photography memories Archives

New from the film archives – On va Marcher sur la Lune, captured on a warm October day in 2016. Could this be a nod to Jules Verne, one of Nantes’ famous sons? Possibly. As I look through these photos now, I’m transported back 8 years—to a time when my daughter still saw me as her hero, and we spent afternoons exploring with our cameras.

That day, she had her Olympus Trip 35, and I was carrying the equally iconic Canon AE-1 with some 400ASA Kentmere black and white film. Both cameras, steeped in history, were very much a part of our lives at the time. And when I say the Olympus is so simple a seven-year-old could use it, I’m not exaggerating—she handled it with ease, maybe even with a bit more flair than I did.

We parked near the Grue Titan and wandered towards the Elephant, a landmark almost as famous as Jules Verne himself. It was one of those days that would just lead its own way along the Loire, and I was completely fine with that. My only concern was Kate remembering to change the dial on the Olympus to the right focus zone. In hindsight, I should’ve let her take the lead and placed more confidence in her. Hindsight—that luxury of later life. Her photos? They turned out better than just fine.

Later, we explored the “On va Marcher sur la Lune” exhibit, which featured a lunar landscape with trampolines in each crater—a hit with children of all ages. The area was bustling with people enjoying the Indian Summer, including a mix of families and those embracing the trendy atmosphere. As we walked towards the Elephant, we noticed how it had revitalized this once rundown shipbuilding area. The remnants of the old shipyards still linger, but the new architecture is resolutely modern.

This set was taken on Penthièvres beach, on the Quiberon peninsula in the Morbihan. It has a special place in my heart — not just the sea itself, but the smell of the sea air and the feel of it on my face. It’s somewhere I go to escape a bit, especially when family visits get chaotic.

In some ways it’s strange going to the beach to “relax,” since that’s usually something I hate. Towels down, rocks weighing down each corner, watching the kids swim so nobody drowns (or you’ll get an earful), other people’s children screaming somewhere nearby, sand in every crevice by the time you’re back in the car with what feels like half the beach in tow.

But this was different. Boots stayed on. No screaming children. Just the wind, the sun, and being an observer rather than a participant, with nobody to make conversation with. Getting the beach down on film. Proper, solitary bliss.

So, camera and film for the day. The film was the usual Ilford HP5 I was shooting at the time. The camera was a Ukrainian-made rangefinder, the FED 5, from the Soviet era. You load it by unscrewing the base plate, much like a Leica, and the “ghost image” focusing is spot on and genuinely satisfying to use. I still love the smell of the leather case. As with a lot of my film photography, the experience of shooting it matters as much to me as the pictures that come out the other end.

Penthièvres ended up being more than just somewhere to point a camera. It’s become one of the places I go back to in my head when I need to, and these shots are what’s left of that particular afternoon.