Watching people watching art


Sometimes watching people watch art is half the fun. Especially modern art. It makes you question what art actually is. Sometimes you have to look twice. Sometimes you think a five-year-old could do the same thing, and maybe even better. Or, as in the case of the work “Comedian” by Maurizio Cattelan, your art gets eaten by a hungry student that skipped breakfast.

I always seem to put things off, so I’m obviously running behind schedule with this piece. Simply put, things seem to get in the way. I nevertheless believe that the idea has some merit. The exhibition itself ended on May 7th, and I’m writing about it now, 20 days later. Dear Reader, I am aware that you are understanding of your humble servant and that you are forgiving.

If I want to enjoy some art in the same manner that I have been known to enjoy a cup of tea and some cake, I think about going to the HAB Gallery in Nantes’ Hangar à Bananes. If you were in town last month, you could have seen the “Une ebauche lente à venir” show, which featured recent pieces by Léopold Rabus and Till Rabus, some of which were produced just for the event. This art helps you take a second glance and discover the fun and foolishness in art. You may see it in the images at the conclusion of this post. See if you can spot two mischievous dogs and two mischievous pigeons!

Still life and landscapes are combined and delve into the artist’s basic urge to paint. Léopold’s paintings are loaded with lovely and weird animals: cows, slugs, birds, flies, dogs, and deer in the snow; a mound of faeces; chicken coops; and fields. Till’s paintings, in baroque and extravagant compositions, are loaded with trash, people, and other consumer objects.

Léopold Rabus (born 1977) and Till Rabus (born 1975) are Swiss artists that pay close attention to the reality of the world around them, and their art is full of sarcasm and comedy, challenging preconceived notions of what is and isn’t beautiful.

This piece, however, is about those who are viewing art and absorbing it all in. Or are they simply devouring culture to appear fashionable? To be in, since who wants to be left out? The French and their elitism in culture!  Half the fun is watching those who make a concerted effort to “educate” themselves because it is trendy, a la Molière’s Bourgeois Gentilhomme, and those who take it all less seriously and enjoy watching the humour in the paintings and laughing at the absurdity of some of the pieces. I’m all for being an intellectual in intellectual settings where the study of art is academic, as opposed to the faux leftist intellectuals, yet at times art is about not being an intellectual. As Nike once tried to say, Just Do It!

The exhibition closed on the 7th of May.

A Breath of Fresh Air


It’s 15h31 on a Monday afternoon, and I’m laying in my bed writing this whilst listening to Bach played on the guitar. Molly is sleeping (and snoring) next to my bed and has just had a belly rub. I was out this morning with the Fuji X100F, driving around the countryside. Why wasn’t I at work, I hear you say, Dear Reader. Because I’m on holiday for the week. The weather has been dismal and verging on English! But today, the sun was, and is still, out. It was lovely just being in the countryside, just soaking up the sun and being at peace with the world. Even if I wished to I can’t handle drama or conflict at the moment, so it’s a self-preservation thing.

If you follow me on Instagram could be forgiven for thinking that I only deal in Black and White Photography, which appears to be my natural niche, but over here I have the freedom missing from the ‘Gram, and don’t have to worry about staying on brand or faffing about thinking about the infamous algorithm, which is the “baddie” that everyone loves to hate. A little like our French Président!

I’m not watching as much YouTube as I used to and am thinking about going back to it, for instruction, inspiration, and as a resource for a way of advancing along my photographic journey. I’ve been getting back into using the X100F in a big way too. Lightweight, and gets the job done, and continues to be slightly less conspicuous when on the street. But I think I’m becoming guilty of rehashing the famous review of the camera that I wrote last year.

One of the reasons for getting the X100F was the film simulations. At the time, I was moving from film back to digital and remember loving the results people were able to achieve. Those desaturated colours, warm tones, and a feeling of timelessness. I think I have mentioned Fuji X Weekly, and their recipes that one can use to get a feeling of various film stocks. You can tell me what you think looking at the photos below.

Friday afternoon in Nantes


Today was a good day. I like good days.  A mixture of barbershops, photography, cake and tea, and most importantly, friends. On this sunny Friday afternoon, I had the afternoon off from work, it would be a perfect day to go to the barbershop and get this beard of mine seen too.  I knew it was sunny just by looking out the window, and thought, let’s go manual today.

There is a rule in photography called sunny 16, that says when it is sunny, and not a cloud in the sky, you can put your camera at F16, the shutter speed identical to the ISO, or film sensibility, and all your shots should come out fine or at least well exposed.  It means that all you have to do is to concentrate on the moment and press the shutter when the moment is right, and by that I mean, when you have the composition that you want from a scene.

Sean Tucker did a whole video about it and I thought, well, you’ve taken his advice in the past, so why not now.  I was a bit of a sissy, and didn’t use a film camera, but instead used the Fujifilm X100F so I could see what I as getting, but to be honest, I didn’t really need to.  I must have more self-confidence in photography, I must have more self-confidence in photography, etc.  I didn’t go F16 but stayed a little more conservative at F11.

Right, the geeky, photographer part of this article is over.  The rest of you can join in again.

So first the barber shop with a couple of photos along the way as my photographic warm-up.  This visual warm-up is as important as the muscular warm-up is for a runner or any other sportsman.  You get your settings right.  F11 because there were a couple of clouds in the sky but not enough for F8.  Remember the sunny 16 as a guide to this outing.

My goal was to go and get my flowing locks of hair shaved off, my beard to be transformed from a homeless guy into a dashing older Dude, and then get to Church, pop in to say hello to Jesus since I was too early for confession, and head off to the pub.

With less hair than before and having to battle away throngs of female admirers along the way, I eventually made it to the pub.  It was a quiet day at the pub.  Rob, or should I say the legend that is Rob, was standing outside ready to jump on any unsuspecting client that might come by and sit down on the terrasse.  He’s a good man, and we share a love of being daft and talking utter bollocks.  Our jokes are amazing, at least to us.  Others might disagree, but under torture will admit they were slightly funny despite being awful!

After a couple of pints of water to quench my thirst and some awful jokes I needed to pee.  On my way back up I fancied a little something to nibble on. 

Rob, do you fancy some Pringles and some dip?

Not really. 

Do you know what I really fancy Ian?

No Rob? 

Some shortbread… 

I wasn’t going to make it from scratch but I knew a place where I could acquire some for a reasonable price.  So off I went to the Comptoir Irlandais.  An establishment where you can find some of the world’s more comforting produce, tea, and shortbread included.  Back to the pub.

Rob who is half Scottish let me know what a great fan of Iron Bru he is.  Guess what I found at the Comptoir Irlandais?  Yes, you’re right Dear Reader!  Scotland’s number one hangover cure, not that I’m suggesting in any way at all, that the Scots would ever need a hangover cure, but if they did, this might be it.  It’s a Marmite thing.  You love it or you hate it.  Judging by Rob’s little eyes when I came back with the shortbread fingers, and that special drink, I think we can safely say he likes it!  We of course made a tonne of finger jokes, asking our Irish friend if she would like a finger.  Yes, we were at that level.  Fart jokes would have been a great leap forward.  And I think the phrase, that’s what she said, was uttered a few times too!  So all in all, yes, it was a very good day!

Photo Editing


Sometimes you have a friend that wants a photo taken for whatever reason, and the friend in question was a schoolmate from my days at the Conservatoire de Cholet. We both still play and now play in the same orchestra. She wanted a photograph of herself with the said violin. She was expecting me to whip out my phone and Bob’s your uncle. Little did she realise that this was just not an option. As somebody who dabbles in photography with cameras and not camera phones, I suggested that I bring the studio to her and that we would try to get something half-decent.

We set up the rendez-vous, and up I turned.  I was offered tea, which as you now know, Dear Reader, is something I have a great affection for, and this girl knows how to make a lovely cup of tea!  Her husband arrived from getting their little boy from school, and we started setting up the studio.  He was a good sport and let me use him for my test shots to get all my camera settings in order.

Then onto the serious business of getting some portraits!  Now that’s the easy bit.  The slightly less easy bit is where the magic happens.  Photoshop is my editing software, and yet is far from being worn, or soft!  The idea is to keep everything looking natural, and the premise “less is more” is my goal.  If my editing is obvious, then I have to go back to the drawing board.

Before / After

This is the first edited shot from the session and gives you an idea of what the result can be.  See what you think and tell me in the comments how “you” might have done it!

As you can see, the poor girl is a violin player and not a horn player like Yours Truly, but we have to make allowances. Not everyone has the chance to play the most beautiful instrument in the world.

Gone fishing


There are as many approaches to photography as there are photographers.  Some are top of the chain hunters with all the gear, going up mountains to get that special image.  Some are machine gunners, shooting everything in sight, hoping to at least hit the target once.  Some are scavengers, going out to know where people have already taken great shots, and just hope they can get something too.  Others are fishermen. 

And, of course, I identify as a fisherman.  Now, in a time, long, long ago, before I tried to reboot a semblance of a musical career, I used to go fishing.  I wasn’t a serious fisherman and didn’t have all the kit, but I had a couple of rods and knew what I could get put of them despite being a complete beginner.  I wasn’t really bothered about getting a fish from the river, to out of the river, and onto a dinner plate.  Even though it was an obvious bonus.  It was about being outside.  It was  hearing the sound of the river as it  was, about hearing the birdsong and about sharing something with my son.   It was like a sort of mediation.  You become so aware of every  sensation, and it brought me so much peace.   

I was far from being an expert, and getting up at the crack of dawn to go to a specofic spot just wasn’t going to happen. I didn’t chuck in a grenade to get everything out of the river.  Maybe I was a scavenger, without having the vain hope that they seem to have. I think it was my patience and gratitude for every fish that did it fr me. No instant gratification…

Could this apply to my photography?  Possibly.  Am I that hunter that will climb mountains to get that one shot?  Well it has happened, but only because there was a funicular.  Or because I was in Paris  and knew that I was bound to get something on film.  Or even in Nantes.

I have a  certain amount of gear and a certain number of cameras. I know how each piece of kit works and what I can get out of them. But the most important thing is being out of the house.  It’s  about being to detatch oneself from the scene and becoming an observer who is conscious of what is going on around you.  If you get that prize-winning photo, then great, and if you don’t, then great too.  Just having a pit stop to have cake, and a nice cup of tea makes everything worthwhile.

When I used to suffer from anxiety, that fact of being able to detatch from a scene and become a mere observer did me the world of good.  I was no longer in constant flight or fight mode.  With my 40 years of this photo lark, I have managed to take one some of the basics and still manage to get a not too shabby hit rate.   It’s about doing and not thinking.  Yes, of course you think about your composition and your settings, but just taking everything in is far more important.

Some people have sport.  Some have painting.  Some have a multitude of creative pursuits that allow them to express themselves.  It would appear that mine is exploring the world around me with a camera.   Sometimes you win, and sometimes you don’t.  The mere act of being out there exploring and letting the images present themselves to you can be enough. 

And they say that prayers don’t work!


As some of you may know, I am a Catholic. I pray. Not perfectly, but I try. Sometimes you feel spiritual darkness, where you think what the heck am I doing this for because it’s not working, but, with faith, you keep going. Because you believe. Because you’re not a child waiting for an immediate response, and you know that sometimes, you can’t feel God around, but then, suddenly, you get an answer and you know He was listening to you all along and that your faith in Him was being tested.

My son was the object of many Rosaries and prayers, asking God to help him through a breakup. He took it really hard, and of course, as a father, you worry. Especially me! You pray for healing in his life journey, and then this weekend happened. Firstly, on Friday I was allowed to leave work at Friday lunchtime as I was completely up to date, and I managed to get an appointment to get my beard seen to at the barbers. I was starting to look as if I was getting familiar with my vagrant side. The girl who looked after me was obviously very skilled and when I came out, I looked way better, almost like a regular member of society, and a little less like Karl Marx or Victor Hugo.

Don’t ask me why, but I was motivated to get into my kitchen on Saturday and start creating. I have, like many of you, Dear Reader, been infected by TikTok. Various styles of TikTok exist or rather various styles of videos that people gravitate towards. For me, all those filters are just a waste of space, and not really my thing, but what is, is the Italian American Nonnas, that share their food and cooking secrets. A lot seems to be pretty basic and uses few ingredients, but as one Italian chef refers to it, it is the “sound of love” as he swishes around the food in the pan. And he’s right, of course. Cooking for somebody is a labour of love! So, I cooked. I prepared food for my wife and daughter. It was simple and uncomplicated, but it was flavoursome. And flavoursome is a word that I have a great deal of affection for.

Killian came in to see what I was doing and to taste what I was doing. He approved of my decision. We agreed that we would cook later that day together for the evening feast and that we had to empty the freezer. We also agreed that the next morning that we would go to the shops to get some celery, so I could make some more sauces. But just celery, mind you… I humoured him and agreed. That night, we made the evening meal together. Alexa was on, and we were just two guys chilling in the kitchen making food. It was wonderful A real father/son moment. All was well with the world. He prepared the fish, and the mashed potato, and I was to prepare the French beans. We prepared our ingredients, chopped finely, or just seasoned ready to go into the oven. And put everything together for our meal. We even found some cheese to put on top of the fish pie to make it crispy.

The next day came along, and we were still on high from the previous evening. I saw my son with his hands in a bowl making something that looked awfully like bread! He was actually making Cheese filled Nan bread, which is like Nonna Bread, just less Italian… After two cups of tea, finding some clean socks, and getting dressed, we headed out to get our celery. I told him to get a couple of bags, knowing full well that we wouldn’t “just” get some celery. Yeah, but Dad, I don’t want to do the weekly shopping. Don’t worry, son, we won’t. Instead of getting a trolley, we just used one of the plastic baskets to limit my spending frenzy. I could see that he was starting to get worried about the amount of food entering the basket, and told him it would be alright. I don’t know about you, but when I’m in a food shop I don’t see produce, I see parts of recipes. I see what I can do with each bit of food and how it becomes an ingredient. With this, I can do that, etc. The total came up to €42 which is pretty good since without some discipline, and self-control, I could have filled up a whole trolley. It has happened in the past. Hence today’s helpful tip. Don’t go food shopping when you’re hungry!

Bouyed up on the day’s food, and fatherly son moments, it was with inner peace that I arrived at Mass that evening. Only very slightly late because of Nantes traffic, I didn’t feel too horrible! All of a sudden I looked up and saw this strange man. Except it wasn’t a strange man, but Jean Guillaume my old friend that I didn’t recognise at first because he shaved his beard. He had been through relationship troubles but was happy to present his new companion. I was so happy to be able to see him again after so much time. He left before Mass had finished, and when mass was over I messaged him to say to meet up the next Sunday and that we would go and get something to eat together and he could bring me up to date.

Lent is a time when we prepare ourselves for Easter by doing pennance and recognising our many sins. Back in the day, one would give up something, and then the bsihops started telling us to do something extra. After the success of last year, I’m giving up the drink, and as I’m already doing a daily rosary, I asked my wife to join me in praying it. It’s not always easy as she complains about the old fashioned way I say the prayers in French calling God Vous instead of the more modern Tu. I’m more familiar with the credo in French as I learnt it when Killian was a boy. but we still manage to do it though and find a common understanding, much like in our married lives. I started gently by doing on decade with her, but we’re gradually moving up a notch and by Easter I would hope for us to be able to do a full rosary together. I don’t know what effect it might have on us both, but one has to trust in God’s paln for us, and no prayer is ever wasted and sometimes are even answered when you least expect it…

A Sunny February Afternoon


Sometimes you have brunch and just feel that all is well with the world. Well, that Sunday, all was definitely well with the world, or at least, well with my world, which isn’t a bad way to be on a delightful sunny February afternoon. Out in town with my camera, well-fed, and just wandering around, seeing what would turn up in front of my camera.

If I were to be honest, I know that if I go to such-and-such an area, I will get such-and-such a kind of photo, so we can’t about wandering around aimlessly, but there was a sort of randomness… Sort of.

Get ready for some technical information, which will hopefully explain the style of photos that I am presenting to you today. When converting my images to black and white, I edited as if I had a red filter on my camera and as if I were using black and white film. When using this red filter, anything that is blue comes out in a darker tone. It’s going to be easier to use an image instead of a thousand words…

Basically, anything that is a deep blue turns almost black and makes for a powerful image. Some people love it (I do), others don’t (ah well), and that’s all fine too! You get the picture!

A lot of the photos that follow will exhibit this effect as if they were case book studies. You need the sky to be a certain way or it just won’t work, but when it does, you get the kind of image that jumps out at you. That and the 16-35mm lens, you can’t really go wrong. Mind you, after that delicious brunch, not a lot could go wrong…

Happy Birthday Blog!


When I look back at this blog, it would appear that I have been “at it” since the 19th of February 2019 (or was it that I took the first photos for the blog on that day?) and it would also appear that I am still “at it!” There have been various themes to the blog, including a bit of photography, a bit of Nantes in France, a few obligatory bike shots, a couple of portraits, a couple of articles about my mental health, and my love of tea and cake.

Today, I will talk about tea and cake, and will also share a favourite address where one can partake in this passion of mine.  Not that I’m turning into a lifestyle blog of course. Salivating?  Get a napkin and wipe your mouth already!

At the beginning of the month, I had a rehearsal with the Symphonique des Bords de Loire, and with a couple of my friends from Cholet days, who play the fiddle, we went to have tea, and cake, in Nantes after the rehearsal.  What a good idea!  It would have to be La Passagère, in the Passage Pommeraye, and whilst waiting to be placed, we could ooh and ahh, looking at the cakes and thinking about what we might like to have.

It was just lovely looking through the menu and deciding how we would go about getting diabetes.  You’ll be able to get an idea by exploring the photos…  The girls had various forms of hot chocolate, and I had Darjeeling.  Somebody has to keep standards up!  They’re absolutely charming but French…  We must show understanding.

So with blood sugar rising, we reminded ourselves of the “brunch sign” that we had seen whilst waiting at the entrance.  We have two concerts in May with meeting times at 14h30, which is when they stop serving brunch.  Well, it would be a shame to miss that.  So we’re not going to miss that!  At €28 a head, it seemed to be a good price for such a treat!  That somebody has a birthday the same day, has nothing to do with anything.  Oh no…

As the good friend that I am, I thought that somebody should do a recce.  I would climb up to the parapet and ready myself to go over the top and sacrifice myself to control the quality of this brunch from La Passagère.  Somebody has to do it, and as a gentleman, it has to be me.

I turned up and was seated.  The waiter showed me the Brunch menu, placed some other people, and brought me the menu back.  I was so excited that I missed half of it.  Could I have Darjeeling please, even though I could have chosen any hot drink on the menu, even an Irish coffee, and with a choice of brioche, croissant, and pain au chocolat, I went for some pain and chose a citron pressé for my daily dose of vitamin C. 

The gentleman brought me my tea, my viennoiserie, which looked perfect, and my citron, and then said, I’ll be back with the rest.  The rest.  Two short words hold such promise and make Ian, a very happy chappy.  He came back with a tray with fromage blanc, granola, fruit salad, and my favourite jam in the whole wide world.  Myrtille Jam.  And a shrimp salad.   There was me being even happier by the moment and remembering to take photos to show my friends in the group chat. 

The only thing that I could complain about was the lack of more tasty fruit salad!  The prawns were wonderful and felt almost meaty!  Everything was magical.  Is it the done thing to put jam on my pain au chocolat?  Even if it isn’t, it won’t be the last time I do this.  I might have to do it in private next time.

A very nice waitress came to see me and asked me whether I was ready for the next plate.  What a sweetie, knowing exactly what to say to make me happy.  Out came a very timid, yet heartfelt, “yes please!”  Back she came with “la suite.”  A parboiled egg that had had its shell removed, on a bed of some finely cut leek and carrots in a cream sauce.  Cutting into the egg, the yolk was perfectly runny.  A true taste sensation!  The generous serving of smoked salmon was top-notch.  Luckily, there was just enough bread to mop up the sauce and remaining yolk.

And that was just the start of a day of photography on a warm and sunny day in February. But that deserves its own article…

How does death change your perspective?


WordPress, like most companies, wants to create wealth, especially for WordPress.  One way it does that is to create advertising that it will place on the sites that allow it.  IE you go on a page and every time that you click on the ad, the advertiser gets people to its page and pays WordPress for this privilege.  I’m not into advertisements on websites, and like some old-timer surfer, believe that they are a mighty pox that should be eradicated, like world poverty, and poorly made cups of tea. 

But I digress.  That last paragraph has nothing to do with death, I hear you say, and you know what, Dear Reader, you’d be right!  But I promise I will get back to death, but back to ads first.  WordPress has decided that they want to sell ad space.  Nothing has changed since the newspapers, apparently.  Ads to pay the ink and the journalist that writes the articles.  If, however, the articles in the newspaper are dismally awful, then you might not want to read the newspaper in question, and therefore WordPress wants you to “create content” that is interesting or meaningful.

They have found a sneaky way of doing this.  The buggers!  On my dashboard for this site, yes that one that people seem to keep reading despite me writing everything, WordPress gives you subject hints about what to write about.  Some were about what would happen if you won the lottery, another about describing your first computer, and then I saw this one. How does death change your perspective?

Soooo, let’s see what we write about death.  It’s like those essay titles you used to get at school in English, French, or German, etc.

It is, of course, a very loaded question, and it would be easy to play to the clichés about death.  As a religious person who is fortunate to have been blessed with a certain amount of faith and instruction, I know that death is part of life, and with taxes, happens to everyone, at least one day in their lives, usually at the end of their lives of course.

My first experience of death was at primary school, where a classmate’s brother was killed whilst crossing the road.  It certainly made me aware of the dangers of crossing the road.

In 1979 my Great Grandmother died.  This mother, grandmother, and Great Grandmother was the kind of lady that would wait for the milkman to deliver the milk with his cart and horse and pounce on the horse poop with a dustpan and brush to use the poop on her roses.  Apparently, it was a savage competition.  All this for a bucket of shit! 

At the age of 13, my grandfather died.  I was with my grandmother who had just lost her husband. I was crying and there she was comforting me instead of the other way around.  With 70 years of age difference, we certainly had a different perspective on death.

In 1987, my uncle died prematurely, and I remember seeing the family walk up the aisle in the church behind the coffin that contained his body crying.  In 1989, it was my grandmother’s time to leave this world behind and enter the next world, and it took me six months to cry.

In the last twenty years, I have lost school friends, a cousin, four aunts, two uncles, and a nephew, and when going through depression, I could have been next on the list.  Statistically, I am closer to death than my children, but death can come at any time.  Now, at 51, I am not afraid of death.  I have accepted that this has happened and can happen, and although not something I would wish upon anyone, you know it becomes more and more likely. 

It is always saddest for those left behind, and we feel the part of the deceased took in our lives, missing from us, and this missing part hurts like bloody hell.  So, if death is inevitable, then how do face it?  Some atheists have told me that you live, and then you die and you cease to exist.  How can that be?  The dead mentioned earlier in this article are still in my heart and therefore must still exist somewhere.  As a Catholic, I believe in eternal life, not for my body, but for my soul. That soul lives in my body, but there is no way of identifying it.  The soul makes me, me.  It is like talking about my spirit.  When I die, my body will die, and my soul will be judged by my creator.  What happens to my soul will depend on how I spent my life preparing myself for my death.  This death that is part of life…  If I have rejected my God, then my soul will be separated from Him and will spend eternity in hell separated from God forever.  If I have merited heaven but my soul still has the stain of sin on it, then it will be purified in the fires in purgatory, and once cleansed of sin, may enter Heaven, or if I die in a state of grace, then I will enter Heaven directly and spend eternity with my God.

So, does death change my perspective?  And if so on what?  On my life?  On the way I chose to lead my life?  Possibly.  I will die one day.  It will happen.  I hope I will be prepared and I pray for those who have died and have gone before me.  Some will say that I am delusional for believing in a big guy in the sky and that it ends when you die.  The difference between me and that person is that I have hope, faith, and love.  And yes, it changes the way I try to lead my life.

Well, that was an interesting exercise, and I might try it again.  I hope not to have been morbid or overdone the whole thing, but I have been honest with you.  Those who believe, and who accept Catholic doctrine, pray for the souls in purgatory, as they pray for us, even more so when they are delivered into God’s Presence in heaven.  It’s good to have people on your side.

La Générale


La Générale refers to a French dress rehearsal before a show or concert but with no senior military officer in sight.  But why am I talking about a rehearsal?  Well, as some of you Dear Readers might know that for my many sins, I am a horn player and musician.  Both can happen simultaneously, despite our reputation! From February 2009 until July 2022, I played the horn for the Orchestre d’Harmonie de Cholet in France.  Some people had cottoned onto the fact that I dabble in this photography lark, and since they had just changed musical direction, they would like me to take some photos of the new director in front of the band.  I of course said yes, and following the lessons learnt during the American Concert, I was feeling quietly confident.

The musicians were asked to attend the Générale in concert dress, all looking very smart.  This would allow me to wander around the stage freely, not annoy the audience, and have complete freedom to try to take a couple of photos.  What a good idea!  It also meant that I had two hours to get the job done in a satisfactory manner.

I had the Canon 6D Mark II with the 85mm F1.8 Canon lens, and the trusty and also favourite, almost to the point of it being a fetish, Fuji Film X100F, with the telephoto adapter which transforms the lens into a 50mm F 2.0 lens.  I could take off that adapter and have 35mm equivalent lens.  To the uninitiated, you will think I have just spouted out a huge amount of gobbledy gook, but I it actually means something to me.  It was out of the question that I would miss 60 photos like last time.  A lesson most definitely learnt!

Sooooo…  I wandered around taking photos and trying to make sure I didn’t just photograph the horn section.  Nobody couldn’t accuse me of favouritism;  except that I had treated some images first for friends and had posted them on Facebook.  Two of those friends were, of course, in the Horn Section.  Ooooops a daisy.  Ah well.  I did, however, tell everyone that these were merely a foretaste of things to come, and I realised I had actually been quite democratic and represented most of the musicians.  Out of the 400 odd photos taken, 124 were presented to the musicians in a private Google Gallery.  Not bad for two hours of shooting.    You will see a small selection of those photos at the end of this article.

As a thank you, I was invited to the concert the next day.  After a Barber appointment to tame my overgrown beard and a visit to the pub just to say hello to the staff and friends, I headed off to Cholet for my Rendez Vous with music listening.  Keep music live etc!! 

Naturally, with the change of conductor, there will be a change of musical direction.  Each person had to get used to the novelty, and the new conductor has to make his mark on the orchestra, which is perfectly normal.  I had heard all kinds of things and wanted to make up my own mind.  The concert theme was “Heart of the Forest.”  I was determined to take it all in with no preconceived ideas.  Just enjoy the bloody music, you fool.  So I sat down and did just that.  The sound at the back of the auditorium differed completely from what I had heard the night before.  As a musician, we hear the concert from where we are on the stage.  The audience really hears that difference.  I was blown away and just sat there enjoying watching my friends create music.

With time, the orchestra and the new musical director will get to know each other, and I look forward to seeing their next concert and seeing the outcome of this new relationship in future concerts, and it goes without saying that I wish them the very best of success for the future! 

Now for the photos, and not just the horn section…

The American Concert


“Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast.”  I, like most people, used to think that this was pure Shakespeare.  Well, it is not; it is actually from the play “The Mourning Bride” by William Cosgrove, which was first performed in 1697.  No, I cannot be having you say that you learn nothing from this blog, right?

So you get a free fact of the day.  First, I don’t have breasts, but man boobs, and second, they’re not savage either!  Trust me! As suggested in the title, this article is about a concert, and surprisingly the music was American, hence the name of the American Concert.  Mind-blowing I know, right?

Now I can hear you saying this blog is about this man’s depression and photography, and possibly tea and cake.  Give me some time and I’ll get there.  My mental health is on the melancholic side due to rain, and teenagers at home, but it will get better. 

My friend Hervé, who has already starred twice on my blog, is part of a Brass Quintet called Arabesque who have only been mentioned once on my blog.  This lovely chap asked if I wanted to take some photos of their American Concert and I, of course, said yes, that would be great fun! They are revamping their website and wanted some photographs for it and after the success of the last shoot I did for them, they asked me to come back. 

This would be the first concert I would photograph with stage lights.  And when you photograph a concert, you have to get it right and not mess it up.  I, of course, messed quite a few photos up, but it’s all a learning process, isn’t it?  “They” said to use your fastest lenses, which is photographer lingo saying that you need the lens to have the widest opening possible to let in the most light and still have a relatively quick shutter speed.  “They” seem to give out some good advice so I took my very fastest lens, an f1.2 35mm lens for my XT2 and because it has focus peaking, you can’t go wrong.  That’s what “they” said.  I proved “them” wrong and wasted about 60 photos.  That’ll teach me to listen to “them!”  

Fortunately, I had my Plan B (Canon 6D MarkII) with me, which worked a treat.  What did I learn from this precarious situation?  First, I was the only one who knew that I had messed up.  Second, the importance of having a Plan B.  Thirdly, using both cameras and thus still getting the shot, and fourthly that using a manual lens usually provides no worries during the day, but autofocus can be quite a good friend, especially for a concert.  No need to be a purist.  You can save that for later.  What you need is to get the job done.  So leave your pride at home and get some decent photos. 

The entire show was splendid, and the music was first class too!  If you have time to see Arabesque in concert you’ll definitely enjoy yourself, and you’ll be supporting live music and a great bunch of guys too!  I would also like to thank them for the restaurant meal after the concert.  What a delightful way to spend an evening!

Back to the Côte Sauvage


Sometimes you just want to spend time alone, not because you hate other people, even if I sometimes find it difficult to love my fellow man.  People, or too many people, or people that are too intense just leave me shattered, and ready for an emotional breakdown.  My mother in law is one of those people.  She is the polar opposite of me.  She loves people, loves the gossip, can’t stand her first husband or any other of her ex’s, and her opinions on everything are the exact opposite of mine.  Could this be her calling in life?  Is she there just to make me question my own beliefs and reinforce them, or is she just a pain in the arse?  Possibly both…

Last weekend the idea was that we go up and see her.  At first, it was going to be my wife and son, but not my daughter, and then it became my wife and I without the children.  I must be a glutton for punishment.  Killian had been using my car as an extension of his room to store his crap in since he left the girlfriend.  I was getting sick of the whole thing and said if he didn’t get my car sorted then I wouldn’t be going either.  The little bugger got all the stuff in my car out, and so I had no choice.  Shit!

I have talked about the way I either need 10 pints worth of Heineken (other beers do exist) or Prozac to be able to deal with my mother-in-law.  And how this technique has evolved into being stone, cold, sober.  Not as fun but allows me to get in the car if things get too intense, escape, leave, and do some photography. 

As it was Sunday, I went off to mass at the local Benedictine monastery.  This is because I genuinely wanted to go to mass and fulfil my domincal obligations to keep the Sabbath holy.  It was also my Dad’s birthday, so I would be able to call and sing him Happy Birthday. 

No, I would not be back for lunch as I would be out doing some photography, and having some Ian time, to partake in my number one solitary pastime; photography of course, what else?  But don’t worry about me for lunch, I will look after myself….  On the Quiberon peninsular, they have what they refer to as the Côte Sauvage, or the Wild Coast.  Despite the high temperatures, we have to pinch ourselves to remind us that it actually autumn, and the end of October.  However, on this Wild Coast you were left in no doubt which season we were in despite the warmth.  Very slightly breezy, so I really did need my cane, and I found the white horses on the waves as they came crashing down on the shore against the rocks so beautiful.  You can really feel the power of the ocean as those waves come in.   It reminds you on how small you are, compared to God’s creation.

Despite the wildness of the coast, the ocean, and the waves, I managed to find my peace…

Dear Reader


Françaises, Français, Belges, Belges, Mon président, Mon chien, Monsieur l’avocat le plus bas d’Inter, mesdames et messieurs les jurés, public chéri mon amour.  The manner in which that French genius Pierre Desproges greeted his audience in the infamous radio show Le Tribunal des Flagrants Délires.

It was something I heard repeated on Rire et Chansons when I used to listen to French Radio trying to learn how to become more French than the French in the vain idea that I had to learn all about French culture to be accepted by them.  Now I realise my erreur!  All I had to do to be like them was to talk French incorrectly, smoke, drink wine, feel as if I am the light of the world, and judge people.  A damning indictment possibly, but how true!

Am I here to slag off the French once again?  Not really, but it’s always something so satisfying…  They think they know everything, and yet…  But I’m just going to leave that there today and not develop, because it is not the done thing, however fun it might be!

The quote by Pierre Desproges is quite revealing in the way he addresses his public, chéri, mon amour.  Do I write for others uniquely, or is it part of my therapy and a means to expedite my inner daemons?  Do I write only to leave a trace on this world before I die?  Is this my legacy for my children?  As a writer, not that I class myself as a “writer” in the way a French intellectual might, I do write the articles on this blog, and I hope, in some small way, to either amuse you, to help you pass some time in public transport and depending on my subject of choice, help you realise that there might just be a different way of looking at the world.  Possibly. Who knows?  Who really cares?  You, Dear Reader I hope, in some small way.  Sharing is caring, after all.

According to the statistics that I get back since I started this weird and wonderful project, there have been 8 826 of you that have visited my site.  There have been 33 994 views of my pages.  The French have viewed my site 17 810 times, followed by the British with 5029, and our Colonials across the pond with 4157 views.  This amazes me firstly, because I write in English for the French apparently, and they seem to lap it up, and secondly by the views from my home country, the United Kingdom.  Thanks Mum and Dad!!  As I look over the history of IJM Photography, I would like to thank the guy in Ireland who often has a look in.  Buy that man a pint of Guinness!

Not a map of the British Empire despite the pink…

When I see all the countries in pink on this map, I keep telling myself that this is not the British empire but people from the countries who have taken a moment and have visited this blog.   I still find this amazing.  I’m just one person, among 7bn on this planet. It’s as if I have had over 8 thousand people visit my home and have a look inside my mind.

The most popular article was about the X100F camera that has a place in my heart and camera bag. 586 views that one!!  In 2019, it was an article about Humber Street with 169 views.  In 2020, Don’t Panic with 112 views. 2021 with the X100F article, and this year 2022, it was the Parisian Nights Part I. Please have a look through the archives and maybe discover things you never knew existed!

When I declared to my mother that I was going to start a website, she declared it would never last.  For once, you were wrong mother, and I apologise for this exception to the rule.  I tend to have no filter concerning what I write about and how I write it, which can lead to interesting insights into the functioning of my dysfunctional brain. I’ll let the head shrinkers have a field day with that one.  You get me, a rather large English-Irish gentleman, and my heart goes into each page and word that I write for myself and for you, Dear Reader.  Thank you for being part of this strange adventure.

L’œil du Cyclone


Dear Reader, some of you might know that I don’t live too far away from Nantes and that I can be found wandering the streets of Nantes with a camera, or sitting in the pub talking with friends. So, nothing new here then.  You might not know that I sometimes publish said photos of Nantes, and even the pub, with friends of course, on Instagram.  I also sometimes go out and participate with other photographers in what is usually a solitary pastime. 

Nantes Grand Angle, a sort of collective of photographers from Nantes, often has events (with local partners) that want to get their event onto the local social networks and get some “viral” publicity.  The game is you go to the event and then talk about it on your social accounts and people might be interested thinking well, he went to see this, why don’t I go along too.  It’s the basics of social marketing. 

Why do I usually see photography as a solitary pastime? Because I get a certain amount of social anxiety.  For most extroverts, those pushy people that are in favour now, the word “mingle” gives them a buzz that they seem to thrive on.  I, as an introvert, find the words “new people”, or even the idea of “meeting new people”, “social”, or “mingle” just fill me with dread.  It’s akin to going on one of those terrifying rides at the fair. It’s scary, thankfully doesn’t last very long, leaves you feeling empty, very awkward, sheepish, and makes you want to run away as soon as possible.  sonds like my sex life on a good day.

So against my better judgement, I confronted my fear, and went on an outing with Nantes Grand Angle.  I could always just stay at the back and be subtle and try to fade into the background.  It also meant that I would visit a new place, Le Lieu Unique, which as its name might suggest, is certainly unique!  The Lieu Unique also contains the Tour Lu (sans T pour le jeu de mot de merde en français, et oui, je suis rendu à ce point là !)  It originally house the LU biscuit factory (des petits beurres de LU, which is another pun for the Happy Birthday song).  Dear Reader, I apologise for the years of therapy that you will need to get over that last paragraph.  It’ll teach you to speak French!

Right, back on track.  The Lieu Unique, which indeed is unique as the name suggests, houses not only an exhibition for introverts to take photos of for social marketing, but a bar, a reading room, a bookshop, and if I’m not mistaken, a hammam, as well as a whopping great tower.  It is a hothouse of culture where you can get fed, drunk, steamed, and get some culture, leading to the acquisition of a little intelligence! Maybe, depending on the order you do each activity.

I was there with my fellow photographers, some of which were annoyingly extrovert, to live the experience of Art from Taiwan in the “Eye of the Cyclone.”  The Lieu Unique boss, had, uniquely, gone to Taiwan in 2018, had been to an exhibition at The National Museum of Fine Arts of Taiwan, and had invited some of the artists to come to Nantes and show their work, purely an artistic venture.  Since 2018, the world has changed not only through COVID, but also because China would like to get its hands on Taiwan for economic reasons and political ones.  Taiwan came to the front in modern terms when the Kuomintang government who lost to Mao’s Communists, fled Mao and fled to the Island of Taiwan, setting up a new independent government, that China still hasn’t gotten over and is still very upset about.

In the early 1960s, Taiwan entered a period of rapid economic growth and industrialisation called the “Taiwan Miracle».  In the late 1980s and early 1990s, the ROC transitioned from a one-party military dictatorship to a multi-party democracy with a semi-presidential system. Taiwan’s export-oriented industrial economy is the 21st-largest in the world by nominal GDP and 19th-largest by PPP measures, focusing on steel, machinery, electronics and chemicals manufacturing. Taiwan is a developed country, ranking 20th in GDP per capita. It is ranked highly in terms of civil liberties, healthcare, and human development.  Again, something that China isn’t overjoyed by.  So as you can imagine, such an exhibition is as much political as artistic.

So now we have set the scene, let’s get down to the nitty-gritty.  The expo itself.  I admit not knowing a huge amount about Taiwan, however, since visiting the expo, I have read up to find out more about its history and culture.  It’s Chinese but at the same time properly Taiwanese. I will include official links to the expo and the English documentation at the end of the article.  But what I really wanted to do with this article was to talk about my experience of the exposition and the way the exhibits left their mark on me.

The first exhibit, Exhibit A, or Battle City – Scene, by Chang, Li-Ren, model, just blew me away with the complexity of the modelling and the realism recreated in model form.  The artist came over for the oeuvre installation and I can imagine a rather rotund Asian chap on all fours adding details to his masterwork.  Not based on reality, but the artist just wants to give an impression of what Taiwanese urbanism looks like.   There are cars, housing, and motorbikes, but the whole place is devoid of people.  It’s very eerie, yet totally fascinating and a photographer’s dream.  The whole thing is massive (7600mm x 8100mm x 2600mm), and the attention to detail is fascinating.

Exhibit B, Future Shock, by SU Hui-Yu, video, talks about a dystopian future, unfortunately, a not-too-distant future according to the artist influenced heavily by the American author Alvin Toffler, where people are drowning in information, and unethical technologies.  Maybe it’s happening already?  Definitely though provoking and frightening in equal measure.