Birdsong in Black & White: A Morning at the Jardin Extraordinaire


Birdsong in Black & White: A Morning at the Jardin Extraordinaire

I’d never been to the Jardin Extraordinaire before. And I’d never shot Ilford Pan 100.

Honestly? I wasn’t sure what to expect from either.

What I found was a place that felt alive — birds everywhere, water cascading down massive rock faces, people just being there. Reading on rocks. Walking along paths. Letting kids splash in the shallow pools. And if you look closely at a few of the wider shots, you’ll spot the Grue Titan across the Loire at the Hangar à bananes. It’s not in the garden, but it’s in the photographs. I like that. A small nod to the bigger story of this city.

The Jardin Extraordinaire is built on an old granite quarry in the Prairie au Duc. You can still see the rock faces where they cut into the hillside, metal walkways clinging to the stone, plants reclaiming what machines once carved out. And that waterfall — 35 metres of water pouring down the old quarry walls. Dramatic and peaceful at once, if that makes any sense.

What I didn’t fully register while I was shooting is how the garden fits into Nantes’ wider landscape of transformation. The Hangar à bananes, the Machines de l’Île, the whole Île de Nantes redevelopment — they’re all part of the same conversation about what to do with industrial space. The garden is the quiet, green chapter. The crane across the water is the bold industrial punctuation. When I got the scans back and saw the Grue Titan peering into a few frames, that clicked.

Full disclosure: I was the older gentleman in the Panama hat, moving slowly around the paths with a cane and an analogue camera. Taking my time. Stopping to frame things. Not in any hurry.

I watched the Nantais doing their thing while I did mine. A parent reading on a rock while children scrambled nearby. Couples strolling. And me, clicking through 36 frames like I had all the time in the world. Which I did. That was rather the point.

I did spot one other photographer — shooting with a very modern, very impressive DSLR. And I had to consciously stop myself from slipping into smug film photographer mode. Oh, you’re chimping your screen? How… digital. I held it together. Mostly. The honest answer is we were both just doing the same thing with different tools, and there’s room for all of it.

As for the Pan 100 — I’d heard it was contrasty, fine-grained, sharp. What I didn’t expect was how well it would suit this particular place. The Jardin Extraordinaire is all about contrasts: dark rock against bright sky, rough stone against smooth water, industrial metal against wild greenery. Pan 100 didn’t fight any of that. It leaned into it. I shot mostly between f/5.6 and f/16, trusted the FE’s meter, and when the scans came back I was — pleased? Surprised? Both. The images feel like the day felt.

My favourite shots aren’t the big dramatic ones. They’re the clusters of berries photographed close enough to see their star patterns, the metal butterfly on a gate, a single log on the path casting a long shadow. The things you almost miss when you’re moving too fast. With 36 frames and a roll that costs money, you look. You wait. You notice things. And then those become the photographs you actually care about.

I developed it at home, as always — Ilfosol 3 at 1:9, scanned on the Opticfilm 8100. No lab, no outsourcing. Just chemicals and patience. The smell of the developer, the little thrill of seeing what’s on the film. It’s all part of the same story.

I’ve got some Kodak Ultramax 400 in the fridge. Expired 2022. No idea what it’ll do. I think I’ll take it back to the Jardin and find out.


All photographs shot on Ilford Pan 100, Nikon FE. Home developed in Ilfosol 3 (1:9), scanned on an Opticfilm 8100. Jardin Extraordinaire, Nantes. The Grue Titan at the Hangar à bananes appears across the river, uninvited and welcome.

P.S. If you’ve been to the Jardin Extraordinaire, shot Pan 100, or you just love Nantes — drop a comment or send a message. Always happy to talk shop.

P.P.S. And if you’re curious about home development or scanning, ask away. Happy to share what’s worked for me.

P.P.P.S. And if you ever spot me at a photo spot with my FE and a Panama hat? Please gently call me out on the film snobbery. I’m working on it.

The HP5 Plus 100 ASA Experiment: A Happy Accident?

Hello lovely people.

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…

ParameterDetails
FilmIlford HP5 Plus 400
ExposureRated at ISO 100 (2 stops overexposed)
DeveloperIlfosol 3 at 1:9
Development Time5 minutes 30 seconds (using Kentmere 100 time)
ResultLower contrast, smooth tonal transitions, fine-looking grain, excellent shadow detail
CameraNikon FE
LocationParc de la Garenne Lemot, Clisson

Black and white photograph shot on a Nikon FE with Ilford HP5 Plus rated at 100 ASA, pull processed, February 2026
THE STATUE – Front view of classical statue on pedestalThis 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.

Film photograph on a Nikon FE with Ilford HP5 Plus pulled to 100 ASA, showing the fine grain and tonal range of overexposed HP5+, February 2026
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.

Black and white portrait format photograph on a Nikon FE with Ilford HP5 Plus rated at ISO 100, demonstrating pull processing results
WEATHERED WOODEN POST – Close-up showing wood grain and textureThe 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.

Landscape format black and white photograph on a Nikon FE with Ilford HP5 Plus at 100 ASA, pull processed, scanned on an Opticfilm 8100
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.

Landscape black and white photograph demonstrating Ilford HP5 Plus pulled to 100 ASA on a Nikon FE, showing highlight retention and low grain
ORNATE URN WITH STATUE IN BACKGROUND – Layered compositionForeground and background detail with smooth tonal transitions
Wide landscape black and white photograph on a Nikon FE with Ilford HP5 Plus at 100 ASA pull processing experiment, February 2026
CLASSICAL COLONNADE – Stone pillars with cloudy skyWeathered 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.

Landscape format film photograph on a Nikon FE with Ilford HP5 Plus rated at 100 ASA and pull processed in Ilfosol 3
Ornate scrollwork detailRazor-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.

The Opening of the Film Archives – March 2017 with Kate in the Vines

Hello you! It’s great to have you back for another dive into the archives. Over the past few posts, you might have noticed a recurring star of the series: my Canon AE1. While it’s true I’ve leaned on this camera heavily for many of these moments, I promise there’s more variety to come—even some colour film photography! For now, though, let’s continue exploring these Canon snapshots together. Thank you for sticking with me—it means a lot to me.

This time, I took my daughter Kate for a walk among the vines—a walk I used to do with Killian when he was about her age. Admittedly, it wasn’t the most creative choice for me, but for Kate, it was a brand-new adventure. That’s my excuse, and I’m sticking to it.

The day was all about Kate, the wind, and the way it danced through her hair. Unlike me, where the wind barely leaves a trace, it created a beautiful, dynamic subject in her. There’s something magical about how the movement of hair and clothing in the wind adds life to a photograph. I captured some truly memorable shots that I now treasure as priceless souvenirs of a fleeting moment.

Maybe they were some of those famous Kodak moments… Whatever the case, they bring back lovely memories of simpler times. Looking back, it reminds me how the simplest moments—like a walk through familiar vines—can hold so much meaning. Sometimes, what’s close to home can be just as captivating as far-off adventures.

It also reminds us that though we might be in familiar territory, that territory can look entirely different to someone seeing it for the first time. The soft, diffused light that day brought out rich textures in the vines, and Kate’s sense of wonder made even the most ordinary details come alive.

When you’re out with your camera, maybe, just maybe, that’s something to keep in mind. How might your everyday surroundings look through fresh eyes—or through the eyes of someone discovering them for the first time?

The Enduring Elegance of Vintage Cameras: A Personal Journey

I often find myself discussing the concept of “vintage” with my father during our phone calls. I live in France, while my parents are in Northumberland. The term “vintage” means different things to different generations. For my 25-year-old son, vintage clothing is anything from the 90s—he even sports a few of my sweaters from that era. At 52, I’m beginning to see myself as slightly vintage, with a style that has evolved into something more classic and refined compared to my younger years. And to my 15-year-old daughter, my father, who grew up during the war, must seem positively ancient.

So, what does this have to do with photography? For me, a camera from the 1990s feels relatively modern, while those from the 80s and 70s seem older but not quite ancient—much like myself. Using these older cameras in my photography practice forces me to slow down and be more deliberate. Just as my style has become more refined with age, these cameras have an enduring elegance and charm. They may be from a slightly bygone era, but they still capture images with timeless grace.

Incorporating this vintage technology into my work isn’t just about using old equipment, however enjoyable working with what could be considered museum pieces may be; it’s about embracing a process that demands patience and mindfulness—concepts that are somewhat foreign to this younger generation. Each shot taken with these cameras becomes a deliberate act, mirroring how I approach life and photography. The result? A deeper connection to the process and a greater appreciation for the unique quality of film. This slower pace allows me to savour each moment, akin to how my evolving style reflects a deeper appreciation for life’s subtleties.

In a world increasingly dominated by digital immediacy, there’s something profoundly satisfying about the slower, more thoughtful pace of using vintage cameras. They may not be the latest technology, but their classic design and the deliberate process they require make them a joy to use—much like the evolving sense of style and perspective that comes with age. The emotional impact of working with these cameras is profound; they carry the weight of history and personal connection, enriching my creative process and deepening my engagement with photography.

My own “vintage collection” began with an SLR from the 1980s: an East German Praktica MTL3 that served me faithfully until 2009. After it finally gave up, I quickly replaced it with another. From there, I delved into exploring more iconic cameras from the 1970s and 1980s. At that time, they were still relatively affordable before the hipsters discovered film photography and the prices inevitably started rising.

My exploration didn’t stop there. I began to seek out cameras from the 1960s and even the 1950s. The oldest camera in my collection dates back to 1949! It’s quite vintage, even for me, though perhaps not so much for my father. Each piece of my collection is a link to a past era, offering a tactile connection to history that digital tools can’t replicate.

There was a time during the digital age when people sought to recapture the film aesthetic, and right on cue, apps like Hipstamatic, Instagram, and VSCO began to emerge. These digital tools embraced the nostalgic look of film, offering a nod to the past while thriving in the digital present. Yet, this digital simulation can’t quite match the authentic experience and emotional resonance of using actual vintage cameras.

This led me to a thought: if I truly wanted to capture that film aesthetic, why not use actual film and cameras from the eras I admire? I have always been drawn to “old” things, having loved exploring a special drawer at my grandmother’s house filled with genuine relics—not just my grandparents’ old possessions. My fascination with older technology, particularly when it’s still functional, remains strong. There’s an undeniable charm and satisfaction in using equipment that carries a legacy, offering a perspective that both honours the past and enriches the present.

So just because something might be old, it might still work and open a whole new world to you that you didn’t even suspect existed! It might, however, have something of a quirky nature, but once you get over that, the world is your oyster.

The Opening of the Film Archives – Noirmoutier September 2016

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.

Why the Olympus Pen EE-S Is the Best Budget Film Camera for Beginners

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.

So what do you think? Worth taking?