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 UK Chronicles: A Black and White Footnote


My usual approach to black and white photography is to shoot directly in black and white, either using black and white film or the Acros film simulation with my X100F. When using the X100F on this UK trip, my EVF displayed the black and white shot using Acros with a red filter—my go-to simulation. This method puts me in a black-and-white “frame of mind” from the outset.

However, this time I decided to break from my usual practice and experiment. I did something I normally advise against—starting with the intention to create color images and only considering black and white later. I chose the Classic Chrome film simulation instead of Acros, focusing on capturing the vibrant colors of the Northumbrian countryside. It was all about breaking free from my black-and-white routine. Both color and black-and-white photography have their place, but for this trip, I wanted to prioritize one over the other. Still, wouldn’t it be intriguing to compare both approaches?

Back in France, as I prepared the images for my black-and-white Instagram feed, I began to wonder if some of the colorful shots might also work in black and white. Initially hesitant—given my emphasis on shooting with intention and purpose—I decided to embrace the experiment. I was breaking one of my own rules, yet the idea intrigued me.

Reviewing the color shots, I considered which might translate well into black and white. I look for images with texture and varying tones rather than just color. My composition is usually solid since I’ve already edited my color images, including reframing and straightening as needed. With digital RAW files, converting to black and white and producing different versions is straightforward. As they say, the goal is to produce images that reflect how they made you feel, not just how you saw them. This is why I convert my images to black and white—they capture more of the emotional essence.

Opening Adobe Lightroom on my PC, I saw the familiar images on my screen. My editing approach may seem finicky, but it’s effective. While the simplest way to convert an image to black and white is to slide the “saturation” slider to the left, this often results in a flat, lifeless image. Instead, I use a more nuanced approach to control various color tones in the black-and-white image. This technique helps preserve depth and character, ensuring that each image maintains its visual impact even without color.

Here’s how I approach black-and-white conversion in Lightroom:

  • Black and White Profile: Sets the overall tone and mood of the image.
  • Clarity: Enhances texture and detail for a more dynamic appearance.
  • Contrast: Adjusts the range between light and dark areas, adding visual interest.
  • Color Sliders: Modifies the luminance of specific colors to bring out different tones in the black-and-white image.
  • Highlight Tool: Adds subtle vignetting and balances highlights for a polished finish.

So, why convert to black and white after shooting in color? For me, it offers a classic, timeless aesthetic, and challenges me to create a “better” image by focusing on composition and texture without the distraction of color. This approach pushes me to craft photographs that rely on fundamental elements, enhancing their overall impact.

Impact is at the heart of photography. While I cherish the colors of the Northumbrian countryside and am eager to learn how to use color more effectively, I also deeply value the strengths of black-and-white photography. It’s about transcending color to create images that resonate through composition and texture.

But there’s something more personal about these black-and-white conversions. Perhaps it’s because I broke my own rules this time around, allowing color to take center stage and letting the black-and-white images emerge later. These images weren’t planned with black and white in mind—yet, despite that, or perhaps because of it, they feel even more special to me. Sometimes, going against what you think you know leads to unexpected results. And, in this case, those results resonate even more deeply.

Isn’t impact what we strive for in our photography? Don’t get me wrong—I love the colors of the Northumbrian countryside and am on a quest to learn how to use color more effectively. But I do believe in the strength of the fundamentals offered by black-and-white photography. Sometimes, breaking your own routine brings surprising rewards.

The Opening of the Film Archives: On va Marcher sur la Lune, Kate


Last week’s journey through the film archives took us to Nantes, specifically the Île de Nantes. While you’ve seen my photos from that day, I’m excited to share my daughter Kate’s photos with you.

Are these images works of art deserving of a gallery? Perhaps not, but they represent a delightful exercise in spontaneity. Captured by a seven-year-old “playing” with a camera, they offer a unique glimpse into how my young daughter sees the world. There are no rigid rules of photography or composition here—just an extension of her eyes. These photos are raw yet delicate, showcasing the world as she perceived it at that moment.

These photos mean a great deal to me, particularly the one she took of me with that glorious moustache! I’ve often discussed how the journey and process of photography can sometimes be even more meaningful than the final destination. That day was a significant part of that journey, and reflecting on my own first photos from that age fills me with nostalgia.

The Opening of the Film Archives—the Hangar à Bananes August 2016


In my last venture into the film archives, I talked about how there was a time that my daughter hadn’t yet seen me the way I see myself and how she actually still liked me, before turning into a teenager.  This is the second part of that special day.

We had explored the Jardin des Plantes and discovered what they had to offer.  This of course builds up an appetite in a young lady, and convinces her that she really needs to drink something Daddy.  And why couldn’t we go to the Altercafé (now the D3) at the Hangar à Bananes.

So what else was I to do but drive us to the Hangar à Bananes.  You will have seen the Hangar in this article, and you will now be completely up to date and know nearly everything there is to know.

Don’t forget that this is a girl who gets an idea into her head and then just goes through with it.  That idea is so rooted that it is nigh on impossible to change that idea.  I knew what was coming.  I would order a chocolate brownie, and Kate would have an Orangina.  I could have a beer.  How gracious of her.

She had been my model for most of the day and even a top model needs a rest, and just has nothing left to give a photographer.  You just know when enough is enough…

The Opening of the Film Archives—Jardin des Plantes August 2016


There was a time when my daughter wasn’t a teenager.  There was a time when she quite liked her Dad, and she would accompany me everywhere.  It was good being that child’s hero.  It was a more innocent time.  It was a time when she actively tried to spend time with me.  It was a time when she didn’t see me the way I see myself…

One of her favourite places in Nantes was the Jardin des Plantes, a huge botanical garden in the middle of Nantes just across the road from the station.  I could talk about the fact of it being a haven of peace in the bustling city.  I could talk about it being an oasis of green in a sea of concrete.  I could talk using clichés ‘til the cows come home…

These photographs are not clichés, but real attempts of capturing a specific moment in time allowing me to travel back through time.  And looking at these images, I’m definitely back in time.

Let me introduce you to my daughter from 2016.  She was a 7 year old that already knew what she wanted but was slightly more subtle about it.  She would suggest that we go into town.  That I could take my camera.  That we could go to such and such a place.  That we could do such and such a thing.  And all this as if it were completely natural.  And I was a very willing victim.   

This time she suggested going to the Jardin des Plantes.  She would take her camera (my old Sony bridge) and I would take my Olympus Trip 35.  I used the Olympus Trip quite a lot at that time and its ease of use, the zone focussing, and general lack of buttons to press, made it quite the fool proof piece of kit.    

As usual, I let her lead the way.  This was here outing after all, and kept a respectful distance, so I could photograph her and record her for posterity.  The Jardin des Plantes has not only plants, the clue is in the title, but also is the backdrop to the Voyage à Nantes, and certainly was that year.  

I think the images speak for themselves and I’ll let you peruse them at your leisure.  They were taken on Ilford HP5 Plus film shot at box speed.