Flowers, festivals and photographs

click photo to enlarge
Today's photograph shows a small part of a flower display in the church of St Botolph, Boston. This great church, begun in 1309, is celebrating its 700th anniversary, and one of the many activities it has arranged for this significant year is a large flower festival that is currently open to the public. The idea of flower festivals is that members of the church erect a series of themed displays around the interior of the building, using mainly fresh flowers and foliage, but also dried flowers and objects that support the theme. St Botolph's seventy six displays have been conceived by members of the church, but also by groups in the town and from across Lincolnshire. This has resulted in the standard of displays being better than I've ever seen before.

The themes are very varied: "John Cotton", "The Pilgrim Fathers", and "John Taverner" are representative of famous people associated with the church, whilst "The Slodgers", " The Fishing Industry", "Boston Landscape", "700 Years of Church Music" and "Local Commerce - Vegetable Growers" are typical of those that illustrate local life. I found the most eyecatching display to be "Agriculture - The Lincolnshire Way of Life", built around an old tractor that was positioned in the nave. However, the most artistically satisfying - and this kind of work can be considered decorative art of a kind - were "Fogarty's Feathers", a display in black, white and silver illustrating the industry devoted to pillows and duvets that is still found locally, and the very original "History of the Fire Service". The latter display was about a subject I've seen covered before by flower festivals, but never so well. It included artefacts - old firemen's helmets etc., and large displays that suggested the flames of fires. However, the part that caught my eye was this small composition on the aisle floor, using a picture frame, burnt photographs, fiery, smoke-blackened tulips and pieces of net.

It was, to my eye, the best detail of the much larger piece, in terms of both colour and conception, so I decided to isolate it, and try to make something of the composition against the lighter floorboards with their interesting grain. The final image has had the digital equivalent of selective "dodging" and "burning" (quite appropriate you might say!) to increase the contrast between the lighter and darker parts of the image. I've taken photographs at a few flower festivals, but as far as I can recall, have never used any in this blog. However, my visit to St Botolph produced two, so another will follow tomorrow.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 22mm (44mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f3.5
Shutter Speed: 1/4 seconds
ISO: 200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Photographing St Botolph

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A shopping expedition to Boston, Lincolnshire, when the day's appearance said spring, but the air temperature and wind said the end of winter, found me, not for the first time, pointing my compact camera at the tower of the medieval parish church of St Botolph. And what a tower it is. Many towns and cities are defined and remembered by a noteworthy building and as far as Boston goes this is the one. As I've mentioned elsewhere it is also known by the nickname, "The Stump". Its tower is an oddity of Gothic architecture. The medieval masons started building upwards and just kept on going. When you look at the layers that are piled one on the other it appears that a spire may have been contemplated at one point but then they rejected that conventional topping to the tower. Up and up it went until finally they decided to top it with a pierced, octagonal lantern.

Since that time "The Stump"
has been synonymous with the town, a beacon for ships approaching the port and a marker for weary travellers crossing the flat Fenland hinterland. When you walk around the town the tower rises above the roof tops allowing you to orientate yourself. Only when you go into the market place or nearby across the River Witham do the nave and chancel, themselves almost of cathedral scale but small relative to the tower, make an appearance. The classic photograph of St Botolph is from the town bridge. The appearance of a new "bow-string" design footbridge has changed that view somewhat and on my recent visit to the town I took a shot of the bridge and the tower, though not from the town bridge. Another photograph that suggested itself to me was the tower rising from the blossom of a cherry tree that grows in the lawned precinct immediately adjoining the church. However, the shot I took on Church Street, a location where I've photographed before, is the one I like best. It has the name of a pub - The Britannia - and a couple of promotional union flags, in the foreground, with the tower beyond. I liked the contrast of the bright red with the distant stonework.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen






Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 28.5mm (77mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/1250 sec
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The knight and the carnations

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One of the basic themes found in all forms of art is the pairing of unlikely bedfellows. The story of Beauty and The Beast exemplifies this very well, so much so that its basic idea was plundered, and subtle changes introduced, in stories such as The Hunchback of Notre Dame and Cyrano de Bergerac.

Fashion photographers are particularly drawn to this theme, placing their model and the the clothes they are showing off in the most unlikely of contexts. The English photographer, Cecil Beaton (1904-1980), renowned for his photographs of Audrey Hepburn and other film stars, as well as for photoshoots for the big fashion houses, is generally remembered for the images of elegance that he produced. However, one photograph that sticks in my mind is of a refined woman, coat casually draped around her shoulders, reading a newspaper that she holds in her white-gloved hands, whilst sitting on a concrete splattered saw-horse among grimy buckets, spades and the like. The contrast between the subject and setting was what drew the viewer into the shot.

Today's photograph is also an unlikely pairing, but one which I think works really well. It shows a tomb of a Knight of the Order of St John, dating from the 1400s, in the church of St Botolph's, Boston, Lincolnshire. I posted an image of this knight on the blog a while ago, and it depicts the tomb as one is used to seeing such things. However, when I visited the flower festival at St Botolph's (see yesterday's post), I found that someone had surrounded this fine piece of sculpture with pink carnations (and a few orange daisies). That simple act transformed the cold, dead stone, injecting life where there was none, lightening the mood surrounding the effigy, and introducing a colour that complemented the bluish tones. It was a photographic opportunity not to be missed, so I composed this shot using the out-of-focus blooms on the left to balance the head on the right.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 17mm (34mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f3.2
Shutter Speed: 1/50 seconds
ISO: 400
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Boston under leaden skies

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A recent walk around Boston, Lincolnshire with my camera coincided with leaden skies and drizzle. But, as someone who believes that there is no such thing as bad weather for photography, we persevered. Today's photograph was taken from the bridge by the Grand Sluice, the point at which the tidal waters of the River Witham are prevented from extending inland. The key feature of the shot is the tall tower of St Botolph piercing the sky and reflecting in the water as it has done for the past several hundred years

This medieval structure - the tallest parish church tower in the country that isn't a spire - looms over the centre of Boston much as it always must have done. No other buildings in the town can compete with its height except for the tall slab that is the Pilgrim Hospital, and that is sufficiently far away that the two can only be seen together from a great distance. It is a a great shame that more of our country's big medieval churches don't enjoy the physical prominence that they once did and that often they are dwarfed by towers of varying quality that have been erected with little thought for their venerable neighbours.

The dark sky and low light levels gave my photograph a quite monochrome appearance, with even the green of the grass, that had been spurred on by recent sun and warmth, not managing to pierce the drabness of the day. It also obscured the details along the river banks that allow the photograph to be dated, and were it not for the "bowstring" bridge in the centre distance, the shot could conceivably been taken any year in the last one hundred and fifty.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: St Botolph and the River Witham seen from the Grand Sluice Bridge, Boston
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 14mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/640 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The solar floodlight

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The five-day weather forecast for my part of the world, for the past few days, has been cloud, cloud and more cloud. And, every day thus far, we have experienced several sunny spells each day that have broken through the cloud cover. I'm considering becoming a weather forecaster - I would be just as good at getting the forecast wrong as the current crop of people.

Sun broke through again very briefly on an early morning visit to Boston, Lincolnshire, and prompted this photograph. When I was starting out in photography many decades ago I had a handy little Kodak booklet of hints and tips for taking better photographs. One suggestion was that the photographer should not take shots with the sun behind them. If the photograph included people it would cause them to squint at the camera, and the floodlight effect of the sun at this position would make the subject appear flat because of the absence of shadows to model it. This isn't bad advice, but like all such rules they are made to be broken knowingly.

What prompted this shot was the yellow tint that the low light gave to the subject of the church of St Botolph. The other was the way the sliver of deep shadow of the buttresses made it look like a flash gun was throwing a shadow onto the background of clouds. And the other was that this is a different kind of record shot of a subject I've photographed many times before. Incidentally, I wouldn't choose to shoot this subject with the lens open at f1.8 but I could see the shadow of the clouds slipping across the market place and I simply didn't have time to change the setting.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: Morning, St Botolph, Boston, Lincolnshire
Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 10.4mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f1.8
Shutter Speed: 1/2000
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation:  -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

A Boston view

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In the Middle Ages the medieval coastline made the town of Boston, Lincolnshire, much closer to the sea. It thrived as a trans-shipment point for goods going up the River Witham to the city of Lincoln. In 1205 the port was second only to London in the levy that it paid, and by 1300 it was paying a third more than the capital. The Hanseatic League had a base there in the fourteenth century, as did the Greyfriars, Blackfriars, Austin Friars and Carmelites. Decline in the sixteenth century was followed by expansion in the 1700s, and steady growth in the 1800s.

Much of Boston's past can be seen in the town today. The medieval street pattern remains, as do timber-framed and stone medieval buildings. A fine collection of eighteenth century houses, an Assembly Rooms, and warehouses can also be seen. By the River Witham are interesting nineteenth century buildings, including the old Public Warehouse (now flats) - the tall white building in this photograph. And, towering over it all, is the the magnificent, mainly fourteenth century, church of St Botolph. The tower, at 272 feet, is the tallest in England (though there are taller spires), and the building, almost of cathedral proportions, is one of the biggest parish churches in the country.

Boston's past, together with its present status as a busy market town and a regional centre of south Lincolnshire, means that the photographer has no difficulty in finding subjects to frame with the camera. This view of the River Witham, taken from the bridge on John Adams Way, shows the back of the High Street to the left, a section of river frontage, and St Botolph's tower in the background. I have photographed it before, but the overcast sky with a little sun breaking through gave a nice contrast to the scene, and this is my best image of this view to date.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 42mm (84mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/320
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: Off

Wide angle distortion and innovation

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The flood of innovation in cameras and photography in general that occurred following the introduction of digital into the mass market continues, albeit at a slower pace than five or ten years ago. Most recently we've seen developments such as the Lytro camera that allows you to select a point of focus after you've taken your shot, or produce versions of the same shot with different points of focus. Interesting though that is, it's not the first new development that I would wish to see. In fact, way ahead of such things I'd place a means of controlling wide angle distortion.

I was thinking about this the other day as I photographed the church of St Botolph in Boston, Lincolnshire. I've posted shots of the exterior of this building before (for example here, here, and here). These distant views show the tower or details, but not the whole of the church. That is because St Botolph is one of the largest parish churches in the country, its tower is the tallest (that doesn't include a spire), and it is quite closely surrounded by buildings. The only "open" shot you can get of the church is from a space near the edge of the market place. However, from this location a wide angle lens is necessary, and with that comes distortion that changes the emphasis of the component parts of the structure. More specifically, the tremendous tower with its "lantern" top is diminished in size and the nearness of the chancel causes it to assume a bulk approximately equal to that of the nave. Such equality of size is rare in an English church and it certainly doesn't exist at Boston even though its chancel is bigger than that of some cathedrals. If the photographer was able to somehow adjust the distortion that the wide angle lens produces and could bring a building closer to its proper proportions I'd be very happy. You may well think that to do so would break the laws of optics. But wouldn't we once have said that about selecting a point of focus after the shutter has been pressed?

The sharp shadows produced by the clear sky of an early November day prompted this shot. I usually wish for a few clouds when the sky is clear, but the searing blue of this autumn day also had its attractions, and without it those sharp shadows wouldn't have been there. Incidentally, in the photograph Herbert Ingram standing atop his column once again has the indignity of a bird perched on his head. Whenever I pass there's usually a pigeon in residence. On this occasion it was a black-headed gull that had claimed the prized spot from which to survey the world and scavenge for crumbs.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 17mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Town Bridge, Boston, Lincolnshire

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Today's photograph was taken, like quite a few of mine, on a shopping trip. A pocketable camera is a boon to a busy photographer, and I value the diminutive size and great quality of the Sony RX100: it is with me much of the time that I'm engaged on business other than taking photographs. Like many photographers I become something of a fisherman if I see a potential shot that I'm unable to capture with a camera, and the magnitude of the missed opportunity becomes ever greater with each memory of what might have been, so the RX100 dispels the regret associated with a missed shot.

The photograph above was taken from St Botolph's Footbridge looking down the River Witham towards the Town Bridge. I've taken several from the bridge depicted looking towards where I took this shot because behind my left shoulder is the tall medieval tower of the church of St Botolph, known locally as "The Stump". The view isn't a particularly scenic townscape. What prompted me to take the shot was the low afternoon light that was illuminating a few buildings. This, along with the reflections on the water and the deep shadows lifted the view and put me in mind of Dutch and English oil paintings from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries of such subjects

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: January Afternoon - Town Bridge, Boston Lincolnshire
Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 16.6mm (45mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f4
Shutter Speed: 1/200
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation:  -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Algarkirk

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Many architectural historians consider that the district of South Lincolnshire, long known as Holland, has the best group of medieval churches that England can offer. During the middle ages the flat landscape of the Fenlands echoed to the cry of sheep, and it was on the back of these animals that masterpieces such as St Botolph at Boston, St Mary at Long Sutton, and St Mary Magdalene at Gedney were built. Virtually every village in this area has an old church, often begun in the 1100s, added to in the 1200s and 1300s, and given a major overhaul or expansion in the 1400s using the money that flowed from the wool that made it one of England's most affluent localities.

St Peter & St Paul, Algarkirk (shown above) is one of the lesser known churches of this part of Lincolnshire. A cruciform building, it was begun in the 1200s, completed in the 1400s, and given a major restoration by R. C. Carpenter in 1850-4. At a time when the Victorian restorers were often heavy-handed, replacing old with new, and re-modelling with great insensitivity, The Ecclesiologist described Algarkirk as a model of refurbishment "so good it could hardly be improved upon". Tractarian principles were applied, with Carpenter aiming to be faithful to the design and spirit of what he found. So, new window tracery was modelled on the decayed original designs and examples from old drawings of the building: new choir stalls were based on delicate fourteenth century models rather than the current heavy Victorian style. Today the church sits in stately splendour in its churchyard, barely a mile from its contemporary neighbour, St Mary the Virgin at Sutterton, as much a pleasure to our eye as it must have been to the original builders.

Why is my title Algarkirk rather than Algarkirk church? In the Domesday Book of 1086 the settlement is called Alfgare which is thought to be an old Danish personal name (the area was settled by Danes in the early middle ages.) In 1174 it is called Algarescherche, adding the Old English "cirice" (church) to a variant of the original name. But, by 1212 the Old Norse for church (kirk or kirkja) was used and the village became Algarekirke. Clearly the building of this church that we see today resulted in the village name changing to incorporate its largest building. It is that which renders the additional word "church" superfluous in my title!

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 22mm (44mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/500
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: Off

The quest for immortality

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Is the personal quest for immortality through artefacts anything more than simple vanity? I can't see that it is. The idea that you want or need people to remember you after your death seems absurd to me. That family, friends and admirers might wish to remember a person is an entirely different matter, but naming a building after yourself, building your own marble mausoleum, having your statue cast, or writing a book with that purpose in mind, seems to me a rather pathetic act of weakness and vanity. I remember being disappointed when I read that John Keats' poetry was motivated, in large part, by his desire for fame and immortality, and that the drive that leads many to write was only a small part of his motivation. His reason for writing seemed to demean both him and his work.

This thought sometimes comes into my head as I look at the monuments and memorials in churches. Many are erected with gratitude by people who knew the deceased. But others are works commissioned by the person commemorated, and are clearly designed to portray him or her in a flattering light. Those depicting eighteenth century aristocrats in antique Roman costume, exuding classical nobility and learning, accompanied by a tablet of unctuous prose, are the ones I find particularly repugnant.

I don't know whether this fifteenth century knight of the Order of St John in the church of St Botolph, Boston, Lincolnshire, commissioned his own effigy, or whether it was made after his death. It is an interesting alabaster piece, and without sculpture such as this we would know much less about the armour of people of that time. However, as a commemorative piece it has failed, because, unlike many in this type of memorial, we no longer know precisely who is shown. We do know that the Order was active in Boston in the thirteenth century, that it maintained two hospitals and St John's church in the town, and that it was dissolved in 1540, but beyond that we know little. It may be connected with the family of Sir William Weston. Today we can enjoy it as a piece of sculpture, as social history, and as a tangible link to the place's past. But not as this person's stab at immortality.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 17mm (34mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/15
ISO: 400
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Streets and names

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High Street is one of the two most common street names to be found in England. Virtually every town and city, and many villages, feature a street with this name. "High" in the sense it is used here means "main". When street naming began in the New World it was the latter word that was chosen to prevent any confusion with "raised" or "elevated". Interestingly, when naming new thoroughfares the word "street" is much less used in England than formerly. House builders fancy that they can more easily sell a new row of houses if the address is anything but "street". So we have avenues, groves, lanes, chases, gardens, closes, places, leaps, ways, forges and even roads.

The second of the most common street names is Church Street. Most settlements had a church, and as they grew more were built. This simple descriptive name was an obvious choice. Where it was eschewed, it was often the name of the building's dedicatory saint that described the road, thus St George's Street or All Saints Road. For obvious reasons, in most villages, towns and cities, the High Street and Church Street are usually two of the oldest roads, and will frequently still have some of the most ancient and interesting buildings.

Today's photograph shows Church Street in Boston, Lincolnshire. Here the street is behind the Market Place, and leads from it to the south porch (the main entrance) of St Botolph. With a tower 272 feet high Boston's church creeps into many shots taken in the town. Here I framed it with the cobbles of the street, the Britannia pub, the row of shops on the opposite side, and the soft, white, summer clouds.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 19mm (38mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/500
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: Off

Palestra

 

click photo to enlarge

Today's photographs show Palestra at 197 Blackfriars Road, London. The building was designed by Will Alsop and Buro Happold and completed in 2006. Among the accolades it has received are the Royal Institute of British Architects (RIBA) Regional Award (2007) and Private Eye magazine's "Sir Hugh Casson Award for The Worst New Building (2006)". Will Alsop's designs seem to appeal to Private Eye: in 2008 he got the same award for The Public, West Bromwich. Interestingly, the general public have christened this community arts centre and office space, "The Fish Tank" and "The Friesian Cow". I'm not aware that Palestra has gained any popular appellations, but perhaps it has become less noticeable now that "The Shard" is rising above it not too far away.

A recent BBC News website feature posed the question, "Why do tall buildings have such silly names?" It's a fair question, though it should perhaps have been re-phrased, "Why do tall British buildings have such silly names?". London's Swiss Re building (2003) at 30 St Mary Axe, designed by Norman Foster, started the fashion in the UK in recent years, its curved point provoking "The Gherkin". Some, though not all, subsequent additions to the London skyline have attracted names where their shape has prompted a popular analogy to be made. One of the most noticeable is Robin Partington's, "The Razor", properly known as Strata Tower. It will soon be joined at 122 Leadenhall Street by  "The Cheese Grater". The BBC article shows other examples and names across Britain. Elsewhere in the world the given name tends to stick better, though there are exceptions such as Daniel Burnhams' Fuller Building (1902) in New York, known as the "Flatiron Building".

Irreverence in naming buildings is a feature of long standing in Britain. One of my early blog posts mentioned this in connection with the magnificent medieval church of St Botolph in Boston, Lincolnshire. It has a very tall tower capped with a lantern that is visible for miles across the flat, Fenland landscape, and fairly soon after completion it had acquired the popular name, "The Stump". It is still called that today. Perhaps a local wag will spot something in Palestra that prompts a humorous name, though nothing springs immediately to my mind. However, having said that, and with "The Stump" in mind, and in contrast to the elongated sharpness of the adjacent "Shard", perhaps it could be "The Lump".

photographs and text (c) T. Boughen

First photo
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 48mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/500
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Shodfriars Hall, Boston

click photo to enlarge

The Dominican Order of nuns and friars was founded in the early 1200s in France by St Dominic. It quickly crossed the Channel to England, becoming established in Oxford in 1221 and spread widely into many of the major towns thereafter. Here they became known as the Blackfriars after the black cloak that was worn over a white habit, and to distinguish members from the Whitefriars (often the Carmelites) and the Greyfriars (e.g. the Franciscans). However, they were also referred to as the Preaching Friars because both preaching and conversion were strong features of their work. A further name for the Blackfriars, much used in England, a country that specialises in conferring humorous names on the mighty, was the Shodfriars. This name arose because they used footwear, unlike the Greyfriars for example, and so they were always shod.

It is the latter name for the Dominicans that attaches to Shodfriars Hall, the black and white, timber-framed building of c.1400, in Boston, Lincolnshire. It was one of a group of buildings in a part of the town associated with the Blackfriars. Interestingly, the Hall itself may have been built as "The Golden Hows", "the principal mansion of the guilds". For many years the building was thought to be Victorian, so thorough was the restoration by John Oldrid Scott in 1874. However, even a cursory inspection reveals large parts of the exterior and interior structure to be original. It seems that people didn't look beyond the pierced barge boards, symmetrical timber-work, simplified pargeting and obviously new timbers, all of which recall Victorian Tudor of the sort that can be seen across the country, but particularly in Chester. Incidentally, the Gothic-style Victorian building with the crow-step gables, tall chimneys and steeply pitched roof behind and adjoining Shodfriars Hall is a former theatre. For those who are interested in such things it is where Arthur Towle (later famous as Old Mother Riley) made his first stage appearance.

On a recent trip into Boston I had meant to photograph the main facade. However, parked vehicles prevented that so I took a detail shot of the pargeted plasterwork with its Tudor roses and surrounding dark wood. Later I managed to get today's main shot from the tall tower of the church of St Botolph (The Stump) at the other end of the market place.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 161mm macro
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/400 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Sculpture as perch

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Whenever I visit Whitby in North Yorkshire I trudge up the steps of West Cliff, to the statue of Captain Cook at the summit, and gaze across the harbour at St Mary's Church and the Abbey. Then I turn and look at the figure of Cook himself and remember that there has NEVER, EVER been an occasion that I done this without there being a herring gull sitting on his head undermining the dignity of his pose, his fine clothes and his serious countenance, making him look absolutely ridiculous, not to say risible!

On my forays into Boston, Lincolnshire, I frequently stop and look up from the Market Place at the tower of St Botolph's church. On these occasions my gaze passes the statue of Herbert Ingram, a Swineshead man, founder of the Illustrated London News and Member of Parliament for Boston. I invariably find that he too is topped by either a black-headed gull or a pigeon that is intent on turning his hair white. In the recent past I've photographed three sculptures with birds on them, two in Southport (the other here) and one in Rotherhithe, London. I used to fondly imagine that gulls perched on statues of people to get their own back for the hard time we give them. However, finding birds standing on bird statues rather scotches that theory.

Today's photograph shows both black-headed gulls and feral pigeons making use of the handy perches provided by the outstretched bodies of Stephen Broadbent's 2002 sculpture in Lincoln, entitled "Empowerment". Despite the fact that the two figures of the piece reach out to one another across the River Witham I'm guessing that neither the sculptor nor those who commissioned it thought too much about its usefulness to the local avian population. I think this sculpture is better than many, but it's not one that especially grabs me. I do, however, dislike its title: it sounds like its been dreamed up by a council committee that lives for the latest jargon. However, the birds of this part of Lincoln love the sculpture. On one occasion I counted almost thirty crammed onto its "perching points". I'm not particularly keen on the supports for the two figures in this sculpture, but I quite like the two almost touching figures, so I made them (along with their feathered friends) the subject of my photograph.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 40mm (80mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/800
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The Stump

click photo to enlarge

In 1851 the Great Exhibition of the Works of Industry of All Nations opened in Hyde Park, London. It was housed in a large building called, unsurprisingly, the Great Exhibition Hall. The building's name didn't last very long because it was Joseph Paxton's revolutionary structure in cast iron and glass, and people immediately christened it "The Crystal Palace" - the name by which it subsequently became known.

This tradition of bestowing affectionate (or derogatory) names on buildings is one of fairly long standing, and it continues today. Norman Foster's curvaceously tapered office block at 30 St Mary Axe, London, built for an insurance company, is rarely referred to by either its address or its name, the Swiss Re Tower. "The Gherkin" is the name given to its distinctive shape by Londoners, and the soubriquet has well and truly stuck. A building doesn't even have to be built to acquire a nickname! Renzo Piano's proposed 66-storey London Bridge Tower is already widely known as "The Glass Shard" in recognition of its likeness to an upright tapering splinter.

When the people of Lincolnshire, in the 1400s, saw the tower of the church of St Botolph start to reach for the sky they must have been impressed by the sight. But as stage was built on successive stage, and no spire appeared they must have begun to wonder how high it would go. And, when it was topped by an open-work octagonal lantern they must have been lost for words. They were familiar with the towers and spires of nearby churches, but this was different from any of them. And it was so big! Perhaps it was the view of the 272 feet tall tower when seen from a few miles distant, across the flat Fenland landscape, that caused a local wit to liken it to a tree stump. However the name arose it stuck, and "The Stump" it has been ever since.

My photograph shows the classic view of this wonderful church tower, from the Town Bridge. I took it for the particularly good reflections on the tidal River Witham, seen to good effect in the morning light of a winter day.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 13mm (26mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/800
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: Off

Photographic aspect ratios

click photo to enlarge
The world wide web, it seems to me, has increased the amount of confrontation and stridency in photography. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not suggesting that this outweighs the co-operation and learning that the online world confers on our hobby and profession. However, the early years of my forty odd with camera in hand certainly didn't feature the vituperation I regularly see today. Photography is not alone in this of course, and it's possibly the opportunity to adopt extreme postures and language anonymously that encourages the outpourings of bile.

To stick with photography, I continue to be amazed about the subjects on which people have unwavering views that they broadcast and defend with boorish language. Brand loyalty, sensor size, fixed lenses versus zoom, black and white versus colour, the list is endless when it comes to the subjects that some photographers can get exercised about. I've even seen people vociferously arguing the merits of one aspect ratio over another. Now when it comes to this subject I play the field. I'll use 4:3, 3:2, 16:9 and 1:1 as the subject requires. Sometimes I'll select the aspect ration before taking the shot, often I'll take it with the largest capture possible but with a different aspect ratio in mind, and frequently I'll crop post-capture. And the idea that one or another is intrinsically "best" or "better" than another seems to me absurd: all are possible, so choose the most appropriate. I've even been known - whisper it quietly - to choose a non-standard aspect ratio where it seemed to fit the subject better.

Today's photograph was one that I shot at 4:3 thinking that it might work well at 16:9. That turned out to be the case and is in fact the best aspect ratio for this image. It shows some of the inshore fishing boats on the River Witham at Boston, Lincolnshire, with in the distance, the tall tower of the medieval church of St Botolph.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 34mm (68mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/1600 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3
Image Stabilisation: On

A different kind of vandal?

click photo to enlarge

The other day I paid my £2.50 to climb just over half-way up the 272 feet high tower of the church of St Botolph in Boston, Lincolnshire. As I puffed and panted up the dark, narrow, spiral staircases I couldn't help but notice the graffiti that generations of visitors had left on the walls.

The most recent were of the "Marky woz ere 22-10-07" variety, or were protestations of undying love, written in text-speak with either a pen or scratched on the surface of the stone. There were also many examples from the twentieth century, and nineteenth century examples weren't difficult to find. But, when I ducked under an arch-cum-doorway that went through a corner buttress, I came upon this interesting group. At the bottom is the date 167?, the last digit being indecipherable due to erosion. Above is the name W. Lisons, another W (to make it symmetrical?) and the date 1753. Then there are further letters (I and S), with a star, that also look eighteenth century, and a mixture of other letters and marks of more recent origin.

As I gazed at them I reflected on why someone would write their name with a hammer and chisel on this ancient building, high above the town. Then it struck me that back then pens were neither as portable nor as permanent as today's, and aerosol cans weren't even a figment of someone's imagination. So I suppose that if you were looking for a bit of fame, notoriety, or even immortality (of sorts), then this might seem the way to achieve it at very little cost. It occurred to me that today's spray painters with their "tags", bubble writing and stencils, probably mark "their" territory from much the same motives. My final thought was that the graffiti that disfigures our present environment wouldn't be quite so ubiquitous if it had to be done with a hammer and chisel. Furthermore the noise as they chip-chipped the letters would make it so much easier to catch the miscreants, and Banksy's anonymity would be very short-lived!

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 22mm (44mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/30
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Looking down, or is it up?

click photo to enlarge
Parishes with medieval churches have to make considerable efforts to maintain their old buildings. The religious fervour and wealth that produced these marvellous old buildings is not there to the same extent today. As congregations dwindle, so too does the size of the steady income that they donate to the church. Individual benfactors, often through wills and bequests, do leave money to churches, and a small number of parishes still have land and property that provide regular funds. But, on the whole, the situation is a difficult one.

Very large parish churches such as St Botolph in Boston - a member of the Greater Churches Group - have particular problems because they do not have the prestige and drawing power of cathedrals, yet in some cases are bigger and more costly to maintain than those more celebrated structures.

As I do the rounds of churches and cathedrals, gathering my photographs, enjoying the art, craft, history and culture that they offer the visitor, I often make a contribution. Sometimes it's a small donation in a wall-box, frequently I buy the brochure that details the history of the church, and now and again we buy a tea-towel, a book, or - where it's available - have a cup of tea and a snack to go with it. Such offerings and purchases are never going to be the mainstay of a fund-raising drive, but they're given in the hope that, added to the small amounts from other sources, they combine to make a more significant and useful total.

Today's photograph was taken as we warmed up with a cuppa in Boston's famous church. I say warmed up, but in truth the hot tea didn't have much impact on how we felt. As is sometimes the case with old churches, the temperature in the building felt as low - and maybe lower - than that outside. I usually call this the "cave effect" of churches because, like caves, these cavernous buildings seem to maintain a temperature that varies much less than one experiences outside. Which is fine in summer: churches are a welcome relief from the heat of the day. But in winter? Well, let's just say that if steaming hot soup was offered with the cup of tea they could make a killing!

Today's photograph is taken with the camera pointing into the slightly inclined mirror that enables visitors to admire the tower vaulting without getting a cricked neck.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2
Shutter Speed: 1/100
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -1.00 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Things that bug me No. 137

click photo to enlarge
Each time I go into the town of Boston in Lincolnshire, and cross the Town Bridge over the River Witham, I gaze upstream at the very tall tower of the medieval church of St Botolph. The view from this location is one of the classic views of this building, and I usually take the opportunity to add to my stock of images. The prospect from the bridge changes with the seasons, the weather, the clouds, the state of the tide, etc., so I often come away with a photograph that is in some way different from all the others I've taken. Compare this example, with today's post.

Of course, a shot of the same scene from the same position has much that is the same too. And this particular view has one detail that really bugs me, a feature that only causes me concern when the sun is shining. Can you guess what it is? In fact, it's the writing on the side of the Britannia pub that advertises beer. "Batemans Good Honest Ales" is what it says, though it isn't always legible. That's because all the letters are mounted slightly away from the wall surface and each throws a shadow so that in a photograph it causes the words to appear blurred. And yes, it bugs me. My eyes are drawn to it. And now that I've mentioned it yours will be too! Perhaps I should have kept quiet.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 6.8mm (32mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f4
Shutter Speed: 1/1000
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -0.66 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Boston's Stump

click photo to enlarge
The recent collision in London between a helicopter and a construction crane at the top of a new tower block raised questions in the press about the wisdom and reasons for erecting such tall buildings. It seems to me that you can argue the wisdom of it long into the night, but the reasons are three-fold and what they have always been: facilitating a technology (such as telecoms), maximising the value of land, and prestige.

Today's photographs show the 272 feet tall tower of the medieval church of St Botolph in Boston, Lincolnshire, a late example of the Gothic builders' art, made of Barnack stone. Its absolute height, its relative height (the length of the church is only ten feet more) and its appearance when seen from afar quickly earned it the name of "The Stump" (though the name may be an example of the English love of irony).

The tower was begun in 1425-30 and completed in 1510-20. It is likely that a spire was to have begun at the level of the parapet above the pair of tall windows (which were probably intended to be the belfry stage). This would have been the conventional finish to a large Lincolnshire church. However, the church authorities had different ideas and they simply kept building upwards, adding a single, transomed window for the belfry, then topping it all off with pinnacles and a large, open lantern supported by flying buttresses. Why was it built so high? I can only think that prestige and the desire to make a big, bold statement lay behind the decision. It could, I suppose, be argued that having the belfry higher gave the sound of the bells greater reach. Such height was certainly a risk because the deep soils of the Fens yield no bedrock to the builder and smaller, nearby towers such as Pinchbeck and Surfleet testify to how they can quickly acquire a disconcerting tilt. The tower is undoubtedly impressive, and parts of it, particularly the lantern are beautiful. In total, however, it doesn't work: the height is too great, the stages don't complement each other and it is not visually integrated with the nave and chancel. But, as a beacon for sailors on the storm-tossed sea of The Wash, searching for the mouth of the River Witham and safe haven, it must have been a godsend!

The smaller photograph, taken from the town bridge, is the classic view of the tower. My shots were taken when hoar frost cloaked the trees, ice was just beginning to form on the River Witham, and shopping was the main thing on our minds. A bright, clear January day is not to be spurned, however, and my compact camera proved its worth once more.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 9.3mm (44mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/800
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On