Tag: capturing moments

Photography Philosophy Part IV – The Art of Storytelling in Photography

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When I first started out, I’d take my film down to the photographer on Newland Avenue, near where I grew up, and he’d make what everyone called a contact sheet. The strips of negatives got cut, slotted into a frame to keep them flat, and exposed straight onto a sheet of photographic paper. Thumbnails of everything from the roll, all in one place, so you could work out which frames were actually worth printing.

Lightroom’s my contact sheet now. Same idea really, I import the whole take and go through deciding what’s worth developing further. Different tools, same decision.

What’s that got to do with telling a story? Everything, actually. A contact sheet is where the story starts getting built, because a narrative needs a shape, a beginning and a middle and an end, and so does a set of photos from a day out. Looking at the whole roll at once, you see how the shots sit next to each other, not just whether any one of them is sharp. Which ones you choose to develop isn’t really about which are technically best. It’s about which ones actually tell you what happened.

That’s roughly how I pick what goes on this blog too. A shot of my mate JD mid haircut, or my dinner right before I demolish it, they’re doing the same job: filling in a piece of whatever the day was. I try not to forget the photo of dessert before I eat it. Miss that window and all you’ve got is a plate with cake crumbs on it, which, as a photo, says nothing.

Back to the idea of an arc, though, because that’s the bit that matters. When I head out for the day I usually start with a few throwaway shots just to get my eye in. Sometimes I’ve got a plan. Usually I haven’t. Mostly I’m just trying to catch the feel of wherever I’ve ended up, a café, a church, a pub, whatever’s in front of me. Each shot leans on the last one, and by the end of the day there’s a sort of thread running through the roll, even if I didn’t plan it that way.

Paid work’s different, obviously. If I’m hired for an event I’ll sit down with the client first and talk through what actually matters to them: what the venue’s like, whether there’s awkward lighting or someone’s got mobility issues to work around, which moments they’d never forgive me for missing. Having that list of must-haves, the Kodak moments I mentioned in the last post, gives me something to hang the day on.

Say I’ve got a wedding booked. I know I’m shooting the bride getting ready. I know I need to be at the venue before the couple turns up. I need the rings photographed before they’re on anyone’s finger. I’ll want portraits of the guests milling about too. Planning all that out in advance is the only reason I’m not a nervous wreck on the day itself.

newlyweds and their wedding bands
Just married

Not every story needs a series, though. Sometimes one photo does the whole job. It holds what’s in the frame plus everything that isn’t: the emotion, the context, sometimes a proper mystery.

Take an empty café table in soft morning light, half a cup of coffee gone cold, a notebook left open. That’s a story on its own. Who was sitting there? Why did they leave? What were they writing? The photo doesn’t answer any of it. It just hands you the question and lets you sit with it.

Different people will read that image differently depending on what they’re bringing to it. It’s really a conversation between whoever took the photo and whoever’s looking at it. I set the scene, choose the light, press the button, but it’s the viewer who finishes the story in their own head.

Same goes for people. A portrait of someone staring out of a window, somewhere else in their head entirely, makes you wonder what they’re thinking about, or where they’re going, or what just happened to put that look on their face. It’s more than a face in a frame at that point. There’s a whole narrative sitting underneath it that words wouldn’t do justice to.

my daughter contemplating cake
Am I sure about this cake?

Telling a story with a camera isn’t really about the picture-taking bit at all. It’s about deciding which moments are worth keeping and finding a way to shoot them so they carry more than what’s literally in frame. Sometimes that takes a whole roll. Sometimes it’s one frame and you’re done.

Next time you’re out with a camera, don’t just take pictures. Ask yourself what you actually want someone to feel looking at this later, whether that’s a quiet morning in a café or a wedding with two hundred people watching. Look back through your old photos sometime too, in order, like a reel rather than a folder. It changes how you see them. Might even change how you see the next roll you shoot.

Also in this series: Part I — An Introduction  ·  Part II — Why Do We Photograph?  ·  Part III — The Emotions of Photography  ·  Part IV — The Art of Storytelling  ·  Part V — Identity & Self-Expression  ·  Part VI — Connection Through Photography  ·  Part VII — The Philosophy of Impermanence  ·  Conclusion

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

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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…

Browse the full Film Archives →

A Photography Philosophy – Part II – Why Do We Photograph?

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Cameras. Why? What is it that makes us pick one up in the first place? For me, a camera isn’t just a nice object to own. It’s a tool, a box with a lens, letting light hit film or a sensor and turn into an image. Doesn’t matter if the box is a hundred years old or fresh out of the factory, the principle doesn’t change. Even the phone in your pocket is just the latest version of that same box. But the mechanics aren’t really the question. What actually drives someone to lift the thing to their eye and press the button?

Kodak had an answer ready made: “capturing that Kodak moment.” Clever, that. First it was marketing genius, tying a photograph to something personal and meaningful. Second, it gave people a reason to buy film and take pictures to show off to everyone else, which if you squint is an early version of the FOMO we’re all drowning in now thanks to social media. Kodak linked photographs to the memories that mattered and got us reaching for our wallets in the process. Very kind of them.

But let me be clear, it’s not a cure for FOMO, whatever Kodak or Instagram would have you believe. Not entirely, anyway. I use my camera to document the world as I find it, at a particular moment. Photography is the one art form that lets you, the person looking at the picture, see something exactly as I saw it. Photojournalists document the world for a living, sure, but that’s not the whole story of why the rest of us do it.

It’s storytelling. A single photograph can hold a whole narrative inside its frame, hinting at more than what’s actually in the shot. Often, though, I need several images to tell the story properly. When I write a piece for this blog, I’m trying to tell it in both words and pictures, walking you through a curated handful of images and hoping you connect with them the way I did when I took them. That connection between photographer and viewer is, to me, one of the best things about photography. Through the lens, we hand someone else a small window into our world, our experience, our mood at the time. Storytelling isn’t just documentation. It’s building a shared space where someone else gets to feel something too.

Beauty matters too, obviously. There’s something deeply satisfying about nailing a composition, about a scene coming together the way you pictured it. I like to think I can build a pleasing image, using whatever tricks and techniques get me there. The aim is always the same: show the scene the way I saw it, and hope it makes you feel something. Photography might be the only medium that lets someone else see what only I saw, at a moment that, thanks to time passing, no longer exists anywhere except in that frame.

Sometimes it really is just art for art’s sake. In a world that wants everything to be productive and monetised, making something purely because it pleases you feels almost like rebellion.

Then there’s the meditative side of it. For me the camera isn’t only a tool for making pictures, it’s a kind of therapy. When I’m in a low mood, or my head’s too full, stepping outside and looking at the world through a viewfinder usually calms things down. Looking through the lens lets me step back from whatever’s nagging at me and get curious instead of anxious. That small shift, from being a participant to being an observer, changes a place that felt overwhelming into something I actually want to explore. The frame becomes a safe little space where nobody’s judging what I do with it. Call it mindfulness if you like the word, I just call it useful.

The process itself matters more than people give it credit for. I keep coming back to Vivian Maier, who left behind rolls and rolls of undeveloped film. Born in 1926, she spent her life photographing without ever showing the work to anyone. Of the roughly 140,000 shots she took, only about 5% were ever developed, a whole body of work that even she never fully saw. That fact still stops me in my tracks. Maybe she was shooting purely for herself, completely wrapped up in the act of it with no need for anyone else’s approval. Her archive is proof that the process can matter as much as the result, and that a photograph has value even if nobody, including the photographer, ever sees it.

In a world where everyone’s told to share, edit and curate their whole life, it’s worth asking whether you’d still take the photo knowing nobody would ever see it. For me, the answer’s a flat yes. Photography isn’t just about impressing people, documenting things, or sharing them. It’s how I make sense of my own head half the time. Every photograph is a small act of noticing, helping me see something more clearly or spot beauty I’d have walked straight past otherwise.

At bottom, photography is a language, one that gets past culture, past language itself, past time. A single photograph can hold something timeless, an unfiltered second of a life that someone on the other side of the planet can look at and understand. That’s a shared visual language, and it’s one of the few ways we get to connect with each other without saying a word.

So why do we photograph? Maybe the answer’s as different as the people asking it, shaped by whatever they’ve lived through. But whether you’re documenting, creating, or just messing about with a camera because it feels good, the act itself tends to make you look at the world, and yourself, a bit harder than you would otherwise. That’s reason enough for me.

Also in this series: Part I — An Introduction  ·  Part II — Why Do We Photograph?  ·  Part III — The Emotions of Photography  ·  Part IV — The Art of Storytelling  ·  Part V — Identity & Self-Expression  ·  Part VI — Connection Through Photography  ·  Part VII — The Philosophy of Impermanence  ·  Conclusion

The Opening of the Film Archives – Trentemoult October 2016

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This was another Ian and Kate day.  Similar in concept to the Ian and Killian day, but a day where I can dedicate myself solely to Kate.  She’s fifteen now of course, but I should spend more time with her.  If she’ll let me of course.  At the time she was only seven—simpler times where I could make her happy with just a nice tea, a boat trip across the river, and just wandering around exploring the intricate streets of an old fishing village on the “bords de Loire.”  There are no cars in the narrow streets, and the children can run wild.  

This day was one spent in Trentemoult, that rather colourful village that you can see here. The colours are intense and provide a great backdrop for portrait photography. So of course I went in with a film camera and black and white film.  Which only goes to show that when you photograph a location, however colourful, and take away the distraction of that colour, you have to really concentrate on composition, texture, and forms.  I couldn’t rely on colour for my photos today.  But I was sure that I could reveal some good photos despite that.

So what do you do?  You just try and capture some moments of your daughter messing around and being a perfectly normal seven year old.  I tried to capture her exploring the streets and being absorbed by the whole ambiance of the place.  She became part of the scenery, and blended in perfectly.

I was just there purely to observe and record the day on film, with one eye in my camera and the other on Kate.  It was a good day.  

Looking back at those moments reminds me of how quickly time seems to slip by without me realising that I am getting older.  She of course is slightly older, and possibly slightly less “insouciante” or carefree, but my love for that girl is still as strong as ever.

Browse the full Film Archives →

The Opening of the Film Archives – Kate July 2016

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I am a father.  I am the father of a son, and have been for the last 25 years.  I am a father.  I am the father of a daughter, and have been for the last 14 years.  I am a father.  More traditional than modern, but definitely a doting and loving father of both children.  I am a photographer.  Both children have had multiple photos taken of them over the years.  However, the subject of bedtimes has always been contentious.  They say you have to be rigid and follow an established routine.  They say that for the good of the children you have to respect this routine to the letter.   They are obviously not parents.  They are obviously completely disconnected from reality.  They obviously have their heads buried so far up where the sun don’t shine.

As a father, I’ve learned the importance of picking your battles, especially when it comes to bedtime routines. This particular night, with my 7-year-old daughter wide awake, a fight wasn’t the answer. So, I grabbed my Praktica MTL3, loaded some HP5 pushed to 1600, and turned a potential meltdown into an improvised photoshoot. We ended up in the bathroom – because teeth brushing was still non-negotiable – but the resulting photos captured a moment of pure magic.

Let’s talk about technical details: the Praktica MTL3 is the model that I learnt my craft on.  It’s solid.  It’s fully manual, and gets the job done admirably.  The lens is an F1.8 Pentacon 50mm, with a lovely depth of field.  I pushed the HP5 to 1600 to be able to take advantage of all the available light.  

Kate posed for me and thoroughly enjoyed herself.  Teeth brushing.  Calling somebody very important on the Fisher Price telephone.  And pulling a face to tell me off.  Some things just don’t change…

Photography is not the technique or the camera, or worse still, the settings used.  It’s about capturing that “Kodak moment” albeit with Ilford HP5.  It’s about the shared memories.  It’s about the nostalgia of looking back on family life that can never be recaptured.  It might seem mundane to you, but to me it’s priceless.  And looking back at these family photos, it just reminds me how much I love both my children, and am fortunate enough to have captured these fleeting instants.

Finding Balance: Photography and Personal Wellness

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Photography is one of the best ways I know to switch off. When I’m behind the camera, I stop overthinking and just look at what’s in front of me, which is its own kind of relief from the noise of daily life.

It doesn’t always produce a good photo. That’s fine. The time spent actually looking at something is worth it regardless of what ends up in the final frame.

If you’re feeling overwhelmed, picking up a camera and going for a walk is cheap therapy. It’s helped me more than once.

The X100F, again!

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She’s My Pride and Joy

It seems that I’m not the only one who raves about this powerhouse of a camera. This just proves that size truly doesn’t matter. I’ve mentioned it on numerous occasions and I stand completely justified in doing so!

Here’s a selection of articles that I have written showcasing phtoography from this amazing little camera in no particular order:

What keeps me coming back to it isn’t really about the pictures, or not just the pictures. It’s small enough that I actually bring it places a bigger camera would stay in the bag for, and that alone means it’s taken photos that wouldn’t otherwise exist. Still my most-used camera by a distance.

Frame It Right: The Art of Composition in Photography Part IV

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In my previous articles (Part I, Part II, Part III), we’ve embarked on a journey to understand the basics in photography. I have talked about exposure, set out some of the “rules” of composition, and even delved into the world of colour theory. Today, I’d like to introduce you to the rule of odds and the rules of space, two fundamental elements that will take your photography to the next level.

Before we talk about these new concepts, let me reiterate the importance of building a solid foundation. Just as we did with framing, negative space, and colour theory, it’s crucial to master each concept before moving on to the next. Take your time to learn and apply these principles in your photography journey. The other articles will stay up, and you can read them at your leisure.

The Rule of Odds in Photography

The rule of odds is a composition guideline that suggests using an odd number of subjects or elements in your frame, typically three or five, rather than even numbers. Why? Because odd numbers tend to create a more balanced and visually pleasing composition.

When you use the rule of odds, you create a natural focal point within your photograph. Our eyes are drawn to the centre subject, and the uneven arrangement adds a sense of harmony and intrigue to the image. The result? A more captivating and dynamic photo that engages your viewers. It’s all about balance.


Rules of Space: Balance and Direction

Now, let’s look at the rules of space. This concept involves how you position elements and subjects within your frame to achieve balance and direct the viewer’s gaze. It leaves space for the subject and can be used in multiple ways as a storytelling tool. It can also be used in conjunction with the other composition techniques that I have talked about in my previous articles.

Tips

Think outside the frame. What is going on outside the frame becomes as important as what is oing on inside the frame. Let’ take the picture of the guitarist. Who is he looking at? What’s going on outside the frame? Is there an audience? Where is the audience? Using rules of space the viewer will more curious and be more engaged in the photo.

Conclusion

One can talk about composition and the effect it has on photography till the cow come home. People will always bring up “composition” and will always tell you how “they” would have done it differently. In these four articles you will now know what they are talking about and be able to decide for yourself. In absolute terms, “your” photographs are about what “you” saw, and only “you” can see that. But keep the rules that we have discussed in the back of your mind, and take your photograph with purpose and being conscious about what you are doing. Mindfulness is the key.

My next article will talk about the differences between 35mm film photography and medium format photography. For film enthusiasts or anyone else who is curious you will be entering into a new world. There are, of course, trade offs between each format, and we will discover them. Maybe you’ll be bitten by the Medium Format bug too… As always Dear Reader, I appreciate your enthusiasm, and I look forward to our next exploration together. Until then, happy shooting!

Also in this series: Part I — Rule of Thirds, Leading Lines & Symmetry  ·  Part II — Framing, Negative Space & Colour Theory  ·  Part III — Pattern, Scale & Depth

Capturing the Essence of Nantes: A Street Photography Journey with the Pentax ME Super and Kentmere 100 Film

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Dear Reader,

This is less of a tutorial than the last four articles but more a “how I approach the subject” kind of article. You can read about something I seem to do a lot of and have experience of. I’ll be talking about my film photography phase from this summer when my X100F was still dead

Have you ever felt that familiar tug of nostalgia while strolling through a city that reminds you of your hometown? For me, Nantes, with its maritime heritage and busy streets, brings back memories of Hull in East Yorkshire. Those of you from Hull will see the irony in this, wondering how the heck a town can be like Hull, but it has similarities… If you know, you know. It’s a city that feels like home, and it’s just a short 35-minute drive from where I live. Come with me through the streets of Nantes, with the Pentax ME Super and Kentmere 100 film.

Exploring Nantes Through My Lens

Nantes, like Hull, boasts a rich maritime history, or is it the other way round? As I set foot in the city, I can’t help but feel the past staring me in the face. The first thing I do is head to my favourite spot, Parking Feydeau. It’s become somewhat of a ritual for me. I park on the same floor, in the same space — predictability eases one worry when you’re out capturing moments, or as my son says, are you autistic Dad? The cheeky little bugger. No, I’m just me! An old Fuddy-Duddy.

As I step out onto the street, I take my first light reading with my camera. It’s a bit like taking the city’s pulse, getting the vibe for the day. My starting point is usually Quartier Bouffay, near the castle , and the fact that the pub is close by has nothing to do with anything! From there, I seem to find myself in front of the Sainte Croix Church. Sometimes, it’s for confession; other times, it’s just to warm up, both physically, spiritually, and visually.

Just as walking the streets of Nantes is a physical workout, and with a camera it is akin to a visual workout. You’re constantly observing, framing, and capturing scenes as they unfold. Rue des Carmes or the path leading to the Castle are some of my more frequent routes, but I’ve been known to start my journey at Place Royale, especially if a visit to my barber is in order. My beard and length has often been a debate between my mother and I. She prefers the shorter, therefore neat and tidy beard. I seem to like a little more length, going for the Father Christmas look. From there, I can explore the Rue de Calvaire or aim for the Tour de Bretagne. Should I choose Rue Crébillon, it will take me to Place Graslin, and I end up in the very French and very stylish Cours Cambronne. They do do a nice courtyard do the French. Sometimes I will head to Quai Président Wilson, to the Hangar à Bananes, where I go to the HAB Gallérie. The added bonus is that parking is free in this area, and after all as Tesco’s would have us believe, every little helps. Again, the fact that I have an address for a beer and a piece of cake has nothing to do with anything, and I will, of course deny everything!

Moments and Encounters: The Heart of Street Photography

As an older gentleman with a slight limp, courtesy of arthritis, I’ve come to understand the importance of comfortable shoes. Fortunately, I do happen to posess some comfortable shoes, allowing me the extra bit of ease whilst wandering around the streets. I’ve also done the odd reckie of spots where I can sit down— be it for a meal, people-watching, sipping a cup of French expresso that packs one heck of a caffeine punch, or, on rare occasions, enjoying a decent cup of tea, but as we are in France this a much more challenging endevour. The French can just be so French now and again. Ah, tea — that drink that is a hug in a mug.

Navigating the streets of Nantes with a camera in hand and a discerning palate for food has become somewhat of a habit for me. Some of the things I hold dearest to my heart, tea, and cake. In France, we encounter the “droit à l’image,” a set of laws governing the right to one’s image. Some people may feel uncomfortable having their photo taken, and I’ve seen it manifest in numerous shots of people’s backs. However, these unwitting contributors add a recognisable element to the urban landscape, showing human interactions in the city.

I recall an incident when a passerby accused me of taking his picture without permission. I had a 28mm lens, and he was merely an infinitesimal part of the scene I was capturing. Reassuring him, I explained that he was not the focus of the photo, and that I had only noticed him when he started yelling at me. So much of a muchness. It was a lesson in navigating the sometimes touchy waters of street photography in a culture sensitive to “the right to one’s image.” As it turns out, compassion is the universal language, but so is muttering under my breath when out of earshot.

Another way I combine photography and life in Nantes is through my visits to the local barber. Whenever I’m in the chair, I discreetly document the atmosphere of the shop. The photos I take are subsequently given to my barber, forming a visual record of his small business — it’s good to be good, and it’s my small way of supporting local businesses. As is drinking tea and eating cake. Nothing to do with my tummy, and nothing like Whinnie the Pooh…

The Pentax ME Super and Kentmere 100 Film: A Street Photographer’s Dream Team

Why do I choose the Pentax ME Super for my street photography outings? Well, it’s a matter of practicality and style. First and foremost, it’s compact — a small camera, and in my pocket another lens and a couple of rolls of film. In the world of street photography, less is often more. It’s a “Keep It Simple, Stupid” approach, and I am a great fan of simple.

But it’s not just about size as in many domains; it’s also about subtlety. A massive DSLR with a conspicuous zoom lens can be intimidating, both for the photographer and the subjects. With the ME Super and prime lens, I “zoom with my feet.” This set-up forces me to engage more intimately with my surroundings especially with the 50mm lens, and the result is a more authentic perspective of the city. Plus, let’s face it — the ME Super is just a really cool looking camera and its vintage appearance just oozes kudos and style. It makes me feel like a true photographer, even though I’m merely an observer of the city.

Now, let’s talk about the Kentmere 100 film. It’s practical and easy to find. This film stock is budget-friendly, a nicer way of saying cheap (Fomapan is another cheaper film stock too), which, if you have seen the prices of Kodak film, is a very convincing argument, yet it reminds me of more renowned Ilford films. One year, I decided to exclusively use HP5+, a faster film. Switching to Kentmere 100 or any other 100 ASA film gives me a finer grain, and I can still expose at F2 and 1/2000th of a second for that silky depth of field that just makes everyone go weak at the knees in “good” light. Bokeh whores I’m talking to you!

Street photographers often aspire to capture the kind of timeless black and white aesthetic seen in the works of Doisneau, Cartier-Bresson, or Vivian Maier. While we may never fully replicate their images, using black and white film, allows us a head start on our digital brothers. I’ve always been drawn to this style of documentary photography. Street photography, for me, isn’t just about street portraiture; it’s about observing the street and documenting it in a classic way — classic, much like myself, or should I say, old-fashioned? Whatever it may be, it’s certainly not modern and up-to-date, just like Yours Truly, but that’s fine too! We all have our place.

Tips for Aspiring Street Photographers

Now, for those of you who aspire to explore street photography, let me share some tips. Remember the phrase from the cover of “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy”: DON’T PANIC! When you’re working with a film camera, such as the Pentax ME Super with its 36 exposures, don’t expect to get 36 keepers. However, consider each photo that doesn’t quite hit the mark as a valuable visual note.

These notes help you study your subjects and how the scene changes with shifting light. Practise, after all, makes perfect. Don’t think that any photographer publishes all their shots; in fact, I curate and edit my photos carefully before sharing them on my Instagram feed. It’s all part of the learning process, using each “less than perfect” shot to refine your craft. And each photograph is a journey towards the ultimate photograph.

Dont forget those comfortable shoes, which, as I mentioned earlier, are essential. You’ll be walking and standing a lot, so prioritise comfort. Again, reduce your kit to the minimum. The less weight you have to carry, the fewer excuses you’ll have to sit down and maybe have a cup of tea and a piece of cake. But keep that option open, you never know…

I photograph to find out what something will look like photographed.

Garry Winogrand

Conclusion: Capturing the Essence

In conclusion, street photography is about capturing the essence of the city, and with the Pentax ME Super and Kentmere 100 film, I document the life, culture, and people of Nantes. It’s a city with a rich past and a vibrant present, and through my lens, I’ve sought to capture moments that reflect its unique character.

Each click of the shutter is a testament to the enduring appeal of film photography and its ability to capture moments that transcend time. It’s a classic approach in a modern world, much like my beloved Nantes itself. I mean, it’s not Hull, but not many places can rival Hull. If you know, you know.

If you want to dig into the Pentax ME Super itself — its controls, its character, and why it works so well for street photography — I’ve written a dedicated review: Why the Pentax ME Super Is the Perfect First Film Camera (Even in 2026).

So, Dear Reader, whether you’re a seasoned street photographer or just beginning your photographic journey, I encourage you to explore the streets of your own city or a new one. Embrace the art of observation, document its nuances, and don’t be afraid to capture this essence of the world around you. It’s a journey that rewards both the observer and the observed.

Thank you for joining me on this photographic adventure. I invite you to share your own street photography experiences and engage in a conversation about this beautiful art form. Until next time, keep clicking and exploring.

The Art of Visual Note-Taking in Photography: Lessons from a Reflective Portrait

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A photo that wasn’t meant to be a photo

Not every photo I take is meant for a portfolio or a blog post. Some are just notes to myself — a way of remembering how I saw something, without much thought for whether it’s any good.

This one’s a black and white shot of my son in a lift, and it wasn’t planned. It happens to land close to the rule of thirds, but that’s luck rather than intent. The detail I actually like is my own reflection in the mirror behind him — I hadn’t noticed it until I looked at the photo properly afterwards, and now it’s the part I keep coming back to.

I don’t think there’s a grand lesson in it. It’s a small, ordinary moment: my son’s expression somewhere between curiosity and mild boredom, me half-visible in a mirror I forgot was there. But it’s stuck with me more than plenty of photos I’ve actually planned out, which is probably the point of taking these kinds of notes in the first place — they catch something the planned shots don’t.

The following photos, or should I say visual notes, were taken over two September Saturdays with my Fujifilm X100F. Nothing more calculated than that.

A Peaceful Stroll Through Jardin de Plantes

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The Jardin de Plantes is a quiet spot in the middle of a busy city, and my niece came along for a walk through it with me — Pentax ME Super loaded with Kentmere 100.

That day there was a bonus: sculptures and installations from the Voyage à Nantes were dotted around the garden, mixed in with the usual plants and paths. Away from the noise of the city, it was an easy, unhurried couple of hours.

My niece explored every corner while I got on with the Pentax, the Kentmere 100 doing its usual job. Nothing dramatic, just a good afternoon out with a camera.

Capturing Nantes: A Photowalk Through Urban Charms

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This was a photowalk through Nantes with the Pentax ME Super, first loaded with Rollei RPX 100 and then Fomapan 100, taking in some of the sculptures and public art around the city, including a few pieces from that year’s Voyage à Nantes.

First stop was Place Royale, where the fountain is decorated with marine sculptures by the Belgian artist Maen Florin.

Next was Place Graslin, where the statue of Cambronne — the newer version, by Maya Eneva and the Cellule B collectif — stands outside the Cigale café.

A walk along Cours Cambronne took in two Voyage à Nantes pieces: “homme pressé” by the English sculptor Thomas Houseago, and “éloge à la transgression” by Philippe Ramette.

No Nantes photowalk is complete without the bike shots. It also allows people to keep fit and be very smug about not polluting…

Two rolls, one classic camera, and a decent look at some of the city’s public art along the way.