Tag: Creative photography

Balancing Film and Digital: A Photographer’s Journey

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Introduction

Have you ever had to make a difficult decision that you really had to think long and hard about, one that would have real-world consequences for you and your creative process? I have, and I’m going to share this first-world problem with you. Now, I know first-world problems are a joke, but this problem became very real to me during the run-up to the China Orchestra Tour: film or digital?

You all know about my fondness for the analogue process and the results I’ve been able to acquire. Judging by my recent stats and pages visited, this might just interest you.

The Allure of Film Photography

I’m not saying this was causing me the traditional anxiety that I have been known to suffer from in the past. But… I had to decide how I was going to record my trip and, therefore, what to take with me. I’ll give you a list of my ideal kit, and it might help you to understand my dilemma.

  • Camera 1
    A recently acquired Nikon FE (my first ever Nikon) and black-and-white film, ranging from Fomapan 100 ASA right through to Ilford HP5 Plus, whose box speed is 400 ASA but can be pushed up to 1600 ASA and still provide great images.
  • Camera 2
    A Mamiya C220, which is a beautiful piece of kit with various 120 format black-and-white films, HP5 Plus, Portra 400, with the addition of Kodak Tri-X.
  • Camera 3 (maybe 4)
    My Olympus Trip or even the Olympus Pen EE S half-frame camera, for those informal colour shots with some Kodak Ultra and even a roll of Portra 160 for that gorgeous vintage style.

So, you have my film cameras with the film that goes with them. They provide a photographic experience unlike any other. The slowing down of the process, the reflection on each shot taken, the satisfying sound they make when you press the shutter release button. And so much more. They also look pretty damned sexy just hanging there around your neck, and people will think you are a “real” photographer, and that old-school vibe just adds tonnes to your sartorial elegance. Yes, you become a real poser, but do I care? Absolutely not!

The Practicality of Digital
  • Camera 5
    My much-loved Canon 6D Mark II, with a couple of zoom lenses – 24-70mm F4.0, and my 16-35mm F4.0 lens, and maybe even my nifty 50.
  • Camera 6
    Fujifilm X100F, the travel photographer’s ideal camera with the 35mm equivalent F2.0 lens for that sexy bokeh. It’s the Internet that said it, not me.

Now moving into the digital world. Convenience, convenience, and in case you hadn’t realised, convenience. I love them both for the variety of shots they allow me to take, and as I learnt photography “back in the day,” I have still conserved the same approach that I had in analogue photography, i.e., not spraying and praying like I have seen some colleagues do.

It is easier to use a flash, and you have an image that can be transferred to your phone, edited in Lightroom CC, and rapidly shared in the China Orchestra Tour WhatsApp group. And people can see what a great photographer you are. Couple the Canon colours and the Fuji film simulations, and you can have all the creativity fixes you might need at your fingertips.

The film cameras were there to satisfy my love of the analogue process and the nostalgic film look that only film can give. The digital cameras for their practicality, lens effects of going really wide, and having the possibility of going right up to 70mm. Choices, choices, choices.

Reality Check

Now let’s get back to reality and look at the ever-growing list of constraints. First of all, I am going on tour as a musician and not as a photographer. One really has to make this important distinction, as it gives a sense of purpose to the trip as well as the implication of priorities.

I would be flying across half the world, and therefore have to follow the demands of the air travel industry and airline rules. That meant no more than two lithium batteries, and one in the camera, and not in your suitcase but in your hand luggage, or on your person. They don’t like the idea of these batteries exploding or causing fires mid-flight. And because we are respecting the zero BS rule here, I don’t fancy that either. I would be limited by weight for my suitcase: 23kg and 20kg for flights inside China. My priority was to be a musician first and not a photographer, if ever I needed reminding…

If I were going to the UK, I would just have to annoy my family in the car with it being loaded up with camera gear, but this is China we’re talking about. Not a jaunt across the Channel.

In my suitcase, I will need my clothes for two weeks, my suit for concerts, shoes for concerts, wash bag with all my toiletries, as well as my CPAP machine for my sleep apnoea (I have to think about my quality of sleep as well as not snoring for my unsuspecting roommate Corentin). My hand luggage would be my instrument, and as we didn’t need mutes, I might be able to get away with stuffing things up the end of my horn’s bell. Please note that I didn’t try to get a cheap laugh by using the word bell-end…

So here I am back at the beginning of this article, and yet now you might better understand my dilemma.

Tell us what you decided then!

Alright then, I will.  Welcome inside my mind and my thought processes. The sheer weight of all the kit would have made tking everything completely impractical.  I knew this and had come to terms with it.  I really wanted to analogical, but then had to come to terms with the fact that airport scanners can damage undeveloped film.  Also the Mamiya weighs a tonne and would have been impractical to lug around China, despite the wonderful images it provides.  Carmer 2 out!  Now for security check I had bought a metal film box for my films so that those charming people at airport security could check my films, making sure that I would not blow up the plane.  Not really my style…

That would leave me with Camera1, 3, and 4.  Cameras 3 and 4 are particularly sexy and Carmera 4 being a half frame camera, gives you double the amount of shots for your film.  However it uses zone focussing, and the ISO setting only go up to 200ASA so you need lots of light.  Camera 3 is similar in the fact that it goes only up to 400ASA so not good for lowlight shooting.  Cameras 3 and 4 out.

That leaves me with Camera 2.  Which is of course uber sexy and Aperture priotity, which I like, and has a larger ISO range, and one that I can focus accurately with.  I had black and white film for it which I enjoy using and know how it reacts and what kind of shots I can get out of it.  Very satisfying shots.  It also doesn’t need lithium batteries to work, so that helps rule that danger out.  But I would still have to contend with the possibility of annoying security staff, and annoying Chinese security staff, and as I speak no Chinese, that would be challenging. And yet it still had a chance of staying in the race.

Now lets explore the digital realm. Camera 5: The Canon 6D Mark II is a beast of a camera and one I enjoy using.  It’s lenses are beyond compare, and it would offer me lots of choice in choosing my subjects.  However it would be heavy, especially with those lenses, and despite being able to have my images straight away, would it really be worth that added weight.  Camera 5 out.

Camera 6.  The Fujifilm X100F.  Probably my favourite digital camera, and the one I took to the UK this summer as a test for this Chinese trip.  It’s small.  Compact and silent.  And yet despite being a digital camera, it has an analogue feel to it, and is also very sexy, so I can still pose with it and it will give that serious photographer look, and make make people wonder is he using digital of analogue…  Hmmm.  Sounds like a good choice.  It’s downfall lies in its power consumption. I would need three batteries in total.  Which would mean that I would have to entrust a battery to a friend..

The two cameras left in the race are the Nikon FE analogue camera with it’s 50mm F1.8 lens which doesn’t need batteries.  50mm was the lens I learnt photography on and would allow me to get some decent portrait shots.  However with the Fujifilm, I could change ISO setting without the hassle of changing my film, create scenic shots, as well as environmental portraits, and I could transfer the photos directly to my phone and share them straight after editing.  

The X100F: Why It Was the Right Choice

The X100F became the clear winner for several reasons. It’s compact and lightweight, which was essential for travel, yet it produces sharp, detailed images. The 35mm equivalent F2.0 lens allowed me to shoot wide-open for beautiful bokeh in portraiture and environmental shots. The range of film simulations, from classic Chrome to Acros, allowed me to quickly achieve the look I desired without extra post-processing.

Its hybrid viewfinder provided both optical and electronic options, letting me choose the right method depending on the shooting conditions. The controls are direct, giving me full control over exposure and depth of field, without the need to dig through menus. And though it’s a digital camera, it retains that analogue charm that makes shooting feel personal and intentional.

The only downside was battery life, but I managed to bring a few extra batteries, which wasn’t too much of an issue for the flexibility the X100F offered.

Conclusion

In the end, the Fujifilm X100F was the perfect balance between practicality and creativity. Its digital conveniences, combined with its classic photographic feel, made it the ideal camera for the China Orchestra Tour. The images you’ve seen in my latest China Series article were all taken with the X100F, and I’m happy with the decision I made and I hope you might be too…

Conclusion: Reflecting on the Philosophy of Photography

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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.

Photography Philosophy Part IV – The Art of Storytelling in Photography

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When I first started out in photography, I would go and get my film developed by the photographer on Newland Avenue near where I lived, and the photographer would do what people called a contact sheet.  Basically, the film was cut into strips, placed into a special frame to keep the negatives as flat as possible, and exposed directly onto a sheet of photographic paper.  These “thumbnails” allowed us to see the photos of the outing in one place and we could decide which ones might be worthy of developing.  

We have this digital contact sheet in Lightroom where we import our photos and decide which ones are worthy of being developed. It’s the same idea, just with different tools.

But what does this have to do with storytelling? Think of the contact sheet as the beginning of the story-crafting process. Just like a narrative needs a beginning, middle, and end, so too does our selection of images. With a contact sheet, we gain a bird’s-eye view of an outing—seeing not only the individual shots but how they relate to each other. Choosing which moments to develop isn’t just about technical quality; it’s about deciding which parts of the experience best tell the story.

This principle guides me when choosing photos to share here on the blog. Whether it’s capturing moments with my friend JD, the barber, or snapping a shot of my lunch before I dive in, each image plays a role in the day’s story, hoping that I don’t forget to take the photo of my dessert before eating it.  Otherwise you just get a photo of the plate with some traces of cake or just some crumbs.

But lets’s get back to the idea of story telling with an arc that covers the outing.  When I set out for the day, I begin with a few warm-up shots to set the scene. If I have a plan, great—but often I don’t. Instead, I focus on capturing the ambiance of my surroundings, whether it’s a café, church, or pub. Each photo builds on the last, creating a narrative of my day’s journey.

For events, especially when I’m hired to photograph, I’ll start by discussing the plan with my client. I want to know what’s important to capture, any specific conditions at the venue—lighting, mobility restrictions, etc.—and what moments they consider essential. Having this list of must-capture moments, like the classic Kodak moments that we talked about in the last article, helps me stay focused and give me structure.

For the sake of arguments, I have a wedding to photograph, and I know that I will be taking shots of the bride before the ceremony.  I know that I have to be at the venue before the happy couple arrives.  I’d better get a shot of the rings before they appear on the couples’ fingers, etc.  I’ll want environmental portraits of the guests, etc.  This planning ahead allows me to be more serene during the day itself.

newlyweds and their wedding bands
Just married

Not every story requires a series of images; sometimes, a single photograph can capture an entire narrative. Think of it as a self-contained story, a moment that holds not only what’s visible but also what’s implied—emotion, context, and sometimes, a sense of mystery.

For example, take a photograph of a lone, empty café table in the soft morning light, a half-full cup of coffee, and an open notebook on the table. This image can suggest solitude, introspection, or perhaps the moment right after someone has left. The viewer might wonder: Who was sitting here? Why did they leave? What were they writing? This photograph tells a story, inviting the viewer to step in and imagine the rest.

A single image can evoke different responses based on the viewer’s own experiences and emotions. In many ways, it’s a conversation between the photographer and the viewer. We as photographers might set the scene, choose the light, and capture the moment, but it’s the viewer who fills in the blanks, completing the story in their mind.

This approach also applies when photographing people. A portrait of a person lost in thought, gazing out of a window, can evoke curiosity about what’s on their mind, where they might be going, or what they’re experiencing at that moment. In these cases, the single image captures more than just a face or place; it holds an emotional narrative that transcends words.

my daughter contemplating cake
Am I sure about this cake?

Storytelling in photography isn’t just about taking pictures; it’s about deciding which moments matter and capturing them in a way that communicates more than what’s on the surface. Whether we’re crafting a narrative through a series of images or capturing an entire story in a single frame, each photo we take says something about how we see the world and what we want to share with others.

Next time you’re out with your camera, think about the story you’re building, whether it’s a quiet day at a café or a bustling event. What do you want your viewers to see, to feel, to wonder about? In some ways, we’re all storytellers—stringing together moments, big or small, to create something meaningful.

So, go on—look through your images as if they were frames in a film, each one a piece of a larger story. You might find that your perspective shifts, and that’s when photography becomes more than just a hobby; it becomes a way of understanding and connecting with the world.

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

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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.

A photography Philosophy – Part III – The Emotions of Photography

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The Connection between Emotion and Image

I’m going to tell you a story about an essay that was given to us by the music master at the beginning of my Music A level course.  There were four of us studying music, and the lessons took place in his study, much like a tutorial at university.  The title of the essay was something like describe the perfect piece of music.  

Back then I described the Glenn Miller song, Moonlight Serenade.  One of my fellow pupils described the Planets from Holst.  In the following tutorial after our essays had been marked, I was criticised since the Master thought my piece was repetitive, had no particular musical merit, and was corny.  I, on the other hand, argued that it was the way the piece made me feel.

With hindsight I should have just handed in a clean sheet of paper saying that there is no such thing as a perfect piece of music, as taste is purely subjective and that he should take his essay question and possibly reconsider his stance!  I didn’t of course.  But it certainly got me thinking, even to this day!  

Subjectivity in Art

As in any art the appreciation of the viewer is purely subjective and we have to be so careful about reading an interpretation into a given work.  There are effectively themes that are explored in literature that could be described as obvious.  But in Photography, I maintain that any connection to a particular photograph is an emotional one first, before going any deeper.  

The Essence of Emotional Connection

But what makes this emotional connection possible? And how do I go about achieving this in photography.  I’m going to harken back to my musical training.  My horn teacher in France would say, your concerto is your text.  Your job is to recite that text to the audience.    That is all you have to concentrate on.  You’ve worked through your concerto, the techniques necessary to play it, and once the sound leaves the bell of the instrument, it is no longer yours.  It belongs to the audience.  They are the ones listening and they are the ones that will form the emotional connection.

Creating Meaningful Portraits

So how do I make this connection with my audience when it comes to photography?  Well, in portraiture they say to focus on the eyes of your model.  Eyes being the entrance to the soul. If I can capture that and have my model looking directly at my camera and therefore my audience then I’m well on the way to creating a meaningful portrait.

Kate, my daughter
The Art of Street Photography

In my street photography, it can be about catching a detail that everybody sees but that nobody notices until they look at your image.  You can go to my photography tutorials and look at the composition articles to learn about how we direct the audience to a particular point in our photograph by using leading lines, the rule of thirds, and emphasising our subject with our lighting, or by isolating our subject.

The Role of Colour in Evoking Emotion

We also solicit emotion through the colors we choose. Warmer tones can infuse images with energy and happiness, while cooler tones can make them feel peaceful or introspective. For example, adding reds and oranges to a portrait can evoke warmth and approachability, while blues and greens can give a landscape a calm, reflective quality. Considering these colours “in camera” can make the entire process more intuitive, helping you set the mood before you even begin editing.

The Power of Black and White

Shooting in black and white, using only tones of light strips away the influence of colour and presents us with the “essence” of a scene, and it’s one of the reasons I love shooting in black and white, be that on film or digitally.  I aim for a timeless quality to my black and white images, and the emotion can be just as intense.  Without color, we focus on texture, shadow, and contrast—elements that can evoke nostalgia, solitude, or contemplation.

Mindfulness in the Photographic Process

What I think I’m getting at is that to evoke an emotion we need to be so mindful of our photographic process.  Sometimes taking that step backwards allows us to reflect before pressing the shutter button.

Conclusion

I don’t have all the answers of course, but in the end, capturing emotion in photography is as much about the heart as it is about the eyes behind the lens. Each photograph we create is a bridge between ourselves and our viewers—a connection forged in the moment but lasting beyond it. Just as a musician lets their notes drift into the silence, we photographers must let our images speak, leaving space for others to interpret, feel, and connect.

So, as you move forward in your own photography, remember to pause, to feel, and to let emotion guide your hand. Don’t be afraid to take a step back before pressing the shutter, and ask yourself: What do I want my viewer to feel?

I hope this reflection gives you a new perspective on how you approach your next shot. After all, photography, like any art, is a journey without fixed answers—one of constant discovery. Take time to explore, experiment, and, most importantly, to feel.

A Photography Philosophy Series – Part I – An Introduction

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With the aim of delving deeper into the meaning behind photography, I’ve decided to launch a new series of articles. Here, I want to explore questions like why rather than just how or with what. In my Photography 101 series, we looked at the basics—technique, lenses, and so on. I’ve written extensively about gear in my camera reviews. But now, I’m searching for something beyond that.

The wheels in my mind are already beginning to turn. Not frenetically yet, but there’s a steady intellectual process underway. Answering “why” feels more challenging than “how” or “with what.” It demands more from me than simply focusing on technique or gear.

Here goes anyway!

To set the stage for this exploration, I’ll begin by sharing my own journey in photography. Understanding where I come from may help illuminate my perspective on the medium.

I was born in an age before the all-powerful image took over. Yes, we had photos, and I enjoyed looking through them in our albums. Each image was a physical object, and the idea of viewing images on a screen was foreign to us all. When we spoke of phones, we meant the ones hanging on the wall at home or in the phone boxes on the street. They certainly weren’t for taking photographs.

Back then, cameras fell into two categories: point-and-shoot cameras for the masses and “proper” cameras for photographers. Point-and-shoots were basic, easy to use, and, for me as a small child, they were an introduction to photography. Proper cameras, on the other hand, were for those who had learned the craft of photography, and using one made you feel part of a certain fraternity.

My first Form Master at prep school, Father Gerald, had a proper camera and recorded school life with it. Occasionally, a board with a selection of 6-by-4-inch photos would appear, always in black and white. Father Gerald must have had his own darkroom for developing and printing. I have no idea what kind of camera he used, but it was undoubtedly a proper one.

In 1984, a German orchestra visited Hull, and Stefan Haller from Neustadt an der Aisch stayed with us. Stefan had a proper camera, and I was fascinated by it. When I asked my father if I could have one too, he agreed—but I would have to learn how to use it first. The local YPI organized a summer school offering various activities, including proper photography. And that, Dear Reader, is how I first encountered this “proper photography” lark!

So now you know the why and how behind my beginnings in photography. Let’s look at how this journey evolved. My first proper camera was a Praktica MTL 3. It was fully manual and had a built-in light meter, which helped me get my exposure right each time—or nearly each time. With that camera, I trained my eye and explored the world around me.

Photography at the time was film photography. Although Kodak invented the digital camera in 1979, digital photography didn’t become accessible until the early 21st century. Growing up, color photography was for capturing moments with friends and having a laugh; black and white was considered more “arty” and suited for serious photography. I was deeply affected by the black-and-white images in newspapers, while color images seemed relegated to magazines.

I remember having breakfast with my father every morning as he read The Independent, a paper known for its high standard of photographic journalism. This was my daily visual inspiration. I had a subscription to National Geographic, where I encountered even more incredible photography in its pages. This was top-class photojournalism, and these images now serve as a historical reference for us all.

This is the time and place I come from. For young Gen Z readers, it might sound like ancient history, but to me, it’s deeply real and continues to influence my approach to photography in the digital age.

Now that you’ve had a glimpse into my why, let’s dive deeper. In the next article, we’ll look at why others feel compelled to pick up a camera. Throughout the series, we’ll explore the connections between images and emotions, how we tell stories through our photos, and how photography can be a form of self-expression leading to personal growth. We’ll examine how photography connects us to others, reflect on the philosophy of impermanence, and, at the end of the series, I’ll invite you, Dear Reader, to reflect on your own photographic journey…