Tag: ijmphotography

The Collection

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I didn’t set out to sell prints.

Not really.

For years, I’ve shared images here — not because they were “good,” or “marketable,” or even finished — but because they stayed. They lingered after the shutter closed. They returned to me in dreams, in quiet hours, in the slant of afternoon sun months later.

Some moments refuse to be forgotten.

So now, carefully, tenderly, I’m offering six of them — made physical. Not mass-produced. Not disposable. Just… present. As they were meant to be.

Each print is produced through WhiteWall on museum-grade archival paper, using pigment inks rated for over 100 years. Made to order. Shipped with care — because if you’re making space for one of these in your home, I want it to feel like a conversation, not a transaction.

There’s no rush. No countdown. No pressure.

Just paper, ink, and a moment that mattered.

1.
Title: Path to the Pavilion
Location: Hangzhou, China — 2024
Caption:

A path curves toward still water — where ancient pavilions meet modern hills. The past doesn’t fade here; it leans in, softly.

2.
Title: Reflections on the Canal
Location: Shaoxing, China — 2024
Caption:

Old eaves and new towers share the same mirror — history and progress, neither dominant, both held in water’s quiet gaze.

3.

Title: Skyline of Absence
Location: Noirmoutier (viewed from mainland), France — 2022
Caption:

The sky writes its own language — contrails like scars, posts like ghosts, water holding silence. The island waits beyond the frame.

4.
Title: Coastal Sky, Vendée
Location: Near Fromentine, Vendée, France — 2021
Caption:

A long exposure blurs time into cloud — the sky moves, the sea holds still. This is not a storm. It’s the coast breathing.4. Coastal Sky, Vendée — Near Fromentine, 2021

5.
Title: Vespa & Whiskey
Location: Nantes, Quartier Bouffay, France — 2023
Caption:

A Vespa parked with purpose — a crate of Irish whiskey lashed to its back. Not delivery. Not advertisement. Just life, paused, in a cobblestone alley.

6.
Title: Steam and Sizzle, Shenzhen Night
Location: Shenzhen, China — 2024
Caption:

Smoke rises over skewers, prices flash in neon — food everywhere, people nowhere. This isn’t chaos. It’s rhythm. And hunger.

And then — because I believe in the power of the overlooked — there’s a seventh.

🎁 BONUS PRINT — Available for a Limited Time
7.
Title: The Smallest Museum
Location: Alnmouth, Northumberland, UK — 2023
Caption:

No grand entrance. No ticket booth. Just a wooden shed under open sky — holding stories too small to shout, too true to ignore.

It’s available for a limited time — for those who appreciate the quiet corners of the world.

I don’t make photographs to sell.
I sell them because some moments refuse to be forgotten.

If one of these finds its way to your wall, I hope it does more than hang there.
I hope it reminds you that some things are worth keeping — exactly as they were.

—

Take your time. These prints aren’t going anywhere.

— Ian
ijmphotography.net

致我在中国的读者们：一封感谢信A Letter of Gratitude to My Readers in China

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亲爱的中国朋友们

写下这封信，不仅是为了感谢你们访问 ijmphotography.net，更是为了向你们表达我内心深深的感激——感谢你们在2024年末至2025年初我访问中国时，给予我的那份无言却真挚的善意。

当时，我作为一名圆号演奏员，随法国“卢瓦尔河畔交响乐团”（Symphonique des Bords de Loire）来到中国巡演。我们有幸在几座令人赞叹的音乐厅中演出，但真正打动我的，远不止是建筑的华美或音响的精妙，而是你们细致入微的款待。

我至今难忘后台为乐团精心准备的蜜橘——有的已细心剥好，有的整齐切开，果肉晶莹，清甜沁心。那是我一生中吃过最美味的蜜橘，回国后我再未尝到过如此滋味。还有中场休息或演出结束后，工作人员悄然奉上的茉莉花茶，香气清雅，温润入心。那不仅是一杯茶，更是一份无需言语的尊重与欢迎。这些看似微小的举动，却饱含深情，成为我此生珍藏的记忆。

虽然我还不会说中文（但我已认真考虑开始学习！），但在那段旅程中，我从未感到自己是个“外人”。因为许多情感，本就超越语言：无论在广州还是格洛斯特，父亲对孩子的爱都是一样的；无论在长沙还是巴黎，摄影师追逐的都是同一束光；无论在哪个舞台，音乐家聆听的，都是音符之间那片珍贵的寂静。

我已回到家中，并开始为家人烹制更多中式风味的菜肴。这已成为我们家的一个小仪式——借由日常三餐，将那段温暖的回忆重新带回我们的生活中。。

能以客人的身份，而非游客的身份，走进你们的国家，是我的荣幸。而如今，能与远在万里之外的你们，通过影像与文字彼此相遇，同样令我心怀感激。

如果您愿意了解更多关于那次旅程的故事，我写下了一系列随笔：
→ 《中国系列：管弦乐之旅》
以及后续文章。

谢谢你们——
昔日的盛情款待，今日的耐心阅读。

谨致谢忱，
Ian James Myers

The Pyrenees Mountains – and the Pont d’Espagne which isn’t in Spain

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If the Vendée is Jane Birkin — elegant, understated — then the Pyrenees are full-on Marilyn. Proper mountains. Vast. Unapologetic. Even in May, some peaks were still capped in snow.

I was in Lourdes hoping to strengthen my faith. I think Killian needed that too — but more than anything, he needed his mountains. Now, finally, I get it. Up there, I saw him more clearly: less the boy I once knew, more the man he’s becoming.

Like most of us, he has his issues — but he’s working through them. And sometimes, he even lets me help. Those are the moments I think I might just be getting somewhere as a father.

He’d decided we were heading to see his beloved mountains. The place? The Pont d’Espagne — yes, in France, despite the name. I may have mentioned that. Maybe.

We left the impressive foothills of Lourdes behind and climbed into the real mountains. Snowy peaks against blue sky and drifting clouds. Windows down, music low, we drove toward the famous pont. It had better be worth it.

Killian and I travel at a relaxed pace. If the view’s good, we’ll pull over. Get the camera out. Take a few shots. See what happens.

Sometimes it works. Sometimes it’s a fiasco. But more often than not, we come away with something.

Oh no! Catastrophe! A village where you can park, and go and get an ice cream. Ah well. We took one for the team, and the lady behind the counter told us that the previous week they had snow and were shut, yet this week everything looked just like a day in May should look like. Ice cream seems to have this way of just hitting “that” spot. It’s not the tidiest of foods to eat, but it’s one I’ve developed a great fondness for it over the years.

I was already learning how to approach the infamous concept of the hairpin bend. As you know, a full head of hair hasn’t been my issue for years — let alone hairpins. But the name fits. The main thing is to drive slowly, carefully, and not die… Given I’m writing this now, reports of my untimely demise were, as they say, greatly exaggerated.

We arrived at the Parc National des Pyrénées. You go through a barrier that didn’t seem to be working — one that had given up on life and was just standing to attention, waiting for whatever ‘it’ might be. So, being the thoroughly decent chaps and all-round good eggs that we are, we tried to find a ticket. We couldn’t, but since we had tried, we said something that rhymes with bucket, and started walking to see, at long last, the bloody bridge. It had better be worth it.

I had the X100F with me and Killian was carrying my DSLR and kit. What a good lad he is. He later said that if I wasn’t lugging it around, we might’ve gone just that little bit further. So back to the pont…

Before we even saw the bridge, we heard it: the sound of the water was tremendous. Water is a primeval force, and this was huge. I wanted the “money” shot, and decided to try with the X100F, giving it a sporting chance. The Canon 6D Mark II, with its stabilised lens, would come out on top. Handheld at 1/6th of a second? Not ideal — but fun to try. You get the feeling of movement in your shot, and with the magic of ND filters, you’re not overexposed.

The site itself is just astounding — not just because of the view or the sound, but because of the raw power of the place. Killian led me grumbling up the hill and we sat down to have our picnic. We fed the ants a bit of our pâté en croûte and watched them discover it, then devour it completely. And devour it they did.

He led me past the téléphérique — closed, of course — and followed the river until we reached a wide, flat-bottomed valley with water snaking through it. We saw traces of horses and wild boars, which are a lot less boring than you might think. I noticed the clouds coming round the mountains as they go, but not singing. I don’t know a huge amount about mountains, but that’s usually a cue to get back to the car…

The walk back to the car was just about being father and son — taking the mickey out of each other as we went. It seemed to be the way we operated, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.

China – Shenzhen Day 3

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A Day Off in Shenzhen – Rest, Reflection, and Culture

https://ijmphotography.net/2025/11/14/致我在中国的读者们：一封感谢信a-letter-of-gratitude-to-my-readers-in-china亲爱/

After a late night chat (you know how it goes on tour – what happens, stays on tour), I decided to treat myself to the luxury of a lie-in. And it was just what I needed. This felt like our mini-break during the tour – a sort of weekend off. It was well deserved. Life on tour can be demanding, and the emotional investment involved can really take its toll. Corentin and I both got up at the same time, and he was off to join the others in the big city. As for me, I was having a day to myself with my little companion – the X100F. Just the two of us.

So, what was the plan for the day? Well, I was hoping to visit a spa for a massage to sort out my legs. I’m not exactly fond of pain, but thought it would do me good. I have arthritis in my right knee, and although the weight loss has relieved much of the pain, my left knee has been compensating, and my left calf was starting to feel like it was on the brink of tearing. Not ideal. I had found a few places on TripAdvisor, one of which had a rather dubious reputation – apparently, not only offering massages but also “happy endings.” Definitely not for me. I did find a more refined option with a solid reputation for wellness. Perfect. All I had to do now was find it.

As I left the hotel, I bumped into Jennifer Courcier, our soloist and guest star. She still has an amazing voice – if you caught last week’s concert post, you would have heard it. If not, well, go have a listen now. I’ll wait…

Starbucks and Cultural Contradictions

Good, wasn’t it? Doesn’t she sing beautifully? Jennifer mentioned she was heading to the beach but first needed a coffee fix. Starbucks was nearby, so off we went for a caffeine hit. Now, whenever I hear the word “Starbucks,” the phrase “basic bitch” comes to mind. I never know what to order, so, with a bit of help, I discovered that “ordinary” coffee is actually a double espresso. My anxiety was starting to rise as I tried to make the choice, but I finally settled on the “Yunnan” blend. The Chinese barista prepared it with such care that I almost felt like royalty. Things were already looking up.

We sat on the terrace and chatted. I’d been mentoring one of my younger horn players to help him out of a funk. He had recently switched mouthpieces to improve his upper range but went back to his old one. Classic horn player existential crisis. If you know, you know. Jennifer had witnessed one of my coaching sessions and seemed quite impressed by the process. Maybe I did know a thing or two about teaching after all.

The coffee was excellent, and so was the company. We chatted some more, staying off the topic of music. Who wants to talk shop when you can get to know the real person? It humanises them, and Jennifer shared the story of how she became a professional singer, her journey to this point. We eventually parted ways, and I popped back into Starbucks to buy a couple of mugs for the children. One less thing to argue about back home.

Solo Adventure – Exploring the City

I managed to find the metro on my own and bought my little green ticket. The attendant asked where I was going and showed me the map. I couldn’t make sense of it, so out came my phone to zoom in on the stop I needed. I suddenly felt very old, yet thoroughly modern.

On the train, I just watched people, even managed to get a photo or two. My destination? Window to the World – a theme park where you can see replicas of monuments from around the world. I wasn’t going to pay for the full experience, as I’ve already seen many of the real monuments during my travels, but it seemed like good material for photography.

I’ve mentioned before the cultural differences between France and China, but this next observation took me by surprise. Let me introduce you to our characters: Chinese girlfriend and Chinese boyfriend. Chinese girlfriend is the picture of elegance, effortlessly fashionable, her makeup and hair flawless. Chinese boyfriend, by definition, is the photographer, capturing every moment to make his girlfriend look like a top model. She strikes a pose, usually demure and poised, while he stands there, holding the handbag, looking less than graceful. After a few snaps, she sends him back to retake the shot, and they repeat the process at every new location.

I could understand the desire to control one’s image, especially in a location that might seem exotic for a Chinese person, just as a pagoda in Europe feels exotic for us. In some ways, I must seem a bit exotic to them, too. Later, I learned that some people had been taking photos of me without approaching. It might have been a respect thing, as I was a bit older than them.

I wandered around, watching society unwind on a Sunday outing. It felt good to be alive. But then, it was time to head to my massage.

The Google Maps Mishap

I knew the spa wasn’t far away, but that’s where I made the mistake of trusting Google Maps in China. Let’s just say it’s not the most reliable way to get around here. It led me in the wrong direction, and before I knew it, I was walking the streets, getting increasingly lost. But in moments like these, you often find unexpected shots because you’re paying attention to everything, frantically trying to orient yourself. I eventually found my way thanks to a kind gentleman at a hotel who pointed me in the right direction. I was back on track.

The Deep Tissue Experience

Arriving at the spa, I was greeted by dimmed lighting, tea, and a comfortable chair to relax in. I chose a deep tissue massage that would last an hour – pure self-care. I was told there was a short wait, so I took the opportunity to edit some of my photos from earlier in the day. I was offered more tea by the receptionist, who made sure I felt well taken care of.

When it was my turn, I was shown to the massage room and instructed to change into the disposable undies and bathrobe. Let’s just say, as a bigger guy, I was given their largest robe, and it was definitely on the small side. The little lady who came in to perform the massage had no hesitation in digging her elbows into my back with surprising force. She asked if the pressure was okay, and honestly, it felt like her elbows were massaging so deep that they had gone right through me. The pressure was definitely intense, and despite whincing a little, I said the pressure was fine, lying through my back teeth. She worked through my back, shoulders, and calves, and though at times it felt a “little” too much, I could feel the benefits immediately. They don’t call it deep tissue for nothing!

Recharging and Reflection

After the massage, I was feeling thoroughly relaxed, though not quite “recharged” yet. It would take a couple of days before I truly felt the benefits, but it was already worth it. I was pampered with more tea, biscuits, and nuts – twice! I couldn’t fault the service.

Next, I popped into a shopping mall near the hotel, hoping to find a silk tie for my outfit. Dark jeans, nice shirt, and sports jacket – I looked quite dashing, if I do say so myself. But the price of the ties wasn’t going to work for me, I’m fine with a little luxury now and again, but everything within reason…

A Humorous End to the Day

I took the tube back to the hotel, but of course, I foolishly tried to use Google Maps again to navigate. That was a mistake. I ended up lost. As my phone battery started running low, I sent a WhatsApp message to Corentin, who suggested I take a taxi and sent me the address in Chinese. I was perfectly safe, but definitely lost. Eventually, I hailed a cab, showed the driver the address, and thanked him for saving me. When I told him how awful Google Maps was in China, he just smiled. The fare wasn’t much, but the relief of getting back to the hotel was priceless.

As the great man himself once said, “All’s well that ends well.”

China – Operation Shenzhen Nights

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It had been a relaxing day. I’d emptied my mind by wandering around Shenzhen, taking colour photos for my wife, editing them on the go with Lightroom CC on my phone—all the power of Lightroom, neatly packaged for mobile. The afternoon had been just as easy-going. I could get used to this.

Corentin, Monsieur Lover Lover, and Paul “the Duck Tongue” Trouillet had decided that, since we weren’t performing that night, we’d head out for a bit of fun. Thus, Operation Shenzhen Nights was born. They’d planned everything down to the last detail. The walk to the tube station was about a kilometre, and even with my gammy knee, it was doable.

So, off we went—a whole group of us—to the Shenzhen tube. Along the way, we passed bustling restaurants where people were already seated for dinner. We walked by a pet shop where people were cuddling kittens. At least, I hoped it was just a pet shop and not a restaurant! The kittens were adorable.

The Saturday night energy was in full swing, with people out for meals or simply strolling. We were about to do much the same.

First, the journey into town. Entering the tube station, I was relieved to see all the signs in both Chinese and English—a lifesaver, as my Chinese still needs work. Passing through a baggage and body scanner was certainly out of the ordinary, but I quickly got over it. People often talk about personal freedoms in China, but it didn’t faze me in the least.

We bought our tickets—or more accurately, small green plastic disks that you scan to access the platform. Then came the stairs, and that’s when my gammy knee started to let itself be heared. Fortunately, there was a lift, which would have been a shame not to use. When the train arrived, I managed to grab a seat, camera ready to snap photos of the metro ride.

About an hour later, we reached our destination, where Operation Shenzhen Nights would truly begin.

Corentin, always as eager as a five-year-old at the zoo, practically bounced with excitement. His enthusiasm was infectious, and I tried to keep up, though one day I’ll have to explain the “pace of the slowest man” rule to him.

As we exited the tube, we were greeted by a sea of lights, red lanterns swaying overhead in celebration of Chinese New Year, and professional TikTok setups. These weren’t just quick phone clips—this was full-scale production, complete with lighting and sound. I still don’t quite get TikTok, but they sure seem to.

Paul and Corentin were already eager to dive into the street food, and it wouldn’t be the first stop of the evening. Skewers with all kinds of “supposedly” edible things lined the stalls. I was fine with chicken and octopus but drew the line at scorpions and crickets. Maybe next time I’ll embrace my more adventurous side.

The place was packed, with street restaurants everywhere. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a shop selling mineral water and bought a litre. I felt much better after hydrating. I knew it would mean a bathroom hunt later, but I threw caution to the wind. “Bugger it,” I thought. Some risks are worth taking.

The night was buzzing with energy—smells, sounds, and lights everywhere. Red lanterns swayed overhead, casting a warm glow as the city geared up for Chinese New Year. 

Paul and Corentin thrived in the chaos, eagerly planning their next round of snacks while some of the group veered off to McDonald’s for a quick bite. As we waited, we soaked in the atmosphere. When the others rejoined us, I was already with my camera taking shots of a city that seemed to be in perpetual motion. Operation Shenzhen Nights was rich with everything that mattered—good company, questionable snacks, and memories destined to linger long after the evening faded. 

We continued walking, and the boys ended up finding tofu in sauce, which they let me taste. I must learn how to cook tofu like that at home. But again, I drew the line at eating durian. “It can have a rather pungent smell,” he said, going for the understatement of the year.

As we left the main drag, the goal was to find a watering hole. And we did! More beer, and a last chance to have a bit to eat. I kept it simple with my food choices, but one of the group tried roasted silk worm chrysalids. Definitely interesting, but it turned out to be one of the less than tasty things of the evening.

The youngsters wanted to go to a nightclub, an idea which wasn’t really for me at nearly 53 years old. I’m not a fan of nightclubs and haven’t set foot in one since the early ‘90s. Still not a fan 30 years later. The elders of the group headed out for a beer, and the more adventurous of them had rice wine—or rather, rice alcohol. I ended up chatting to one of them until half past six in the morning. He had things to get off his chest, and I entered Uncle Ian mode.

China – Shenzhen Day 2

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Welcome back to China, Dear Reader. First, let me tell you a little about Shenzhen to set the scene. It’s massive—really massive. Just across the bay is Hong Kong, which we handed back in 1997. Yes, we actually gave back a colony! It can happen. Shenzhen used to be Hong Kong’s poorer sibling, standing in its shadow. But China had bigger plans, determined to create a statement city to rival Hong Kong. Now, Shenzhen is home to 17 million people, boasting every modern convenience imaginable, even a higher GDP than Hong Kong.

The first thing I noticed here was the relative tidiness of the electric mopeds compared to Foshan. They were everywhere but parked neatly in rows, a small yet striking difference. We were staying near the UK China International College, which felt a little like home and looked rather grand. Across the road was a McDonald’s—a far nicer one than the ones in Nantes. I couldn’t help but wonder if visiting a McDonald’s in Shenzhen feels as novel to locals as Chinese restaurants do to us back home. Watching children celebrate their birthdays there was a joy. I promised myself I’d stop by later to experience it properly—but that, Dear Reader, will be for another time.

On the road from Foshan to Shenzhen, our organiser, Yuan Yuan, asked if we wanted to join an excursion on our first full day here. It included visiting a village—a sort of condensed version of China—and a park with miniature monuments from across the country. All for 25 euros. As a slightly introverted person, the idea of being stuck on a bus with a group filled me with dread. Oh heavens, no! I decided to opt out and spend the day enjoying some alone time, exploring the city, and indulging in street photography—a much-needed mental reset.

I’m not much for breakfasts, so I sipped my tea quietly, savouring every drop, alone, in my room. Tea—a hug in a mug. Much like chicken soup for the Jews: it might not cure anything, but it never hurts. I quietly prepared for the day, ticking off my morning routine. Triple S, of course, minus the smoke—it’s been 26 years since I quit. Feeling reasonably presentable, I headed down to the lobby to absorb the city’s atmosphere.

The first thing that struck me was the mild, sunny climate. It felt like a Northumberland summer, but in the middle of winter. Invigorating! As I stepped outside, I spotted one of the double bass players in the hotel shop. Should I avoid him and enjoy some me time? I hesitated but ended up joining him on a bench. He offered me a cookie, which was gladly accepted with the good grace with which it was offered. We chatted about nothing in particular, enjoying the weather—two blokes, passing the time of day.

Later, Michel, my walking companion for the morning, decided it was time to move out. I warned him I’d stop often to take photos, and he was happy to wait. The night before, my wife had remarked that while my photos were great, she’d like to see some in colour. Oh really? Challenge accepted.

We strolled at a leisurely pace—perfect for soaking in the city’s atmosphere and capturing its essence through my lens. Michel patiently waited as I darted around, snapping shots like a dog owner indulging their pup’s curious sniffs. I was content to get my daily paces in while immersing myself in Shenzhen’s charm, the perfect start to a day of exploration.

We arrived back at the hotel, and I was starting to feel slightly peckish. What more could I need than a visit to McDonald’s to help me out? Two of the lads had been there the night before and shared their thoughts about everything—the similarities and differences. I just had to go and see for myself. I ordered a double Filet-O-Fish, a bamboo and chicken wrap, a large coke, crinkle-cut chips, and an Oreo McFlurry. It cost me a grand total of 75 yuan, which seemed very reasonable. The lads hadn’t enjoyed the wrap much, but I found it to be delicious, and it really hit the spot. At least a four out of five for me!

Stuffed full of McDonald’s and pleased with my morning’s wandering, I made my way back to the hotel, ready for a short rest before heading out again. Shenzhen by day had been a pleasant surprise—neatly parked mopeds, familiar-yet-different fast food, and a city that felt both vast and oddly welcoming.

But Shenzhen by night? That was something else entirely. The streets lit up with neon, the air thick with the scent of street food sizzling away on open grills. Couples strolling, friends gathered around hotpot tables, and electric mopeds whizzing past, their riders silent but swift. The city didn’t slow down—it just changed gear.

With my camera in hand and my curiosity still buzzing, a whole group of us stepped back outside. Time to see what Shenzhen had to offer after dark.

Operation Shenzhen Nights was about to be launched…