Canary Wharf distortions

click photo to enlarge
When I tell people that I'm interested in church architecture there is an asumption in the minds of many that I abhor modern architecture. Nothing could be futher from the truth. In fact I'm genuinely puzzled why the one is thought to be incompatible with the other. Maybe it's because people see the architecture of churches as essentially decorative, and modern architecture as primarily functional. However, that too is a misreading of what is actually the case: Gothic buildings are wonderful examples of form following function (with added ornament), a point I made in this earlier post, and much modern building is functional, though increasingly the external appearance is important.

Today's photograph shows the reflection of another building's windows in the windows of a tower at Canary Wharf, London. Seen in its totality this building isn't anything special. It has an overall grid of glazing divided by black metal bars, brown vertical panels that accent edges and set-backs, and pediment-like structures at the top - a small version, if you will, of Mies van der Rohe meets Philip Johnson. Any aesthetic force that the building has comes from its overall shape and from the way it reflects its surroundings. Since the advent of reflective glass in curtain walls this device has been deployed with varying degrees of success across the world, to the point where it has now become a cliche. As I photographed this building I wondered if its architect had intended the decorative feature that caught my eye: that is to say, the way the glass (presumably under tension) had distorted what it was reflecting. I'd guess not. Yet, from my point of view this was not only the structure's most attractive feature, it was also the one that differentiated it from its neighbours - a sort of Mondrian meets Cy Twombly, if you will! I composed my image with only two dimensions in mind, and tried to achive asymmetrical balance across the frame.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 110mm (220mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/200
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The ethics of moving leaves

click photo to enlarge
One of my early blog posts briefly discussed the ethics of removing, adding or changing objects within photographs - the practice that has become known as "Photoshopping". This issue is something I've thought about quite a bit in recent years, usually when I've been looking at newspaper images or photographs that have been posted online.

Photographs have been manipulated in one way or another since the advent of the medium, and many take exception to criticism of the practice, asking what the difference is between increasing the contrast of an image and adding a more photogenic sky. I come to this question from the point of view of an amateur who creates photographs that show the world as I find it and as I create it. So, I think that if I'm photographing a landscape and there are telephone wires or parked cars in places I'd rather there weren't, then they stay. But, if I'm photographing a still life I will arrange everything just as I want it. The point where I become a little inconsistent is where I adjust tonality, contrast, saturation, etc. When I do that I've certainly changed how the camera captures the world. My defence is that there is a long tradition of doing this, and it is significantly less manipulative than removing or adding things.

Today's photograph was the prompt for that reflection. It shows large leaves from a London Plane tree on some steps by the River Thames. I selected this particular group because it made quite a good composition against the straight lines and shadows of the concrete. However, as I framed my shot the thought went through my head that I could move the leaves slightly, or find some more colourful examples, or turn over those that were upside down, and in so doing contrive a "better" image. But I didn't. That seemed like "Photoshopping by hand" and if I presented the photograph as an image based on a found circumstance, then it was deceitful. If I'd been photographing these for, say, a commercial advertisement I'd have no qualms about re-arranging the leaves because there is little expectation on the viewer's part that what is seen in an advert is real. But, photographing them with the purpose I had in mind it seemed wrong. I'm sure there are those who agree with me, and I'm equally sure that many think I'm both inconsistent and mad. What do you think?

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 20mm (40mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/40
ISO: 200
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Benign dictatorships and firework displays

click photograph to enlarge
When I am made supreme leader and rule as the benign dictator of UK plc I will pass an edict. This will say that all celebrations of events that are linked to a single date must happen on that specific date and at no other time. There will be those who will eulogise my wisdom and perspicacity (mainly the over 50s and pet lovers) and there will be others who will condemn me as a reactionary, careless of the needs of children, families and workers, who tramples freedom to secure his own narrow interest. To the former I will smile, wave and accept their kind words and enlightened attitude: the latter will be reminded that they live in a dictatorship which is currently benign but could become a little more traditional if they don't quieten down!

And now back to our normal programming! My flight of fancy above is prompted by this year's Guy Fawkes Night celebrations. This annual event recalls the downfall of the Gunpowder Plot of 5th November 1605, in which conspirators (including Guy Fawkes) were thwarted in their attempt to blow up the Houses of Parliament. This year 5th November fell on a Thursday. On that night some people had the traditional bonfires and fireworks. However, others waited until Friday 6th November to do this, presumably because the following day was a Saturday and (for many) not a working day. But, many had decided that Saturday 7th was an even better day, and so there was a third evening of whizzes, bangs and flashes, accompanied by the smell of bonfires in the night air. Why does it matter if the event is spread over three days? Well, in so doing it becomes a little less of a celebration of a specific date. Then there's the extension of the din of fireworks over a longer period. And finally nervous pets have three nights of cowering whilst the explosions echo around the streets, rather than just the one. I recognise I'm probably in a minority on this one, but this stretching of festivities over a couple of nights is something I've known happen at New Year too.

Today's photograph was taken on SATURDAY 7TH NOVEMBER at the fireworks display on Blackheath, at Greenwich in London. We went there at the suggestion of my son. The last time I took a photograph of fireworks it featured him and his younger brother making sparkler patterns, and was taken with the OM1n. This image is from the LX3, which once again did a fair job in difficult circumstances. I was quite pleased with my composition here. I decided to include the tree, street lights and the silhouette of a near onlooker at the bottom left to balance the aerial bursts of the fireworks that I put on the right. It seemed a reasonable device to get away from the usual shot with a central focus of interest.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 10.2mm (48mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.6
Shutter Speed: 1/13
ISO: 800
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Life Guard Cavalryman

click photo to enlarge
Somewhere in the top ten photographs that are taken by visitors to London, sitting alongside the Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey, Buckingham Palace, the London Eye, Tower Bridge, a "bobby", and a red double-decker bus is one of the Household Cavalry outside the barracks at Whitehall. There are always at least two soldiers in ceremonial dress there, one on foot and the other mounted: sometimes there are more. In summer they display their metal breastplates and a lighter uniform, whilst winter brings the greatcoats. Passing through that area the other day I took my turn with the tourists thronging the guardsmen and got this photograph. It shows a member of the Life Guards, one of the two Household Cavalry regiments who act as the Queen's bodyguards, and (with the Blues & Royals) are the senior regiments of the British Army, their origins dating back to the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Today the soldiers of this corps provide the army with three squadrons, one for mounted ceremonial duties, and two reconnaissance squadrons using Scimitar, Panther and Jackal armoured vehicles.

I've often thought that the ceremonial duties of such regiments must be a welcome break from the hazards of Iraq or Afghanistan. And yet, as I watched person after person standing next to the guardsmen to have their photographs taken, and child after child being lifted by their parents to pat the nose of the uncomplaining horse, it occurred to me that it requires training of a different sort (for man and beast!) to impassively endure the non-stop attention of the visiting hordes. And, with that thought in mind, I quickly composed my shot - at a distance - and departed.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 40mm (80mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/125
ISO: 400
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Photographing the past

click photo to enlarge
A few days in London, and particularly an evening spent in Greenwich, had me thinking about an issue that I've dwelt on before - how many urban locations are still to be found where you can experience something (if only a little) of what our cities were like a hundred or a hundred and fifty years ago? The specific prompt for this rumination was Turnpin Lane, near the market, at dusk. The hurly-burly of the shoppers and stallholders was filling the air with the sounds and smells of people and food. Nearby the spicy tang of mulled wine being poured for my companions wafted by, and down the lane a shopper strode off into the night, carrier bag in hand, his well-wrapped body a silhouette against the glow from a street light and shop windows. Perhaps it was the narrowness of the lane, the hanging signs, the bow and sash windows and Victorian buildings, or maybe the shiny cobbles and drain, but the the scene looked quite Dickensian. So, I quickly pointed my pocket camera (the LX3) before the figure had departed and captured this image.

Many years ago I lived in Kingston upon Hull. At that time - the 1970s and early 1980s - the old High Street hadn't received its big "makeover". It still had wooden "setts" paving the roadway, empty warehouses, small pubs, merchants' houses and an air of time having passed it by. Vistas such as the one above were plentiful, and the sinuous curves of the street as it paralleled the nearby River Hull gave many opportunities for interesting compositions. The Lincolnshire town of Stamford has small corners and sections of streets that, if you airbrush away the cars and TV aerials, look much as they did one hundred or two hundred years ago. Fortunately many towns and cities have civic societies and enlightened planning authorities that give what protection legislation and public opinion can to such places. But, not everywhere is so lucky. Then it is up to concerned individuals to do what they can to preserve and protect these streetscapes that give us a glimpse into our past.

My shot was taken at 800 ISO, a level that pushes the boundaries of what a small sensor camera can reasonably achieve. Nonetheless, I was quite pleased with with its handling of this difficult scene, and can readily accept the noise that appears in a few places.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 7.9mm (37mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.4
Shutter Speed: 1/13
ISO: 800
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

New and old tiles

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I'm currently debating whether or not to tile the floors of a couple of our downstairs rooms. I've laid floor tiles in the past and found it a relatively straightforward task: the hardest part, I recall, was deciding which tiles to buy! On that occasion I settled on some terracotta coloured quarry tiles. They were of a type that had been manufactured for more than a century, weren't especially fashionable, but were durable and looked good. Those were all qualities that appealed to me because I sometimes get quite exercised by the modern habit of furnishing with highly durable materials capable of lasting a couple of centuries which are then discarded in less than ten years because they have become unfashionable.

I've recently taken a couple of photographs of some tiles in two very different locations, and I thought I'd post them today. One image is a detail of a round outdoor table at a park cafe. Here the tiles - blue squares and triangles - were arranged by hand in concentric circles. The tables have the potential to last quite a few years, and the rain shouldn't be too much of a problem for the tiles or grout. But I have a feeling that I won't see them if I go for a cup of coffee five years from now. They'll probably stand the knocks that the public give them, but not the vagaries of fashion. I took the photograph for the bold shapes, strong contrast, and the way the reflected colours of the nearby building enlivened the surface.

The second image shows a detail of the tilework on the chancel walls of the church of St Mary at Sutterton, Lincolnshire. Much of this building dates from the twelfth to the fourteenth century. However, these tiles are High Victorian i.e. from about 1880. They are unusual for that period because each tile is a single shade, with none of the decorative details or impressed shapes that were favoured at the time, and because the force of the design comes solely from the arrangement of the limited number of colours. I can imagine that many would see these tiles as inappropriate in this setting - perhaps more suited to a municipal baths - but I like them a lot. The colour is quite rich, but the simple, repetitive design doesn't overpower the focus that is rightly on the altar. They've been there for 130 years or so, and there's no reason why they shouldn't double or triple that and still look as good as they do today.

photographs & text (c) T. Boughen

Photo 1 (Photo 2)
Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.8 (f2.0)
Shutter Speed: 1/160 (1/30)
ISO: 80 (320)
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Former Fogarty Feather Factory, Boston

click photo to enlarge
Today's photograph title isn't a tongue twister designed to catch anyone out, but is a factual description of the building shown. South Lincolnshire has long had industries making products that use the feathers from poultry rearing, and this tradition continues today. This Boston factory was established in 1877, the date displayed at the top of the building. It advertises its connection with the manufacture of pillows and down bedding by the large stucco swan that looks down from on high. The company that erected the factory was taken over by Edward Fogarty in 1901 and Fogarty's went on to establish itself as pre-eminent in the field. Today the company has branched out into man-made fillings, and this building has been converted into flats, but the tradition of bedding manufacture continues in the Boston area.

The change of use from factory to residential premises happened with little change to the main elevation of the building because it has Grade II Listed Building status. So, the three storeys of red brick with stucco pilasters and arched windows remain, as do the decorative cornice and panelled parapet. The central and flanking doorways have been modified for its current use, but the twisted iron half-column mullions on the windows are untouched along with the heavy, pierced guard-rail above the main entrance. The piece-de-resistance of this factory, and the feature that makes it stand out from other industrial premises of this period is, however, the big swan, a symbol of the purity and warmth of the products that the factory produced.

I'd have liked to moved back a little more for my shot so that the couple of feet missing from each side of the building were included, but doing so brought in foreground clutter, and without extra height I couldn't keep it out. If I'd been carrying the Olympus with the 11-22mm lens I'd maybe have got it, but I only had the maximum of 24mm (35mm equiv.) of the LX3. However, I did notice a couple of people passing, so, realising that they'd bring scale to the shot, I waited until they were silhouetted by the central door and then pressed the shutter.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f3.5
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Simplify, simplify simplify

click photo to enlarge
I suppose, in a way, I was an early adopter of new technology. I had a home computer in the early 1980s when they became affordable, and I haven't been without one since. Similarly, I had broadband relatively early, and remember being told by an engineer that our house was one of only four in the neighbourhood who had a high-speed connection (as 1MB then was). On the whole I've valued the way a computer and an internet connection has enriched my life. However, as the scope of the offerings and possibilities of the internet have widened, I've become selective, adopting some innovations and rejecting others. Email, digital photography, blogging, online commerce and finance I've embraced. However, gaming, virtual worlds, Facebook and Twitter I've rejected. It may be a function of my age, but I find that now I have more time I'm simplifying my life and pro-actively choosing or rejecting every "next" thing that comes along. I find that if you don't do this then there's a danger that your life becomes like a shattered mirror - your view of the bigger picture is distorted and you lose the essential clarity that is necessary for navigating your way through life.

And, as with life, so with photography. Sometimes you've got to reject the wide view that your camera offers, with all its disparate details, and home in on that which is elementary and interesting for itself: in other words you've got to simplify things. A few days ago I was standing on the banks of the River Great Ouse at King's Lynn alongside a couple of boats, with the river beyond, the blue sky above flecked with white and grey clouds, and a shore full of nautical apparatus - masts, metalwork superstructures, buoys, cables, etc. Looking about me I felt there must be a few images to extract from the location. There was, and the image I post above is the best I got. The tops of the buoys outlined against the sky, a small detail of the whole scene appealed to me for that elementary simplicity - a few basic colours, simple shapes, textures and shadows. As I processed the RAW image into a JPEG I noticed that slightly increasing the saturation and contrast gave it more of the three-dimensional quality that also attracted me when I took the shot, and so that is how I present it.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 16mm (32mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/640
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Trompe l'oeil window

click photo to enlarge
As a general rule I'm against the painting of pictures on exterior walls and brickwork. Why? Well, often the paintings are worthy rather than good, and are frequently a cheap substitute for doing something better with a location. Moreover, they rarely achieve their objective of giving the eye something better to look at, raising the spirits and improving the area: time and again I find the unadorned wall is preferable to what appears on it. Even when the painting has merit it starts to lose it when the paint begins to fade or flake off, water stains mar the image, and graffiti appears which mocks or disfigures it. All this makes paintings on walls look shabby. I'm quite even-handed in my dislike too. Whether it's "street graffiti" by Banksy, everyday graffiti by Anon, or a piece by a "community artist" commissioned by a public or private body, I'm against it if it's painted on a wall.

What I don't mind (and often like), however, is outdoor paintings on boarding, hoardings, or any temporary structure. The works that enliven the panels that are erected to screen building work, archaeological digs, etc, are, to me, absolutely fine, because they are not as permanent as wall paintings, and don't usually degenerate into eye-sores. I came across some interesting examples in King's Lynn recently. They were on boards over windows adorning an old building near the Customs House. There were several examples, and it looked like more than one artist had been involved (though in retrospect that seems unlikely). A couple didn't appeal to me, the others were quite acceptable, and this one I rather liked. I'm not a cat lover, so it wasn't the main subject that took my fancy, rather it was the general trompe l'oeil idea. A Victorian sash window with stained glass panels round the edge makes a good frame, and I'm a sucker for green and blue with red highlights. The appearance of a blind being down over the top window was a good touch, and the cats looking out invite passers-by to catch their eye and look at the painting, so that worked very nicely too.

When I photographed it I decided it needed something to break the symmetry. My shadow, though a photographic faux pas, seemed the ideal element, especially since it's also something that suggests rather than is, unreality. Today's photograph is a different take on the trompe l'oeil idea from the example in my October post.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 14mm (28mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/800
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

A Victorian photographic effect

click photo to enlarge
Over the past few years I've tried on several occasions to photograph the church of St Laurence at Surfleet in Lincolnshire. This medieval building is known for miles around for its mainly fourteenth century tower that leans westward quite dramatically due to subsidence. However, it is one of those buildings that is hemmed in by trees on the side where the best photographs can be secured, a problem that is present in about a third of all churches if my experience is anything to go by!

So, this year I determined that I would photograph St Laurence (and a few other tree-bound churches) when the leaves had fallen. As I passed the building the other day the autumn winds seemed to have done most of their work, so I looked for my shot. The best composition I could find was from my favoured position at the south-east corner of the churchyard. At Surfleet this gave me a view with a tree trunk to the left and right with a veil of thin branches between, all of which acted as a "frame". Looking at the image on the computer I reflected that this was a very traditional composition, of the sort that might have been taken by a Victorian antiquarian with his plate camera. And that thought caused me to experiment with sepia tone and a bit of white vignetting. As I've mentioned before, I'm not a great believer in photographic "effects", but this one pleases me for its quite authentic old fashioned look, and so I thought I'd post it rather than my original colour photograph.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f3.2
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Clouds over Sutterton

click photo to enlarge
If you were to invent a "Forces of Nature Scale", somewhat analagous to the Beaufort Scale of wind speed, where 0 equals Calm and 12 equals Hurricane, with ever rising numbers and speed between, what would you place at 12? A volcano? An earthquake? A tsunami? It would probably be one of those, though if we extended the scale beyond 12 (as the Beaufort Scale has been in China and elsewhere to take account of tropical cyclones), then a meteor impact on earth would probably equate to the highest number.

In between would be blizzard, flood, lightning and various other manifestations of the power of nature. Somewhere near the bottom of the list would be clouds. These can, of course, bring precipitation, but often they just blank out the sun, or fill the sky with wonderful, fleeting shapes like an invasion of benign, diaphanous alien craft. A few days ago, as we walked in the vicinity of the Lincolnshire villages of Algarkirk and Sutterton, the bright, sunny afternoon gave way to the onset of evening rather quicker than might have been expected with the appearance of a bank of grey cloud. It rolled in across the flat Fenland landscape with a malevolent look in its eye. But it proved to be a sheep in wolf's clothing, and produced no rain to mar our enjoyment of a walk in the autumn countryside.

photograph & text (c ) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 58mm (116mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/250
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Webs and political families

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Is it just me or is there something quite worrying about family members (fathers and sons, husbands and wives, etc) achieving high political office in democracies? Am I right in thinking that where this does occur it is more likely to be due to "connections" and nepotism than the political attributes of the individuals concerned. And that even if these factors aren't at work the very fact that they look like they are should be enough to make those involved search elsewhere for employment.

During my lifetime it has happened in the United States with the Kennedys, the Bush family and the Clintons: there may be others but my knowledge of U.S. politics isn't so extensive. It happens in the U.K. too, though perhaps to a lesser extent than across the pond. We have husband and wife M.P.s and cabinet ministers who are descendants of cabinet ministers. Some would say that the fact that politicians are predominantly drawn from only a few areas of employment, from higher social classes, and from a limited number of academic institutions, is more of a problem. I would agree, but I nonetheless think that the family connections route to high political office is the way of dictatorships, and is a cheapening and corrupting influence on a modern democratic society.

I was reading recently about the aspirations of Jean Sarkozy which many say would be unrealistic were his father not the French president, and recall that Chelsea Clinton may have designs on a political future. To those who say that the sons and daughters of doctors, lawyers, accountants, teachers and plumbers often follow in their parents footsteps so why not politicians, I would remind them that those jobs require a demonstrable and examined level of competence, something that a career in politics can't claim!

I was thinking about offspring following in parents' footsteps the other day when I photographed a spider's web on my drive gates. Early morning fog had hung beads of dew on these delicate constructions, and as I made my images I noticed that some of them had two large drops at the centre. When I took a similar shot last year that web also had these two drops. Was this the work of descendants of last year's web architect? Is it a signature of a particular spider family? I have no idea! Perhaps someone with more knowledge than I have of spiders' webs can throw some light on this. Looking for something to distinguish this year's photograph from last year's I included some sunlit leaves which gave a yellow/green background rather than the green/blue/black of the earlier image.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 35mm macro, (70mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f4.5
Shutter Speed: 1/60
ISO: 400
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Autumn reflections at Deeping St James

click photo to enlarge
The earliest stone bridges in Britain - the clapper bridges - are simply large pieces of stone that span streams: sometimes just one, and on wider waters two or more with intervening supports. The technology of those early days didn't stretch to anything more elaborate and fashion wasn't a consideration; it was purely function that drove the design.

When arched bridges made of stone examples with semi-circular arches and pointed arches were often built during the medieval period. The Romans introduced the former, and the Gothic builders the latter, so it was these stone bridges were constructed from the C12 to the C15. In theory the pointed arch can span a wider waterway but the disadvantage is that it has to be built quite high to do so. Often a series of rounded arches with intervening piers was chosen instead, though many medieval bridges followed the fashion and have pointed arches. In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, with the influence of the Rennaisance, fashion turned to semi-circular, rounded arches, and also to segmental arches which involve a segment of a circle smaller than 180 degrees on vertical piers. However, the technology had not developed to the extent that earlier features could be jettisoned.

Today's photograph shows the Deeping Gate Bridge over the River Welland at Deeping St James. It connects Cambridgeshire (the left bank) with Lincolnshire (the right). This structure was built in 1651, a date that is carved into the stonework on the upstream side, and is typical of its period. Gone are the pointed arches and ribs underneath that allowed stone bridges to be lighter, but the short spans, heavy piers, triangular cutwaters and simple chamfered decoration of the arches remains. Not until the next century would balustrades, niches, panelling, statuary, urns and segmental arches wide enough to span a small river appear.

I have photographed this bridge before, but stopping at it the other day I was tempted into another shot by the reflections, autumnal tints and saturated colours produced by the largely overcast sky. On this occasion I positioned myself downstream on a footbridge.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 40mm (80mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/250
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Painting Heckington windmill

click photo to enlarge
I posted a blog piece about Heckington's famous 8-sail windmill about a year ago, and in that entry discussed a little of English windmills in general and the history of this one in particular. What I didn't touch on, however, is the fact that Heckington is one of the mills that are painted black. These are not uncommon in Eastern England. Skidby Windmill, in East Yorkshire, is another black windmill that I blogged about a few years ago. This dark finish is most often applied to brick-built post-mills, though some timber structures are similarly treated. There are those who don't like to see windmills finished in this way, regarding them as sombre looking, and seeing the paint as hiding the warmth of the underlying brick. Such people prefer to see the bricks as they are on Thaxted mill. However, there's no denying that when it is paired with white sails and fantail, as well as white painted wooden detailing (windows, doors, rails, and an ogee cap) the black paint looks very striking. What I don't know is if any windmills were painted in this way immediately after they were built, or whether the bitumen-based covering was always applied at a later date in response to the penetration of damp.

When I passed Heckington windmill the other day I saw a blue "cherry-picker" and a couple of workmen busy repainting the tower. They'd masked the windows with plastic and were applying the sticky liquid with long handled brushes, the old paint looking dull next to that which they were laying on. The substance they were using certainly had the look of bituminuous paint, but I suppose it could have been one of the newer acrylic products. It was an interesting scene, so I took a few shots of them at their work, and post both the best of my selection and a general view above.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 67mm (134mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/800
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

St John the Baptist, Great Hale

click photo to enlarge
Anyone approaching the church of St John the Baptist, Great Hale, in Lincolnshire, who has an interest in church architecture, will immediately notice its tower. It is unbuttressed, has no string courses, and its bell openings have twin rounded arches with a single dividing column. All of which says Norman, or possibly Late Saxon, i.e. the eleventh century. This period is a difficult one for architectural historians because not only were Saxon builders working in a Romanesque style not unlike that which the Norman invaders brought after 1066, but many must have continued in employment under the new rulers in subsequent years. The term "Saxo-Norman" is sometimes used to describe work of this time, and it is appropriate in the case of Great Hale.

Most of the rest of the church is Gothic and later. However, the tower has an interesting (Pevsner says "unique") narrow, circular stone stairway built into the thickness of the wall, rather than the wooden stairs or ladders that are more usual at that time. The parapet and pinnacles on the tower are C15. Its nave arcades are Early English (C13 to early C14), as is the south aisle (seen above) with its windows with intersecting tracery, and the south porch doorway. Other windows and details date from the C14 and later re-modellings, particularly that which followed the collapse of the medieval chancel in the mid-C17. The Victorians carried out a major restoration in 1896. A brass plaque records this:"Consequent upon the ravages to the Tower and Roof affected in the gale on Sunday March 24 1885 this church was restored." Part of the "ravages" involved a stone pinnacle falling from the tower top, crashing through the roof and damaging the wooden musicians' gallery. Interestingly, the church was at that time recorded as being in the village of Hale Magna: the English, "Great", was substituted for its Latin equivalent in the twentieth century.

On a recent journey between Folkingham and Heckington I stopped at Great Hale when I noticed the light on the building as I passed by. I've taken a few shots of this church before, none of which has satisfied me. This latest photograph is the best to date for that clear, sharp light, the colour of the trees and sky, and the composition that leads the eye from the foreground tree shadow, to the graves and east end of the church, along the nave, up the tower and into the autumn colours of the leaves.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 11mm (22mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/640
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On