The Sunday morning sun was shining, and I was in need of some fresh air after a fun-filled birthday celebration with friends. Armed with my trusty Canon 6D Mark II, I decided to push my photography boundaries by attaching the Helios 44-2 58mm f/2.0 lens to my camera.
Stepping into the realm of portrait lens territory with a 58mm focal length, I knew I was taking a bold move, especially for street photography in Nantes. The Helios 44-2 is a Russian lens from the Soviet era, boasting a sturdy M42 screw mount. To use it on my modern DSLR, I needed an adapter, and the manual focusing without focus peaking presented a challenge for my not-so-great eyes. Thankfully, I discovered the trick of using the flippy-outy screen and zooming in, which helped me achieve some surprisingly sharp images.
While the build quality of this lens might be described as slightly solid (as proven by a regrettable incident where it fell from my dining room table and chipped a tile), it can undoubtedly withstand everyday use.
However, let’s talk about the true highlight of the Helios 44-2—the bokeh it produces. If you’re a fan of creamy bokeh goodness with a touch of artistic swirl, this lens will not disappoint. As you browse through the photos taken with it, keep an eye out for the captivating bokeh effect that enhances the overall visual appeal of the images. For those with an affinity for bokeh, the Helios 44-2 delivers in spades.
In conclusion, pairing my Canon DSLR with the Helios 44-2 58mm lens was a delightful adventure. While it demanded some manual effort in terms of focusing, the resulting images made it all worthwhile. If you’re up for experimenting with a vintage lens, the Helios 44-2 might be just the ticket for adding a touch of nostalgia and artistic flair to your photography. Just remember to handle it with care, unlike my unfortunate dining table incident, and you’ll be rewarded with stunning bokeh and a unique photography experience. Happy shooting!
Summer has officially come and gone, and I have finished my first week of work. Is Summer just the month of August or does July count? Whatever the case is it now time to look back and take stock?
2020 has been a strange year, going for the understatement of the year… At work instead of the usual four weeks off we were off for only three weeks. We relaxed during the month of lockdown but I don’t think it could be described as holiday even though I was more than rested when I went back to work on the 22nd of April.
Fast forward to July. In early February I had planned and booked a trip to my hometown of Hull for mid July as a kind of pre-vacation. How very French of me! Well, that was the idea. Then Covid came and said maybe you might want to think again about that. So I thought about it again and stayed in France. I still went on leave, but stayed in France.
I went to Nantes and did some architecture photography, and Kate wanted to go to Paris, so we did. Then it was off to Bretagne for the rest of the weekend. I got shouted at and escaped to do more photography, and offered a photoshoot to my sister in law and then my niece and daughter wanted to get in on the act.
Soooooooo…. my proper leave starts and my wife and daughter go off to see a friend and then on to see my mother in law. That Sunday I go off to do a photoshoot for a friend who wanted to record her pregnancy and share the sex of the baby. It was great to see n old friend and share something so intimate with the couple. They have asked asked me not to show the photos, but you can take it from me, parenthood suits both of them.
That night I was going to become a resident of Nantes. It was the first night of the holidays for a friend of mine from the pub. I knew that I was going to have a drink or two, so thought it wise to book a hotel room, as it would be less expensive and so much wiser than driving home under the influence….
The following Tuesday I had a photoshoot for a friend who does Yoga. She wanted some photos outside so we went to the Chaussée des Moines just outside Nantes.
The Thursday of that week saw me in Paris with the hero of the moment, Jean Guillaume! A great day out! It was also the day that I required my now old camera. The Olympus Pen EE S.
I put a roll of film in it and took it out for a test drive. What better place to do it than in the Voyage à Nantes. I have just finished scanning the negatives and might even get around to dedicating a whole article to it. My daughter fell in love with it and has claimed it as her very own. I am presently in negotiations to reclaim it.
I finally gave into my daughter and she took the Olympus Pen, some colour negative film, and are had a father and daughter day in Nantes visiting the Voyage à Nantes again. She can be affair and a very fussy eater but hot that day. Miracles can happen! That day I was test driving my new old Olympus Trip 35. My old one had decided that time was time, and it was time to retire. This new camera was made in May of 1971 so is older than me. I will scan those negatives today. Update: they are scanned and turned out the way I wanted so go me!
The last week of my hols arrived, and as the impetuous fool that I am, I had promised my daughter a last trip to Paris. That will teach me to make promises. Photos will follow. Honest!
I know this article as been a bit strange but it has allowed me to clarify things in that mess of a mind of mine so I suppose hasn’t been completely useless. At least you know what to expect in the coming articles.
Thank you Dear reader for bearing with me during this befuddle, and now you have an insight into how my brain works. I suppose I have to say it’s great to be back at work with structure, rather than the life a photographer for a short time. But I did enjoy the freedom to do what I love and keeps me going emotionally. I think back to when music was taking over my life and time away from work. Maybe photography is doing the same. I sincerely hope not. When I’m out taking photos, I don’t think. I do. It’s almost like a visual meditation. I feel free. I feel like I’m taking up a challenge to get the best images from what is around me. Sometimes that is the Eiffel Tower which is notoriously bad at playing hide and seek, or it can be the local duck pond, or of the vines. I really must start going to work earlier to catch the countryside that I drive through too. Lately on my drive to work, it’s at the exact time that the morning dew is evaporating and it gives a surreal look to the countryside. I reckon we’ll soon find out if I managed that.
Have a great week, sorry for not having written earlier but I needed to do my mental filing and sort out my memories of what Summer was all about. Whatever it was about, it wasn’t your usual Summer. But I’m not the only one that felt that. I, like a lot of you I think, crave a return to a relative normality where we can shake hands and hug our friends, where we don’t have to constantly worry if we have a mask or not, where we can connect again, and where we can become fully human again. And don’t mention Brexit!!
I am truly blessed. I have some very good friends that are wonderful people. Jean Guillaume is one of those people. He personifies kindness, gentleness and positivity, and an example for us all. No wonder he got to marry Stephanie who is just as wonderful! You may remember in a previous article that I went to Paris with my daughter. It was a great day out, but I of course had to put my daughter first. So I did, but I did say that I would go back to do some photography on my own so I could concentrate on capturing images and not to have worry about somebody else.
Now some of you may know that I frequent a certain establishment in Nantes and some of my friends seem to hang out there too. Some are in front of the bar and others behind the it. I was sitting outside talking and Jean Guillaume comes along to meet up with his wife who is with us. We’re all talking and I let loose that I’m going to Paris on such and such a day and he says he’ll be in Paris with his Mum and that we should hang out. What a great idea. Sounds like a plan. I needed to go to the barber’s and he should probably come along with me. We are men, but sometimes we need pampering too.
It’s decided we’ll go and get ourselves done at the barber’s. I look up various addresses online and get us booked in to Grizzly Barbers. The name sounds fun and I get him the works. He deserves it. Self care is important and it’s good to be good to a friend when you can.
My wife and daughter had gone off to see a friend north of the Loire and it was half way to her mother’s house so they went up there too.
I was a “free man” but used this freedom to get myself sorted out. So Thursday came around and I headed up to Nantes to get the train to Paris. 1st class was only 5€ more so decided to treat myself. Slightly larger seats and a bit more leg room. And you get to feel extravagant.
I was on time for the train except my electronic ticket didn’t want to work. I tried pushing up the luminosity of my phone but to no avail. The departure was getting closer and the guard called Rennes, who told him that my ticket was valid and I was allowed on the train accompanied by the guard. The train journey itself was fairly uneventful which is a good thing and my friend asked which wagon I was in and that he would meet me off the train. I arrived and headed towards the top of the platform, and after showing him a photo of exactly where I was he said turn round and saw him! My first stop would have to be Marks and Spencers to get a picnic lunch. They have sandwiches which are like having a bite out of my childhood and spark so many memories. He knew the area and we went off to eat in a park. It was wonderful just chatting and sharing.
Sitting in the park chatting.
After we had eaten he showed me around the Montparnasse Quartier where he used to live and hang out. It was all very beautiful and very Parisian. I explained that the only imperative that we had was to be at the barber’s for 1pm, and prepare ourselves to look great afterwards. It felt good to back in Paris and it was great being there with a friend. I knew a little of the area but was far from knowing it an intimately as Jean Guillaume. There were some great photos to be had and he was so patient waiting for me each time and telling me that I was about to be run over etc.
With time flying by we headed to the car and drove to the barber’s and managed to find a space just outside. I was amazed! I would be scared poopless driving in Paris by my friend seemed to thrive on it. Maybe the fact of it being August and really empty helped. They had all gone on holiday! A word of advice to anyone visiting the capital. Go in August, half the people aren’t there and the half that are still there seem to just want to chill!
and managed to find a space just outside…
When you enter Grizzly you can tell that it is a very high end and high quality barbershop and the service was excellent. My barber and I talked about our mutual passion for photography as he shaved my head the old fashioned way, and then proceeded to do my beard. I made sure my barbershop virgin friend got the whole whack. Hair cut, beard cut, getting his nostrils waxed, and a neck massage to finish with. He deserved it. It’s important for guys to have a guy place for being pampered. Even if you don’t go every week, it’s worth it maybe every three months. It wasn’t cheap, but so worth it, and worth every cent! I’m looking forward to going back. Definitely an experience. Jean Guillaume was certainly more than happy with the whole shebang and felt fabulous, and looked great! What more could you ask for?
felt fabulous, and looked great!
I spotted a camera shop and we parked up and went in. It was like a child entering a sweet shop with many things of great beauty. I saw a 15mm lens for my Pentax ME Super, but at 1350€ I thought it might be difficult to justify spending as much. And my wife would kill me! I did however come away with a little Olympus Pen EE S half frame camera which is something I’ve been looking for for such a long time. An amazing find, and the day I go back to Grizzly, I may have to go back and visit that little shop. It was turning out to be a great day.
I was asked where I wanted to go, and I said the Marais, aiming to get to the rue des rosiers which was, and still is, the epicentre of the Jewish community in Paris. It’s an amazing place and on Sundays it can get very busy. I went into a Jewish bakery. Jean Guillaume had never had Strudel! I was about to correct that. We had been in book shops with art, we had sat in beautiful gardens eating chocolate covered raisins. We even got as far as Beaubourg. Time was still flying by, and we had to go and see a friend and give him his flat keys. Another good deed for the day.
Jean Guillaume had never had Strudel!
The last stop of this epic day was going to be WH Smiths on the rue de Rivoli. Bookshop, with such a great choice of books. I ended up buying The English, by Jeremy Paxman, and a couple of books to give me some light reading about what it means to be English, and Irish. They also have some food essentials for anglophiles like Yorkshire tea; I already had some but still came away with a few goodies for my wife and daughter.
We sat outside the café where we had parked. Wine for one, and a pint of 1664 for the other of the two friends. They discussed everything and more. They were chilling as friends do and looking back over the day they had shared together with new and old experiences for both of them. It felt good to be alive.
They discussed everything and more.
The last stop was Gare de Montparnasse where the trip had begun. We headed off to Marks and Spencers to get our evening meal. I had selected a few sandwiches to eat on the train, and a few more goodies for home too. We headed up to the platform to where my train was to leave from. Little did I know then that I would not be getting on that train. Jean Guillaume waited with me for my train. There had been a blue Adidas bag that had been left on the train and over the loud speaker came the announcement that the person who had left said bag should come and get it and that the train was being delayed.
After a certain time, soldiers had got onto the train, more police had come along. Things weren’t looking good. Crunch time came when I got a text message from the company to say that the train had been cancelled. My friend was still with me and explained what they had just said over the tannoy. I had my bags with me and my walking stick over my arm. Apparently they were gong to try and sort out hotels for us and allow us to take the train the next morning.
Now whilst listening to this i turned around and hit somebody with my cane. Not hard, but enough to get “the look” so I very quickly apologised and with Jean Guillaume we diffused the situation. But we got talking to the lady I had just agressed with my cane. Then all of a sudden he said, “I can take you back!” My first reaction was to say no, but the idea worked it way very quickly into my head, and we would drop off our new friend Annie on the way back. I phoned Virginie to prepare a bed for our guest and I knew we had what we needed in our bag to make a wonderful breakfast.
The decision had been made. We would drop off Annie in Angers, and then head home to Nantes. We found a corner shop that sold us some water, and a couple of chocolate bars for Jean Guillaume for energy, and then a café that would sell us a coffee. Those little Parisian coffees that just wake you back up. We said that we would pay gas money and road tolls. It was out of the question to leave our friend out of pocket! I also said I would do some of the driving if needed to help out.
The trip back was quiet, at least for some of it as I had drifted off to the land of nod. I was woken up and asked to just chat to our heroic driver. It was a pleasure and we looked back at our day, and how wonderful he now looked, as well as plans for the future, and we put the world to right. I took over the driving, and when we needed more petrol we stopped off and I filled up the tank. We got to Nantes station a 3.30 am, and I found my car. The machine to pay for the ticket didn’t seem to want to work and neither did the interphone when we tried to talk to a technician. There was a homeless guy sleep with his girlfriend sheltering out of the rain who lifted up the barrier for me to get out of the car park, but I still paid at the exit and thanked him for his efforts.
I thanked Jean Guillaume, my hero, for getting me back to my car, and he went home to his hunny to surprise her, and I drove the last kilometres to get home to my wife and daughter. Heroism is when you go above and beyond the call of duty, and Jean Guillaume was a true friend and a true hero. So thanks once again, Jean Guillaume, ce héro!
I have a wife, and my wife has friends from her work. I therefore have friends from her work. One of these friends has a husband. This husband is therefore a friend of mine. Not only that but we were invited to celebrate his birthday with him. As my present to him I said I would take along the studio and set up in the garden. Which,believe it or not is exactly what I did.
I was up for the experience of photographing other people outside my perfectly dysfunctional family. I wanted to see if I could build up a relationship however temporary with my model and end up with a half decent photo.
I based it on a self service photo opportunity and not force anyone who didn’t want to pose, to pose. So out come the extroverts and then the shy introverts.
Booze helps as always and people were getting more relaxed as the booze started having an effect.
Only drink with moderation, if you can find him that is.
As I think I’ve already told you, I am in the middle of trying to learn about this portrait palaver! I had watched the videos, I had perused the books, I had bought the equipment, I just needed some willing victims. Erm, I mean models. I was going to see my perfectly dysfunctional family for the weekend in Brittany so I was going to have to charm them into sitting for me.
We were of course late and as usual it was my fault. Who else could possibly be to blame? Just remember that the previous day I had been in Paris with my 10 year old daughter. Now I’m not trying to invent excuses but I’m certainly claiming mitigating circumstances.
But it was still my fault. all my camera gear was downstairs and ready to be loaded into the car. My son was still with us and helped me. I had my backdrop, my flash, my camera, which is pretty important, my soft box, my trigger, and everything, or so I thought. Little did I know that I had forgotten the stand. I wasn’t going to go home to get it, otherwise I would never live it down and going 200km and back for a stand might seem a little unreasonable. I think reasonable is about 500 metres and I will still incur the wrath of my wife.
We made it in one piece and after a while I wasn’t being yelled at either. What I didn’t say was that I needed to fill the car with petrol and that was going to add on time. I also bought some water too. Hey, if you’re going to be late , then be late for a reason! The other reason was that there was loads of traffic on the roads too as it was the 14th July weekend. Our average speed for the 200km was 56km/h.
We settled in, and I unloaded my kit and started cursing myself for having forgotten that blasted stand, bordel de merde de mes couilles, but it’s a learning curve and I had just learnt to load everything myself so I’m sure of everything. Ah well, I was going to have to without the flash set-up and just use natural light.
The next morning my brother in law posed for me and gave me a chance to explain to everyone how the whole shebang worked. I also got a really good photo of him that won applause on his Facebook wall, which is praise indeed! We were going for the philosopher look….
my brother in law, Vincent.
Can you feel that 80mm F 1.8 bokeh creaminess? Just the right ammount to look like an understated sex symbol… Even I’m starting to get flustered!
The results had really given me a confidence boost and my sister in law was so impressed that she needed no coaxing to sit for me. It was going so well that my niece wanted in as well. My wife and daughter had obviously forgiven my short- comings and I ended up taking photos of all of them.
It was a fun moment and I think one that will be remembered for the right reasons. I couldn’t have hoped for better.
As any visit to my French family worth its salt, there is always drama. Drama and booze. This is why I refuse to drink whilst there. Usually everything is my fault. I am the immigrant after all! But this time it wasn’t me. I was in such shock that I had to go and lie down after lunch. I was respecting the ultimate French custom of the sieste. It was for digestion. And the fact that I was knackered always being alert for not saying the right thing and pissing everyone off.
So as I said, this time it wasn’t me, or my brother in law, who is the other family scapegoat. All of a sudden I heard world war three coming from downstairs. I thought it wise to stay in bed and pretend to sleep. Once the fallout had fallen out, I risked going downstairs asking what the feck just happened and making sure everyone knew perfectly well that it wasn’t me this time as I wasn’t even there!!!
My brother in law, who doesn’t follow my zero booze rule, was just really mellow. A really nice bloke and we reflected laughing about our near 30 years of victim-hood. We are really in the Zeitgeist!
People had dropped off and disappeared to the beach before going to the restaurant that evening to allow my mother in law to just sit at table and be served. There is an important rule in her house that must be respected at all times. Anyone who has a penis is not allowed in her kitchen. I have a penis and therefore the kitchen is out of bounds. I daren’t even make myself a cup of tea, and don’t get me started about cake.
As usual,I had prepared the terrain. They know I don’t like going to sit on a beach. I don’t even go swimming. I’m so fat that there isn’t a swimming costume my size. Also those bastards from Greenpeace come along in their zodiacs and try and push me out to sea. The first time it happens, it’s all fun and games, but the second time I start to get slightly miffed! I therefore do not do beaches. What I do do is to take photographs. As I hadn’t partaken of the daemon drink I was able to drive, I could drive. I could escape. And escape I did. I actually thought about going to the pub in Nantes, but then I would really be up the creek without a paddle. It would almost be worth it, but I’m not a masochist!
I thought I would take my camera and go to Quiberon and go and see the Côte Sauvage, and a beach where I had already taken some nice photos with a film camera. Tell me if you want to see those film photographs then I might have to think about editing this post and add them later.
But here I was with my Fujifilm XT2 digital camera. I also wanted to use colour in these photos. I know…. Not black and white. What is happening to me? What has the world come to?
Sooooo, I was on the coast and in the zone. My mind was just doing instead of thinking. All reflective powers had been given up in order to concentrate of getting “the shot.” I like being like this. It is my coping mechanism. And you need this. Why is being with my mother in law like going camping? Because it’s so fecking intense!
I had done my first beach. I went to the first car park on the Côte Sauvage. I parked up and then started looking for shots. All of a sudden my phone goes off, and I have my wife yelling at me for being a fecking idiot and how in God’s name was I supposed to be at the restaurant on time. I learnt what a dick I was and how I never think of anybody else, and I’d bloody well be there at such and such a time.
I didn’t have the address and nobody had talked to me about time etc. But this of course was my fault. It’s a shame because you may have had more photos to look at. But I did what I could.
Let me assure you that I am still alive and despite being yelled at when I told them what time I would be there according to my GPS, I was still keeping it together man! I followed the exact route that the GPS sent me on, and I actually arrived at the same time as everyone else. I didn’t speed. I am not a sporty driver, I’m a middle aged fat guy who takes his time. O sweet irony. They couldn’t believe me. But the proof was there for all to see!
Let’s get back to the photos. I hope you enjoy them. Feel free to leave any constructive criticism. PS I do actually like my wife’s family, and some of the members of said family are actually quite normal and decent people who are not psychotic or hysterical.
IJM Photography 