Good morning Dear Reader, I have been out with my camera. What a surprise I hear you say. I have been missing my Canon 6D Mark II but wanted to keep using my lovely lenses. Sometimes the 50 is great, but it’s nice to break out the zoom! I have the 24-70mm EF F4 because I’m not forking out the money for the F2.8 version. But I wanted to go with film. So I did! With the Canon EOS 500 and a roll of Agfaphoto APX 400.
I parked next to the river and ended up looking up at the Castle on the hill and thinking, strangely, of a certain Mr Sheeran, but without the teen angst and drinking. I think it looks lovely. To my right was the river and the old bridge and a vantage point to look at the Sèvre Nantaise coming over the weir. I thought about the photos I’d taken in February, as well as all the others taken over the years.
I took a right at the Café des Cordeliers but instead of going along to the Garenne Lemot park, I took a left down a passage to a place I had only looked at but never visited. Today my panama hat would become my explorer’s hat and I would take a closer look. Well what a surprise it was and definitely a butcher’s.
I remember some advice given to me which is the need to turn around and look behind you and see if you’ve missed anything, and have a real look and you might even see something completely different… This time I took that advice and it was more than worth it.
I would have missed the viaduct I’d driven over before, the one that runs from Clisson towards Gétigné, which I might have to look at sometime soon. The river was reflecting light on the arches and I could have finished the roll there and I would have been happy, but I kept a couple of frames “just in case” for the walk back to the car. You never know…
I walked back to the car just looking up and seeing the laundry hanging out. It looked like canoeing gear that was drying. Then back across the bridge, and I was happy with the variety the 24-70mm lens gave me. Less distortion than my 16-35mm but still enough for some variety, especially the Macro feature for the fern spores. We can have distortion another time.
All in all a very satisfying trip out and not far away, have you seen the price of diesel lately? Thank you Orange man!
P.S. If you want to wean yourself off digital and get back to the street cred that comes with film the Canon EOS 500 might just be your gateway drug. Modern enough for the new EF lenses, but still having the necessary autofocus. You can go full manual SLR later. Break yourself in gently…
I’m a bloody fool. I made the stupidest of mistakes when shooting HP5 Plus 400 speed film at ISO 100.
I’d been intending to use 100 ASA film in my Nikon FE, so in preparation, I had set my camera’s ISO dial to 100. I loaded the HP5 and forgot to change this blasted setting. By the time I realised, I had already taken “some” photos. I didn’t want to wind the film on to change the setting because the sun was shining and I didn’t want to waste the light.
In for a penny, in for a pound. I thought, “What the heck?” They say you have all this “latitude” with film, so I went online to find out if I could salvage the roll. Here we go for a walk in the Parc Garenne Lemot in Clisson.
I developed the film in Ilfosol 3 (1:9) and used the development times for Kentmere 100, praying that I would have something usable…
THE STATUE – Front view of classical statue on pedestal – This shot demonstrates the beautiful tonal range achieved through pull processing
The Theory: Pulling Two Stops
For those who aren’t deep in the film weeds, here is what I actually did. By setting my camera to 100 ISO while using 400 speed film, I was overexposing by two stops.
Now, common wisdom says that pulling HP5 to 200 ASA (one stop) is perfectly fine. But I thought I was pushing my luck pulling it two stops to 100 ASA. I thought I was taking the mickey with the film gods.
By giving it extra light and less development, I was essentially asking the film to reduce contrast and grain significantly. I was testing just how much abuse it could take before the negatives turned into flat, grey mush.
I didn’t develop it for standard HP5 400 times. I treated the whole roll as if it were 100 ISO film from start to finish.
The Results
When I pulled the negatives out of the tank and held them up to the light, I braced myself for grey mush. What I got instead was dense, rich negatives — a bit chewy for the scanner, but nothing it couldn’t handle. And when the scans came up on screen, I just sat there for a moment.
The first thing that struck me was the shadows. HP5 at box speed can get muddy in the dark areas — a graininess that clogs rather than adds texture. Here, the shadows under the pergola and along the fence are deep and rich, but they’re not blocked up. You can still see into them. That matters.
FENCE WITH LONG SHADOWS – Diagonal shadows cast across gravel path – wood grain inside film grain. Both doing their job.
2. Texture and Grain
But the real revelation was the grain — or rather, the near-absence of it. Because the film had been drowning in light and starved of development, the grain structure in the mid-tones is almost Delta 100 territory. Look at the texture on that weathered wooden post. Every crack, every split in the grain of the wood — the film is rendering it, not obscuring it.
WEATHERED WOODEN POST – Close-up showing wood grain and texture – The fine grain structure is clearly visible in the wood texture
3. Highlight Control
I’d been braced for blown skies. Two stops of overexposure in spring sunshine — I was mentally preparing my excuses. But the reduced development had pulled the highlights back beautifully. Look at those bare branches against the sky. It’s a grey gradient, not a white void. The film held on.
BARE TREE BRANCHES AGAINST SKY, Garenne Lemot — I was expecting white sky. I got this instead.
4. Tonal Range
And then there’s the tonal range across the whole roll — from the white marble of the statues to the dark foliage behind them. The separation is superb. There’s a creaminess to it, a classical smoothness, that I’m honestly not sure I’d have got from HP5 at box speed. A happy accident, as it turns out, can sometimes produce results you wouldn’t have had the nerve to plan.
ORNATE URN WITH STATUE IN BACKGROUND – Layered composition – Foreground and background detail with smooth tonal transitions CLASSICAL COLONNADE – Stone pillars with cloudy sky – Weathered stone texture and cloud detail demonstrate the technique’s versatility
The Verdict
So, was this a disaster? Absolutely not.
In fact, it might be some of the most satisfying film I’ve shot in a while — and I shot it by accident. The shadow detail is rich, the highlights are controlled, the grain is almost invisible in the mid-tones. It has that smooth, almost medium-format quality that you usually have to pay for in slower film and longer development times.
Ornate scrollwork detail – Razor-sharp detail and micro-contrast prove no sharpness was lost
It turns out, what I thought was a stupid mistake is actually a technique some photographers use on purpose. Pull processing HP5 (rating it at 100 or 200 ISO and developing accordingly) is known to produce finer grain and lower contrast. I thought I was pushing my luck going two stops, but the film handled it like a champion.
Would I Do It Again?
Would I do it deliberately? Probably not — if I want 100 ASA film, I have 100 ASA film. But that’s almost beside the point now. What this roll taught me is that HP5 has reserves I hadn’t tested, and that sometimes the best thing you can do is commit to the mistake and see where it takes you. In for a penny, in for a pound — and in this case, the pound came back with interest.
If you ever load the wrong film, or find yourself caught between changing light and the wrong ISO setting, don’t panic. HP5 can take the abuse. It might even thank you for it.
Have you ever accidentally shot film at the wrong ISO? Did you save the roll or bin it? Let me know in the comments below.
Happy shooting
Ian from IJM Photography
P.S. The Kentmere 100 development time was a guess. An educated one, but a guess. The fact that it worked is either good research or dumb luck. Probably both.
P.P.S. I have since checked the ISO dial on the Nikon FE before every single roll. Every. Single. Roll.
P.P.P.S. The images from this roll are available as prints. Some accidents are worth keeping.
I didn’t set foot in the cathedral while Voyage en hiver draped its silence in municipal spectacle. Not out of protest—I simply couldn’t bear to see sacred space turned into a backdrop. So I waited. And when the banners finally came down in December, I loaded a roll of Ilford HP5 into my Nikon FE and walked back in—not as a tourist, not as a patient, but as someone hoping to find the light exactly where I’d left it.
I’ve always abhorred political recuperation. The Voyage en Hiver had no place in the cathedral’s reopening. This was about worship. About returning to God in a space that had been quiet for too long—not about municipal branding or winter tourism. “Give unto Caesar what belongs to Caesar, and unto God what belongs to God.” (Matthew 22:21)
That day, I chose God’s silence over their spectacle.
My hands were cold when I raised the camera. December light in a stone cathedral is a quiet thing—more absence than presence. I wondered, honestly, if 400 ASA would be enough. But I wanted authenticity: more grain than digital noise, more truth than polish. So I trusted the FE’s metering, opened up my aperture, and let the film do what it does best. No second-guessing. No LCD screen. Just the click of the shutter and the hope that the light would hold.
And it did.
The frames that emerged are darker than summer would allow—but this was December, after all. And in that darkness, something gentle remains: the grain cradling the texture of worn wooden pews, shadows tracing the ribs of vaulted stone, candlelight bleeding softly into halos where no banner now hangs. Black and white stripped away every distraction—the logos, the seasonal clutter, the noise—until only what mattered remained: light on stone, silence between pillars, the architecture of reverence.
One frame in particular stays with me: the candles. Shot at 1/30s, my hands unsteady not from illness but from the simple weight of the moment. The focus slipped slightly. The flames blurred into one another. And instead of frustration, I felt a quiet relief—the film hadn’t captured perfection. It had captured presence. Grain became breath. Blur became prayer.
I didn’t go to “get out of the house.” I went because the space was clean again—just stone, silence, and the stubborn glow of candlelight. And for a few minutes, with the FE cold against my palm and the smell of incense in the air, I remembered why I love film photography: it doesn’t lie. It holds what’s there—shadows and all—and asks only that you trust the process.
They sold a spectacle. I took back the light. And the grain—warm, imperfect, alive—proved which one will last. My small act of reparation…
Content Note: This post discusses depression and emotional exhaustion. Please read with care.
That was the old Royal Family rule—stoic, impenetrable, forever above it all.
I, alas, am not royalty. I’m an overthinker with a camera and a blog, and I owe you nothing… but I’d like to offer a little explanation anyway. Call it common courtesy. Or perhaps just the need to name what’s been happening.
So here’s the situation report from IJM Photography.
I haven’t written in a month for two reasons. First: the season. If you’ve followed this space for a while, you know I’ve long wrestled with melancholy—especially as the days shorten. This year, it hit harder than usual. I made it through November, but only just. By December, I was physically and mentally exhausted.
Second: my health. After a conversation with my manager and HR, I was referred to the médecin du travail. She diagnosed me with dépression aiguë—acute depression (not the cute, Hello Kitty kind)—and noted a heart murmur. Frankly, I was relieved to have a name for what I’d been carrying.
She ordered me to go straight home—not back to work—and to see my GP the next day. She mentioned my brain chemistry was “in a bit of a mess.” Which, in its odd way, reminded me of three things:
— I have a brain
— I have a heart
— and I am profoundly tired
Not broken. Just worn thin.
I was referred to the local Centre Médico-Psychologique. There, I broke another unspoken rule: when the nurse asked how I was, I didn’t say, “Fine, thanks.” I told the truth—calmly, factually, without blame—about the weight I’d been under since returning to work after my accident, and how even the resilience I’d inherited from past generations suddenly felt out of reach.
To my surprise, a session with a psychiatrist opened up right away. He was kind, thoughtful. We talked about identity, belonging, and the quiet strain of straddling cultures. He said I carry “the mindset of an immigrant”—and that perhaps I’ve become more French than I realize. He suggested working on communication with my spouse, and that a trip back to the UK might help me reconnect with myself.
He might be right. If funds were no object, I’d book the ticket tomorrow.
For now, I’m taking things one day at a time. Resting. Recharging. And slowly returning—to my camera, to my words, to myself.
Welcome back to another look at the film archives. This time, I’m sharing a few black-and-white street shots from an October Saturday in Nantes, likely taken with the Praktica MTL3 and HP5 Plus film. These outings with my son Killian, which we called ‘Ian and Killian days,’ became a cherished routine, a time for us to reconnect amidst the busyness of life.
He was 17 then, a weekly boarder at his lycée in La Roche sur Yon. On the weekends, we’d often head into Nantes, following the same familiar programme: a visit to the barbershop, a meal at the Sugar Blue café, and finally, a drink at the John Mc Byrne Irish Pub. In the photo, that handsome chap in the barber’s seat is Killian—a little reminder that it wasn’t always Kate joining me on these trips. These outings were a way to stay connected, despite his growing independence. Even with him being only 17, I still felt that sense of responsibility. Once a Dad, always a Dad.
As we went through our usual routine, I found myself facing the familiar challenge of capturing these moments on film. The low light inside the barbershop always made me second-guess whether I could get a decent shot without using a flash. But over time, I learned to trust the Praktica and the HP5 Plus film. There’s a rawness to film photography, especially with Ilford’s HP5. It adds a certain grit and texture to the image, something that digital just can’t replicate.
That’s what I love about film—the imperfections. The grain gives it character, a certain honesty that smooth, polished digital photos lack. It’s not about creating something flawless but about preserving the authenticity of the moment. This shot of Killian in the barbershop, for example, may not be technically perfect, but it’s real. It’s us, it’s Nantes, it’s one of those ‘Ian and Killian days.’
Looking back at these photos, I’m reminded that sometimes, it’s the imperfections that make an image truly memorable. Quite the day, right?
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…
Welcome back, dear reader, to another delve into the Film Archive from before this wonderful blog that I know you enjoy reading so much. I appreciate being able to share these photos with you in the hope that they may not only please you but also offer insight into an older form of photography, one where concerns about overheating or battery life were minimal. I want to demonstrate how it is still possible to achieve great results with any camera and that the main quality in your photography comes from you, the photographer.
Earlier this year, I was there with my Canon 6D Mark II, but today, we’re revisiting my visit from September 2016. At that time, I didn’t have my Canon, but I did have the Olympus Trip 35 with HP5 Plus film from Ilford. I used that camera quite a lot that summer and continued to use it in September. I might just have to dig it out of my camera cupboard and use it again. Constraints and minimal kit often lead to more creative decisions—just think back to my UK trip, where I only had my X100F with me.
Let’s start with the camera. It’s a small but gorgeous camera designed for the mass market in the 1960s and was still being produced in the 1980s, which attests to its appeal among casual photographers. With relatively few controls, it’s pretty foolproof. I can adjust the film ASA setting, and the selenium cell housed with the lens takes care of the rest, whether it’s aperture or shutter speed. The famous red flag appears in the viewfinder when the camera senses insufficient light. All I need to do is set the focus zone.
I must have bought mine around 2015 or 2016, and it was quite affordable at the time—no more than 50€. It was an iconic camera then and still is today, but as the supply of these cameras dwindles, prices have increased. You can now expect to pay 100€ or more, with some models even reaching nearly 200€. It remains a great camera but might be a victim of its own success, along with sellers’ optimism and greed. Buyer beware—shop around, and you might still find more accessible prices.
As for film, prices have also risen, especially for Kodak film, but Ilford remains affordable, as do Kentmere, Fomapan, and Rollei.
I’ve travelled the same road numerous times, and it always brings me a certain sense of peace. I tend to stop off at familiar spots along the way, and those of you with an eagle eye will recognise some of these locations from other photos in this blog.
But why go to Noirmoutier? Firstly, why not? It’s just over an hour’s drive from my home and is a popular destination for many locals from the Vendée. The island now suffers from overtourism, which has certainly changed its character since 2016. Efforts have been made to manage the flow of tourists, with improvements such as parking, pedestrian zones, clearly marked hiking trails, and numerous bike lanes. It’s a beautiful part of the world, so typical of the Vendée Coast with its pinède and long beaches. However, not everything is about tourism. The island is also renowned for its salted butter made with salt from local salt marshes and the famous potatoes from Noirmoutier. Additionally, there’s a small fishing fleet, as well as the fleet from Le Port du Bec in the neighbouring Beauvoir-sur-Mer.
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…
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.
Why the Olympus Pen EE-S Is the Best Budget Film Camera for Beginners (Even in 2025)
Pentax 17 fever is sweeping the film photography world, and I’ll admit, I was tempted. Half-frame cameras, with their promise of double the shots per roll, sound pretty amazing. But with a price tag of 500€, the Pentax 17 isn’t exactly within my budget. That’s when I rediscovered a little gem tucked away in my camera collection: the Olympus Pen EE S.
This Japanese-made half-frame beauty hails from the 1960s, the same era as the beloved Olympus Trip 35. Like its sibling, the Pen EE S features zone focusing and a selenium cell meter for fuss-free shooting. The lens is an F2.8 22.5mm Zuiko lens. The ISO settings go up to 200 ASA, unlike the Olympus Trip which goes up to 400 ASA. So, despite everything else, it needs light. The half-frame format means you get a whopping 48 exposures on a standard 24-exposure roll. That’s double the shots for your buck, folks!
Now, the idea of twice as many photos for the same developing cost is pretty appealing. But does the Olympus Pen EE S deliver the goods in practice? Stay tuned as I put this vintage camera through its paces and share my findings. Could this be the perfect half-frame hero for those of us who can’t quite swing a Pentax 17? Let’s find out!
Well, for starters, it felt very much like using the Olympus Trip 35. It’s very slightly smaller and weighs next to nothing. The shutter button is almost identical as well. Instead of having four zones for focusing, you have three, but it’s fine, and when you turn the dial, you feel a click as you enter a new zone. You point, and then press. Simple!
Let’s talk about this half-frame shooting experience. When talking about the Pentax 17, “they” talk about how the images are great for sharing on social media. A little like using your phone… This is the mindset that I had when putting in my Kodak Gold 200 to capture those famous Kodak moments in Nantes.
I found it a challenge to get used to the half-frame. “They” say that you have to take your photos as diptychs and remember that the two photos in your full frames are related, not just simple images. The idea is that when the two half frames are put together, you create a story and a suite of ideas, instead of two separate photos. I tried, and the results will show you if I succeeded. I felt that “they” were pulling my leg!
I’ll be honest with you. The idea behind the outing was to test the camera, see how I felt using it, and have a look at the results. It took me out of my comfort zone, which is something rare in photography for me. I was thinking about taking it to the UK with me to record the trip. It takes up next to no space in a camera bag and would allow me to shoot some film while back home. The idea of getting twice as many shots by using just half the frame is attractive. I’m just getting used to the reduced coverage that you get with just using half the frame.
For this outing, I decided to head out towards the Cathedral, and takes some shots of the Voyage à Nantes.
I found myself thinking differently about framing my shots and using my phone as a mental template. As for the resolution of my images, they will be half as much as using my full frame, but were I to print my photos, then I would definitely see a difference. But if they’re just for sharing on social media, then the resolution will be perfectly satisfactory.
The million-dollar question is, will I take it on my trip, and will I use it? Yes, I will. Will it be my main camera? Possibly not. Will it be more like using a new toy? Possibly, even if the toy in question is a vintage 1966 toy…
Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll put some images taken on the X100F, my more modern toy, and let you see how they compare. You’ll see the diptychs and see how the different shooting styles change the outlook and how they change the framing.
These are the X100F photos with editing in Snapseed…
And these are the half frame images from the Pen EE S… with the editing done in Photoshop using the neural filters to get rid of the scratches on the film.
