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—Abbaye de la Grainetière, October 2016


“They” say that if you leave your child to the Jesuits for seven years, then that child will belong to the Jesuits for life. I am not a Jesuit, but I was heavily influenced by the Benedictines when I went away to prep school in 1980. Mummy, Daddy, let me reassure you, this isn’t about Gilling—some things are better left in the past. This article will instead focus on a different Benedictine site, one that I visited much later in life: l’Abbaye de la Grainetière, a peaceful monastery here in the Vendée.

The Abbey of Notre-Dame de La Grainetière, on the outskirts of the town of Les Herbiers in Vendée (France), encompasses nearly nine centuries of tumultuous history. For over 50 years, numerous restoration works have been undertaken. These efforts allowed for the re-establishment of a community of monks at the end of 1978, nearly 200 years after the abbey was abandoned by the monks, shortly after the Revolution of 1789. Classified as a historical monument since 1946, many volunteers are working to continue the legacy of La Grainetière.

To those of you unfamiliar with the ins and outs of the Catholic Church, the role of monks is to live in community, and their main duty is to pray for us in the wider community. The monks elect a Father Abbot, who is responsible for running the monastery. In centuries gone by, the Abbot would wield a huge amount of influence, but this power has been reined in over time and is less evident outside the monastic community.

When I visited l’Abbaye de la Grainetière, I couldn’t help but reflect on how different this Benedictine monastery felt from my school days. The quiet prayer, the stillness—it offered a kind of peace that I hadn’t experienced for a long time, and a life that was once very appealing to me.

The monks follow the Rule of Saint Benedict, a foundational guide for monastic life that addresses not only prayer, but also how to live both within and beyond the monastery walls. Though written for monks, many of its teachings have been adopted by the laity seeking a structured, spiritually focused life.

I could almost say I envy them the simplicity of monastic life compared to the complexities of modern society and family life—juggling careers, responsibilities, and the endless distractions of today’s world. While I don’t regret the joys and vibrancy that come with having a family—something perhaps lacking in monastic life—it’s hard not to admire the stillness and purpose that a simpler existence can offer. We all have different vocations in life. Mine was to be a father.

As I packed away my camera and left the grounds of l’Abbaye de la Grainetière, I found myself still pondering the contrast between the quiet, ordered life of the monks and the complexity of my own. In some ways, visiting the abbey felt like opening a door to a simpler time, a place where life seemed more focused and more deliberate. Yet, as much as I admire the peace found within those ancient walls, my own path has led me elsewhere—to the joys, challenges, and unpredictability of family life.

In the end, it’s not a question of envy or regret, but rather a reminder that we all find our peace in different ways. For the monks of l’Abbaye de la Grainetière, it lies in prayer and solitude. For me, it’s found in the laughter of my children, the shared moments with loved ones, and yes, even in the rush and noise of everyday life. Each vocation, after all, carries its own kind of grace.

Perhaps that’s what lingers with me most from my visit to the abbey—not just the tranquillity of the place, but the realisation that we each have our own rhythm, our own way of navigating the world, and there is beauty in all of it.

Post Scriptum:

The photos were taken with a Canon AE1, and its FD mount 50mm F1.8 lens, using Ilford HP5 + black and white film.

The Opening of the Film Archives—Clisson, September 2016


Welcome back, Dear Reader, to the film archives, still with the Canon AE1 and HP5 Plus from Ilford, but in Clisson this time.  You will remember Clisson from previous articles and will have seen the pictures, so it shouldn’t be a stranger to you.  Who knows, it could even feel like revisiting an old friend.  It certainly is for me. 

But why Clisson I hear you say.  Well, it’s not very far away from where I live.  It’s also one of those market towns that is renowned for the beauty of its architecture with an Italian slant.  It has the massive castle that towers above the river.  It has me taking photographs of it.  

Clisson, like most things, has options.  On a Friday the main option is the huge market, and wandering around the 14th-century Halles, which can keep you out of the sun, the rain, the heat or the cold, depending on the time of year.  I either go down to the river and wander along the river banks in the Garenne and Lemot park, or park at the top of town and stroll around the Halles and surrounding streets.  In the series of photos at the end, you will see some stone steps that join the two options, but I have dodgy knees, and those steps are like leg day at the gym.  You can avoid those steps by just following the road that wraps itself around the church, and going under the tree that just got tired and decided to rest on the house opposite.  

But this time I decided to break out of my habits and visit the Quartier St Jacques with its decommissioned chapel, and garden.  It’s yet another pretty place in a pretty town, and when I was sitting there in the sun, I felt that I didn’t have a care in the world.  Serenity flooded my mind and all was well with the world…

The Opening of the Film Archives—Le Château des Ducs de Bretagne, August 2016


Welcome back to the Film Archive of IJM Photography! This time, we find ourselves in the beautiful city of Nantes, in the heart of the Cité des Ducs. Our adventure takes us through the majestic Château des Ducs de Bretagne, a site rich in history and culture.

As we explore the castle, I’m armed with another one of my favorite cameras from the golden days of film photography—the Canon AE1. This was before the surge of interest from the YouTube hipster crowd, who quickly snatched up every classic camera they could find, driving up prices and making these gems harder to come by.

The Canon AE1 is justifiably sought after, and for good reason. It’s a camera that offers both simplicity and elegance, paired with the beautiful FD 50mm F1.8 lens. This lens, in particular, has a way of capturing light that enhances every shot, allowing me, the photographer, to create images that feel alive. You can see the results in the photos here—every frame is a testament to the quality and craftsmanship of this camera.

It feels solid in the hand, and focusing with the split prism is a breeze. The camera is “shutter priority,” and it adapts the f-stop to the speed at which you’re shooting. As a street photographer, I don’t need to shoot at 1/1000th of a second for all my shots, so I have a wider range of options than someone taking pictures of sports. It still provides me with the necessary depth of field.

On this particular day, I was motivated and thought I could walk up the steps to the battlements to get some more interesting shots from a raised standpoint. I captured the urban landscape that spans from the 13th to the 21st century, and in one of the shots, you can see the ever-present figure of the Tour de Bretagne. It once represented the modernity of the 20th century and is now closed for asbestos removal. My feet, however, were firmly rooted much earlier in the castle.

Exploring the Château des Ducs de Bretagne with the Canon AE1 was a journey through both time and photography. The castle’s ancient walls and rich history provided a stunning backdrop for capturing moments that feel timeless. With every click of the shutter, I was reminded of the magic of film photography—the anticipation, the artistry, and the satisfaction of seeing the world through a vintage lens. As I descended from the battlements, I couldn’t help but feel grateful for the simple joy of capturing life on film, in a place where history and modernity blend seamlessly. Until next time, keep exploring and shooting. There’s always more to discover.