for further reading.

After our outing in Clisson, I retreated to the quiet of my darkroom, where the real magic happens—transforming the captured moments into tangible memories. The familiar routine of developing the film, loading it into the tank, and watching the images slowly emerge never fails to captivate me. Once the negatives are ready and the scans are complete, I file them away in both my digital and analogue archives.

Then, a few years later, I get to share these memories with you. It’s a special kind of nostalgia—the kind that comes with taking time to slow down, reflect, and preserve what matters most. Thank you for joining me on this journey and for allowing me to share these pieces of the past with you.

Opening of the Film Archives – Canon AE1 Street Photography in Nantes


Good afternoon, Dear Reader. I’m writing this article thinking of you and wondering what to show you next in this ongoing series. The clue is in the title: Canon AE1 Street Photography in the streets of Nantes.

I know you have the eyes of a hawk who never miss a trick because your vision is so sharp. You might even have scrolled down to the photos already, and your eagle eyes will have noticed that this isn’t the usual area I visit on these outings. And, of course, you’d be right!

Yes, I still parked in the Feydeau car park but crossed the road to the south, heading along Baco-Lu, past the Tour Lu (sans “t”), towards the St Felix Canal, and then back into town… Some of the places no longer exist or have changed hands, but you would still recognise them even today.

I think that with these photographs, I’m getting closer to what some might call “proper” or “traditional” street photography. The images have a certain gritty quality to them, including the people in the shots. This was something I was actively aiming for. Maybe it’s the grain—something I don’t get with the X100F—that helped bring this about. Or could it be the people, whose presence seems to reveal the stories behind them? Whatever it is, I felt that this was a very good day.

I think I may have shared with you that I’m going to China this Christmas on tour with the orchestra I play for. I’m still undecided about which camera to take and wondering if I should bring a film camera along. With the X100F, I’ve become so accustomed to the 35mm lens, while my film cameras only have 50mm lenses to work with. Reviewing these older images may help me make up my mind. It’s going to be an epic trip, and I want to be sure of the kinds of images I’ll be able to capture.

As much as I’d love the flexibility to hop in the car and retake a shot if needed, this trip to China will be different. I’ll need to trust my choices and embrace the moment as it unfolds—something that feels both exciting and a little daunting. But that’s the beauty of photography, isn’t it? The challenge of capturing fleeting moments, knowing they might never come around again. So, whatever I decide, I know the experience will be unforgettable.

While the anticipation of the China photos may be killing you, I know you’ll be patient, whatever I decide to use. Rest assured, those photos will capture the spirit of the trip. Only two and a half weeks before I start my travels…

The Opening of the Film Archives – Chaussée des Moines, Autumn 2016


It was one of those sunny late autumn days we sometimes get here—warm, golden, and untouched by the inevitable rain, wind, and cold that would soon claim the season. This time, I wasn’t in Nantes, or exploring the Forest of Grasla like last week’s outing. Instead, I decided to take my Canon AE-1 for a walk down by the river—more precisely, along the Sèvre Nantaise—to explore the Chaussée des Moines.

Chaussée des Moines translates to “the monk’s pathway,” and no, it’s not a detour through Iowa. I always get the name wrong, thanks to the cheese Chaussée aux Moines. Freud would probably call it a slip—though even he might have struggled to find better footing on this trail.

The pathway, bathed in the low autumn sun, was serene. Its golden light skimmed the water, creating shimmering reflections on the surface, while the riverbanks glowed with the last stubborn hues of the season. For those of you looking at the photos in black and white, you’ll just have to imagine the colours. The Canon AE-1 was a faithful companion that day, helping me focus on the interplay of light and shadow, the quiet stillness of the river, and the textured beauty of autumn’s final stand.

The Sèvre Nantaise is a river that flows into Nantes at the Bras de Pirmil. The Chaussée itself is a weir—a place where, weather permitting, you can walk across the river, loop over a nearby bridge, and return along the opposite bank. It’s a lovely little circuit, especially on a crisp autumn day.

The photographs from this outing were taken with the Canon AE-1 using Ilford HP5+ film, shot at 400ASA. I later edited the images in Lightroom to bridge that gap between film and digital. Some might call me a charlatan, but even in the darkroom, we worked our magic with tools akin to what Lightroom offers today—just a bit more hands-on and aromatic.

When I was learning how to draw, I was often reminded of the importance of contrast: darker, more defined elements in the foreground and softer, lighter tones in the background. Looking back at these photos, especially the ones of trees and fields, I’m struck by how naturally this principle seems to have played out.

All in all, it was lovely being out in the autumn sun, soaking up the scenery, and enjoying every minute of it. The boat moored along the bank, the cascading weir, the solitary man fishing—it all added to the charm of a wonderful afternoon. And if you’re wondering, the slice of cake and cup of something nice at the café overlooking the river had absolutely nothing to do with how fondly I remember the day… or so I tell myself.

The Opening of the Film Archives – Le Forêt de Grasla, October 2016


It would appear that I was quite the busy bee, snapping anything and everything with the Canon AE1 back in 2016. It seems to have become my “everyday carry” and the camera I always had with me.In 2016, I was all about exploring the world using just Ilford’s HP5 Plus black-and-white negative film. On this particular day, I had gone back to the Forêt de Grasla. I remember it being a fairly warm day for October, and it was wonderful to be in the outdoors.

The forest was one of my favourite hunting grounds for wild mushrooms, and Killian would be there with me, helping to find some “fungis to be with.” An old joke, but I am a dad, after all…

As you walk through the various parcelles of the forest, you can smell the mushrooms in the air, the decaying wood, and hear the rustle of wind rushing through the trees. The ground is slightly damp underfoot—hence the walking boots.

Now for a bit of history. I suppose you have heard of the French Revolution and its wide-reaching effects on my adoptive country. Well, not everyone at the time was very happy about the whole shebang. The “Chouans” from Brittany and the Vendée decided that they quite liked the idea of having a king, and perhaps this Republic idea might not be for them.

This led, of course, to the Guerres de Vendée, with Republican troops sent to massacre the counter-revolutionary Vendéens. Most places in France are wary of Parisians, but there’s an extra edge to this in the Vendée, and with good reason. Even now, the Vendée has a very independent mentality and has never forgotten what the Republic did.

The Forêt de Grasla was a lot larger than it is now, and the rebels would hide there, hoping to escape the Republican troops. There is now a museum, the Refuge de Grasla, showing how they lived hidden in the forest.

The idea of the outing, however, wasn’t history or mycology, but woodland photography on film. I think I managed to get some half-decent shots!