Tag: Vendee

Montjean-sur-Loire — The Wrong Road, the Right Place

Posted on Posted in Black and White Photography, Café Culture, France, Landscape Photography, Reportage, Street Photography, Travel photographyTagged , , , , , , , , , , , 5 Comments

Gear: Canon EOS 6D Mark II | 16–35mm | 24–70mm | 70–300mm | CPL filter

A Saturday afternoon in June. Montjean-sur-Loire. I was aiming for the suspension bridge in Ancenis. I missed it, found myself heading towards Angers, spotted a sign for the Loire Valley, and followed it on a whim. The Canon 6D Mark II was on the seat beside me. Sometimes that’s all you need.

I had an idea, to get in my car and drive and do some photography. It was an attempt to escape my family. I love them dearly, but sometimes you need a break. So I broke out and got in the car with my camera. Did I have any idea on where I was going? Absolutely not! As I passed the junctions I crossed out the ideas in my head; First Clisson, then Nantes, oh bugger this was going to be long. I remember seeing a photo of the suspension bridge in Ancenis and thought that could do me nicely. It would have done but I didn’t see it and then I found myself on the road to Angers. I could do that… Little did I know that I wouldn’t get there… Ah well. It wouldn’t be the first time. I saw a sign saying the road that follows the Loire Valley. I thought I’d give it a go. I ended up in a place called Montjean sur Loire. You’re not going to believe this, but the huge river I could see was wider even than the Humber, or so it seemed. I had once seen the Loire before as a boy and later as a grown man, but never like this. As a boy it had been a place we drove along whilst going to the Vendée in 1980. As a man I had been next to the Loire and saw it as this massive river meandering along before it got to Nantes, and then went towards St Nazaire. I had read about Huckleberry Finn and his journey along the river. That’s the feeling I had when I parked up on the quayside, minus Mark Twain. There were massive sand banks and islands on the river. The water was so clear, and I saw a fish jumping. I also saw the fry swimming under the boats. I got out of the car and started looking for compositions. After exploring the quayside I decided it was time for a beer. It’s beer o’clock somewhere in the world. I had a 0% beer. What a wonderful idea. There was a poster for a brass band concert for the 4th and 5th of July and it would be performed by the band that Hervé tried to get me interested in… A reason to go back? I found a typical street photography shot. Using the bars of the terrasse to frame my subject.

I looked at the bridge and tried to find a half decent composition. So I did the usual thing. Going around the sides of the bridge, looking towards where I had come from when arriving in town. “Always look behind you.” I wanted the geometry of the bridge and played with the shapes it provided. I wasn’t going to get the dramatic shadows. By the time I got back to the car, I was ready to go home. Back in the car, music on and through the Mauges towards Cholet then, back into Vendée. It was a long afternoon but a good one.

Two traditional Loire flat-bottomed boats moored on sandy bank, Montjean-sur-Loire, Canon 6D Mark II 16-35mm
Two Loire flat-bottomed boats on river with suspension bridge behind, Montjean-sur-Loire, Canon 6D Mark II 16-35mm
Loire traditional flat-bottomed boat close-up at water's edge with bridge behind, Montjean-sur-Loire, Canon 6D Mark II
Looking down into traditional Loire flat-bottomed boat interior, wooden planks and rope, Montjean-sur-Loire, Canon 6D Mark II
Traditional Loire boat in foreground with dramatic cloud sky and river beyond, Montjean-sur-Loire, Canon 6D Mark II 16-35mm
Two traditional Loire boats on river with Montjean suspension bridge background, Canon 6D Mark II 16-35mm
Traditional Loire sailing boat Belle Anguille moored alone on still river, Montjean-sur-Loire, Canon 6D Mark II 70-300mm
Montjean-sur-Loire suspension bridge reflected in still Loire river water, Canon 6D Mark II 70-300mm
Hand-painted nameplate reading Belle Anguille on wooden Loire boat hull, Montjean-sur-Loire, Canon 6D Mark II 70-300mm
Wide Loire river panorama at low water with boats and sandy beach, Montjean-sur-Loire, Canon 6D Mark II 16-35mm
Three metal flying tern sculptures on poles against sky with Loire river and boat behind, Montjean-sur-Loire, Canon 6D Mark II
White hollyhock flower in foreground with suspension bridge and Loire river blurred behind, Canon 6D Mark II 70-300mm
Looking along Montjean-sur-Loire suspension bridge roadway toward second pylon, Canon 6D Mark II 16-35mm
Montjean-sur-Loire suspension bridge from quay with underwater mural on wall and Loire beyond, Canon 6D Mark II 16-35mm
Underwater scene mural on quay wall beneath Montjean suspension bridge with cobblestones foreground, Canon 6D Mark II 16-35mm
British red telephone box converted to book exchange, man looking at Loire and bridge beyond, Montjean-sur-Loire, Canon 6D Mark II
Montjean-sur-Loire suspension bridge over Loire river with dramatic cloud sky, Canon 6D Mark II 16-35mm CPL filter
Festival de Brass Band concert poster for 4th and 5th July 2026, Montjean-sur-Loire, Canon 6D Mark II 24-70mm
Man at café terrasse framed through metal bars with bridge visible behind, Montjean-sur-Loire, Canon 6D Mark II 24-70mm
House martin mud nests under building cornice eaves, Montjean-sur-Loire, Canon 6D Mark II 70-300mm
Rusted curved iron bracket on stone quay wall against pale sky, Montjean-sur-Loire, Canon 6D Mark II 70-300mm
Bière pression Jupiler sign in café window with photographer reflection, Montjean-sur-Loire, Canon 6D Mark II 24-70mm
Weathered carved stone fish sculpture on quayside with Loire river behind, Montjean-sur-Loire, Canon 6D Mark II 70-300mm
Iron mooring ring set in granite quayside stone with shadow, Montjean-sur-Loire, Canon 6D Mark II 70-300mm

Olympus Trip 35 Review: Still Worth Shooting in 2026?

Posted on Posted in Black and White Photography, Camera reviews, Film Photography, Landscape PhotographyTagged , , , , 6 Comments

The Olympus Trip 35 is one of the most loved film cameras ever made, and mine sat on a shelf for years before I got round to using it properly. Over ten million were made between 1967 and 1984, and people are still shooting them today. Here’s what it’s actually like to use one, from someone who finally took his off the shelf.

The one that sat on the shelf

I’ll be straight with you, Dear Reader. My Trip 35 has been sitting on the shelf for longer than I’d care to admit. It’s one of those cameras you pick up, think “I really must use this more,” and put back down in favour of whatever’s currently calling to you. In my case that’s usually the Pentax ME Super or the Mamiya C220, neither of which fits in a coat pocket, which is rather the point of the Trip.

So on a Sunday morning in late April I loaded a roll of expired Ilford FP4 (2013 vintage, shot at 64 ASA) and drove out towards Remouillé and Viellevigne. A route I used to cycle twenty years ago. Past the tree I was going to work on at Le Moulin du Patis, then right towards La Planche, and eventually down to a fishing lake on the road back. I wanted reflections. Mostly I just needed to get out of the house.

The Trip 35 came with me. The X100F stayed in the bag.

What is the Olympus Trip 35?

The Trip 35 was built to be the camera you take on holiday, hence the name. Launched in 1967, it was Olympus’s answer to a simple question: what if a camera just worked, without you having to think about it?

The answer was a 40mm f/2.8 D.Zuiko lens, a selenium cell light meter that needs no batteries at all, and a fully automatic exposure system with exactly two shutter speeds: 1/40s or 1/200s. That’s it. You focus using zone symbols on the lens barrel, a portrait head, a small group, a mountain, and the camera takes care of the rest.

If there isn’t enough light, a small red flag pops up in the viewfinder to warn you before you press the shutter. It won’t fire (well, it will, but only on manual override). It’s the camera’s polite way of telling you: not today.

The lens

The 40mm D.Zuiko is genuinely excellent. Sharp across the frame, renders colours well, and sits at a focal length that’s just wide enough for street work without feeling uncomfortable. It splits the difference between the classic 35mm and 50mm and, in practice, that in-between length feels right for everyday shooting.

David Bailey used a Trip 35 for his street work in the 1960s and ’70s, which tells you what the lens can do in the right hands. I make no such claims about my own hands, but the camera certainly isn’t the limiting factor.

Out in the field

I shot mostly on the mountain zone setting, dropping to the group symbol for closer subjects. The shutter feels dainty, that’s the only word for it, a light, almost apologetic click compared to the satisfying thunk of a proper SLR. The whole camera feels absurdly light. After years of carrying the Mamiya C220 around, it’s almost disconcerting.

I could hear crows. The faint sound of distant cars. Sunlight sparkling on the lake. I found myself thinking about a similar morning walking round a lake in China, and a series I shot in May on the X100F. Photography as therapy, not portfolio shots. I knew that going in, and it didn’t matter. Sometimes you just need to be still with something.

Zone focus takes a moment to get used to if you’re coming from a rangefinder or autofocus, but once it’s in your muscle memory it’s faster than it sounds. Mountain for landscapes and the lake. Group for anything closer. The camera does the rest.

The automatic exposure handles most situations well. Where it struggles is high contrast: bright sky, dark water, that sort of thing, where any automatic system is going to make compromises. But for even light and open countryside it’s excellent. You point, you shoot, you trust it.

The selenium meter: check this before you buy

Here’s the practical bit. The Trip 35’s selenium meter needs no batteries, which is one of its best features. But selenium cells degrade with age, and a meter that worked fine in 1975 might not be accurate in 2026.

Test the meter before you buy. Point the camera at a bright scene and check the aperture ring moves in response to the light. If it doesn’t move, or moves sluggishly, the meter’s on its way out. A dead meter doesn’t make the camera useless, you can shoot manual using the Sunny 16 rule, but it takes away one of the Trip’s main advantages.

Good copies are still out there, though prices have gone up as film photography’s popularity has grown. Based on current listings, budget somewhere between 70 and 135 euros for a solid working copy: basic tested examples start around 60 to 80 euros, good condition cameras sit at 100 to 135, and mint examples from Japan (plus shipping) push higher still. Parts-only cameras go for 40 to 60 euros if you’re handy and want a project. Recently serviced copies with new seals and leather cost more but save you a CLA down the line. Test the meter regardless.

Film choices

The Trip 35’s automatic system works best in good light. I shot expired Ilford FP4 (2013) rated at 64 ASA, developed in R09 at box speed, the slight overexposure compensating for twelve years of aging. Black and white suits this camera. The rendering feels right for country lanes and lake reflections. For colour, Kodak Gold 200 is a natural pairing on sunny days. Ilford HP5 pushed to 800 if you need to work in lower light.

There’s a flash sync socket too, so you can push into lower light with a small flash unit if you want. But honestly, the Trip 35 is happiest in daylight. It’s a holiday camera at heart, even if you’re using it to document a Tuesday afternoon in Nantes.

Is it still worth shooting in 2026?

Yes, unreservedly. The Trip 35 strips friction out of the act of photography. You don’t think about exposure. You don’t carry a bag of accessories. You don’t worry about battery life. You load a roll, go outside, and shoot.

That simplicity is the whole point, not something you put up with. Some of my favourite shots from the last few years have come from cameras like this, where not overthinking it produced something more spontaneous and more honest than anything I might have got with a more involved setup.

The shelf it was sitting on was my mistake. Not the camera’s.

Quick reference

  • Lens: 40mm f/2.8 D.Zuiko (6 elements, 4 groups)
  • Shutter speeds: 1/40s and 1/200s (automatic)
  • Focus: Zone focus (1m, 1.5m, 3m, infinity)
  • Meter: Selenium cell, no batteries required
  • Film: 35mm, any ISO (set via ASA dial: 25 to 400)
  • Produced: 1967 to 1984
  • Second-hand price: roughly 70 to 135 euros (working, good condition)
  • Best for: Street photography, travel, everyday carry

If you enjoyed this, you might also like my reviews of the Olympus Pen EE-S and the Pentax ME Super, two cameras that share the same spirit of getting out of the way and letting you photograph.

Black and white film photograph of a weathered wooden fence post with wire insulators, flat fields behind, Vendée.
Black and white film photograph of a lake seen through trees, soft reflections on still water, La Planche
Black and white film photograph of two joggers running along a lakeside path through trees, La Planche
Black and white film photograph of three tree trunks at the edge of a lake, La Planche
Black and white film photograph of two trees beside still water with a soft atmospheric quality, La Planche
Black and white film photograph of a farm track leading toward a tall poplar tree, Vendée countryside.
Black and white film photograph of two bare tree trunks at a lakeside, surrounded by leafy trees, La Planche, Vendée.
A single wooden post stands in perfectly still water, its reflection extending directly below, framed on either side by low vegetation at the bank. The most minimal and considered frame on the roll, and the best argument for leaving the house with a pocket camera.
Black and white film photograph of a narrow water channel through trees with a bright sky reflection at the end
Black and white film photograph of textured tree bark in the foreground with a lake visible behind, La Planche

The Parc D’Asson

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So I’ve been off work, on the sick. Part of the healing has been going out with my camera. Clisson, the Jardin Extraordinaire, but recently I started asking myself why I wasn’t looking closer to home. There’s a tendency, I think, to always seek out the dramatic or the obviously photogenic. The ruined château, the dramatic coastline, the somewhere that announces itself as worth photographing. But photography has been teaching me, slowly and not always gently, that the ordinary places are often where the real work happens.

One morning I went into Montaigu and wandered through the Parc D’Asson, the same park where I’d dropped my daughter off to meet friends. I park nearby when I go to Mass, I’d been through it once before, and somehow never properly seen it. You know how it is with places close to home. They sit in the background of your life, familiar enough that you stop registering them. Time to make amends.

It was quiet. A weekday morning, the light still low and a little uncertain, which turned out to suit what I had in mind. I’d decided to rate HP5+ at 200 ISO rather than its box speed of 400, pulling it by two stops and overexposing the film to give the negatives extra density. I’d done it by accident on a previous roll and liked what came back: a softer, more forgiving tonality than I usually get from HP5+. Less of the grain-forward contrast that pushed film is known for, more of a gentler, almost contemplative quality. So this time I did it on purpose, loaded the Nikon FE, and shot a whole roll. I’ve just developed the film and the negatives look good. Dense, as expected, with a quality of light that feels right for a quiet park on a quiet morning. There might be something there.

I’ve also been working on the Sunny 16 rule. No light meter, judging exposure by eye, the way my forefathers in photography did it. The rule itself is simple enough: in bright sunlight, set your aperture to f/16 and your shutter speed to the reciprocal of your ISO. From there you learn to read the light, to adjust by feel, to trust your eye over your electronics. I can hear you saying well, yes, the Nikon has a perfectly good meter in it. True. But there’s something valuable in the discipline of not using it. It slows you down. It makes you look harder at what the light is actually doing rather than letting the camera decide. And when you’re trying to use photography as a way back into yourself, slowing down is rather the point.

I’m getting better at reading light. Not expert, not yet, but better. The Parc D’Asson gave me good material to work with. The way the morning came through the trees, the texture of the paths, the small details that a park in winter offers if you’re patient enough to look for them. These are not grand subjects. But I’m starting to think that grand subjects are overrated.

Whether I’ve actually cracked the Sunny 16 rule, you’ll be able to judge for yourselves when I eventually share the three rolls of Tri-X I shot on the Mamiya C220 in Clisson back in February, metered entirely by phone app until I gave up on the third roll. That’s a story for another day, and probably a cautionary one. This roll, at least, I’m quietly optimistic about.

Capturing Time: A Photographic Journey Through Château de la Preuille

Posted on Posted in Architecture, Black and White Photography, Film Photography, France, Landscape Photography, Reportage, The Film ArchivesTagged , , , , , , 4 Comments

It was the 20th of March, the first day of spring, and I drove out to Saint-Hilaire-de-Loulay to photograph a château I’d been meaning to photograph again for some time.

Château de la Preuille has been here since the 11th century — through medieval fortress, Renaissance residence, abandonment, and whatever quiet resilience comes after that. Today it’s a living estate: chambres d’hôtes, gîtes, wine workshops, weddings. The people who run it have a motto: “It’s not perfect, it’s paradise.” Spend an afternoon there and you’ll understand why they chose it. The place has character that no amount of renovation could manufacture — it simply accumulated it, over nine centuries.

What they’ve built is worth visiting on its own terms. The accommodations range from rooms in the château itself to the old wine press building sleeping up to ten, to Le Donjon, a tower with its own private wing. The wine workshops — blind tastings, tastings under the stars — are exactly the kind of thing that sounds gimmicky until you’re actually there, on a working estate, surrounded by vines that have been cultivated on this land for generations. It’s thirty minutes from the Puy du Fou and feels like another world entirely.

I made one deliberate technical choice before I left: I pulled the HP5+ from 400 to 200 ASA. One stop of overexposure, finer grain, softer tones. For nine-hundred-year-old stone and dormant vineyards on a still March morning, it felt right. A harder, faster film would have been the wrong conversation.

What I found myself photographing wasn’t the grand architectural gestures — though the round towers with their conical slate roofs reflecting in the moat are there, and they earn their place. It was the details that kept stopping me. Wine bottles glimpsed through a window. The number 5 cast into a piece of rusty agricultural equipment. Ivy claiming the side of a wooden barn. Vine stocks twisted and patient, waiting for warmth. The decay and renewal that a place accumulates when it’s been genuinely lived in rather than merely preserved.

Black and white was the only option. Colour would have placed these images firmly in March 2026. In monochrome, they could be from any point in the château’s long life — and that ambiguity suits the subject. Preuille doesn’t perform its history. It simply has it.

Shot on Nikon FE, Ilford HP5+ pulled to 200 ASA. Home developed in Ilfosol 3 at 1:9, scanned on an Opticfilm 8100. Château de la Preuille, Saint-Hilaire-de-Loulay, Vendée. 20 March 2026. chateau-de-la-preuille.fr

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24-70mm Lens: Unveiling the Beauty of Vendée Coastal Landscapes

Posted on Posted in Black and White Photography, France, Landscape Photography, Reportage, Travel photographyTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 4 Comments

Work had turned into one of those blurs. Emails, a couple of passive-aggressive colleagues, meetings that all sound the same after a while. So a few weeks ago I did the sensible thing: navy chinos, white shirt, new sunglasses, the Panama hat, and drove off to the Vendée coast for the day.

Vendée isn’t the Caribbean, let’s be honest, but it did the job. It also gave me a good excuse to properly test the Canon 6D Mark II with the 24-70mm f/4L, a lens that gets a lot of stick online for being unexciting. By the end of the day I’d more or less come round to it.

First stop was Viellevigne, technically just over the border in Loire-Atlantique rather than the Vendée proper, a town I normally just drive through on the way to somewhere else. With a camera in the car and nowhere to be, I actually looked at it for once. There’s a little church between two old trees I must have passed a thousand times without noticing, so I framed that. Then I switched the lens over to its macro setting and found the hedgerows were full of wildflowers and insects I’d never normally spot. Funny how that works.

Next was the grand canal near Fromentine, though I’m still not convinced “grand” is the right word for it. It’s no Venice. The light was good, though: warm on the old ruined houses along the water, and across the road bridge there’s a row of fishing huts with paint that’s clearly seen a few decades of weather. The 24-70 handled both ends of the job well, wide enough for the whole stretch of canal, close enough for the plants growing out of the stonework.

By afternoon I’d made it to Port de Bec, where the oyster farmers work. Tractors were hauling boats in and out of the water, moorings creaking under the weight, the whole place busy in a way that’s hard to explain if you haven’t seen it. The autofocus kept up fine with everything moving around, which is really all I ask of a lens in that situation.

Last stop, and the best one, was the Passage de Gois: the causeway that goes underwater twice a day with the tide. It’s a great spot for photos, as long as you keep an eye on the water. I nearly didn’t, and came close to losing a sandal to the incoming tide. The contrast between the exposed road and the water creeping in was worth the risk, and the lens coped well with the changing light as the sun dropped.

The photos were only half the point, if I’m honest. Getting off the hamster wheel for a few hours mattered more. Fresh air, the sun on my face, a stretch of coast I mostly ignore because it’s on my doorstep. I came back in a better mood than I left, which was really the whole plan.

As for the 24-70mm, it earned its keep. Wide landscapes, macro details, a moving target at Port de Bec, it handled all of it without complaint. Next time someone tells me it’s a boring lens, I’ll just show them the album from this trip and let the pictures argue back.

Until the next one.

Glad to be alive

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Yesterday I looked death in the face.  Whilst at work, yesterday at around 10 am, crossing from one building to another, I suddenly looked up and saw a big flash of yellow in front of me.  A forklift truck was just 3 feet away from me.  I was between the two forks.  Three feet between me and potential death, and a prison term for the driver. 

The driver has a certain “reputation,” and the guys from the workshop where he can be found the most say it’s just a matter of time until he actually kills someone. 

When it actually happens to you, it makes you think how much you would actually enjoy living a tad more.  Not necessarily an epiphany, but (going for the understatement of the year prize, 2022) definitely a bit of a shock.  Three feet, that were the difference between my wife with whom my first date took place 30 years ago to the day, becoming my widow!!!  My children were three feet from losing their father.

Fortunately, my plus 2 saw the whole thing and came storming out of his office saying that it was unacceptable that I should have to suffer being in such danger, and that the colleague would be suitably bollocked by plus 2 and the 2 plus 1’s that he frequently comes into contact during the day.  My plus 1 and the driver came to my stores, to say sorry, with smiles on their faces.  It was like being told by the teacher to see the child that they had just bullied and apologise.  I said that I would send them the cleaning bill for my underpants that I had just soiled.  There’s no point in going full frontal and yelling at them.  Be the better man and all that…  Also, I’m English in France, I’m fifty, I have a gammy knee, and despite everything, this job pays the rent!

Clocking in this morning, I saw the driver who had nearly taken me out and asked him if he wouldn’t mind not trying to kill me today.  When Plus 1 said good morning to me, I said that I was just glad to be alive and that I was hoping not to be killed today either. I also reminded them that had I been killed, then there would have been prison not only for the driver but for the driver’s boss.  Strangely enough, the driver has stopped driving so fast and seems, for the moment at least, to take his responsibilities on board. 

I will be the better man, I will be the better man, I will be the better man, and with the help of God, remain glad to be alive for a little longer.

The Contradictory Contradiction

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I have a friend here who said that I am always contradicting myself and that it isn’t logical and how can I say two things at the same time, and I replied that the two things, although contradictory in appearance, are both as true.  That person is a production of French education with philosophy as the subject that all French teenagers go through to learn how to think the way the Education Nationale tells them to think, under the guise of learning all about freethinking and critical thinking.  I, however, am a lot less French despite what some people might like to think, and I will think any blooming way I desire, with or without contradictions.

I’m not talking about my mental state, for once, but photography.  I love both digital photography and analogic photography.  I am bewildered by modern technology and could be classed as a geek, and yet the experience of using old technology that is obsolete for some gets me all excited as a small child waiting for Father Christmas, but being told by their mother to go to bed, otherwise, he won’t come.  It didn’t stop me from waking up at the crack of dawn, and I think my parents might have regretted the decision to buy me a guitar for Christmas and hearing me playing at some ungodly hour of the morning.  As a 49, fat middle-aged gentleman, I can understand them, but my 6 or 7-year-old self didn’t and couldn’t imagine the disturbance that I had caused them.

Oh, how times change!  While I’m on the nostalgia train going to the “good” old days, I have vivid memories of a drawer at my grandparents’ house, where my mother was brought up, and in whose room I would be staying.  Inside this drawer, many “old” things just fascinated me.  It could be my grandfather’s old plumbing ruler or golf tees.  It could be anything but it was an entrance into another world for me.  My grandmother’s kitchen, because at that time, my Grandfather wouldn’t be in the kitchen, was a place where everything was from the 1930s and it all just fitted together.   There was the Anderson shelter, which had been turned into a proper pantry, was a relic from the Second World War where they would have sheltered from German bombs falling on the town and trying to stop my Great Uncle’s shipyards from operating correctly.  My Great Aunt would drive around in an ambulance taking care of casualties.  Amazing people from an amazing time. 

What does this have to do with photography?  Not a huge amount, but is that a problem?  Oh yes, it tells you about my fascination for the old and very new.  I have “a number” of cameras, the eldest being from the 1940s and the newest from 2021, with nearly every decade being represented in-between the two dates.

So I was going somewhere with all this.  Ah yes, lately I seem to be getting back into film again.  In the last but one article, you may have seen the photos from the Mamiya, which is a relatively modern camera being from the early ’80s.  Well, this time, I’m still using a camera from the 1980s, the Pentax ME Super.  For once, I wasn’t using Ilford HP5, which is my “go-to” film.  No, I decided to be different and get out of my comfort zone, and use a new film.  I say new film, I mean Rollei has been around for donkey’s years, but this was a “new to me” film.  May I introduce you to Rollei RPX 100.  I never use 100ASA film, but was turned by Fomapan 100, which you can see in the photos from the Hangar à Bananes.  A fine-grain film, especially when you compare it to the grain from HP5 even when shot at box speed, let alone 800ASA or even 1600ASA.

The film was developed in ILFOSIL 3, and I thought it was great.  I tried in town and country and was thrilled.  The thing that pleased me the most was that it kept flat, which means a lot to somebody who has ever tried to scan film. The last time I bought a film I played wild cards, and it was also a lot cheaper than HP5 which is a very convincing argument.  I still dream of Kodak Portra 160, but it is getting more and more scarce, and therefore more expensive.  A beginning of the month kind of film.  Oh look at that, my pay has just gone in…

So yesterday evening I was scanning a film my son had shot on a 1960s Kodak camera, and thinking about how he has changed since 2016 when I picked up my Fuji XT2, a slightly more modern mirrorless digital camera. I hadn’t used a modern camera in quite a while and it almost felt foreign to me, and yet familiar at the same time. My fingers seemed to find the controls without looking very far, and it felt very natural.  Maybe my love of digital and analogue isn’t that contradictory after all?

Now it’s time to show you the results of the Rollei RPX 100.  I liked it and am happy I bought more than one roll.  The camera, as I think I said earlier, was the Pentax ME Super.

September

Posted on Posted in Black and White Photography, Film Photography, France, Landscape PhotographyTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 2 Comments

Hello Dear Reader.  I’m not talking about the song by Earth Wind and Fire, but the month.  At least it’s being an ear worm and I can hear you hear you singing it in your heads.  I’m talking about September, the month, the return.  We have accomplished our re-entry into our everyday lives, and the routine that was missing in August is back.  The days are slightly cooler and have become more agreeable.  Instead of 33°C, we are back down to 23°C.  The nights are slightly cooler too and we no longer need our fans on all night like we did in August. When it’s hot, some people are in their element.  I, however, am not one of those people.  When you’re cold, you can always put a jumper on, and have a cup of tea and go inside.  But as contradictory as I am, as one friend recently pointed out to me, I do enjoy sitting outside on a Summer’s eve having a beer or three…

I love the holidays that August is famous for, but the obligation to enjoy yourself every day during these days of relative freedom is a pain in the arse. I don’t want to be melancholic, but this forced enjoyment of a good time is too much for me.  Club Med would be a nightmare!  I like my routine back.  Back at work and happy to be there.  We still have our weekends and can still enjoy them.  The jumpers are still in storage, but you hear the word “mi-saison” as the announcer of a more bearable climate.  The French news has gone the rentrée clips to showing how our Dear President has not been as good at selling submarines as other countries that can offer different and possibly more desirable options…  The Voyages à Nantes is over, and we will look for those works of art that have become permanent.  You can see grapes in the supermarkets, and other more autumnal products.  Soon we’ll be talking about the wine harvest…  In the UK it will be words like “chilly” making their return to everyday usage.  The merits of a “nice cup of tea” which will warm you up will become an object of conversation once more.  Biscuits or cake?

My daughter was born in September and this week is her birthday.  She will be twelve going on thirty.  I think she should run for President, as she seems to know everything already.  Let her fix the country.  If people go on strike, she could always sulk in her room and go on her phone…  That’ll show them!  At least she takes the dog out for walks around the village.  As any doting gather, I think she’s brilliant and can be hilarious and despite hating and eye rolling at my dad jokes, she still seems to enjoy them.  She can also turn into a she-devil at any instant and I’m trying to work out whether this is traumatic for me or just making life a little more interesting than it once was.

Molly, I think I’ve introduced her to you, is now a deb at the grand old age of 10, and has made her grand entrance in the pub, where I can be found from time to time, enjoying a pint of overpriced Guinness.  Me, that is, not the dog.  That dog of ours is one clean living dog, or a total abstainer!  She attended a Saturday night at the pub, and was noticed and loved by everyone.  She received strokes galore, was made a fuss of, and even had a couple of chips as a treat from the chip shop down the road.  My major concern was that I would lose her, but my hand stayed firmly on the lead, and the only trouble was her getting tangled in chairs.  I was amazed by the reaction to her, and she might be allowed to come out with me more often.  She’ll keep her canine eye on me, making sure I don’t get into any trouble. It’s amazing how that mutt has worked her way into my heart and is a real doggie dog, and always seems happy to see me.  To be honest, she’s happy to see everyone, but she knows how to make you feel special, in a way that only a dog can.  Unfortunately she can, with time, and dirt on her, become a little stinky-poohs, and on Tuesday I came home and gave her her cuddle, discovered a dog that had been to doggie hairdressers and was now as soft as you wish, trimmed up, and smelling lovely.  Maybe not as pleasant as finding a banknote hidden away in your wallet, but not half bad anyway!

This is supposed to be a photography blog, or at least from time to time, so let me tell about where I am on the photographic plain.  I’m still there.  Last weekend was the Journées du Patrimoine.  I could have gone into Nantes with my camera, and visit all those places not usually open to the public and get some more “exclusive” photos, but went to Clisson instead.  I never got there.  I had the Mamiya and a couple of rolls of film with me.  Exploring some of the local villages near where I live, I even managed to go to the Château de la Preuille, a local castle that has been a favourite of mine since arriving in St Hilaire in 2001.  With Medium format film, you get 12 images with each film when shooting with the Mamiya C220, and the amount of detail that is captured on the negative is amazing.  The project was to take pictures locally and see what I could get, and the restriction of 24 shots was interesting too.  It obliges you to make that little extra effort when composing your images, as you don’t want to waste that special film.  If this article has photos, then it means that I have developed my film before Friday at 17h.  Otherwise, they’ll have to be added later on. UPDATE: It appears that you will have to wait for the photos of Château de la Preuille but they will be put on here. For the moment, you get a bit of Saint Hilaire.

I shall continue to revel in this comparatively cooler weather, with the sunshine, and not much rain forecast for the next ten days.  I look forward to seeing you in my next article.  Until then, be good, and if you can’t be good, then be careful!

Good morning Dear Reader…

Posted on Posted in Art, Black and White Photography, France, PortraitTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 5 Comments

I seem to have a thing for old fashioned, black and white, low key portraits and as I evolve as a photographer it seems to be my “new thing” to learn about. The person who says he knows everything and no longer needs to learn is wrong and probably has his head up Where the sun tends not to shine. The beginning of wisdom is to know that we know nothing and that realisation seems to come with age, not for everyone, but for me at least.

I wanted to discover this world which was foreign to me. Now I seem to have a knack of being able to take portraits of places and let the viewer have a feeling of having visited those places and sharing my vision of these places.

But can I really I hear you say, “Even the news and documentary photographers can change the meaning of a photo just using the angle used to record the shot.” But there is still emotion.

Don’t forget that photography really does allow you to see what I see looking through a viewdinder at a given time and place. It is the only art that allows that. Paintings you say in disgust! But I would reply no since due to the very nature of that medium we are already in an interpretation of what the painter saw. We could say the same if a writer, especially depending on the skill of that said writer. We have a portrait, and a representation, but only photography permits you to to physically see what my eyes saw.

The next part against this arguement is about what we do in a darkroom or on software on our computers, I can begin to interpret my scene and maybe show you how I might have felt. This is what I try to do with my art.

I do this through my quasi exclusive use of black and white photography, and in a portrait session I can use my lights to give different feels. I will of course give you examples in the traditional gallery at the end of the article. The sitter or victim depending on your sense of humour, remains true to his physical representation as I don’t transform the person as people do in advertising or in fashion. If you have a so called defect, you’re keeping it. I’m not going to change your shape, or make your skin a smooth as a baby’s bottom, that’s your affair and not mine, but with angles and lighting and asking you to pose in different ways, I can change how people might envisage you and hopefully catch your essence on film or on my screen.

There is forcibly a certain rapport that is built, however temporary, but it will be as real as I can make it to make my representation of you as real as possible. And that Dear Reader, is how I see my role when acting a portrait photographer. With friends, and family this rapport is easier to create as it already exists and i am working on my introvert side to try and work through my shyness whilst still using my ninja introvert skills to get am image that is pleasing to all parties. It has to be a win win situation for both of us, the sitter, and the photographer, which allows the third party, the viewer of the photograph to feel something.

Have I been spouting a whole load of bollocks as usual, or is some this nearing intelligent observations? Who knows? I sometimes have these thoughts in my mind and I should probably get them down on paper more often. You never know when something worth recording might pop out of my brain. Yes. I have just woken up and the memories of my photo shoot yesterday and the previous evening’s time spent making selfies (however artistic) to try out my new light set up and get to learn what I can get out of it are still fresh in my semi conscious mind.

My sitter in this series was Sergio Uribe, who is a very dear friend and one of those people that wonder into our lives for a reason. The session was about showing him my appreciation and thanking him for being my friend. Strangely i can hear the theme tune to Golden girls in my head. I obviously am need of a cup of tea and some toast. Thank you Dear Reader for continuing to read what I say, and help me get up and face my Sunday…

Happy New Year?

Posted on Posted in France, Landscape PhotographyTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 3 Comments

Happy New Year Dear Reader, and thank you for continuing to read my twice monthly drivel that spews forth from my  obviously damaged mind. Maybe it’s reassuring for you to have somebody madder than yourself?  Or maybe I just admit it and embrace it!

I think at the beginning of any year we always look back to the previous year and basically just hope for the best. That’s  exactly what I did in 2019 and look where it got us!  So this year I’m going to look back and search for the great positivity from 2020. 

I think many of us would describe 2020 as the shittiest of years for a long time.  We were introduced to Covid and saw a lot of our everyday freedoms curtailed in quite a disconcerting manner.  Our dear President Manu, declared that we were at war with this deadly virus.  And made sure the press scared us into complying with some very draconian policies to “protect” us.  So to those who are still alive I say, well done!  To those of us who are still alive I  say, don’t forget those who didn’t make it.  I’m not going to go into inflated figures of Covid related deaths and all the conspiracy theories that might exist, because when you’re  dead, you’re  dead, Covid or no Covid. 

At the beginning of my year I am usually on holiday from work and will think how far away August seems until we get to go on holiday again.  I, like many of my colleagues with look to the month of May, and its streak of bank holidays, labour day on the 1st of May, VE Day on the 8h of May, even though France at best came in a slight second, Whit Monday, and Ascension Thursday.  We are looking to see if it is a worker’s year, or a year for the bosses.

Let me explain to the non French of you.  In France we have a concept that is a wonderful thing, called “le pont” or the bridge.  If a public holiday falls on a Thursday; we get the Friday off too, and the same for a Tuesday; we get the Monday off. If the holiday is on a Wednesday, you get the Wednesday off.  You can’t  win ’em all!

I’ve  just checked on the calendar, and this year it’s half and half.  The 1st and the 8th are on Saturdays, so tough!

Right, now that you know about the concept, you will realise that we look to the month of May as being a way to get a couple of long , and most importantly, paid, weekends.  The weather is usually good and gives us a foretaste of Summer.  Brilliant right?  It also helps “bridge” the gap between January and August, which can be very long otherwise.

Well in 2020 all bets were off.  We discovered a new concept that year. The concept of lockdown.  On the 17th of March, the country went into lockdown, which was basically house arrest, but you’re allowed out to buy groceries, to get one hour’s exercise a day, but that’s  it. Translated into reality the country pressed the pause button, and everyone was put on furlough, with 85% of net pay paid by the government, and the rest by the company.

House arrest isn’t a very positive term, so let’s  make it more positive.  At the Eve of Saint Patricks Day, my local supermarket stocked up on Guinness and put it on special offer!  Daddy was going to have some special Daddy time, and not have to worry about going into work the next day. My son had set up clandestine meetings with his new girlfriend, and despite our protests decided to go out and visit her.  Sex is a powerful driving force…  we said that it would be silly to pay a fine of 135€ just for that.  The following week she moved in with us and spent the whole of lockdown with us.  That brought a certain animation into our lives and despite the intensity of it all, it could have been a lot worse. 

It also afforded me time to rest. I mean proper rest.  A rest from everyday life.  Not like a holiday rest, but a rest never the less.  It made us realise how speical such a moment can be.  It allowed us time to be physically present with each other in a way that “normal life’ doesn’t afford us.  It allowed us to discover a new person. With faults, but also great qualities. The first being that she is a cheap drunk, which in our family who has had a great fondness for drink drinks for generations is really a blessing.  I’m  not saying that we are all alcoholics, despite our Irish roots, but we do partake and enjoy a drink drink. As opposed to a drink, which is left for total abstainers which are a curse on humaity. 

I discovered that my daughter has a fondness for making cakes, and not only just of making them, but is quite good at it.  This brings joy to my heart, as I too, have a fondness for cakes, especially eating them!

We lost track of time, and with hindsight, I realise what a luxury that is.  We all have our phones on constant alert, we all have things to do, we all like to consider ourselves busy, but there,  we were all on hold. Not just people like me but everyone.  Yes, I’m  talking about you, celebrities.  Those people on TV,   those people on our screens.  We saw them trying to prove how they were still relevant on various podcasts, and showing what they looked like without the glamour and  how like us they were, in their massive houses, with massive kitchens, and how in reality they look as shitty as we do on a morning after having had some drink drinks.   I think they burst the bubble and broke the illusion of magic that surrounds them. That’s  an other great thing about Covid.  It showed us the sameness of humanity.  People in my little council house were under the same restrictions as those in mansions. Money and fame couldn’t protect them.  Talk about a level playing field. 

It gave me time also to get back into film photography and my greatest achievement was to conquer my film funk.  I discovered what I had been doing wring and no longer make that mistake. 

Towards the end of that first month of lockdown, cracks were staring to appear, but we still managed to get along enough so as not to kill eachother before Covid would.

I came out of lockdown early in order to go back to work on the 20th of April. As you know I am a big lad, and my BMI is above a certain level which could have allowed me to remain on lockdown and not go back to work.  But as I said to my boss, I’m  not going to get any thinner by staying at home, and the idea of having somebody in “my” stores, not working the way I did was abhorrent.  At the time I was also the only person working in my stores that knew all the products etc…  I was therefore allowed back.

Restrictions were gradually lifted and we came out of our shelters with our masks on, and started to look forward to Summer.  A trip to the UK was definitely out of the question, and my little getaway to Hull, would be cancelled.  I negotiated well and got all my money back. I was one of the lucky ones.  By early July travel restrictions had been lifted and as I had some time off from work, I took my daughter to Paris for the Day.  I rediscovered the  capital after having beem away for 20 years.  I also got to spend some quality time with my daughter.  We had the chance to meet up as a wider family, so for the Fête Nationale, and met up with other membres of the French family to celebrate.  Thanks to Sean Tucker and his very educative videos, I had launched myself into the world of portrait photography and was fortunate to have some willing victims to be portraited…  We even celebrated the 60th birthday of a great friend too. It felt almost normal again. 

August saw me going back to Paris twice and loving the capital as much as ever.  I’ll be back!

Spetember seemed to be very normal, but mask wearing seemed to be coming back into fashion. This would not be your typical rentrée. Even in  the windband things were going to change as lockdown 2.0 came info force.  Lockdown 2.0 was an awful lot like what I lived through in April.  Everyday freedoms taken away, except I could still go to work, and al5hough regearsals, they had changed and we were spaced out in the rehearsal romsphyically I mean of course. No mushroomswere harmed in any way.  Come Novemeber concerts were cancelled and we discovered curfews, but only in certain counties.  But it was all just putting off the inevitable further lockdown. 

Christmas was relatively normal and we were allowed to go to the non essential shops again on the 15th of December.  The government installed a nationwide curfew, but would not enforce it for Christmas.  It was good to be together again as a family and celebrate a very special birth.  Don’t worry, I’m  not going to give my Christmas sermon about how God the Son, part of the Holy Trinity, allowed himself to experience a full humanity, and human fragility. Born not as King, despite being God.  Humanity, human fragility, and exceptional humility. 

New Year’s Eve technically was under curfew. My wife had decided to get the house looking ship shape for that evening’s meal.  That means that it is a wonderful opportunity to bugger off and not be there to annoy her by just existing and breathing. 

Last Year I had buggered off to Nantes and spent the afternoon and early evening taking photos of the Hangar  à Bananes, so this year decided to do something else. This might just be turning info a tradition…  possibly…

Over the two weeks of holidays, my sleep has gone haywire, and although I sleep enough hours it is a broken sleep. Today it would be different. I had decided to bugger off to the beach in Noirmoutier and would enjoy the sun coming up over the last day of this rather “particular” year. The alarm went off at 6am. You see how serious I was? My camera kit was in the car. I shut the car boot and my cup of tea fell off the car roof and broke. It was as if 2020 wanted to get the last laugh. Bitch! I still got off on time and the road took me past my factory. Thankfully I didn’t stop and kept going. I arrived at the supermarket in Noirmoutier at opening time, and decided to go and have a pee in the supermarket toilets.

I went into the toilets and discovered the light was broken. I wasn’t going to pee in the sink, which has been an option, albeit an emergency option in the past. Luckily I had my phone, and used the torch on that to light my way. I got my sandwich and went back to the car. Ate the sandwich, and headed off to my final destination. The rest as the say is history, and you will see the pictures at the end if this article.

So now you’re pretty much up to date. I have seen may Instagram stories being rather rude about 2020, and how shitty it was and how 2021 can only get better. But taking stock, 2020 was a good year. People got together against a common foe, people realised that life has more important lessons for than Facebook. People realised that there are so many more important things in life, like family, and freinds, and the importance of all these social interactions that have been withheld from us. I know now where my priorities lie, and how much I treasure them. Has it been easy? Not every day. But with vaccines coming out, maybe there is light at the end of the tunnel. Maybe i will even be able to get back and visit the UK despite Brexit. Maybe Brexit might even work. A free trade agreement is all that Britain ever wanted anyway. 2021 will undoubtedly have its own set of challenges but 2020 has shown us that we can get through things that might seem impossible. Let us hope so anyway!

My old friend

Posted on Posted in Black and White Photography, France, Landscape PhotographyTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 3 Comments

My old friend melancholy is back with avengeance. She’s a bitch and knows exactly what you don’t want to hear. She reminds you that you are in a sexless marriage, that you are useless to everyone, and that you would be better off dead.

If I look for sex somewhere then I’m the shit, but it’s not the “done thing” to impose oneself. And sex is not just the only thing lacking in my life.

I want out. I want to die. That’s why I’m slowly killing myself. When I’m not good I eat, which will only bring me closer to death, and yet, in an ironic twist of fate, if I don’t eat the same fate awaits me.

At least as a fat guy, society has decided that I’m not allowed to be a sexual being. Who would to have sex with me anyway? Not even my wife does, so why would anybody else?

It’s not just about sex despite what society might say. It’s the connection that sex can give its protagonists, or even the intimacy. Since the advent of Covid we have been told to be wary of everyone else. We all have masks on. We are told that we have to socially isolate. We are social animals and this lack of physical contact is ruining all of us. It will leave scars on all of us for years to come. The problem is that I love my wife deeply but it’s as if there’s a gulf between us. Maybe through death I will be able to set her free.

I feel lonely every day. I am on my own every day at work and work on my own, and it’s the same at home. Solitude can be a blessing, but it can very quickly become a great burden. I even feel resentment every time that people ring me at work. I have my work to do and it’s as people are just interrupting my day. How inconsiderate of them.

I will not be missed. There may be slightly fewer photos on Instagram but people get on with their lives. Life continues despite death of one the protagonists. Eventually people cope and “get over it” and the person really is “laid to rest.”

I just don’t fancy dying in France. I want to die at home. It might have been a fashion in 1914 to 1918, And my grandfather had a couple of brothers eho were killed and buried over here. I want to die at home. I’ve been here for 26 years and I’m fed up of it all. Boris may have ruined my country’s future, but it’s still home.

As a Catholic I try and offer my suffering up as a sacrifice for my many sins. That’s what Ste Thérèse de l’enfant Jésus told us. She was dead by the age of 30 and was a Doctor of the church.

I’m not suffering from despair, I just want this situation to end. I know I should just suck it up buttercup, man up, and stop feeling sorry for myself. Easier said than done. That’s what I was told by my form master when I was at prep school. My mother would say the same.

Some would go and offer sympathy on Facebook, as if a message on a virtual notice board would help. I’m not putting down peoples’ intentions, but you have to get real. It’s like putting a black square on social media. It doesn’t help.

Some would say, go and consult. That doesn’t help either. The head shrinkers are madder than me, except they know they are. I just have a small inkling that they’re even more full of shit than my intestines after eating a whole load of fiber.

I don’t hate any of you. I just hate myself. I am told that God loves me. I am trying to believe that, but it’s not easy every day.

Time flies like an arrow and fruit flies like a banana. This is why I hide myself in my bedroom as soon as I get home. It’s why I do photography. At least when I’m out with a camera I’m doing something instead of thinking. That helps sometimes. Anyway. I’m not dead yet so you’re going to have to out up with for a little while longer.

Here is a selection of photos from last Saturday. Long exposure, shitty weather. I was going for minimalism and maybe a couple of shots I managed it. In some I caught ghost figures due to people not caring and wondering into shot.

Please have a better time of it than me. I’ll get slightly better with a little more time. As I said, I’m not looking for sympathy, or for help. I’m just sharing what is on my mind. Thank the Lord that Adele isn’t singing on the radio…

Passage de Gois, Vendée, France

The Lockdown Diaries Part 2

Posted on Posted in Black and White Photography, Film PhotographyTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 7 Comments

If you’re still here then it means that you’re still alive and not dead from Covid 19, or the light beer virus for those in the know, which is a good thing after all. Soooo…

Lockdown is officially over but it doesn’t really feel like it. People are still covering their faces with masks, which would have been a motive to arrest people during the Gilets Jaunes demonstrations. Strange how things change so quickly.

I have a tendency towards social anxiety that can be treated with beer, but not the light variety. I tend to withdraw into my room and not come out. For the others it must be like living in a Victorian Mansion where you don’t go onto the East Wing despite the ominous noises that come out from there. Or me being a legend like the depressive yeti, where it was once seen near the fridge but then vanished. I think I mentioned that my son’s girlfriend was living with us during lockdown, and then one day there was a knock on my door, and she told me she was going home to her mother’s. That came a bit out of the blue, and I went into anxiety overdrive, like why is she leaving, what had my son done, what had any of us done, I’m sure I always flushed the toilet, didn’t I buy her her favourite jam for breakfast etc. Apparently it had been planned all along. She was just there for the duration…

It’s strange how you can get used to a situation and then all of a sudden everything changes and you don’t know what world you are living in anymore. It’s like entering the Twilight Zone, nah nah nah nah, nah nah nah nah….

Things are open here like shops, Mac Donald’s, schools and the like, but it’s not the same. The omnipresent fear of the dreaded virus is strong. No touching people, no being close to people, changes at work…. I hate it. Sometimes I’d rather be dead. Human kindness seems to have packed up ship and buggered off. Human warmth doesn’t exist. There is just this fear. People being short tempered and distant, and complaining about everything. Not just suspicious minds, but suspicious everything. The authorities say one thing one day, and then it changes. When we need strong leadership we realise that they are as shit scared as the rest of us and don’t know much more than we do. And yet life goes on, but I hate this life.

So what can I do about it? Not a lot. When I get to work I have to go through a checkpoint managed by my workshop bosses. They take my temperature, and put a small amount of gel into my hands. Nobody shakes hands anymore and you just go to your work station. The coffee machine has been shut off, and I really feel isolated in my stores. People used to come in and have a chat, but that’s gone. And I’m the lucky one. I have Alexa with me who plays me BBC Radio 2. The presenters do a great job, and it makes me feel less alone, but it’s not the same.

I know I shouldn’t complain and just keep calm and carry on, take it on the chin, and stiff upper lip and all that, but this situation is without precedent in my lifetime, and is slowly wearing me down. Thank God I still have my photography. It really is my only therapy and gets me out of the house and doing something constructive.

Talking about photography, let’s please, move onto something les anxiety inducing. The following photos are of the pond and prairie that I talked about in my last article. There is a mixture of digital and film photos. I have been exploring the notion of pushing film. This not involve putting a film canister in the table and nudging it forward gently, but not exposing it at box speed.

Let me explain. I buy Ilford HP5 Plus black and white negative film. Normally it is to be exposed at 400 ASA. However, by under exposing and extending the developing time you can get a little more contrast on the negative. Other consequences are that with less light, I can still have smaller apertures and get more in focus. I will get more grain but that’s fine. It adds to the analogue photo I think. You’ll see what I mean when you see the photos. There will be three galleries, one showing digital images, one showing the images from the film exposed at 800 ASA, and the last gallery showing images exposed at 1600 ASA. How does that sound?

This first gallery was taken with the Canon 6D Mark II and the 16-35 mm F4 lens.

This second gallery was taken on the Pentax ME Super with a 50mm F1.7 lens with Ilford HP5 but pushed to 800 ASA

This last gallery was taken on the Canon AE1 Program with a 50mm F1.8 lens on Ilford HP5 but pushed to 1600 ASA