Tag: Street Photography

YOU CAN’T BUY HAPPINESS, BUT…

Posted on Posted in Black and White Photography, Film Photography, France, Nantes Photography, Reportage, Street Photography, The Film ArchivesTagged , , , , , 8 Comments

What Nantes teaches me about the good life

“ON NE PEUT PAS ACHETER LE BONHEUR MAIS ON PEUT ACHETER DU BON VIN.”

You can’t buy happiness, but you can buy good wine.

I found this handwritten on a Nantes café window, and it stopped me cold. Not because it was profound, but because it was honest. The French don’t promise happiness — they promise pleasure. And they’ve built entire cities around this philosophy.

I walked through Nantes for days with my camera, trying to understand what makes a city not just beautiful, but livable. What I found changed how I think about urban life.

The lampposts told me everything. Not mere functional poles, but sculptural objects — twisted metal trees with globed lights, as if someone asked: why shouldn’t street furniture be art?

This question was everywhere. In the Passage Pommeraye, a 19th-century shopping arcade where statues line ornate balconies and natural light floods through glass ceilings. In the Théâtre Graslin, where neoclassical columns frame a cultural temple that feels both monumental and welcoming.

Nantes treats beauty as infrastructure, not luxury. The city is meticulously designed but never precious. Historical preservation and contemporary life coexist without tension. Beauty isn’t gated—it’s in the streets, the squares, the passages. This is democracy in action: the insistence that everyone deserves to walk through beauty every day.

They sat on a bench in Cours Cambronne, an elderly couple, backs to my camera, watching life unfold behind an iron fence. They weren’t waiting for anything. They were simply being, in a city that had built space for exactly this: the luxury of unhurried presence.

Later, inside the Passage Pommeraye, a solitary figure sat in a bistro chair surrounded by statues and columns, resting or reading or just thinking. Alone, but not lonely. Present in beauty on their own terms.

Great cities understand something crucial: urban life isn’t just about community. It’s about choice. You can be alone in public without isolation. You can observe without participating. You can rest without justification. Nantes accommodates both connection and contemplation, and this is dignity — the freedom to exist in public space however you choose.

The espresso cup sat empty on its saucer, the last drops evaporating. Someone had been here, recently. They’d had their small pleasure — five minutes of warmth and caffeine and pause. Now they were gone, and the cup remained: evidence that happiness might be unbuyable, but this — a good coffee, a moment of rest — was accessible to anyone with a few euros and the willingness to sit down.

This is the real philosophy of Nantes: you don’t need to be happy all the time. You need access to small, reliable joys. Good coffee. Good food. Good company, or good solitude. A beautiful square to sit in. A tram to carry you home. A bicycle locked to a post, waiting for your return.

This is the real philosophy of Nantes: you don’t need to be happy all the time. You need access to small, reliable joys. Good coffee. Good food. Good company, or good solitude. A beautiful square to sit in. A tram to carry you home. A bicycle locked to a post, waiting for your return.

The French understand: happiness is abstract and permanent, a state you chase. Pleasure is concrete and temporary, a moment you inhabit. One is exhausting to pursue. The other is sustainable to practice.

The bicycle stood locked to its post, basket empty, front wheel aligned with the cobblestones. It wasn’t going anywhere right now. It was simply there, part of the city’s quiet infrastructure of possibility. When its owner returned, it would carry them somewhere — work, home, a café, a friend. For now, it waited. Like the empty chairs on terraces, like the benches in squares, like the trams at their platforms.

Nantes has built a city that waits for you, that makes room for you, that offers small pleasures without demanding grand happiness. You can’t buy joy, it seems to say. But you can buy a good espresso, and sit down, and see what happens next.

And sometimes, that’s enough.

Here is the full lot of photos taken at the begining of March on HP5 (box speed) and 4 photos on Rollei RPX 400, all shot with the Nikon FE, and developed in Ilfosil3 1:9. For me they represent different aspects of Nantes – Bouffay, Place Graslin, la place Cambronne, la rue Crébillon, le passage Pommeraye, et la rue de la Paix.

Black and white photograph of an empty café interior in Nantes, leather banquette seating in the foreground, a single espresso cup on a table visible through the window beyond.
Black and white photograph of a crowded café terrace in Nantes with people seated at bistro chairs in bright winter sun, a tram passing in the background.
lack and white street photograph of Rue Crébillon in Nantes, pedestrians casting long shadows across the wide pavement in low winter light, Haussmann-style buildings receding into the distance.
Black and white photograph of a busy café terrace in Nantes, a woman in a white coat reading at a table in the foreground, the square and shops visible behind.
Black and white photograph of people sitting on the steps of the Théâtre Graslin in Nantes, one person feeding a pigeon, the ornate lamppost and neoclassical columns framing the scene.
Black and white photograph of people playing in the open space of Cours Cambronne in Nantes, a statue visible in the middle distance, bare winter trees and Haussmann buildings lining the square.
Black and white photograph of two people standing together in a Nantes square, bare pollarded trees behind them, Haussmann buildings in the background.
Black and white photograph of two elderly people with white hair seen from behind, seated together on a park bench in Cours Cambronne, Nantes, an ornate iron fence and figures beyond.v
Black and white photograph of heavy iron gates in Nantes, several people visible through the bars, a grand white building with tall windows in the background.
Black and white photograph looking up at one of the distinctive ornate metal tree-form lampposts of Place Graslin in Nantes, twisted branches and globe lights against an overcast sky.
Black and white photograph of the neoclassical façade of the Théâtre Graslin in Nantes framed by shrubs, a lone figure walking across the square in front of the Corinthian columns.
Black and white photograph of a Nantes café window with the handwritten French phrase "On ne peut pas acheter le bonheur mais on peut acheter du bon vin" — you can't buy happiness but you can buy good wine.
Black and white photograph of an empty café terrace on a Nantes street, bistro chairs and tables in the foreground, string lights above, pedestrians and shop fronts beyond.
Black and white photograph of two women seated at an outdoor café table on a narrow Nantes street, a sushi restaurant sign and pedestrians visible further down the lane.
Black and white photograph looking down through the ornate multi-level interior of the Passage Pommeraye in Nantes, classical statues lining the balconies, shoppers on the ground floor below.
Black and white photograph of a solitary person seated in a bistro chair on an upper level of the Passage Pommeraye in Nantes, classical columns and statues behind them, empty chairs around.
Black and white photograph of a narrow street in the Bouffay quarter of Nantes, a waiter arranging chairs outside a bar with a Guinness sign, a solitary figure walking through the middle distance.
Black and white photograph of a narrow street in the Bouffay quarter of Nantes, a waiter arranging chairs outside a bar with a Guinness sign, a solitary figure walking through the middle distance.
Black and white photograph of a large crowded café terrace on Place da Bouffay in Nantes, young people at tables in the foreground, a statue and city buildings behind, shot on Rollei RPX 400.
Black and white photograph of a Nantes tram on a cobbled boulevard lined with bare plane trees, tram lines converging in the foreground, shot on Rollei RPX 400.
Black and white photograph of a Nantes tram on line 1 to François Mitterrand arriving at the Bouffay stop, passengers on the platform, a second tram alongside, bare plane trees above.
Close-up black and white photograph of a near-empty Cafés Richard espresso cup on a saucer and tray on a café table in Nantes, a blurred figure in the background, shot on Rollei RPX 400.
Black and white photograph of a row of Martin Hot Sauce bottles displayed on a wooden shelf in a Nantes shop, each with a different illustrated label, shot on Rollei RPX 400.
Black and white photograph of a bicycle with a front basket locked to a post on a Nantes pavement, front wheel facing the street, shot on Rollei RPX 400.

More Light Than We Imagine

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Shooting Nantes at Night with HP5+

One September evening I walked between Place Bouffay and rue des Petits Écuries with the Nikon FE and a roll of HP5+. Box speed—400 ASA. No pushing. No stand development. Just me, tired eyes, and the hope the city would be kind.

It wasn’t always.

Some frames failed outright. Missed focus—my eyes couldn’t lock the split-image patch in the dim light. Others blurred from camera shake at 1/15th, handholding like a fool. I won’t pretend those shots have hidden merit. They’re gone. But the ones that landed? They held more than I expected.

Because Nantes at night isn’t dark. Restaurants pour light onto wet cobbles. Shop signs, streetlamps, even those little menu stands outside cafés—they all feed the scene. I’d guess the focus, press the shutter, and move on. Later, scanning the roll, I found detail in shadows I thought were lost. Not because I’d exposed well—I hadn’t—but because HP5+ gathered what was there even when I fumbled.

That’s latitude in practice. Not a spec sheet promise, but the difference between a usable negative and a blank one when your hands shake and your eyes fail. I didn’t push to 1600. I didn’t need to. I just needed a film that wouldn’t punish me for being human.

The December shots are more traditional street work—grey skies, low sun, the light you expect. Even the coffee cup photo owes something to Instagram. I won’t deny it. We absorb what we see online; it seeps into our framing without us noticing. No shame in that—it’s just how we learn now.

But the September shots that worked feel more like my own. Standing in Place Bouffay as evening deepened, watching light pool around tables and bounce off stone—I wasn’t chasing a look. I was just there, squinting, hoping. And HP5+ met that without fuss.

I’m not claiming mastery. I’m claiming a few good frames out of a roll that also held misses. That feels honest. Cities don’t go dark—they transform. And sometimes, even with bad eyesight and shaky hands, a simple roll of film gives you just enough to keep walking.

All photographs shot on Ilford HP5+ at 400 ASA, developed in standard chemistry. Nikon FE, Nantes—December 2025 and September 2025, Place Bouffay and rue des Petits Écuries.

Coming Soon

Posted on Posted in Black and White Photography, Scotland, Street Photography, The UK Chronicles, Travel photography, United Kingdom, Urban, VideoTagged , , , , , 17 Comments

Yes, we went back to the UK on holiday, but before that, I had a trip with the children to Lourdes, and with film cameras, and the X100F just in case. the articles are written and all I have to do now is to develop some film and scan it. Damn you procrastination. I just have to start one and the rest will follow.

Photography Philosophy – Part VI – Connection Through Photography

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Building Relationships

I once read that if two Germans meet, they will form a club. I am not German, but they perfectly illustrate this universal need to belong. They are generally not the most extroverted of people, but even introverts have this need to form a relationship with somebody. As photographers, we have this same urge, but perhaps in a more subtle way. When I’m out on the street, I will always notice someone with a camera, even when I’m without one myself. I find myself looking to check the brand, possibly the make of the camera, and the type of lens the person is using. Even when we simply nod at each other, it’s a recognition of our shared enthusiasm for the art form. Am I judging them? Sometimes, yes, but to err is human.

When I see a film camera around someone’s neck, I am immediately drawn to it. When I venture out with the behemoth Mamiya C220, the camera is almost as much a statement as the actual image I’ll eventually take with it. People will come and inquisitively ask, “What kind of camera is that? Can you still get film for it?” or say, “Yes, my grandfather had one like that.” The obvious charm of a medium format TLR in this modern world.

Photography is sometimes seen as quite a niche activity, and film photography even more so. A film camera gives out a more exclusive vibe, telling the world that, yes, we actually are serious about this, and know what we are doing, as the camera isn’t doing anything for us. We are artists and therefore superior to you, at least that’s what we tell ourselves for validation… One could argue that there is a need for even more knowledge with film photography, and that the need to develop our films just goes to show our dedication to the craft.

Well, not always. But it does give a starting point to a chat, which invariably leads to a discussion about this shared interest, and gives us a common starting point to our relationship, however brief that relationship might be.

I also want to explore the relationship between the subject and the person photographing that subject. For a long time, I was petrified of using a model. I’m an introvert by nature, so the idea of having to make small talk with and direct a model was awful. I wanted to learn more about photographing a model and to break out of this comfort zone. Strangely, buildings won’t talk back at you or tell you what they think of your shot. People, on the other hand, are completely different.

I had learnt basic lighting technique and then had to find models. Luckily, I could rely on my daughter and wife as my first subjects, then branch out to include my son and his then-girlfriend. I then moved onto unsuspecting friends, fellow musicians, and eventually felt my confidence slowly building enough for me to photograph complete strangers by establishing that rapport between us. I discovered that sometimes they were as terrified as I was. Again, something we had in common…

I followed some advice from Sean Tucker, who specialises in portraiture. I simply had a conversation with my model, which seemed to put us both at ease. This allowed the model to detach from the shoot and just chat away.

Community and Collaboration

But connection isn’t limited to brief exchanges with strangers on the street; it can also be found in deeper collaborations with other photographers. As I said earlier, I am more of an introvert, and the idea of making an effort to be sociable is something I find exhausting. At parties, I have been known to chill out on the outer realm of guests and chat to the dog. Hey, we have great conversations together!

However, I have been known to make that special effort and even meet up with other photographers. If you’ve ever talked to me about photography and the merits of various pieces of kit, and actual cameras, you’ll know that I can talk about it until the cows come home—to the point that most people switch off after 30 seconds. But when you have a captive audience who actually cares and knows what you’re talking about, it just brings me out of my shell.

Sometimes one might think it’s a very blokey thing to meet up with other men and talk about, and participate in, some rather niche activity. That might sound a little suspect, but I assure you it isn’t.

I once had a meet-up in Nantes (the very first article on this blog), and it was so rewarding. It was a typical male bonding activity, and everyone, except for me, brought along their biggest cameras and most expensive lenses. It almost felt like a competition to see who had the most impressive camera. I just brought my relatively tiny X100F, the thinking man’s camera. Much like my car, it’s not the most inspiring thing to look at, but I enjoy using it, and it certainly gets the job done in a very satisfactory way!

I have also collaborated with Nantes Grand Angle, a collective of photographers that have outings in and around Nantes. In exchange for a free tour or free visit, we take pictures during the outings and write about them in our blogs or publish the photos on Instagram. I have done a couple of outings with them, and it’s always interesting to see other photographers in action. They are there seeing the same things as me, but not in the same way. That sense of belonging has a huge feel-good factor too.

A Shared Lens

Photography may often feel like a solitary pursuit, but beneath it lies a powerful thread of connection, weaving us together through moments captured and stories told. Whether it’s the subtle camaraderie exchanged between strangers with a simple nod on the street, the thrill of collaborating with others who share our passion, or the quiet understanding forged with a subject in front of the lens, these encounters remind us that we are never truly alone in this journey.

Through photography, we find not just a way to see the world but a way to be part of it—a community of like-minded souls bound by a shared appreciation for light, shadow, and time itself. In the end, our photographs are a bridge, linking us to others and creating a lasting connection beyond the mere act of pressing the shutter. For as long as we hold a camera, we’re part of something bigger, capturing fragments of life that, no matter how fleeting, will always connect us back to one another.

Photography and Identity: How the Camera Reveals Who You Are

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Photography doesn’t just record the world — it records the person behind the camera. The subjects you choose, the moments you wait for, the way you frame a scene: all of it is a form of self-portrait. This essay explores what photography reveals about identity, how a lifetime behind the lens shapes and reflects who you are, and why the most interesting thing in any photograph is often the photographer themselves.

Photography as a Reflection of Self

What could be a more contemporary expression of self than the modern selfie? For some, it represents a genuine connection, while for others, it becomes a carefully curated fantasy shared on Instagram in pursuit of self-importance—think #lifestyle, #ootd, or #memyselfandI. These representations can evoke mixed feelings about the authenticity of self-expression.

However, this is not how I view photography as a reflection of self. Photography is the only art form that allows the viewer to look through the lens just as I did when I pressed the shutter button. You see exactly what I saw in that moment, and, depending on how I edited the photo, you may catch a glimpse of the emotions swirling in my mind at that time.

Consider two people facing each other, a coin held up between them. One sees the heads side, while the other sees the tails. Each perspective offers only a partial view of the whole object, much like how each photograph can convey different meanings and emotions depending on the viewer’s interpretation. This highlights the importance of taking in the entire picture.  But it’s not just this perspective that changes the way each individual looks at the coin, but all the personality and life experience that the person brings.

So, what about the expression of my identity and worldview? You might detect my state of mind through the subject matter of the photograph. If you see one of my photos taken during the anti-government demonstrations in Nantes, you might draw conclusions about my political leanings, when in reality, I was completely neutral about the situation. Here, the viewer adds their own interpretation to what they see, imagining this world and identifying with the picture in a way that is relevant to them.  I think we all are guilty of that.  My worldview, too, may show through—an insight into the world around me and how I choose to see and document it, since you are witnessing a moment in time as I saw it.

But why press the shutter button at a particular moment and not 1 second before, or 1 second after?  Cartier Bresson talked about capturing the decisive moment.  I try and make sure that I have no distracting elements.  I try and get my subject right where I want them, or wait for them to cross the scene at a certain spot.  Does this mean that I miss shots?  Yes, but it’s all part of the game!  Have I become a self-hating perfectionist?  Fortunately, no.  But do I try and make that extra effort?  Definitely.  I owe it to myself, but to the viewer of the resulting photo.  Some might talk about a certain professional conscience, but if you’re going to do something, then try and do your best?

Personal Growth

This is a tricky subject, as I’m not entirely certain that my subject matter has evolved as I have. Am I still taking the same old photos as I used to? Possibly. Yet there are new techniques I’ve picked up along my learning journey. I may have started learning about photography over 40 years ago, but I’ve never stopped. In the last ten years alone, I’ve learnt so much, often with YouTube as my teacher. I’ve expanded my knowledge of film—how to use it and develop it—and I’ve learnt more about editing. I might just mention that I trained in “Desktop Publishing” back in 2003. Twenty years ago… time flies! Lots of Photoshop, Illustrator, and QuarkXpress.

New equipment and different lenses have allowed me to explore wide-angle photography and, as they say, “get it out of my system.” But is it really out, or have I simply explored it enough to satisfy my curiosity for the time being? I will, no doubt, revisit it again. This exploration has clearly shaped the way I view a scene, and I now know how to use the distortion it offers as another stylistic string to my bow. Wide angles enable me to alter how the subject is seen, making a more significant impact on the viewer, who experiences something distinctly out of the ordinary. It’s a small but meaningful addition to my work that could offer that extra something to a potential client.

I’ve grown more confident in my photography over time through consistency and practice. Getting out there with your camera is, without a doubt, the way to go. Some might accuse me of relying on gear, but I feel that I’ve genuinely put the hours in to master certain aspects of this craft and to have a certain self confidence in my abilities as a photographer.

Do I take the  same photos that I did back in 1987 and now?  In certain ways, yes.  Because my personality shines through the photograph.  However back in 1987 I was concerned just about nailing the exposure, and didn’t have the knowledge and photographic culture that I do today in 2024.  I was also a 15 year old back in 1987, and am now over 50.  The essential part of who I am remains, but my life experience has changed me, as it would anyone over 35 years.

Cultural Context

You might not know this about me, but I have lived in France for the last thirty years.  More time than I lived at “home” in the UK.  Has that affected my photography in any way?    Maaaaybe…

France is the home of Cartier Bresson, and Doisneau, and their wonderfully crafted street photography.  Yes, I have explored their work and have been amazed by it, and amazed by the simplicity in certain shots of theirs, but a deceptive simplicity that takes so much time to emulate.  So yes, I have been influenced by French culture. It forms the way I look at the world around me, especially when in the streets of Nantes and I feel their influence accompanying me as I wander around the streets.  It’s also the subject matter that changes from country to country.  Just look at the difference between my two countries, the UK and France.  

But it doesn’t stop there. I have been influenced by photographers that I see on the Internet. Names like Sean Tucker, Thomas Heaton, James Popsys, Mango Street, Peter McKinnon, and Jamie Windsor spring to mind and their videos have certainly been a huge influence on me. And there’s not even one Frenchman in that short list… It’s not that I reject French youtubers, but when at work I have to make the effort to speak French, when I am outside my house I have to make the effort to speak French, aso when at home I prefer to keep things in my mother tongue. It’s a me problem, and not a them problem.

Conclusion: The Lens of Self-Reflection

Photography, at its core, is about more than just taking pictures; it’s about capturing fragments of identity and moments of personal evolution. While the images we create may reflect the world around us, they also tell the story of how we see ourselves and the ever-changing lens through which we view the world.

What I’ve come to realise is that photography isn’t just a technical pursuit or a series of compositions—it’s a mirror. Through it, I’ve discovered not only the nuances of the world but the nuances within myself. From the early days of worrying over exposure to now, when the process feels more like a conversation with the scene, I have grown not just as a photographer, but as an individual.

Yet, this growth is never complete. Photography, like life, is a journey with no clear destination. The influences, the techniques, and even the subjects will continue to shift as I evolve. What remains constant is the intention: to connect, to reflect, and to capture not just an image, but a piece of time that speaks to who I am, and who I am becoming.

In the end, photography is an act of constant reinvention. Each shutter press is an opportunity to redefine the self and understand the world a little better, one image at a time.

A photography Philosophy – Part III – The Emotions of Photography

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The Connection between Emotion and Image

I’m going to tell you a story about an essay that was given to us by the music master at the beginning of my Music A level course.  There were four of us studying music, and the lessons took place in his study, much like a tutorial at university.  The title of the essay was something like describe the perfect piece of music.  

Back then I described the Glenn Miller song, Moonlight Serenade.  One of my fellow pupils described the Planets from Holst.  In the following tutorial after our essays had been marked, I was criticised since the Master thought my piece was repetitive, had no particular musical merit, and was corny.  I, on the other hand, argued that it was the way the piece made me feel.

With hindsight I should have just handed in a clean sheet of paper saying that there is no such thing as a perfect piece of music, as taste is purely subjective and that he should take his essay question and possibly reconsider his stance!  I didn’t of course.  But it certainly got me thinking, even to this day!  

Subjectivity in Art

As in any art the appreciation of the viewer is purely subjective and we have to be so careful about reading an interpretation into a given work.  There are effectively themes that are explored in literature that could be described as obvious.  But in Photography, I maintain that any connection to a particular photograph is an emotional one first, before going any deeper.  

The Essence of Emotional Connection

But what makes this emotional connection possible? And how do I go about achieving this in photography.  I’m going to harken back to my musical training.  My horn teacher in France would say, your concerto is your text.  Your job is to recite that text to the audience.    That is all you have to concentrate on.  You’ve worked through your concerto, the techniques necessary to play it, and once the sound leaves the bell of the instrument, it is no longer yours.  It belongs to the audience.  They are the ones listening and they are the ones that will form the emotional connection.

Creating Meaningful Portraits

So how do I make this connection with my audience when it comes to photography?  Well, in portraiture they say to focus on the eyes of your model.  Eyes being the entrance to the soul. If I can capture that and have my model looking directly at my camera and therefore my audience then I’m well on the way to creating a meaningful portrait.

Kate, my daughter
The Art of Street Photography

In my street photography, it can be about catching a detail that everybody sees but that nobody notices until they look at your image.  You can go to my photography tutorials and look at the composition articles to learn about how we direct the audience to a particular point in our photograph by using leading lines, the rule of thirds, and emphasising our subject with our lighting, or by isolating our subject.

The Role of Colour in Evoking Emotion

We also solicit emotion through the colors we choose. Warmer tones can infuse images with energy and happiness, while cooler tones can make them feel peaceful or introspective. For example, adding reds and oranges to a portrait can evoke warmth and approachability, while blues and greens can give a landscape a calm, reflective quality. Considering these colours “in camera” can make the entire process more intuitive, helping you set the mood before you even begin editing.

The Power of Black and White

Shooting in black and white, using only tones of light strips away the influence of colour and presents us with the “essence” of a scene, and it’s one of the reasons I love shooting in black and white, be that on film or digitally.  I aim for a timeless quality to my black and white images, and the emotion can be just as intense.  Without color, we focus on texture, shadow, and contrast—elements that can evoke nostalgia, solitude, or contemplation.

Mindfulness in the Photographic Process

What I think I’m getting at is that to evoke an emotion we need to be so mindful of our photographic process.  Sometimes taking that step backwards allows us to reflect before pressing the shutter button.

Conclusion

I don’t have all the answers of course, but in the end, capturing emotion in photography is as much about the heart as it is about the eyes behind the lens. Each photograph we create is a bridge between ourselves and our viewers—a connection forged in the moment but lasting beyond it. Just as a musician lets their notes drift into the silence, we photographers must let our images speak, leaving space for others to interpret, feel, and connect.

So, as you move forward in your own photography, remember to pause, to feel, and to let emotion guide your hand. Don’t be afraid to take a step back before pressing the shutter, and ask yourself: What do I want my viewer to feel?

I hope this reflection gives you a new perspective on how you approach your next shot. After all, photography, like any art, is a journey without fixed answers—one of constant discovery. Take time to explore, experiment, and, most importantly, to feel.

Opening of the Film Archives – Canon AE1 Street Photography in Nantes

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Good afternoon, Dear Reader. I’m writing this article thinking of you and wondering what to show you next in this ongoing series. The clue is in the title: Canon AE1 Street Photography in the streets of Nantes.

I know you have the eyes of a hawk who never miss a trick because your vision is so sharp. You might even have scrolled down to the photos already, and your eagle eyes will have noticed that this isn’t the usual area I visit on these outings. And, of course, you’d be right!

Yes, I still parked in the Feydeau car park but crossed the road to the south, heading along Baco-Lu, past the Tour Lu (sans “t”), towards the St Felix Canal, and then back into town… Some of the places no longer exist or have changed hands, but you would still recognise them even today.

I think that with these photographs, I’m getting closer to what some might call “proper” or “traditional” street photography. The images have a certain gritty quality to them, including the people in the shots. This was something I was actively aiming for. Maybe it’s the grain—something I don’t get with the X100F—that helped bring this about. Or could it be the people, whose presence seems to reveal the stories behind them? Whatever it is, I felt that this was a very good day.

I think I may have shared with you that I’m going to China this Christmas on tour with the orchestra I play for. I’m still undecided about which camera to take and wondering if I should bring a film camera along. With the X100F, I’ve become so accustomed to the 35mm lens, while my film cameras only have 50mm lenses to work with. Reviewing these older images may help me make up my mind. It’s going to be an epic trip, and I want to be sure of the kinds of images I’ll be able to capture.

As much as I’d love the flexibility to hop in the car and retake a shot if needed, this trip to China will be different. I’ll need to trust my choices and embrace the moment as it unfolds—something that feels both exciting and a little daunting. But that’s the beauty of photography, isn’t it? The challenge of capturing fleeting moments, knowing they might never come around again. So, whatever I decide, I know the experience will be unforgettable.

While the anticipation of the China photos may be killing you, I know you’ll be patient, whatever I decide to use. Rest assured, those photos will capture the spirit of the trip. Only two and a half weeks before I start my travels…

Fujifilm X-T2 Review (2026): Still Worth Buying?

Posted on Posted in Bikes, Black and White Photography, Camera reviews, France, Landscape Photography, Nantes Photography, Paris, Street Photography, Travel photographyTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 9 Comments

The Fujifilm X-T2 is nearly 10 years old — but it’s still a capable, beautiful camera that holds its own against much newer options. Here’s an honest 2026 assessment from a photographer who’s used it alongside film cameras in everyday life, based in Nantes.

My Love Affair with the X100F (and a Cuppa Tea)

It’s no secret to the regular readers of IJM Photography that I have a great fondness, deep affection, nearing on obsession with my Fujifilm X100F. It’s a great little camera that gets me excited whenever I take it out of my camera bag. But, Dear Reader, what does this have to do with the Fujifilm X-T2? Well, they’re both manufactured by Fuji, they both have an “X” in their name, and I have a deep affection for a nice cup of tea. Not the same T? Ah well…

Similarities and Differences: A Tale of Two X’s

I’ll talk about the differences and similarities between the two cameras and why I thought the X-T2 was a useful and complementary acquisition. We’ll look at not just the specs but also the rather similar way both cameras handle.

  • Sensor and Image Quality: Both use the same 24-megapixel sensor with an anti-aliasing filter, and offer an ISO range from 200 to 128000.
  • Screen and Viewfinder: The X100F has a fixed screen, while the X-T2 boasts a tilting one. Both share the same excellent viewfinder.
  • Performance: The X100F shoots at 8 fps while the X-T2 goes up to 14 fps. For video, the X100F is limited to Full HD, while the X-T2 offers 4K and can shoot at 120 fps.
  • Connectivity: Both cameras have built-in wireless capabilities.
  • Weight: The X100F is lighter at 469g, while the X-T2 is slightly heavier at 507g.
The Lens Factor (and Weather Sealing, Too!)

The main difference? The lens. The X100F has a fixed 23mm (35mm equivalent) f/2.0 lens, while the X-T2 can take the entire range of X-mount lenses. Quite a big difference, indeed. The X-T2 also has the added bonus of weather sealing!

Why Buy a 4-Year-Old Camera in 2020?

Because at the time, I could. It was the logical acquisition and complement to my X100F. Did I mention it also uses the same batteries? I still have the same, beloved-by-many film simulations, and while not as numerous as later models, they are more than enough for me!

My first lens purchase was the 16mm (24mm equivalent) f/2.8 Fuji lens, the perfect complement to the 35mm equivalent on the X100F. I later discovered TTArtisan and 7 Artisans, Chinese firms that make affordable manual focus lenses for the X-mount. I now have the 35mm (50mm equivalent) f/1.2 and 58mm (85mm equivalent) f/1.4, and the fish eye 7mm F2.8 lenses from both companies, both costing a fraction of the autofocus Fuji lenses. The only concession I made to Fuji was later purchasing the 18-55mm (24-70mm equivalent) f/2.8 autofocus kit lens.

Value for Money: The X-T2’s Sweet Spot in 2024

The fact that I bought it second-hand was also a contributing factor. Does it have as many megapixels as the more modern X-T5? No. But does it have enough? Yes! Does it have the same specs as the X-T5? No. But does it have enough? Yes. Can you see a pattern developing here?

For the amount of money spent, I think I have enough cameras for my buck. And that is the crux of the argument for acquiring a now 8-year-old camera in 2024. Is it the very best money can buy? No. But if you’re an amateur like myself, you generally don’t need the specs that manufacturers and those nice men in camera shops will try to tell you you need. 24 megapixels is more than enough for printing even 20″ by 30″ (500mm x 760mm) sized images.

I have just looked at mpb.com for you and have found XT2 bodies from 487€ to 729€ depending on the condition. An X-mount lens will cost you anything from 104€ for a 35mm (50mm equivalent) F1.2 from 7 artisans to 279€ to 340€ for the 16mm (24mm equivalent) F2.8 fuji lens. So as you can see, it’s certainly cheaper than buying the latest models…

Conclusion: A Timeless Tool for the Passionate Photographer

In 2024, the Fujifilm X-T2 remains a compelling option for photographers seeking excellent image quality, classic handling, and a wealth of creative possibilities. Its compact size, weather sealing, and extensive lens selection make it a versatile companion for various genres, from street photography to landscapes.

While newer models may boast more advanced features, the X-T2’s enduring appeal lies in its combination of performance, affordability, and the unique charm of Fujifilm’s X-Trans sensor and film simulations. For photographers who prioritise the essentials of image-making and value for money, the X-T2 continues to be a worthy contender in the ever-evolving world of digital cameras.

If you’re looking for a camera that delivers exceptional results without breaking the bank, the used market might just hold the perfect X-T2 for you. And who knows, you might even discover a newfound appreciation for a slightly older camera that still has plenty to offer in 2024 and beyond.

café tables in the street
woman walking near bikes
dog
my daughter
People sitting down eating
tramlines in Nantes
Bike
Sergio
street lights in the Place Graslina
bar de quartier
street crossing in Nanates
building in Nantes
Art School in Nantes
the bird nest
the Île de Nantes
bikes
TGV in Paris Montparnasse
Winged Victory of Samothrace
Winged Victory of Samothrace
The Louvre
the Eiffel Tower
Fujifilm X-T2 mirrorless camera with interchangeable lens
Post Scriptum

This camera is also capable of 4K video. And I’m using it at work for making videos for training new staff. It is certainly lighter than my Canon 6D Mark II, and I seem to be able to obtain a picture style that I like. It doesn’t have in-built image stabilisation. However, I use it on a tripod so that’s not an issue. And if ever I do decide to use the 18-55mm kit lens, I have image stabilisation in the lens.

I’ll see if I can’t find you an excerpt of the latest video…

And here it is…

The UK Chronicles: A Black and White Footnote

Posted on Posted in Alnmouth, Black and White Photography, Landscape Photography, Northumberland, Photography Tutorials, The UK Chronicles, United KingdomTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 13 Comments

My usual approach to black and white photography is to shoot directly in black and white, either using black and white film or the Acros film simulation with my X100F. When using the X100F on this UK trip, my EVF displayed the black and white shot using Acros with a red filter—my go-to simulation. This method puts me in a black-and-white “frame of mind” from the outset.

However, this time I decided to break from my usual practice and experiment. I did something I normally advise against—starting with the intention to create color images and only considering black and white later. I chose the Classic Chrome film simulation instead of Acros, focusing on capturing the vibrant colors of the Northumbrian countryside. It was all about breaking free from my black-and-white routine. Both color and black-and-white photography have their place, but for this trip, I wanted to prioritize one over the other. Still, wouldn’t it be intriguing to compare both approaches?

Back in France, as I prepared the images for my black-and-white Instagram feed, I began to wonder if some of the colorful shots might also work in black and white. Initially hesitant—given my emphasis on shooting with intention and purpose—I decided to embrace the experiment. I was breaking one of my own rules, yet the idea intrigued me.

Reviewing the color shots, I considered which might translate well into black and white. I look for images with texture and varying tones rather than just color. My composition is usually solid since I’ve already edited my color images, including reframing and straightening as needed. With digital RAW files, converting to black and white and producing different versions is straightforward. As they say, the goal is to produce images that reflect how they made you feel, not just how you saw them. This is why I convert my images to black and white—they capture more of the emotional essence.

Opening Adobe Lightroom on my PC, I saw the familiar images on my screen. My editing approach may seem finicky, but it’s effective. While the simplest way to convert an image to black and white is to slide the “saturation” slider to the left, this often results in a flat, lifeless image. Instead, I use a more nuanced approach to control various color tones in the black-and-white image. This technique helps preserve depth and character, ensuring that each image maintains its visual impact even without color.

Here’s how I approach black-and-white conversion in Lightroom:

  • Black and White Profile: Sets the overall tone and mood of the image.
  • Clarity: Enhances texture and detail for a more dynamic appearance.
  • Contrast: Adjusts the range between light and dark areas, adding visual interest.
  • Color Sliders: Modifies the luminance of specific colors to bring out different tones in the black-and-white image.
  • Highlight Tool: Adds subtle vignetting and balances highlights for a polished finish.

So, why convert to black and white after shooting in color? For me, it offers a classic, timeless aesthetic, and challenges me to create a “better” image by focusing on composition and texture without the distraction of color. This approach pushes me to craft photographs that rely on fundamental elements, enhancing their overall impact.

Impact is at the heart of photography. While I cherish the colors of the Northumbrian countryside and am eager to learn how to use color more effectively, I also deeply value the strengths of black-and-white photography. It’s about transcending color to create images that resonate through composition and texture.

But there’s something more personal about these black-and-white conversions. Perhaps it’s because I broke my own rules this time around, allowing color to take center stage and letting the black-and-white images emerge later. These images weren’t planned with black and white in mind—yet, despite that, or perhaps because of it, they feel even more special to me. Sometimes, going against what you think you know leads to unexpected results. And, in this case, those results resonate even more deeply.

Isn’t impact what we strive for in our photography? Don’t get me wrong—I love the colors of the Northumbrian countryside and am on a quest to learn how to use color more effectively. But I do believe in the strength of the fundamentals offered by black-and-white photography. Sometimes, breaking your own routine brings surprising rewards.

The Opening of the Film Archives: An October Saturday in Town with Killian, 2016

Posted on Posted in Black and White Photography, Café Culture, Family Life, Film Photography, Nantes Photography, Street Photography, The Film ArchivesTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

Welcome back to another look at the film archives. This time, I’m sharing a few black-and-white street shots from an October Saturday in Nantes, likely taken with the Praktica MTL3 and HP5 Plus film. These outings with my son Killian, which we called ‘Ian and Killian days,’ became a cherished routine, a time for us to reconnect amidst the busyness of life.

He was 17 then, a weekly boarder at his lycée in La Roche sur Yon. On the weekends, we’d often head into Nantes, following the same familiar programme: a visit to the barbershop, a meal at the Sugar Blue café, and finally, a drink at the John Mc Byrne Irish Pub. In the photo, that handsome chap in the barber’s seat is Killian—a little reminder that it wasn’t always Kate joining me on these trips. These outings were a way to stay connected, despite his growing independence. Even with him being only 17, I still felt that sense of responsibility. Once a Dad, always a Dad.

As we went through our usual routine, I found myself facing the familiar challenge of capturing these moments on film. The low light inside the barbershop always made me second-guess whether I could get a decent shot without using a flash. But over time, I learned to trust the Praktica and the HP5 Plus film. There’s a rawness to film photography, especially with Ilford’s HP5. It adds a certain grit and texture to the image, something that digital just can’t replicate.

That’s what I love about film—the imperfections. The grain gives it character, a certain honesty that smooth, polished digital photos lack. It’s not about creating something flawless but about preserving the authenticity of the moment. This shot of Killian in the barbershop, for example, may not be technically perfect, but it’s real. It’s us, it’s Nantes, it’s one of those ‘Ian and Killian days.’

Looking back at these photos, I’m reminded that sometimes, it’s the imperfections that make an image truly memorable. Quite the day, right?

The Opening of the Film Archives—Le Château des Ducs de Bretagne, August 2016

Posted on Posted in Architecture, Black and White Photography, Camera reviews, Film Photography, France, History, Landscape Photography, Nantes Photography, Street Photography, The Film Archives, Travel photography, UrbanTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 11 Comments

Welcome back to the Film Archive of IJM Photography! This time, we find ourselves in the beautiful city of Nantes, in the heart of the Cité des Ducs. Our adventure takes us through the majestic Château des Ducs de Bretagne, a site rich in history and culture.

As we explore the castle, I’m armed with another one of my favorite cameras from the golden days of film photography—the Canon AE1. This was before the surge of interest from the YouTube hipster crowd, who quickly snatched up every classic camera they could find, driving up prices and making these gems harder to come by.

The Canon AE1 is justifiably sought after, and for good reason. It’s a camera that offers both simplicity and elegance, paired with the beautiful FD 50mm F1.8 lens. This lens, in particular, has a way of capturing light that enhances every shot, allowing me, the photographer, to create images that feel alive. You can see the results in the photos here—every frame is a testament to the quality and craftsmanship of this camera.

It feels solid in the hand, and focusing with the split prism is a breeze. The camera is “shutter priority,” and it adapts the f-stop to the speed at which you’re shooting. As a street photographer, I don’t need to shoot at 1/1000th of a second for all my shots, so I have a wider range of options than someone taking pictures of sports. It still provides me with the necessary depth of field.

On this particular day, I was motivated and thought I could walk up the steps to the battlements to get some more interesting shots from a raised standpoint. I captured the urban landscape that spans from the 13th to the 21st century, and in one of the shots, you can see the ever-present figure of the Tour de Bretagne. It once represented the modernity of the 20th century and is now closed for asbestos removal. My feet, however, were firmly rooted much earlier in the castle.

Exploring the Château des Ducs de Bretagne with the Canon AE1 was a journey through both time and photography. The castle’s ancient walls and rich history provided a stunning backdrop for capturing moments that feel timeless. With every click of the shutter, I was reminded of the magic of film photography—the anticipation, the artistry, and the satisfaction of seeing the world through a vintage lens. As I descended from the battlements, I couldn’t help but feel grateful for the simple joy of capturing life on film, in a place where history and modernity blend seamlessly. Until next time, keep exploring and shooting. There’s always more to discover.

The Opening of the Film Archives—the Hangar à Bananes August 2016

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In my last venture into the film archives, I talked about how there was a time that my daughter hadn’t yet seen me the way I see myself and how she actually still liked me, before turning into a teenager.  This is the second part of that special day.

We had explored the Jardin des Plantes and discovered what they had to offer.  This of course builds up an appetite in a young lady, and convinces her that she really needs to drink something Daddy.  And why couldn’t we go to the Altercafé (now the D3) at the Hangar à Bananes.

So what else was I to do but drive us to the Hangar à Bananes.  You will have seen the Hangar in this article, and you will now be completely up to date and know nearly everything there is to know.

Don’t forget that this is a girl who gets an idea into her head and then just goes through with it.  That idea is so rooted that it is nigh on impossible to change that idea.  I knew what was coming.  I would order a chocolate brownie, and Kate would have an Orangina.  I could have a beer.  How gracious of her.

She had been my model for most of the day and even a top model needs a rest, and just has nothing left to give a photographer.  You just know when enough is enough…