Contre jour teasels

click photo to enlarge
The mongrel nature of the English language is shown by the number of words that derive from other languages. French, German, Dutch, Latin, Hindi, Arabic, Spanish - it seems that there isn't a people anywhere in the world that haven't contributed to English.

Some words are absorbed and the meaning is modified, as with the French verb "promenade" meaning to walk or take a walk. Though English speakers still use it in that way, today, in British English, it is more often a noun meaning the main path (and road) next to the sea where people prefer to walk for leisure. Other words have been adopted and the pronunciation Anglicised. The Hindi for a single storey house with a verandah, "bangla", was appropriated by European colonists and turned into "bungalow". Some words are absorbed with no changes to meaning, spelling and pronunciation. The French phrase "contre jour", meaning "against the day" is an example. Though English speakers do describe a photograph such as that above, as "against the light", "contre jour" is also widely used.

Winter is a great time for contre jour shots. The low sun is often behind objects that it would be above at other times of year. In winter, light is at a premium, so it's nice to be able to frame shots that emphasise it in the composition and effects. These teasels (Dipsacus fullonum), interspersed with dead umbellifers, were growing in great profusion by a stretch of water. I came upon them in midday light when each dried head had its own annulus-like halo. I was pleased to be able to include a lot of out-of-focus examples behind the nearer heads that I made the main subject of the image.

See here for more information about teasels, and for another of my contre jour shots of these attractive seed heads.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 150mm (300mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Mist and contre jour

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It occurred to me when I was reviewing my recent photographs that Keats' "season of mists and mellow fruitfulness" is also, for this photographer, the season of getting back into contre jour shots, a time when I once again become a "close bosom-friend of the maturing sun". In high summer I tend to see the sun as something to work around. Its position, high in the sky and its floodlighting of the landscape make it something to be avoided across the middle of the day. Only very early and very late does it offer itself for inclusion in the frame, and only before 11.00am and after 3.00pm does it produce the kind of shadows that I like for modelling a landscape or building.

However, from September onwards the sun becomes much more co-operative. Its position in the sky when I am out and about with my camera means that I can often choose to include it if I wish. Moreover, early and late that low position adds drama to contre jour shots. The third of my "misty" photographs from the Yorkshire Dales exemplifies this. As we continued our walk the mist thinned then, unexpectedly, swirled back in again. The small group of trees ahead of us started to be enveloped and the clouds that had rolled in began to be obscured. And, as we climbed the hill towards them the sun broke through behind the foliage sending out the odd light ray: perfect for a contre jour shot, so I framed a composition and pressed the shutter.

I suppose for the benefit of doubters (you know who you are!), and in the light (pun intended) of my recent posting, I must add that no artificial photographic aids were used in the production of either the mist or the light rays. All is as was laid out before us on that October morning.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 28mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/2000
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Contre jour pier

click photo to enlarge

Contre jour means, literally, "against the day", but a better English translation is "against the light". Today's photograph is another of this kind of shot taken around the same time as yesterday's, further down the pier at Southwold. At one time in my photography of recent years I seemed to be taking these almost daily, perhaps seduced by the drama that is injected into an image when your lens moves near to the sun (see examples here, here, here and here). Today's photograph, however, whilst it has more impact than the same shot with the sun behind me would have had, is rather more subdued than the photographs I used to regularly turn out. Perhaps that's down to the clear sky, sharp details and shadows, calm sea and relatively few people.

Black and white is often used as a means of emphasising the powerful qualities of contre jour. Nineteenth century photographers noticed this effect almost immediately, and early cinema exploited it too, although in motion pictures it was the German Expressionists, such as Fritz Lang, and the Hollywood "film noir" of the 1940s and 1950s who took it to its heights. It's something I mean to do more of as autumn progresses and the sun is lower in the sky.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 22mm (44mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/2500
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Southwold Pier

click photo to enlarge

As you point your camera nearer to the sun the dramatic quality of your image increases - and the colour drains away. That thought ocurred to me when I reviewed this photograph on my computer. But then I thought, hang on a moment, Southwold Pier is pretty devoid of colour anyway, so this image doesn't make that point very well.

I used to take more contre jour shots than I do now. I think it is my change of location to rural Lincolnshire: the subjects that work with this approach are now harder to find. However, on a recent visit to Suffolk I did take a few against the light, of which this is one. I kept the sun's brightness out of the shot - you can just see the edge of it at the top right of the frame.

I chose this shot for today because it happens to illustrate a few of the compositional devices I listed yesterday. Framing, using the posts and pier name; contrast by shooting contre jour; leading lines (the railings and pier itself); repetition of forms; balanced asymmetry (the sweep of the near pier to the left, the thrust of the main pier and pier name to the right); and a single subject. But, as I say above, it doesn't make my point about colours dying away as you point the lens closer to a strong light source.

Southwold Pier opened for business in 1900. That being the case you'd expect it to have large, ornate pavilions, substantial benches, decorative railings, and lashings of bright paint to emphasise that a pier is all about FUN. However there are a couple of reasons why the pier is a sober and studied essay in white, black and grey (the primrose yellow landward building excepted). The first is because, as with most piers, it has been knocked about a bit and very little remains from the early days. In 1934 a storm swept away the T-shaped landing stage at the end of its 810 feet (245m) length. Then, during the Second World War, like many east and south coast piers it was cut to prevent it being used by invasion ships. A further indignity was visited on it when it was struck by a drifting mine that exploded taking down another section. Repairs in 1948 proved to be insufficiently robust to prevent a 1955 storm cutting it in half, and in a storm of 1979 it was reduced to a stump a mere 150 feet (45.4m) long. However, in 1999 a fund raising campaign secured enough money to rebuild it, and in 2001 it was re-opened in the form we see today. That brings me to the second reason for its sober colours and undemonstrative architecture. Southwold is one of the English seaside towns without an "amusement" area. The place has a reputation as a middle-class playground, and I imagine that this is not unconnected with the pier's appearance and its difference from most other English piers.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 16mm (32mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/1600
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Snowy fields and contre jour

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For the past two days we have had snow. Not an unusual occurrence in winter, but these falls come at the end of a particularly mild and rather wet autumn, are heavier than is usual in this part of the world, and are accompanied by temperatures that are at or below freezing by day and night.

Snow is like manna from heaven for photographers, and so I've been making the most of it. One of its virtues, photographically speaking, is that it so changes the subjects that you've photographed before that you feel motivated to snap them again. Furthermore, contre jour shots take on a special quality when snow is on the ground, so I feel driven to take rather more of these than usual.

Today's shot was taken during a morning walk around fields near our village. The snow was criss-crossed with hare tracks, the sky above with the vapour trails of airliners, and the snow had long shadows thrown by the low sun. I chose this piece of relatively smooth snow for the foreground because you are never quite sure what kind of flare you're going to get when you shoot into the sun - it varies with the camera/lens combination - and a smooth surface allows any lens artefacts to show up properly. On this one I got a a small "rainbow" towards the bottom of the frame. This shot is just what came from the camera, with no filter or post processing, except for a little noise suppression in the sky.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/1600
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Poppies and contre jour

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Light through petals is a beautiful sight. During the summer months I frequently make use of the low sun of morning and evening as it slants across our gardens, lighting up the petals of the flowers. A those times of day there are also pools of deep shadow and the combination of illuminated flowers and shade makes a striking contrast.

However, there is one problem with photographing contre jour flowers - the best effect is seen from behind the blooms because the flower heads are always turned to face the strongest source of light. Consequently, if you are a purist about such things (and I don't think I am) then every photograph of this kind has an unsatisfactory element to it.

Today's shot illustrates this up to a point. To achieve the striking red points that make this photograph work I had to be in a position where all the flower heads were facing away from me. In fact, it matters less in this example because the flowers are working as points of colour in a larger composition rather than being the sole subject. I took the photograph on an evening walk as we passed a field of oilseed rape.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 36mm (72mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/1250 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Starters, finishers and contre jour

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One of the lessons I've learned in life is that many people are good starters but significantly fewer are good finishers. Consequently,if you want to succeed it helps to be a finisher. What do I mean by that? Well, you've doubtless seen people who will begin a grand re-design of their garden, or begin to build an extension to their house, or start renovating an old car, or set off with great gusto on a work-related project only to slow then come to a halt before it is complete. Sometimes they get under way again, but all too often they once again give up and the task they began languishes in an unfinished state for months or years, and frequently is never accomplished. Though that doesn't stop some beginning another abortive undertaking!

Finishers have vision, determination and perseverance. Starters have vision, but lack those extra qualities necessary to see things through to a conclusion. As I took today's photograph I wondered if the builders of the new "bowstring" footbridge over the River Witham, near St Botolph's church in Boston, Lincolnshire, were finishers. The bridge has been open since February 2014, yet every time I've crossed it since that time there has been security fencing, "men at work" signs, piles of paving material etc all indicating that the finishing touches still haven't been completed. You can see some of those wretched movable barrier fences on the right of the photograph.

Purists might bridle at today's image with its flare, vignetting and blown highlights. I don't mind such things. In fact, every now and then, usually in winter, I actively seek them out with a contre jour shot, as was the case with this photograph.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 10.4mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/250
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation:  - 0.3EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Ruskin, weather and contre jour

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"Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces us up, snow is exhilarating; there is really no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather." John Ruskin (1819-1900) English art critic and author


Though an active supporter of the Pre-Raphaelites and a firm believer in the primacy of painting over all other visual arts, John Ruskin took a keen interest in photography and used a camera. He was one of the subscribers to Eadweard Muybridge's 1887 publication, "Animal Locomotion, an Electro-Photographic investigation of consecutive phases of animal movements." In 1856 he made daguerrotypes of the towers of the Swiss Fribourg, also drawing them freehand, then comparing the results. His view was that the photograph was "more right" but that the sketch "nevertheless conveys, in some respects, a truer idea of Fribourg than the other, and has, therefore, a certain use." Though he was thinking in artistic terms I am sure Ruskin would not have been slow to spot the continuing use today of technical drawing rather than photographs to illustrate car, camera and many other instruction manuals, and to use this as further proof of the value of drawing over photography.


His views on weather are ones I share, particularly from a photographic point of view, though our recent extended wet spell is testing me. Extremes of weather offer "different" kinds of images to the photographer. Snow, fog, rain and the rest, though presenting certain difficulties that fair weather doesn't, nonetheless give the opportunity for photographic drama, simplicity, contrast and much else. The recent wall-to-wall rain that has beset the British spring and summer briefly cleared one recent afternoon and we took the opportunity to venture out for a walk. The roads were lined with deep puddles that hadn't drained away, the tarmac glistened, reflecting the sun, and the ragged clouds offered every shade of grey. I caught my wife with this contre jour shot as she wended her way between the pools of water. When I looked at it on the computer screen I liked the deep contrast and almost moonlight feel to the image that appeared when I converted it to black and white. It was, I reflected, a photograph that could only have been taken in this kind of Ruskinian good weather.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 7.9mm (37mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/1600
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -0.66 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Bicycles and pedestrians contre jour

click photo to enlarge
One of the advantages of winter sun (in the northern hemisphere) is that it is relatively low in the sky. Consequently contre jour silhouettes and deep, elongated shadows are available during the day and not just early and late as at other times of year.

I saw these bicycles in a pedestrianised street in Peterborough when shopping the other day and liked the bold shapes they made. After I'd taken my shots I seemed to remember photographing bicycles against the light in similar circumstances before. A quick search of the blog turned up the image and proved my memory still works reasonably well despite my advancing years. The main differences between the shots is that I used a much wider angle on the earlier photograph and above I used a longer focal length to minimise the elements I wanted in the composition.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: Bicycles and Pedestrians, Peterborough
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 56mm (112mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/500 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

No cuttlefish harmed!

click photo to enlarge

This photograph is not sepia-tone. It shows the colours as they came out of the camera, and the brown hue is entirely natural. Well, as "natural" as any colours can be that are recorded by the sensor of a digital camera.

The original sepia-tone, as seen in countless late nineteenth century portraits of Victorians, came about through the desire to make photographs less prone to fading. Interestingly, 2006 was the year when modern printer pigments surpassed the longevity of traditional, silver-based printing. Images can now be made that will resist fading, it is calculated, for 200 years. The introduction of the original sepia colour in the 1880s followed the discovery that adding dye from the common cuttlefish (Sepia officinalis) to a positive print increased the durability of the photograph. This worked by converting any remaining metallic silver to a more resistant sulphide. The consequent brownish cast was, depending on your point of view, a pleasant or an unfortunate consequence of this technological advance. Quite why some contre jour photographs taken with modern cameras produce this sepia-like effect I don't know. What I can tell you is that no cuttlefish were harmed in the production of this image!

I took this photograph on Blackpool's North Promenade on a fairly recent sunny afternoon. The light was emphasising the curve of the tram tracks as they straightened up and disappeared into the distant vanishing point of the Tower. Shapes, particularly the tram poles, the overhead booms, and the receding blocks of the nearby wall, made strong silhouettes in the contre jour light, and increased the focus on that distant point. But, foreground interest was needed, so I asked my wife to walk ahead! I used a zoom lens at 92mm with the camera at Aperture Priority (f6.3 at 1/1250), ISO 100, with -0.3EV. The post processing mainly involved increasing the contrast.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Photographing the commonplace

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One of the achievements of photography is to draw our attention to the commonplace - to the everyday, the banal, the humdrum, the mundane, call it what you will - that is part of everyone's experience. Some photographers devote their time to nothing else and produce work that the man in the street often characterises as dull, boring, prosaic, vapid - again, choose your own word. However, framing a selection of our everyday surroundings is a worthwhile undertaking because it allows us to see it afresh, "elevated" through the attention given to it by the act of photography. It's a process that helps us to better appreciate what we've previously taken for granted and can enlarge our understanding and appreciation of our surroundings. Of course one man's commonplace is another man's exotic: what an inhabitant of, say, the Gulf states sees as banal will be viewed as alien, almost otherworldly, by a North European, and vice versa.

I was reflecting on this as I took today's photograph. It shows a view of the edge of a smallholding seen from a narrow Fenland drove road. A couple of small oak trees, the last of their leaves still clinging on, frames part of the smallholder's plot that is ploughed and carries a small crop of brassicas. A couple of home-made bird scarers fashioned out of orange plastic sacks flutter over the vegetables. Beyond is a large field of brussel sprouts and on the horizon a village that is marked by a few houses, a low church tower and a cluster of trees. It's a scene of not a great deal enlivened by its contre jour character. But, I think it is as deserving of a photograph as anything else at which I point my camera.

Today's theme is one I've touched on before, as in the accompanying text to this photograph of a Lancashire seawall and this wet Fenland track.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 24mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/320
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

These boots are made for blurring

click photo to enlarge

The best way to improve your photography is to take photographs. Even when you feel no inspiration, are disatisfied with your output, and can't see an image to save your life, keep taking photographs. As I've observed before, in time the shots will come to you without you having to chase them.

Another strategy that you can adopt is to set yourself a target or project. This blog is part of my ongoing attempt to improve my photography. The simple fact of having to come up with frequent images that are good enough for you to present to the world without feeling too much shame or embarrassment, is an excellent motivator. It has made me search for images in places where I might otherwise not have looked, and consider styles of photography that don't come naturally to me. Ultimately it has driven me into a range and type of photgraphy that I feel comfortable with, but which is fairly wide-ranging. And, it has helped me to understand what I am doing when I make images.

But, sometimes you have to be a little more specific. In recent months I've made a conscious effort to try and photograph more contre jour subjects. Many of what I consider to be my early successes came from this approach and I felt I'd neglected it in the past couple of years. I've done some, but perhaps not as many as I would have liked. Recently I've given some thought to motion blur shots. My most recent iteration of Best of PhotoReflect (version 5) has a section with this title. It was always my intention to mine this seam for a while and fill out this category. However, I've done precious few such shots since I put it together. So, that's my latest aim - more motion blur. Today's photograph is the first of my recent attempts that I'm sufficiently happy with to post. It shows booted feet ahead of me as, with my companions, we ascended some steel stairs at Tate Modern in London. I liked the colour, repetition, simplicity and interesting blur of this shot. We were on our way to see the latest work to fill the old turbine hall, the gallery's main space -it is Ai Weiwei's "Sunflower Seeds" - and I found it an underwhelming experience. Of which more later!

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 67mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/4
ISO: 3200
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Wind, cycling and wheat

click photo to enlarge

People who don't cycle think that the main problem with this form of transport is the big lumps of metal and rubber that flash past you at high speed. They're not wrong; motorised road traffic spoils cycling, though not as much as might be imagined. They also think that the second problem is rain. In that assumption they are wrong, because wind is much more of an issue than the wet stuff. For many years I chose to cycle to and from work, and for much of my life, I've been a reasonably regular recreational cyclist. Not a stripped down, day-glo, skin-tight clothing, head down, bum in the air, hell-for-leather kind of cyclist, but a saunter along with my wife, panniers full of camera and lunch, let's stop here and have a look around sort of cyclist. And, while rain can, literally and metaphorically, put a dampener on your day, a strong head-wind will usually do it to much greater effect. In fact, as far as cycling in the rain goes, the adage that I've heard in connection with walking applies: "there's no such thing as bad weather, only the wrong clothing". Non-cyclists think that the cold is a problem too when you cycle. It isn't because in those circumstances the bike's in-built heating system can be applied: if you're cold pedal harder and you're soon warm! No, when it comes to the unpleasant side of cycling, for me its motor vehicles and wind, and, I almost forgot, rutted ice on the road.

Consequently, when a few days of cloud with strong and gusty winds was replaced by a day of calm with sunshine and cloud, I took to my bicycle and headed out into the fens. I came back with photographs of wind turbines and sheep. I've said elsewhere in this blog that I make a conscious effort, not always successfully, to remind myself to vary aspects of my photography. "Take more contre jour shots" or "Add to your collection of motion blur shots", I say to myself. Another one is, "Take more shots from a low viewpoint". When I parked my bicycle against a gate near a wind farm it was that last thought that came to mind. So I stepped into a field of short winter wheat that was greening up nicely and took this photograph from down amongst it. My bike with its single pannier and bar bag - great containers for carrying photographic necessities - added a point of interest to the shot.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 24mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/250 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Dedications and weather

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All Church of England churches have a dedication, usually to a saint, but often to the Virgin Mary, the Trinity, the Holy Rood (Cross), or one of a few other religious symbols. This dedication is usually included in the full name of the building. So, the faintly seen structure in this photograph is The Parish Church of St Swithun, Bicker, Lincolnshire.

Usually the dedication that the church carries today is the one that it originally received a thousand years or more ago. But sometimes it is changed. Bicker's church has always, as far as I know, carried the name of St Swithun, although sometimes it has been, and still is, written as St Swithin. Who was this person? Well, he was a Bishop of Winchester, who died in the year 862, and whose life is relatively well recorded. He appears in"The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle" and several other ancient texts. Like most saints his fame increased after his death, and miracles began to be attributed to him. Swithun's best known miracle is the restoration of a basket of eggs that some workmen had deliberately broken! However, in England, his feast day - 15th July - is much better known than that of many other saints. This is mainly due to the saying that surrounds rain falling (or not) on that particular day: "St Swithun's day if it does rain, For forty days it will remain, St Swithun's Day if it is fair, For forty days 'twill rain no mair (more)." So, English folk who know this saying pay special attention to the weather when 15th July comes around, and hope that precipitation does not bring forty days of wetness right in the middle of summer!

Rain wasn't the prevailing condition when I photographed St Swithun's. An overnight frost had coincided with fog, and the early morning sun forcing its way through gave an opportunity for a contre jour shot. A horizontal crop seemed to make best use of the photographic elements available.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 11mm (22mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/320
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -1.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: Off

Another view of fog

click photo to enlarge
Today's photograph was taken about seventy yards from and a few minutes before the shot in the previous post. And, where that image was captured with the sun behind me, this one was taken contre jour. That fact, the nature of the subject and the conversion of an essentially monochrome colour photograph into very definite black and white has resulted in this image acquiring a quite different mood. The previous shot has a slightly melancholic touch but it's essentially neutral, wistful or even slightly upbeat with the intrusion of that warming sunlight. However, here the stark gravestones silhouetted against the misty west end of the church is loaded with associations that, I can't help thinking, are largely the result of certain writers and a whole slew of horror and mystery films.

People such as Edgar Allen Poe and Charles Dickens knew that there is nothing like a fog or mist to evoke a feeling of cold, menace or fear. Think of Pip and Magwitch in the misty Kent marshes in the 1946 version of "Great Expectations". Better yet think back to how Guy Green, the Oscar winning cinematographer on that film depicted the scenes, and how influential his work was for succeeding generations of film makers such as John Carpenter. And then consider how these images have affected how the man or woman in the street views a misty churchyard. From Bram Stoker's "Dracula" to the latest teen horror, the combination of fog and a graveyard have become, in the popular mind, synonymous with supernatural dread. Of course, none of this influenced me in any way as I carefully composed and processed this photograph. Really. Just as it wasn't a factor in this photograph of a "House of Correction" or this one of a ruined church. Honestly!

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 18.9mm (51mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation:  -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Simple things

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"I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking", John Masefield (1878-1967), English poet

I find it both a wonder and a delight that, despite the technological progress that mankind makes, people still cling to the simple things in life. Take the bicycle. It is frequently voted the favourite invention of all time, yet it remains, essentially, the same classic, human-powered design that was perfected in the nineteenth century. Sinclair C5s and Segways may come and go, but the humble bicycle rolls on, evolving in small ways, but never forsaking its fundamental features.

So too with sail boats. I suppose paddled canoes came first in evolutionary terms. But it can't have been long before an alert sailor noticed the wind's effect on his upright body, and from there it would have been a small step to rigging up a sail. So, sail-powered boats of one sort or another must have been around for millennia. And they still are. The delight that sailors get from being propelled by the wind, from learning how to sail against it, and from feeling at one with the elements is palpable to anyone who has watched dinghies whizzing over the water. Yes, you can go faster with an outboard, and there is a certain sort of person to whom the motorcycle of the waves - the jet-ski - is the ultimate thrill. But the fun of slapping through the water accompanied by the sound of flapping sails remains a draw to sailors young and old.

The dinghies of the Blackpool & Fleetwood Yacht Club on the tidal River Wyre at Skippool race when the water is high. This area of estuary with its wildlife, mudflats, reedbeds and saltmarsh is a Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI). Yet the gentle passage of the dinghies and even the larger yachts create little disturbance, and the plants and animals co-exist happily with their human neighbours. I took this contre jour photograph early one morning as the dinghies were being readied on the slipway prior to launching at high tide. The cloud and vapour trail patterns, the light through the sails, and the silhouettes presented an evocative sight. I recorded it with a wide zoom lens at 22mm (35mm equivalent), with the camera set to Aperture Priority (f8 at 1/2000 second), ISO 100, with -1.0EV.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

A good year for poppies?

click photo to enlarge
One of the good things about the internet is that it's quite easy to find someone who thinks like you do. One of the bad things about the internet is that it's quite easy to find someone who thinks like you do. Consequently, creating an organisation or movement for beneficent change and progress is easier than ever before. But, mobilising a group of people who share the same bigotry, hatred and intolerance is not difficult either. In fact, such is the breadth of opinions to be found expressed on websites, blogs, forums, social media etc, it is possible to find written support for just about any proposition you care to make, no matter how extreme, ludicrous or unhinged it may seem to most people. The days of misunderstood youth or paranoid misanthropes languishing in the conviction that no one feels the same as they do must surely be long gone: a quick search will quickly throw up fellow loners who share their misery and delusions.

On a lighter note, the internet is also a place where you can take soundings. I tried this the other day in connection with my impression that 2013 has been a particularly good year for poppies in the United Kingdom. Sure enough, I found several pieces written by individuals who expressed the same thought. So I'm right. Or am I? Just because, out of the millions of people who have looked at poppies in the fields, roadsides and gardens of our country, a handful have expressed the same opinion as me doesn't mean we are correct. Perhaps the silent majority who haven't expressed a view publicly feel the number of poppies is no more, or maybe fewer, than usual. As a means of arriving at a reliable judgement simply looking for people with similar views is not a very sound method. Helpful though it undoubtedly can be, the internet has the capacity to very easily reinforce wrong thinking.

Today's photograph was taken in my garden. I posted a shot of "wayward" poppies earlier this month. I see the contre jour image above as one that shows them growing more typically.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 168mm
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/320 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Take two

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I'm not averse to taking shots of the same subject at different times to try and get a better image. In fact, it's part of what I think a photographer should do. You learn far more from doing this than by searching for a new subject for every exposure. In this blog I've done it with several churches including Quadring, Bicker, and Sleaford, though I've done it less with landscapes. However, on my recent visit to Settle, North Yorkshire, I tried to take a shot from the same place that I'd stood to take one last October.

The precise location I chose last year was in Watery Lane to the south of the town. It was early in the morning and mist was being burned off by the low sun but still lingered and obscured the nearby hills. I chose as the main focal points of my contre jour composition two gates that presented eye-catching, dark silhouettes. The shot is one of my best landscapes from 2012. Passing those gates at the end of June I tried to compose the same shot but in conditions of quite different weather and lighting. Of course, when you are working from memory you're very unlikely to stand in precisely the same place or to set the focal length of a zoom lens the same as in the first shot. And so it proved here.

I quite like the result of the second photograph. It clearly doesn't have the same impact as the first but what it does illustrate is how important lighting can be in securing an eye-catching photograph. Not only is the contrast and drama enhanced by the sun in the first shot, the mist and the indistinct shapes of the trees establish a particular mood. The photograph above lacks those qualities but is better in terms of reportage about the Yorkshire Dales landscape.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 12.3mm (33mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/640
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation:  -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Soft sky at Aldeburgh

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When, many years ago, I first started to take a deeper interest in photography I began to think more about the weather, and particularly about the sky. Until I put more thought and effort into my pictures the importance of these two things hadn't really struck me. I'd read about light being the key to good images, and had seen how light can transform the mundane into something special. But, in every example that illustrated this point in magazines and books (no web then) it was either sunlight or flash that was the light source working its magic. Contre jour lighting, a low sun, flash pointed at the camera, deliberate flare, deep shadows contrasted with illuminated areas, and other techniques were very alluring, and fixed in my mind the value of a bright light source as a way of achieving drama.

What was never said, or at least I never read, was that soft, natural light, the sort of light that is spread evenly across a scene by a thick covering of cloud, can also lend a scene a delightful quality that has an appealing, understated beauty. But, over the years, I came to appreciate this kind of light and the weather that produces it. However, not just any old clouds will do. Low, uniform, stratus offers little to the photographer: the clouds have to have shape and shadows or include thinner, brighter areas. When this happens the colours on the land below are muted and highlights are few; the landscape can appear to have been drawn on dark paper with pastel crayons. A couple of days ago I had one of these skies as I was photographing on the beach at Aldeburgh in Suffolk. The shot I secured could never be described as dramatic, but it does have that calm, subdued softness that I like.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 19mm (38mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/800
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Climbing the north face of the high street

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"Our Himalayan suit will keep you alive in minus 40, minus 50 degrees. Not so many people are going to go to Everest but you can trust we are going to keep you dry even if it's only while you walk the dog."
Timo Schmidt-Eisenhart, head of European division of North Face outdoor clothing company (quoted in The Guardian, 11th December 2010)

The other day I was laughing at and lamenting Toyota's advertising pitch for its 4X4 vehicles. Their suggestion that because they are the only manufacturer to make an off-road vehicle that has journeyed to the North Pole then you should buy one for whizzing about the roads and lanes of Britain seemed to me risible. And then, a couple of days later I read an article about North Face and how their clothing, which includes some that is designed for climbing etc, is a fashion hit on the high street because of, to quote one of the authors, "the discreet badge of masculinity the logo confers." Ridiculous, but probably right. People are daft enough to swallow the line spun by such companies. In fact it appears to be a basic marketing approach across a range of consumer products. You want to sell cameras? Get a high-end model into use by professionals then sell the consumer models on the back of it. How about a family saloon? Take the body shell of your mass-production model, gut it, re-engine it, change everything except the basic shape, compete in rallying or some other form of motorsport, then use the resulting images and associations (and trophies if you happen to be successful) to sell your mainstream cars to the man in the street. There are plenty of men (and increasingly women) who will buy cars on this basis. Ludicrous or what?

I was wearing no discreet badge of masculinity from North Face or any other "top brand" when I took today's photograph. In fact, the temperature was a couple of degrees above zero, and felt positively balmy compared with previous days. My subject is the Italianate pool and the classical loggia of the war memorial in the grounds of Ayscoughfee Hall, Spalding. The ice shows signs of melting, but it was several inches thick and so needed a good few days of higher temperatures before it became home once more to the mallard that were huddled on the bank nearby. The memorial building is by Edwin Lutyens who was also responsible for the Cenotaph in Whitehall, London. It is a fine piece of work that I must make the subject of a future blog post. Incidentally, the grounds of Ayscoughfee Hall are now public gardens with a cafe etc, and the unusual and wonderful name has prompted me to suggest, on more than one occasion, that we should have an "Ayscoughfee cafe coffee", a remark that usually provokes groans and pitying looks in my companions.

I seem to have taken a lot of contre jour shots lately, and have probably done enough to fulfill the pledge I made a few months ago to do more of this kind of shot.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 24mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On