Seeing what I see

click photos to enlarge

Due to my power supply failure I've been publishing blog posts from my second computer for several days now. When I've been looking at earlier posts produced on my main computer I've become very aware of the slight but significant difference in the way many images appear. My main computer is calibrated with an electronic device made for the purpose. The computer I'm currently using isn't. I could calibrate it, I suppose, but then I'd have to go through the process of adjusting my screen again when I receive and install my new power supply. And, to be blunt, calibration is a real pain, something that I do reasonably regularly anyway, and the prospect of doing it again unnecessarily doesn't appeal to me.

The upshot is, some of my earlier posts have "blown" areas in them when viewed on this machine, and I suppose those prepared on this machine will appear to be a touch dark when I get back to viewing them on my main computer. Does that matter? Well, yes and no. It matters to me in that I want to prepare photographs to the best of my ability and in the way that suits me. However, I have always been aware that other people viewing them on their computers may or may not have their screen calibrated and consequently may or may not see what I see regardless of whether or not I calibrate my computer. Even those with a calibrated machine may not see them quite as I see them, such are the dark arts of of this process.

All of which is my way of saying that if you detect a deterioration in the quality of my photographs that may account for it. On the other hand they may look better for you and you could be wondering what on earth I'm talking about! And with that remark I'll be quiet and say that today's trio of shots of St Helen, Brant Broughton, Lincolnshire, show the exterior and interior of a church, the architecture of which, I hold in high regard. I've posted a couple of images of this church before (this roof and this tower vaulting), and if you'd like to know more about the building have a look at those earlier posts.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 27mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/400 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Low key teapot

click photos to enlarge

My high key photograph of hydrangea petals made me think that I should complement it with a low key photograph that consists mainly of dark tones. And, since we bought a new stainless steel teapot recently that still retains the perfect lustre of its newness, it occurred to me that would make a suitable subject. So I took it to a spot that was lit by a single window, set it up on a piece of black vinyl that I curved up the wall behind to create a shadowless background, and took a few shots. As you can see, I dialled EV -1.33 into the camera to make the dark parts of the reflected steel merge with the black background and I made the subject of the photograph the light reflections as much as the elegant shape itself.

The difficulty in photographing shiny surfaces is that the photographer and/or the camera tend to be seen in the reflections. The first shot largely overcomes that problem by having the camera above the subject, though my legs and two tripod legs can still be seen. However, you wouldn't have known that was what they were if I hadn't told you, would you?! The other photographs have several colours in the reflection that give clues to what the room contains. But the conversion to black and white masks those distractions quite well. One method of avoiding reflections of this sort is to have a large flat sheet of card, paper, plastic or some such material that you stand behind, with a hole in for the camera lens. That way the reflection is pretty much a uniform surface.

Incidentally, when we bought the teapot our main concern was that we should buy one that pours well. You'd think that after millennia of making containers designed to pour properly this was a problem that mankind had cracked. But no, as we found out with a previous teapot, what is learnt can be unlearnt and it is perfectly possible to buy a teapot that pours badly. Fortunately, this one pours perfectly.

photographs and text (c) T. Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 100mm macro
F No: f11
Shutter Speed: 2 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -1.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: Off

Wilson Street, Newark

click photo to enlarge

Today's photographs show the quite "industrial" looking Wilson Street in Newark, Nottinghamshire. It is not the sort of street that you usually find alongside the graveyard of a large medieval church, and its presence there is all the more remarkable when you consider that there was once a matching terrace on the other side of the road where I took my shots. This oddity is explained by the fact that the houses were built (in 1766) by the vicar of the church, Bernard Wilson.

My curiosity about this Georgian cleric was piqued when I read Pevsner's summary about the terrace in "The Buildings of England: Nottinghamshire". He describes him as "an extremely wealthy pluralist of questionable character." A little digging uncovered the following. Wilson acquired his position and fortune by befriending wealthy men. His job he got through his contemporary at Westminster School, Thomas Pelham, who later became the Duke of Newcastle. His wealth came to him from the member of parliament for Newark, Sir George Markham. It seems that Markham promised Wilson a vast sum of money in his will if the young vicar married the MP's niece. Wilson inherited the money but didn't marry the niece. Further upsets and law suits followed Wilson as he tried to use his wealth to advance his own interests and those of the people he favoured. All this gave him a dubious reputation in some sections the town and society beyond, not a word of which is alluded to in his memorial in Newark church. This includes the following: "a man of sense, politeness and learning, without pride, reserve or pedantry. Possessed of an affluent fortune, his hand was ever open to relieve the necessitous. His extensive charities when living, and ample benefactions at his decease, have raised him a living monument in the hearts of the poor." Wilson did, in fact, use some of his money well, and for the alleviation of poverty. However, unsurprisingly, given human nature, those are not the foremost acts that posterity allies to his name.

The street itself is brick built with hipped pantile roofs. Raised bands separate the three floors. Pavilion-like projections close each end of the terrace and the centre projects by a similar (small) amount. This has a modest, central, arched doorway with a blocked fanlight. The houses were restored and converted around 1980. In some respects, though on a grander scale and earlier in date, they remind me of Nelson Street in King's Lynn. They have that same stripped-down, utilitarian feel. I like them for their unfussy spareness, though I'm not sure I'd like to live in them.

photographs and text (c) T. Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 40mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/80 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Hydrangeas and high key

click photo to enlarge

My wife spotted one of the detached, dead flower heads of our giant hydrangea as we walked through the pergola the other day and, as she pointed it out to me, I made a mental note to examine it as a potential photographic subject. By the time I got round to retrieving it for that purpose the wind had blown it, tumbleweed-style, across the garden and it had suffered quite a bit of damage. Nonetheless I took it indoors and and placed it on a white background under a bright light, hoping to base an image around the cluster of lace-like petals. But, as is often the case, what I saw in my mind's eye didn't appear quite the way I imagined it when I came to look through the viewfinder. The multiplicity of groups of four petals was simply too much: a simpler composition was required.

I tried a shot of part of the flower head with the edge offering a ragged outline against a plain black or white background. However, whilst better it still didn't satisfy me. So I took to pulling off a few individual petal groups and examining them. The attraction, it seemed to me, lay in the delicate veins of each individual petal and the way they were grouped  in fours like the blades of a propeller. So I built this simple composition with three stems and set them on a white background with the light source behind and to the side to accentuate the key features.

My natural inclination is to aim for a "perfect" exposure or to under-expose. I have something of an aversion to over-exposure for reasons that I find hard to articulate. And yet, when I see a good "high key" shot with the main subject appearing out of a blazing white background I often like it. I have it in mind to try more of this kind of shot myself, and have done so very occasionally, as I did with this shell. Consequently I thought I'd try it again here. I haven't gone quite as far as with the shell - all the details are still showing - but it is much lighter and brighter than it would have been had I followed both my inclination and the light meter.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 100mm macro
F No: f11
Shutter Speed: 0.3 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  +1.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: Off

Frosted leaves

click photo to enlarge

At the time of writing this blog entry winter has been pretty average in terms of weather. The temperatures haven't dropped too low but we've had a few frosts, there has been no snow and rain has been scarce but probably sufficient. There have been January gales causing damage to trees and buildings but, as far as this part of the UK goes, on the whole I'm glad to say that the extremes of the last two winters have been absent. I say, "on the whole" because, of course, weather extremes are food and drink for the photographer. The transformations wrought on familiar locations by hoar frost, snow or fog inspires us to take "different" photographs of familiar subjects.

The closest I've come to that recently was a wander around the garden on a few frosty mornings in search of a shot or two. I came back with very little of consequence but was moderately pleased with the two photographs I'm showing today. The first one with the Choisya appealed for the way the frost had given a white border to each leaf. This particular clump was projecting forward out of the main bush and consequently was better lit than the darker background. I emphasised this effect by a little digital "burning", that is to say darkening the areas behind the leaves a little more.

The Cotoneaster franchettii is an evergreen shrub that loses a small proportion of its leaves each winter. I photographed this particular hedge on a bright autumn day when it was loaded with red berries, but I prefer this photograph taken in January dullness for the way the colours glow against the backdrop. I also made this effect more pronounced, applying a dark vignette to the image.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 100mm macro
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/20 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  0 EV
Image Stabilisation: Off

Oriel window, Newark Castle

click photo to enlarge

"Oriel" is a word whose derivation is difficult to determine. My edition of the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) cites a 1239 usage by Matthew Paris, "oriolum", a Latin version of, it is speculated, the medieval English and Old French "oriol", "euriel" or "oeuriel". Here it is felt to mean a porch, entrance or antechamber. There is some thought that it might derive from aureolum, through the French, and mean golden or gilded, and by extension "gilded chamber". But what agreement there is settles on a meaning that includes a portico, corridor, gallery or balcony.

My first encounter with the word is in connection with a particular type of window, specifically one that projects as a bay from an upper storey without the usual downward extension to the ground of a traditional bay window. The OED's first recorded use of this definition of the word dates from the late 1700s and is in Horace Walpole's, "The Castle of Otranto", an early Gothic novel. However, an earlier definition, of the 1400s and later, for the word "oriel" (though spelt "oryel", "oryall" etc) rather than "oriel window" is summarised thus: "A large recess with a window, of polygonal plan, projecting from the outer face of the wall of a building, usually, in an upper story, and either supported from the ground or on corbels. Formerly sometimes forming a small private apartment attached to a hall, or the like." (My emphasis.)

So, what's all this ruminating about word derivation got to do with today's photograph? Well, I was wondering just what the builders and users of this fine oriel window on the exterior wall of Newark castle called it? Will we ever know? And does anyone (apart from me) care? What we are fairly certain is that it was inserted by Bishop Thomas of Rotherham in the 1470s to light a new upper floor in a hall. The early morning sun illuminating the pseudo-vaulting of the ceiling caught my eye and I asked my ever-present photographic model - my wife - if she'd pose in the window to add some human interest and an asymmetrical note to the old weathered stone and more recent railings.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 73mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/100
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Newark, a slighted castle

click photo to enlarge

In England the act of deliberately making a castle unusable for its original defensive purpose was called "slighting". It was an act carried out by a victorious army or a monarch who felt threatened by, or was disgruntled with, the powerful owner and occupier. Such "slighted" castles are very common, and this one at Newark in Nottinghamshire is a good example of the type.

The building stands on a cliff commanding the crossing point of the River Trent. The earliest parts were erected by Alexander, Bishop of Lincoln, around 1133. The very obviously Norman gatehouse, much of which remains, was his work. Subsequent centuries saw extension and rebuilding of the castle. Much of the curtain wall overlooking the river and two of the three turrets are likely to be the work of a later fourteenth century bishop, Henry de Burghersh. Interestingly, unlike most English castles of the period, Newark never had a keep.

The town of Newark was a Royalist stronghold during the English Civil War (1642-51) and the castle was subject to siege by Parliamentary forces on three occasions during the conflict. Only after the capture of King Charles 1 in 1646 did it surrender. The "slighting" began immediately. Buildings were taken down and stonework was removed from towers and the walls. The passage of time carried on the work of demolition until the town authorities and national heritage organisations brought it to a halt. The result is the romantic ruin that we see today. The interior now features a small park and a museum. Our recent visit to Newark coincided with cold, calm, clear weather and I took advantage of the still surface of the river to secure this photograph of the castle with its clear reflection.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 60mm
F No: f7.1 Shutter Speed: 1/400 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -1.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Living with vapour trails

click photo to enlarge

One recent cold and frosty morning, as I went out into the garden to feed the birds, I chanced to look up and saw a curving vapour trail that was being made by an aircraft heading away from me. It was an odd route for a four-engined jet to be on, and as I studied the sky I noticed the remnants of a couple more such trails slowly de-materialising. Looking closer to the horizon I could see more curved trails whose positions suggested they were part of the same trails nearer to me: clearly one or more aircraft was flying in large circles over Lincolnshire and the nearby sea.

Some of the bigger RAF bases are in the county so unusual vapour trails are a common sight. However, it was immediately clear to me that there was only one four-engined military aircraft that would deliberately fly in circles, at great height. I took a pair of binoculars outside to get a better look and my suspicion was confirmed: a Boeing Sentry AEW1 (AWACS) with its large radome slowly revolving above it was flying in a circle that must have been twenty, thirty or perhaps more miles in diameter. It was clearly participating in some kind of exercise, monitoring and controlling other aircraft and perhaps shipping or land forces below. Either that or we were being invaded!

In one of my first blog posts (actually the eighth, in December 2005) I sounded off about vapour trails, calling them, as far as a photographer is concerned, aerial graffiti, and suggesting that "only rarely do they add something to the image." My view of them hasn't changed since then. I find them an unwanted intrusion much more often than they are an element that I want to include in a composition. But, I have made a few images where vapour trails are, I think, key to their success. This landscape and this semi-abstract of a fairground ride are a couple that come to mind.

However, vapour trails, I discovered recently, aren't always so obviously intrusive. In saying that I'm not referring to those that are so dishevelled that they look like clouds. A few days ago, after I'd taken a speculative shot of the moon through some nearby ash trees and a veil of thin cloud, I noticed near the bottom of the brighter part of the photograph, a wavy vapour trail. As I studied it I reflected that you aren't even free of the wretched things when you're photographing at night!

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 300mm
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/10 sec
ISO: 3200
Exposure Compensation:  -1.00 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Blots on the landscape

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Mankind is responsible for many blots on the landscape. Limestone and other quarries take some beating. They are often found in areas of scenic interest and beauty and invariably produce the ugliest of scars that are not usually healed even decades after they've shut down. Then there are the so-called retail parks. Anywhere less park-like it's hard to imagine. Yes, they usually have a sprinkling of lollipop trees and a few shrubberies that are mechanically savaged yearly, usually at the wrong time, but they are basically a collection of ugly steel and glass sheds surrounded by acres of tarmac. I once opined that, had Breughel and Bosch been living today, they would have set their visions of hell in somewhere like Manchester's Trafford Centre.

Then there are the oil refineries. Mostly located on estuaries to enable the convenient supply of the raw material, and often incorporating other industries and processes based on oil, they are usually particularly bleak places. The forest of towers and pylons, some belching steam or smoke, are visible for miles. They are even, or perhaps especially, a night-time blot on the landscape. Because they are twenty four hour operations, when darkness falls thousands of lights appear and a sulphurous glow that reflects off low clouds marks their location.

And, yet, and yet. Even the darkest, most dismal of these blots, when seen in the right light, by someone in the right mood, can offer a fearsome grandeur. And, in much the same way that Philip James de Loutherburg found a subject for his paintbrush in the mighty furnaces of Coalbrookdale at the start of the industrial revolution, the photographer too can find something today in these places that offers a spectacle worth capturing on film. On my recent visit to Hull, when I was casting around for a subject, it was the distant refinery and power station at Killingholme that offered a detail to place between the darkening sky and the cold River Humber.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 218mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/640 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -1.00 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The sun and The Deep

click photo to enlarge

Each winter I try to take a few photographs that include the sun. I don't mean sunrise and sunset shots, though these are easier to acquire at that time of year - you don't have to be out and about early or late! No, I'm thinking more of when the sun is fully above the horizon though low in the sky: early afternoon is a good time.

What appeals to me about such images is the drama conferred by the big glowing white ball, the contrast that results from the deep shadows thrown by objects in the foreground, the flare that the lens often produces, and the sheer unpredictability of the outcome. On a recent day visit to the city of Hull I had little time for photography. However, I did manage to spend a short time around the point where the River Hull meets the River Humber. When I lived in the city I often cycled and photographed in this area so it's always a pleasure to return. On my visit I took a few shots that include the sun on the old High Street and then again from the new footbridge over the River Hull, upstream from the big, futuristic looking aquarium called "The Deep". Regular readers of this blog may remember images taken last year in this location (see this sequence). I was prompted to take today's photograph as much by the glistening mud revealed by low tide as anything else, but I was careful to use the sun as a visual counterweight to the building in my composition. The overall effect is a touch other-worldly but not, I think, unappealing.

For other winter images including the bright sun see this one with a gate and snow, this one also with snow, or perhaps this one with vapour trails.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 24mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/1000 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Great guitar, useless PSU

click photo to enlarge

A couple of days ago I got a new guitar. It's Washburn's version of the Gibson ES-335, a hollow body electric guitar whose design dates back to 1958. Why didn't I get a Gibson? Well, first of all I'm a cheapskate and wouldn't pay the approximately £2000 asking price. Secondly, it's widely held that other manufacturers' "look-and-sound-alikes" give you 90% of the functionality of the original: what you mainly lose is the cachet of the Gibson name. And thirdly, I'm not a good enough guitarist to warrant the real thing!

However, for a short while on the day it arrived I wondered if I'd made the right choice. When I plugged it in and played it I was very impressed by the sounds that it produced and the ease of the action. The workmanship looked very good. The problem was, my study acquired an odd odour. When I asked my wife what she thought it was she suggested a "burning electrical smell". The current in an electric guitar is minimal but I guessed it was the smell that some new electrical items give off when first used. Either that or something inside the body was in the process of failing. Anyway, we had to go out for an hour or so. When we returned I switched on my computer and powered up the guitar and the smell immediately re-appeared. Then my computer screen went black and it shut down. A quick examination showed that the power supply unit (PSU) had failed and that it was the source of the smell I'd erroneously linked to the new guitar. It was a relatively new replacement too, only installed 5 months ago, so I packaged it up and sent it back to the supplier for replacement under warranty. I'm unhappy about the PSU, but the guitar is great!

Consequently I'm using my second machine for all computer related tasks, including blogging. It's an old PC that came to me because it was superfluous to my oldest son's needs. I've installed the basics for photo-processing, but not the full suite that I usually use, and the monitor is uncalibrated. So, for a short while I'll be posting shots that require only minimal post-processing until my main machine is up and running again, photographs such as today's showing my new guitar. It was taken with the macro lens and is presented pretty much as it came out of the camera.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 100mm macro
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 0.6 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: Off

Turning the plough

click photo to enlarge

Before I moved from north west England to Lincolnshire I knew more about medieval ploughing than I did about ploughing today. I still do, but a few years in this most agricultural of counties has widened my understanding of modern methods. I was reflecting on this as, late on a January afternoon with shafts of sunlight piercing the cloud that was moving in from the west, we watched a tractor with its plough turning over the ground in a field on the edge of the village of Bicker.

A thousand years ago the single plough was pulled by oxen, five hundred years ago the horse was more commonly used, but during that long period little else changed in the way the land was prepared. A village commonly had three large, open fields each divided into selions of approximately half an acre (220 yards by 11 yards). These were parcelled together in groups (furlongs) that were often at right angles to each other with the irregular spaces at the edges of the fields (butts and gores) also ploughed. Over time each straight selion became banked higher in the centre and to have a characteristic curve at each end making it into an elongated "S" shape. This came about because the plough always turned the soil to the right and and because the ploughman turned the same way at the end of the selion to get ready to plough back down the strip. Where these medieval fields have been turned to pasture and escaped subsequent mechanical deep ploughing you can still see undulating lines, all with the characteristic curve at each end, especially when the sun is low and casting shadows across the land.

The modern plough that a tractor such as the one above pulls always has more than a single blade; here there are 6. The blades themselves are always made of steel where the earlier plough blades were wooden. In addition, the plough is turned over at the end of each run overcoming the problem of banking and "S" shaped curves. I took my photograph as the ploughman was undertaking this manoeuvre and about to reverse into his starting position. Noticing the camera he gave me a wave before he set off.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 100mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/200 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Roads, gates and winter views

click photo to enlarge

Newcomers to the Lincolnshire Fens often comment on the word "drove" that frequently forms part of the name of a road. Thus, a road leading north out of a settlement may be called "North Drove". I've written elsewhere about the derivation of this word and how it tells us something of the Fens' past. In fact, names of all kinds are often of much longer standing than is generally appreciated and can tell the inquisitive researcher much about the people who lived in an area long ago.

Today's photograph shows, in the foreground, a road that goes by the name of Low Gate. It runs from Quadring Eaudike to the village of Gosberton. In the vicinity are other roads with the word "gate" as part of their name: Sarah Gate, Bow Gate, North Gate, Water Gate, etc. The word gate in this context doesn't usually have the meaning that we would expect today. Rather, it comes from the Old Norse word, "gata" meaning "a way, a path or a road", and was brought to the area by Scandinavian settlers who arrived in the ninth century. Its definition was later expanded to include "a right of passage". Some field names also include the word. When I lived in the Yorkshire Dales, an area that was settled by Norwegian Vikings from Ireland, I knew a street called Kirkgate. This is a combination of Old Norse"kirkja" (a church) and "gata" (a street). In other words the incoming Viking settlers' equivalent of what is now the most common road name in England - Church Street.

I took my photograph from this particular point where vehicular traffic had gouged out depressions to left and right of the road because it gave me some foreground interest. The fact that water had collected here and nowhere else by road sides probably reflects the accurate naming of this road: here the land is likely to be lower than the surrounding area. In the flat expanse of the Fens the early farmers would have been very attuned to the slight depressions and prominences ("holmes") in the landscape. The former would have standing water in winter whilst the latter would be dry and suitable not only for livestock grazing in the colder months but also for siting permanent dwellings.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 40mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/50 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Jewels and photographic effects

click photo to enlarge

Circumstances have kept us fairly close to home in recent days. Yesterday, after struggling for half a day with an old laptop, trying to install Mint Linux on it - the machine was the problem not the software - I gave up and my thoughts turned to macro photography. I needed a pursuit that wasn't quite as frustrating as trying to make old hardware work with a new operating system.

I don't consider myself to be a macro photographer and yet every now and then I like to do a bit. It's the different view of the world that the macro lens gives that interests me. With that in mind I set about photographing a pine cone that I have on the bookshelves in my study. I took it upstairs into a bedroom where the light was good and set up some black and white vinyl sheets as a curved backdrop. This needed weighting down so I used my wife's jewellery box. I took my shots and decided that, on the whole, they were extremely average. So, I looked in the box to see if there was anything that I could use for a shot. I took out a few silver and black necklaces and arranged them in an "eye" shape and tried different brooches as the "pupil". Today's photograph with  a floral, enamel brooch in the centre was the best of the bunch. As I processed the shot on my computer I thought I'd try a few "effects " on it. I don't see myself as an effects person any more than I do a macro photographer: you'll find very few examples in the blog other than a bit of split toning. But, when I tried these radial rays I quite liked what they did to the image and thought they matched the subject quite well. It's a different kind of photograph from my usual fare, an approach that you won't see from me very often.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 100mm macro
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 2.5 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: Off

New uses for old warehouses

click photo to enlarge

The two buildings in today's photograph can be found near the railway station in Sleaford, Lincolnshire. They are, from left to right, a furniture store and a block of flats. However, the former was the old Clover Warehouse while the latter was (and still is) known as Sharpes Warehouse.

Sharpes International Seeds are a company specialising in "the development and supply of cereals, peas, beans, oil seeds (particularly linseed), grasses and root and forage crops." It is a company that can can trace its history back to 1560. Presumably the large Victorian warehouse that now houses 31 flats was part of that business, as was the old Clover Warehouse. I imagine that the location next to the railway was to aid distribution.

Both buildings appear to be examples of sensitive conversion to new uses. The basic shape of each building has been maintained, with even the covered loading bays still evident. I bent down low with my wide zoom lens at 17mm for my photograph and used the edge of the pavement and the double yellow "no parking" stripes as leading lines to take the viewer's eye from the foreground to the buildings. Black and white seemed the best option for this fairly graphic composition.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 17mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/640
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: N/A