Looking into the familiar

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"Poetry lifts the veil from the hidden beauty of the world, and makes familiar objects be as if they were not familiar."
Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822), English Romantic poet

Shelley's perceptive remark about the power of poetry to reveal the extraordinary in the ordinary might also be applied to photography. If, in place of the analytic and expressive powers of the poet, we substitute the observational and representational powers of the photographer, we see that photography too can show us beauty and interest in that which is frequently overlooked.

The other day I was visiting a gallery, looking at examples of modern design, and reading about the sources of inspiration that prompted the forms the designers had applied to furniture, jewellery, ceramics, etc. After I had reflected on what I saw I went outside to find that a shower had fallen whilst I was indoors. Some metal tables that, in better weather, are used by people to eat outside the gallery cafe were covered in drops of rain. Perhaps I was inspired by the example of the designers whose work I had been studying; maybe the shiny highlights simply caught my eye; or it could have been the yellow picked up from the nearby wall (making the rain look like liquid gold) that was the attraction. Whatever the reason, I was drawn to the texture and patterns that the rain produced on the tables, and I took a number of photographs from different angles. I've seen wet tables before, but on this day I looked more closely and saw interest and beauty in them: the familiar became something extraordinary.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 150mm (300mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/100
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Phones, water and addiction

Click photo to enlarge
The Tanaka Business School at Imperial College on Exhibition Road, London, is an interesting building completed in 2002-3. Foster & Associates' skin of white framed glass, wraps around an existing building, houses lecture theatres, and acts as an atrium entrance to the college. Its glazed curtain wall reflects the rows of pedimented windows across the road. It was these reflections that caught my attention and prompted my photograph. To give some scale and additional interest to the shot I waited for a couple of passers-by to walk into the frame.

However, when I came to review the image it wasn't the photographic qualities of the shot that grabbed my attention. Rather, it was what the two people happened to be holding. One has a bottle of water, the other a mobile phone. Unwittingly I had captured the two most omnipresent objects that people seem to carry in the first decade of the twenty first century. Had I been taking the shot a hundred years earlier it might have been walking sticks and bags. Fifty years ago a cigarette would surely have featured. But today the mobile phone stands supreme as the "carry around" object of choice, with bottled water not far behind. When people come to date anonymous photographs in the future these will surely be things that will help in determining the time to within fifteen years or so.

Both the mobile phone and bottled water seem to me to be objects of habit not unlike cigarettes. Each is addictive, each incidental, inconsequential even, but to the user is felt to be essential. And both are used to fill moments in the day with something and nothing. Or so it seems to me. As you might gather, I have little use for either. In fact I view bottled water as a significant environmental problem of the age - see my views on it here, and on mobile phones here. I do own a mobile phone, and sometimes (to the despair of my children, only sometimes) carry it, but I use it infrequently - perhaps half a dozen times a year for essential calls when away from home. It must be my age!!

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 40mm (80mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/125
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Commemorating George Vancouver

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The last decades of the twentieth century saw a revival of public sculpture in Britain. Local government and private developers sought to enhance public spaces by commissioning abstract and figurative pieces that gave a focus and interest to their immediate surroundings. It's not an exaggeration to say that it became something of an obsession, and moved from straightforward sculpture as the Victorians would have understood it to include the sculptural embellishment of ordinary street furniture.

Allegorical figures, birds, "environmental" pieces, seating, garden sculpture, panorama information boards, and more were erected in the years around the turn of the millennium. So too were some sculptures of people. However, unlike the Victorians we fought shy of commemorating the living (or even recently deceased), and seemed to concentrate on "filling in the gaps" i.e. erecting statues of some of those who were overlooked in past centuries. This, combined with a desire to celebrate and emphasise the individuality of smaller towns, led to explorers finding some favour in Lincolnshire, with Sir John Franklin (1786-1847) in Spilsby and Matthew Flinders (1774-1814) in Donington. Norfolk ("Nelson's County" as its boundary boards style it) also chose to commemorate an explorer. The King's Lynn resident, George Vancouver (1757-1798) was a Royal Navy captain responsible for exploring and mapping much of the coast of British Columbia, Alaska, Washington and Oregon, and after whom a number of North American locations are named.

Today's photograph shows his statue near the Customs House (built 1683) in King's Lynn. I suppose this image could be described as my attempt at a "tourist brochure" shot, embracing as it does the statue, building, anchors, chains, and cobbles of the dock surround. However, there's probably not enough blue in the sky, and those intruding cars certainly need physically or digitally removing before it could be considered fit for that purpose!

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 12mm (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f13.
Shutter Speed: 1/200
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Found poems and beech trees

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The idea of the "found" poem is intriguing. We are used to reading poetry where meaning has been forged over time, worked, re-worked, and built with tears, anguish and quiet desperation. So the idea that one can simply find a piece of writing, composed for a particular purpose, that unwittingly offers the poetic experience seems, at first glance, quite unlikely.

In his poetry workshops published in The Guardian newspaper earlier this year David Morley looks at the found poetry "lying asleep" in field guides and the prose of natural history. He discusses how it can be shaped so it "escapes its origin and finds a fresh tone." The examples he shows often don't depart at all from the words of the original, though in others the finder-poets add their own contributions. The example below is from the article quoted, and is offered to complement today's photograph of the beautiful autumn beech trees at the edge of Pedder's Wood, near Grize Dale, in the Forest of Bowland, Lancashire.

Beech by Peter R White
Wilkinson, John and Mitchell, Alan (1978)
A Handguide to the Trees of Britain and Northern Europe
Treasure Press, London

Beech (Fagus sylvatica)
cannot make roots
in saturated soils but
drive them through
dry layers to
reach
moisture.
Hence although
a thirsty tree it is
not found in wet
hollows nor on clay soils.
Male flowers are little
balls of stamens
on slender stalks.
Female flowers are green
with white filaments and
are on
short stout stalks.

Beech
live for barely 250 years
then die
and
fall
to pieces
suddenly.

photograph & (some) text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 18mm (36mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f8.
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Inside a Georgian church

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A traditional English church interior looks very much like that shown in my photograph of St Mary, Weston, Lincolnshire - a long nave with pews facing the altar at the east end, often with aisles to left and right, a chancel with pews facing the central aisle, a tower arch and font at the west end, and a pulpit near the chancel arch. This is a model found in many medieval churches, and one that Victorian architects frequently (though not exclusively) adopted.

However, churches built during the intervening Georgian period of the eighteenth century often differ markedly from this template. Like the church of St Peter & St Paul at Langton-by-Spilsby, Lincolnshire (c.1720-1730), shown above, they often comprise a single room with banked box pews that face across a central aisle. Additional seating, as here, is frequently found in a raised gallery across the west end of the church (from which I took this shot). The pulpit in Georgian buildings can be quite elaborate. This example, on the right, is a "triple-decker". The clerk sat at the lowest level (near the aisle) and delivered general announcements. The minister performed most of the service from the middle level (with the inclined lectern), and went up to the highest level (below the tester i.e. sounding board) to deliver the sermon. In Georgian churches the font is often found at the west end, but it can turn up elsewhere: at Langton-by-Spilsby the top of its dome-shaped cover can just be seen at the east end, to the right of the altar. Where medieval churches had elaborate exposed timbers supporting the roof, in Georgian churches a plaster ceiling with a cornice and perhaps roundels or coffering in the classical style is more common. Hatchments -the diamond shaped funeral boards with coats of arms - are often displayed. As in medieval churches, the organ is usually a Victorian addition. Music for services, where provided, was usually performed by a small group of wind and string players. Organs first started to appear in churches during the Georgian period, so you can come upon an example that dates from the time of the building. Here it has clearly been placed in front of the panelling on the east wall, breaking the symmetry that the architect intended.

Many people disparage Georgian church interiors, comparing them unfavourably with their medieval predecessors. I like them. The different take on what a church should look like is interesting, and the variations on the basic themes of the period offer endless fascination.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 11mm (22mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/13
ISO: 400
Exposure Compensation: -1.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Walking by the River Slea

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A twelfth century document notes that a record dating from 852AD refers to the Lincolnshire town of Sleaford as Sliowaforda. This is the earliest known reference to the settlement. Over the centuries the spelling of the town's name varied considerably - Eslaford (1086) and Sleforde (c.1170) are two examples - but generally bore some correlation to either that first name, or the name we use today. The first element of Sleaford's name comes from Sliowa, an Old English river name that means "muddy waters", or "water with slimy vegetation." So, the full name of the town means the ford over the river called the Sliowa (Slea). Evidently the town was at a good crossing point, a common reason for the siting of a settlement.

Today's photograph shows the River Slea flowing through the countryside a few miles east of Sleaford, near the village of South Kyme. Nothing about the river on the day of our walk suggested that it was well-named! The water was clear and the patches of vegetation on the river bed were visible, aligning themselves with the flow, though I didn't ascertain whether or not they were slimy! As I headed back to the car Kyme Tower, St Mary & All Saints church, and a tractor harrowing a river-side field came into view. The serpentine leading line of the river, these three points of interest across the scene, and the increasing cloud mass suggested a landscape shot, and here it is. Take out the tractor and the telegraph poles and it is a fairly timeless scene of the sort that features in English landscape painting by the likes of John Constable.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 67mm (134mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The London Eye

click photos to enlarge

I've noted elsewhere that my initial reservations about the suitability of a giant Ferris wheel in the centre of London were misplaced. I had thought that bringing an element of the funfair to the middle of the nation's capital, and siting it next to the River Thames and historic buildings was insensitive; that the cityscape would be devalued by its presence. But, repeated viewings of "The London Eye" as it is called, and a ride in one of its slowly rotating high-tech, capsule-like gondolas changed my mind.

In fact, I'm quite in favour of tall structures, open to the public, that give a view over the city. The great churches of London, pre-eminently, St Paul's Cathedral, have done this for centuries. So too has The Monument to the Great Fire of London (known simply as The Monument), a 202 feet (61 metres) tall Roman Doric column, designed by Sir Christopher Wren and built between 1671 and 1677. At the time of its construction it was the tallest free standing column in the world, and provided a panorama of the rooftops of the City. More recently the 581 feet (177 metres) tall BT Tower (formerly the GPO Tower) that opened in 1966 was designed with a revolving restaurant that gave diners a great bird's eye view of the capital. Subsequent tall office blocks have surpassed these structures, but without adding much of distinction to the skyline, and without allowing the general public to enjoy the view.

The downturn in the economy is likely to put a brake on the next generation of tall London buildings. The proposed London Bridge Tower, know colloquially as "The Glass Shard", is likely to be one victim of the tightening of purse strings. Many will welcome this, seeing such structures as detrimental to the London skyline. My view is that height shouldn't necessarily be a bar to construction if the design is good and the site is suitable. Provided of course there is public access to the top so that those great vistas can be enjoyed!

photographs & text (c) T. Boughen

Top Image
Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 15mm (30mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/320
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Bottom Image
Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 150mm (300mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Politics and the Cosmos

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The UK press has carried a story for the past few days about a couple of politicians, one from each side of the political divide, who have been enjoying the hospitality of a Russian oligarch. More specifically they were seen being entertained on the billionaire's £100 million luxury yacht in the Mediterranean. The suggestion has been made that one of the politicians was soliciting a donation for the party coffers. Whether that's true or not I don't know. However, their presence in the company of this man does represent an unsavoury characteristic of too many who enter politics, namely the way they are dazzled by money and the power and toys that money brings.

Perhaps I was naive in my youth, and maybe an unhealthy scepticism has infected me as I've aged, but I always had the impression that many British politicians were in parliament because they had political principles that they wanted to help to put into practice. Today, it seems, more and more politicians see the well-paid position of a minister or MP as a stepping stone to an income stream beyond the wildest dreams of the man in the street: money from directorships, adviserships, etc that can fund a lifestyle of travel, large houses, fine dining and luxury goods. The "high life" of influence, consumption and pleasure seems to be their ultimate goal.

Well, I've no alternative advice on how to secure influence, and consumption of that sort is beyond my experience. But, I can suggest a path to the achievement of pleasure at minimal cost that doesn't involve keeping the company of Russian billionaires. Buy a packet of flower seeds - I recommend Mexican Aster (Cosmos bipinnatus "Sensation Mixed") - sow them in a sunny spot, water them when it's dry, and enjoy watching as they grow from tiny seedlings to a mass of large, colourful blooms with delicate feathery foliage. Pleasure a-plenty is to be had from this modest past-time, and further pleasure is to be had by photographing them, as I did today!

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 35mm macro (70mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f3.5
Shutter Speed: 1/60
ISO: 200
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Autumn and the Fall

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In the years 1916 to 1918 Cecil Sharp and Maud Karpeles spent forty six weeks recording folk songs sung by the inhabitants of the Southern Appalachian Mountains. They amassed a total of about five hundred songs (1,600 including variants), and nearly every one had its origin in the British Isles. This area of the United States was settled principally by people of English, Scots and Scots-Irish origin. When their ancestors emigrated to the New World they took very little by way of material possessions, but they did take their songs. In the Appalachians these had been passed down through the generations, the words embellished and embroidered, the melodies adapted by successive singers.

Cecil Sharp (1859-1924) had been collecting traditional folk songs and melodies since the early 1900s, and had, almost single-handedly, sparked a revival of English folklore. In his journeys through rural England he sought out the songs that the common people sang, and it is through his efforts, and those he inspired to search with him, that we have such a fine body of English folk songs today. Without Sharp's written and mechanical recording most of these songs would have died with their singers. It was this groundwork in England that enabled Sharp to identify what he heard in the Southern Appalachians. It also allowed him to work out that some of the versions he heard in the United States were closer to the original of the song than were the British versions. In the remote mountain area the songs had been subjected to fewer outside influences and frequently carried more of the melody and narrative that was sung by the earliest settlers.

In fact a number of words used in North America are old English words that the people of England no longer use, or are modifications. Take "the fall", meaning the season between summer and winter. In Britain the word "autumn" is almost universally used. Yet a few hundred years ago we too described this time of year as "the fall". I was thinking about this as I passed the Shell headquarters in London. On the pavement outside a demonstration by environmentalists was underway, and up above the last leaves were falling from trees growing in front of the building. The irregular branches and delicate yellow and orange leaves contrasted nicely with the very regular bands of windows and the deep blue sky. So, overcoming my natural desire to keep verticals vertical, I composed an image with two strong diagonals and pressed the shutter.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 27mm (54mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Mute swans and multiple lives

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When I first became aware of Second Life, the virtual world where people "live" an alternative existence and interact with other "people", I thought that the inventors of the software had chosen the wrong name. It seemed to me that "Third Life" would be much more appropriate because of the increasing tendency for people in the affluent world to already be living two lives.

The "first life" that people lead involves the daily reality of existence; looking out and interacting with the world in a straightforward way. The "second life" that many also live, and are encouraged to live by the forces of society and affluence, is one where they constantly exist outside themselves, always looking at their actions and reactions in terms of how it fits with who they want to be, how they see themselves, and, particularly, how they want others to see them. For people who have been seduced into this way of living no action seems to be undertaken for its own sake, they're always looking at the profit and loss it generates for their self-image and projected image. Work, hobbies, partners, purchases, education, friendships, holidays - everything is seen in terms of this second "virtual" person that they create both for themselves and in order to impress their friends and the wider world whose recognition they crave.

I've read a number of defences of participation in the online Second Life - it's harmless fun, it lets people be more than they are or can be, it's part of the future of the world, it's an alternate reality, it allows the housebound to step beyond the confines of their infirmity - there are probably more. I remain unconvinced. I think that those who "live" in this online world are likely to be a self-selected group for whom it will certainly be a "Third Life". For them, and for the many others who live the "second life" I describe above, my suggestion would be to make the most of the reality that is "first life" - it's all that matters!

This reflection was prompted by a search of Google to discover whether the mute swan (Cygnus olor) had ever been known to produce a second brood in the same season. I found the answer (yes) amongst a number of irrelevant links that were about people in Second Life who had the word "swan" as part of their virtual name! Why did it come as no surprise that none were called "mute swan"?

I photographed this adult bird by the River Slea in Lincolnshire. It was one of a family group who were resting and loath to move as we walked by. This one kept a watchful eye open until we were well past.

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: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Stony Lane, Thaxted, Essex

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During my recent travels I went to Thaxted in Essex. Before my visit I knew little about the place apart from what I'd read about the church and its windmill. I also had a vague memory that there was a connection with the composer Gustav Holst (1874-1934).

Towards the end of an October afternoon I wandered through its streets, had a look at the main buildings, and came upon the well-named Stony Lane. The narrow cobbled surface of the road leading up the hill to the church and the picturesque mixture of ancient buildings attracted my attention. A look at The Buildings of England: Essex revealed that the half-timbered buildings on the left date from the early 1400s, and have many original features.

Further digging enlarged my knowledge of the Holst connection. Apparently the main theme of Jupiter from his suite, The Planets, which he adapted to fit Sir Cecil Spring-Rice's poem for the hymn "I vow to thee my country", is called Thaxted after the place Holst lived from 1914 until the 1920s. An article written for the Foxearth and District Local History Society, I Ring for the General Dance: Gustav Holst and Thaxted, gives an interesting account of Holst's time in the Essex market town. Moreover it includes fanciful alternatives for the source of inspiration for each of the movements of "The Planets". The author suggests that Jupiter, perhaps for its association with the hymn name, represents market day in Thaxted. The market was packing up as I left so I can't vouch for whether or not it exudes a Jovian jollity, but the description that the author gives of the music representing a walk from the market place, up Stony Lane, through the church and around the town, is quite alluring.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 11mm (22mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/200
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Heckington eight-sail windmill

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Three types of traditional windmill are to be found in England. The oldest is the post-mill, a relatively light-weight, mainly wooden structure with no fan-tail, that is turned into the wind with a tiller beam. One at Outwood, Surrey, dates from 1665, though many examples no longer standing were built before that date. Next comes the smock mill, so called because its tapered, boarded, octagonal tower resembles a nineteenth century countryman's smock. That at Lacey Green, was built in 1650. The final development was the tower mill, and this is the type most commonly seen today.

Tower mills were developed in the eighteenth century and have a round or octagonal brick or stone tower similar to a lighthouse. The wooden top revolved so that the sails always pointed into the wind. This was achieved by another eighteenth century development - the fantail - that worked much like the broad end of a weather vane, but had the added advantage of small blades that could be used to power a hoist. The movement of the main sails was transmitted to millstones through a series of shafts and cogs. In 1919 there were 350 working windmills: today there are about 24, though many more stand with motionless sails and silent machinery, or have been converted into houses. An even greater number of sail-less towers can be seen.

Today's photographs show the tower mill at Heckington, Lincolnshire. It was built in 1830 as a five-sailed windmill driving three pairs of stones, and milled grain for 60 years until the cap and sails were destroyed by wind in 1890. However, in 1891 an enterprising man bought the eight-sailed top of the defunct Tuxford windmill and matched it up with the remaining stump at Heckington. He set the mill to work again and it continued until 1946, also powering a circular saw-mill! Since that time it has seen restoration by enthusiasts, and in recent years has been open to the public.

You might wonder why my images don't show the full splendour of those eight sails. Well, the fact is that behind the windmill (to windward) is a an absolute eye-sore of stored bales of plastic and cloth, gas cylinders, derelict buildings and parked lorries. Not the most photogenic foreground for this venerable and unique structure!

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Top Image
Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 22mm (44mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/250
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Bottom Image
Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 14mm (28mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Picturing Swaton church

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"In counties less rich in ecclesiastical architecture Swaton would be outstanding."
The Buildings of England: Lincolnshire, (2nd Ed 1989) Nikolaus Pevsner & John Harris, revised by Nicholas Antram

"One of the lesser-known marvels of Lincs., magnificent and cruciform with central tower and enormous Decorated traceried windows; the nave arcades soar upward - with nave and aisles under single roof. A most distinguished looking church."
John Betjeman's Guide to English Parish Churches (1958 & 1993) John Betjeman, new material, Nigel Kerr

"What did Swaton do to deserve this aristocrat of a parish church?"
England's Thousand Best Churches (1999) Simon Jenkins

Well, given that build-up, and looking at my late afternoon photograph of what appears to be a fairly unexceptional church, you can be forgiven for wondering what all the fuss is about. However, with the end of its nave right up against the road, and hemmed in on both sides, St Michael at Swaton, Lincolnshire, is notoriously difficult to do justice to with a single photograph. This shot, from slightly south of east doesn't display the magnificent fourteenth century reticulated windows of the west of the building, the embattled nave and aisles, the lovely proportions and arrangement of parts, or, of course, the almost cathedral-like effect of the high and wide interior. In fact my image really does sell the church short! On the other hand it illustrates its context, and shows the sylvan churchyard setting, most of which, apart from small areas close to the entrance, is allowed to grow quite wild. It's a building that presents a real challenge to the photographer and I shall return with the intention of capturing something of its distinctive character when the trees have shed their leaves.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 11mm (22mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

New look & Comments are back

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After almost 3 years of the "Minima" template I decided I'd have a change, and have moved to "Tic Tac Blue". I think I like it! :-)

I've also turned Comments back on. Let's hope the spammers have gone elsewhere. If they return I'll give Moderated Comments a try even though it's fairly unsatisfactory for readers (the comment is delayed until I've authorised it), and me (I have to check and authorise).

I'll leave the email address up for a while. Thank you to everyone who has taken the time and trouble to comment on the pictures or text by this method - your feedback is appreciated. However, from now on Comments is the preferred method. So, if you've got any observations to make about your visit to the blog let's hear them!

Regards, Tony

Here's a shot from my recent travels. This row of houses on Castle Street, Saffron Walden, in Essex, appealed not only for the variety of colours and the individuality of each building in the terrace, but also for the way it shows examples from the sixteenth, seventeenth, and maybe eighteenth, centuries. A walk up this hill is a real visual and architectural pleasure.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 40mm (80mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The Millennium Bridge, London

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The Millennium Bridge opened in June 2000. It crosses the River Thames between St Paul's Cathedral and Tate Modern, and was the first new bridge to span the river in the city since the opening of Tower Bridge in 1894.

The structure is a footbridge 325 metres long and 4 metres wide, with two "Y" shaped supports in the water. The designers, Arup, Foster and Partners, gave the bridge a low profile to improve the view, and the suspension design was unusual in having the main cables below the pedestrian deck. It was made to carry a load of 5,000 people, and on the day of opening registered a maximum of about 2,000 at any one time and a total of about 90,000 in the 24 hour period. Immediately it was used by the public this elegant bridge was found to have lateral movement (known as resonant structural response) caused by the interaction of pedestrian movement and bridge oscillation. The public liked the slightly unnerving effect and soon gave it the nickname of "The Wobbly Bridge"! However, it was fixed by fitting fluid-viscous dampers and tuned mass dampers to control the horizontal and vertical movement, and passage over it is now much less of a white-knuckle ride!

The Millennium Bridge has proved to be a very popular crossing point between Bankside (Tate Modern and The Globe Theatre) and the City in the area of St Paul's Cathedral. It's also become a great attraction to photographers. I've photographed it a number of times over the years, but on my most recent visit to the capital I thought I'd have a go at dusk to test the effectiveness of my camera's image stabilisation system and high ISOs. The first shot was taken later than the second at ISO 1600, and though it had visible noise cleaned up quite well, though not as effectively as the other image at ISO 800. Both shots were hand-held at 1/5 second, and whilst at 100% viewing are not as sharp as if they'd been shot at a more reasonable speed, or with a tripod, both look like they'll produce an acceptable print up to 10X8 or maybe 12X8 inches, though the lower ISO image with more detail.

photographs & text (c) T. Boughen

Top Image
Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 42mm (84mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/5
ISO: 1600
Exposure Compensation: -1.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Bottom Image
Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 22mm (44mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f3.5
Shutter Speed: 1/5
ISO: 800
Exposure Compensation: -1.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The Grey Heron

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The poor old grey heron (Ardea cinerea) has long been the object of man's desire and abuse. The lake dwellers of Gastonbury hunted them for food 2,000 years ago with slings. Medieval man did the same but with longbow, cross-bow, nets and traps, and no royal banquet was complete without several gracing the table. Such was the demand for the bird that in the time of Edward I (1239-1307) a heron, at 18 pence, cost more than any other wildfowl. John Swan in Speculum Mundi (1635) described "the heron or hernshaw" as great sport for the falconer though he did note that it could rise above the chasing bird and "with his dung he defileth the hawk, rotting and putrifying his feathers." In the nineteenth century the fashion for hats with feathers led to a desire for the long plumes that hang from its head, and many wildfowlers turned their punt guns on the bird. In the twentieth century the legal protection the heron received was often breached by irate fishermen who resented its competition for the content of their well-stocked fishing lakes. And, even today, when most people welcome the sight of this big, strikingly marked bird, there are those who see it principally as a thief that steals their carp from their garden ponds.

Today, however, the grey heron is doing well. Its population in the UK has probably doubled in the past 50 or 60 years. In 2003 the RSPB counted 10,320 nests in 782 heronries, so the actual population of birds must be well over double the number of nests (including non-breeding birds and missed sites). It is still mainly a bird of the countryside. However, significant numbers have always ventured into built-up areas to breed and feed. A notable heronry can be seen on an island in the lake at Stanley Park, Blackpool, surrounded by holiday-makers in rowing and motor boats, and the noise of a nearby road.

On a recent walk I came across this bird at Nelson Dock, a small piece of water adjoining the Thames and surrounded by a Hilton hotel and riverside flats, in Rotherhithe, London. The landscape architect had placed a stylized heron in the water to add interest to the scene, and it provided the perfect place for this passer-by, though a perch probably wasn't the use the sculptor had in mind. Incidentally, what is it about bird sculptures that lead birds to sit on them, and me to photograph them doing so? And why is the heron just about the only bird that I photograph? See here and here.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 150mm (300mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/250
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Last thoughts from Canary Wharf

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The British government is fond of saying that the present financial difficulties afflict all economies, that the problem is one of global dimensions and origins. However, the truth is that Britain's economic foundations were undermined in the 1980s by Margaret Thatcher's "Big Bang" policy that shattered the shackles that kept the City in check. Privatisations, demutualisations, complex financial instruments, ballooning salaries, the bonus culture, increased risk taking and the rest all flowed from the Conservative government's policies that were dreamed up by their friends in the City, often the very people who bank-rolled the party. So, whilst there is certainly an international element to our current problems, Britain also has a collection of very particular causes arising from the policies of our politicians.

That being so, you might think a Labour government that's not too far away from a general election would be keen to point this out to voters. Unfortunately it's an argument it can't use because to the dismay of its core supporters Labour did very little about Big Bang, continuing with deregulation and privatisation, and in the recently-returned Peter Mandelson's words were "intensely relaxed about people getting filthy rich." Successive Labour governments, like the Conservatives before them, now appear to have been relaxed to the point of being asleep, and didn't notice that the people who were getting "filthy rich" were doing so at the expense of the country's financial stability. Many people will lose their jobs, savings, houses and sanity as a result of all this. Will anyone be held to account?

The photograph above is the third from my recent walk on the south bank of the Thames across from the gleaming towers of Canary Wharf.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 13mm (26mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/1000
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -2.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

More thoughts from Canary Wharf

click photo to enlarge

It's a platitude that the current financial meltdown flows from greed and short-termism. But, the poor oversight of those who run our banks and other financial institutions is a significant factor too. Directors, auditors, regulatory bodies and governments are all culpable. However, it seems to me that an unshakable belief in the free-market, and an ideological trust in its ability to correct itself are also to blame. It's been said by wiser people than me that the free market will always self-correct but the price of those corrections is too high, and it falls disproportionately on the little people. Recent events have proved this to be very true.

So, when (if?) we get out of this period of instability can we hope to see governments re-assuming some of the responsibilities that they abdicated in recent years? That the financial "masters of the universe" asked for, and got, "light touch regulation" and "self-regulation" was always, to those of my way of thinking, scandalous. To see politicians of the right agreeing to this was fairly unremarkable. But that supposed left-leaning governments should go along with it, and accede to further "freedoms", was unforgivable. Now, however, the very organisations that saw the state as an interference, nationalised bodies as inefficient, and politicians as irrelevant to their pursuit of lucre, have the begging bowls extended for government hand-outs, and politicians have re-discovered the virtues of national control and even (whisper it quietly for they don't want to acknowledge it) nationalisation.

It's a matter of regret that the Labour government of the UK has been forced into state intervention by circumstances rather than political conviction. Is it too much to hope that, having got a taste for it, and seeing at first hand the benefits that can ensue, it might look at other disfunctional areas of the economy, such as the supply of energy, water, public transport and telecommunications, and conclude that it can do a better job than the private sector?

Today's photograph was taken on the same walk as yesterday's shot. The street lights along the Thames-side path offered some interesting shapes to silhouette against the distant, fog-shrouded towers of Canary Wharf.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 53mm (106mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/2500
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Canary Wharf thoughts

click photo to enlarge

The fog that enveloped London early yesterday morning was the precursor to a beautiful, uplifting, sunny day with an unseasonal maximum temperature of 23° Celsius. But, as I walked along the south bank of the river at Rotherhithe, and the towers of Canary Wharf loomed up out of the mist, my mind was filled with darker thoughts. Along with the City of London, these buildings are the country's financial powerhouse - Citicorp, HSBC, Barclays, Lehman Brothers and others have their headquarters at Canary Wharf. Looking at them I couldn't help but see the fog that surrounded the towers, a fog that had swept in and enveloped them, but also was of their own making from their heating plants, as a metaphor for the financial turmoil that surrounds and penetrates most of these institutions.

However, my mind only allowed these thoughts to last for a moment, because the way the sunlight was falling on the buildings, turning them into amorphous masses, casting deep shadows that contrasted with the illuminated particles of water that filled the air, caused the name Hugh Ferris to surface in my consciousness. Among American architectural draughtsmen of the twentieth century Hugh Ferris (1889-1962) stands supreme. His charcoal, pencil and crayon perspectives of imagined and actual skyscrapers created romantic, almost Piranesian views, featuring towering mass, deep shadows, converging verticals, and the multiple step-backs of the early buildings. Ferris clearly saw drama, poetry and a vision of the future in the skyscrapers that were springing up in New York and Chicago.

Had the morning been clear and sunny I'd have looked at Canary Wharf and seen the buildings of organizations that once revelled in their omnipotence and omniscience but now crave state hand-outs. But the fog and the light allowed me to forget the troubles of the world for a while, and see it through the eyes of a visionary draughtsman. For that I was grateful.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 24mm (48mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/2500
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -1.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Harvest festival flowers

click photo to enlarge

The Harvest Festival is a tradition that continues in most English primary (age 5-11) schools. It is essentially a church service redrawn for the school setting. In a typical Harvest Festival children present songs, poems, drama, readings and prayers on the theme of giving thanks for the harvest, and also on the associated season of autumn. Many schools ask parents to donate packaged and fresh food that is arranged as a display during the service. This food is then either collected by charities for distribution to those in need, given to elderly people living in the vicinity of the school, or distributed in some other way. It is a moment in the year when pupils, staff and parents pause to give thanks for all that they have, and share some of it with others.

In some ways this is quite anachronistic because the harvest, except for those in rural schools, is now quite a remote experience for most children. Churches carry on the tradition, and every year at this time decorate the nave, chancel, aisles, font and pulpit with flowers, wheat, berries, and collections of food for distribution. It is seen as an essential part of the church's annual cycle of worship and thanksgiving. In these days of failing banks and faltering economies brought on by "I want more" and "I want it now" attitudes, the theme of gratitude for what we have that pervades the Harvest Festival is a refreshing corrective to this modern mindset.

I noticed this vase of flowers and scattered rose hips on a stone bench in the porch of St Peter & St Paul, Osbournby, Lincolnshire, as I entered the church. The October sun was piercing the interior through the doorway and side windows, the shafts of light illuminating a dark corner, that the golden sunflowers and blue vase made even brighter. Someone had created this colourful arrangement as their contribution to the harvest decoration of the church, and it made a fine opening statement for the display that was inside.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 21mm (42mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/40
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -1.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Sunset transformations

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Here's a question for your consideration. How repugnant does a scene have to be before a sunset is unable to transform it into something beautiful? Leaving aside scenes of human suffering, what would be so awful that the descending orb and its associated colours, shades and silhouettes couldn't elevate it to something worth contemplating, something that lifted the spirits? The municipal tip? The local sewage plant? A petro-chemical works? How about a shopping mall with its acres of parked cars?

I really don't think that I can come up with anything that a sunset cannot improve to the point where we say, "that looks wonderful." Over the years I've taken my share of sunset photographs. Some have featured in this blog including a bicycle, roof tops and gulls, the River Thames in London, a Fleetwood lighthouse, a pier, a view under a pier, another view under a pier (!), people on the remains of a pier (!!). In fact, I've had something of a moratorium on sunset photographs in recent months because the last thing most people with an interest in photography need to see is another wretched sunset picture!

But, today the moratorium has been lifted. Today's post shows (I hope) the transformation that a sunset can work on that abomination, the electricity pylon. Now I know that some people like these structures. You don't believe me? Well have a look at The Pylon Appreciation Society's website! For me, however, these structures are far worse than wind farms for the effect that they have on the landscape, and though I have, on one occasion, produced an image in which they were the main subject, and another where they shared that billing, usually they are unwelcome interlopers into my photographs. Nevertheless, I put aside my feelings the other evening when I saw this line of them above the trees with the sun going down. The silhouettes that they made against the orange and gold sky, and the compositional balance they gave to the sun's disc made me see them, literally and figuratively, in a better light, so I framed them and pressed the shutter.

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: -2.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Spectacular cirrus

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As my wife and I cycled past a wind farm the other morning we saw that the turbines were stationary. Well, almost, because we've discovered that the blades never quite stop rotating, though sometimes it's so slowly that it's hard to notice. We were out to find any dead and dried wayside plants that would be suitable for arranging in a vase. A virtually wind-free morning seemed a good time for the outing. I took a few shots of the turbines, some teasels, and other things that took my fancy. Then, our work done, we set off back home.

On the return journey I noticed that the wind speed had increased a little, and looking up I saw it had been stirring the high level clouds. In fact it had made an awe-inspiring arrangement of varied patterns. The best looking clouds were quite high in the sky, so I decided to photograph them along with the top of a single turbine. They are great examples of some of the forms that cirrus (Latin for curl, fringe or tuft) clouds can take. When I viewed the image on my computer I could see that some might think they are "Photoshopped" clouds, the result of my imaginings, or perhaps artful deformations of less spectacular formations. I can assure you they're not - in fact WYSIWIS (what you see is what I saw)! However, I did feel that traditional black and white with a digital equivalent of the old high contrast "red filter" would show them off to best effect, and to that small extent I have "enhanced" them. So here they are - one of nature's spectacles that quite made my morning!

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 14mm (28mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/640
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Reflecting on Pinchbeck church

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The proposal for a 200 storey, 1,000 metres high tower in Dubai is just the latest manifestation of mankind's urge to construct tall towers. Building a single storey structure then extending laterally is obvious and easy, and was the way that early builders erected their dwellings. Vertical building, with storey on top of storey, is harder and more perilous. Only when building skills had reached a certain level could it be considered.

In the British Isles the 2,000 year old Iron Age brochs of Scotland are probably the oldest tall buildings. These circular towers with their ten feet thick, double-skin walls could reach a height of fifty feet and contain three floors. There is some debate over whether brochs were defensive, offensive or simply the elaborate homes of people of greater means and higher status. Whatever the reason for their construction they must have fulfilled one of the main purposes of most tall buildings - to impress those who gaze upon them.

The builders of medieval church towers were certainly aiming to impress the people who lived nearby and worshipped at the church. They were tangible reminders, often visible for many miles, of the power, presence and importance of the church, ever present fingers of stone pointing to the ultimate destination of those who embraced its teachings. There is also documentary evidence to show that these towers were sometimes deliberately designed to surpass the height, richness and beauty of towers in neighbouring parishes. How ironic that the sin of pride motivated the construction of some of our most beautiful church towers, and how like today's skyscraper race that has seen first the U.S.A. then Singapore, next China and now Dubai triumph in the contest to be tallest! However, the church tower did have a functional purpose - to raise the bell (or bells) high above the surrounding buildings and trees so that their call to worship could be heard over a wide area.

Of the six medieval churches that are strung along the A156 and B1356 from Donington to Spalding, the tower of St Mary at Pinchbeck (above) breaks the procession of attractive spires with its tall, crenellated tower that was built in the 1300s and 1400s. As Pevsner notes, it "suits the character of the building", which is large and ornate. My photograph was taken on a sunny, early October afternoon. It shows the tower from the west, framed by trees, some of which are shedding their leaves earlier than the others, a view I chose for the way it reduces a big, complex building to something simpler. Another of my shots of this church can be seen here.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 11mm (22mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/160
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Know your enemy

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I seem to have been afflicted by midges all my life. Wherever I've lived they have found me and bitten me! But, when I saw a late cloud of the little nuisances the other day, I realised I didn't know a great deal about them. So, in the spirit of "know your enemy" here, in no particular order, are some things I've found out!

• Midge is a generic term for a wide variety of small, two-winged flies
• "The Midge Forecast" provides daily and weekly forecasts of biting midges throughout Scotland
• In one midge study over 5 million were collected from an area of only two square metres
• It is only the female midge that bites
• Midges prefer dark colours over light colours
• Midges prefer a moving target
• Midges are attracted by carbon dioxide and the smells that it contains of the animal that produced it
• They can detect a suitable target from 200m distance
• Taking two dessert spoonfuls of vinegar, or eating raw garlic, taints perspiration and is said to deter midges
• If light levels fall below 260 Watts/sq.metre then midges start to bite
• Midges are estimated to cost the Scottish economy £280 million per year in lost tourist revenue

Now that the weather is getting colder midges are disappearing. However, a burst of sunshine on a recent warm evening brought the little blighters out for a farewell aerial dance at the field edge as we walked by. I paused only long enough to grab this picture!

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 100mm (200mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/60
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Picturesque Derwent Water

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No one in the seventeenth century would have felt that a hot sunny day was best enjoyed outdoors. Nor would they have surveyed Derwent Water and its surrounding hills and mountains of the Lake District and described the scene as beautiful. In those times the heat of the sun was to be avoided. Charles II, who was raised in France (and so knew the heat of a continental summer) said that "he liked...that country best, which might be enjoyed the most hours of the day, and the most days of the year, which he was sure was to be done in England more than in any country whatsoever." Rugged landscape in the seventeenth century was "the blasted heath", "the waste", a place to be avoided, and not to be compared with the beauty of the cultivated lowlands.

The eighteenth century continued to hold the same views about hot sunshine, but, slowly the attitude towards mountainous and wild landscape changed. Anthony Ashley Cooper, John Dennis and Joseph Addison wrote about the agreeable, fearful pleasures that arose in crossing the Alps. Edmund Burke's philosophy took up this theme. The rise of the Picturesque was part of Romanticism's reaction against the quickening pace of science's uncovering of the mysteries of the natural world, and it gave a more formal structure to this way of looking at the world. It viewed the emotions stirred by untamed nature as instinctive, sublime, worthy, and as something to be actively sought. Writers, musicians and the visual arts fed on these new sensibilities. Highly influential was Thomas Gilpin's, "Observations of the River Wye, and Several Parts of South Wales, etc. Relative Chiefly to Picturesque Beauty; made in the Summer of the Year 1770", published in 1782. It urged people to stop dismissing the rugged landscape of the British Isles, and admire it according to the ideals he proposed. The ripples from Gilpin and the Picturesque spread through English painting, landscape gardening, poetry, and out into Europe and the United States.

Had he been born a hundred years earlier William Wordsworth would never have sat by the waterfall above Derwent Water and listened to the "roar that stuns the tremulous cliffs of high Lodor", or thought of moving to live at Grasmere, still less sought his inspiration in Lakeland's crags and peaks, or spent his last years at Rydal Mount. It was writers like Wordsworth and his friend, Coleridge, and painters like Richard Wilson, Cozens (father and son) and Francis Towne who also deserve our thanks for opening our eyes to the beauties of scenes like that shown in today's photograph.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 14mm (28mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Times of transition

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The seasons of spring and autumn are times of transition. In the case of spring, it's from the seeming death of winter to the bursting bounty of summer, whilst autumn takes us from leafy fullness back to the cold, bony hardness of winter. Birdwatchers prefer these seasons because migration is at its peak, and a greater variety of species can be seen. And, if you ask a photographer which is their favourite season the chances are that they too will vote for either spring or autumn. Why is that?

Well, photographer's aren't blind to the fresh, newness of spring, with its changing landscapes. But it's more than that which attracts them. The days' cold edge often makes the light sparklingly clear, the clouds are frequently at their most interesting, and the surface of the earth has a vivid greenness that just invites looking. Autumn, on the other hand, presents us with days that are misty and indistinct, making big shapes out of clusters of detail, throwing unlikely colours before us, and then surprising us with deep blue skies and dark shadows. The high sun of summer and the dull, flat light of winter can't compete with our seasons of transition.

I was thinking about this as I walked round my garden, looking at the fading plants. Round the pond the hostas were dying back, the tips of their limp leaves ragged and brown, the centres yellow, and the part near the stalk still fresh-looking green. The low afternoon sun was shining through some contorted leaves that had their edges faced skyward, so I got down on my stomach to take shots of these glowing surfaces with their emphasised veins.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 35mm macro (70mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/320
ISO: 200
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

South Kyme Tower

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As you drive across the flat, Fenland landscape near South Kyme, Lincolnshire, and see the white stone of Kyme Tower in the distance it looks much higher than its seventy seven feet. But then, as you get nearer to the building, it seems to shrink, and looks smaller and somewhat forlorn, standing alone among the grass and trees.

The tower was built between 1338 and 1381 by Sir Gilbert de Umfraville, and was part of a more extensive structure, most of which was apparently removed in the eighteenth century. It was never quite a castle, more a moated, fortified house. There is a suggestion that one or more other towers might have formed part of the building, but the truth is that no one really knows. What remains has four storeys, prominent string courses, battlements, and a projecting, slightly taller, square stair-turret. Pointed windows with single mullions and simple tracery heads are placed regularly around the tower. The ground floor is vaulted but no floors or ceilings survive above this level. However, records show that the second storey had a patterned floor and was called the Chequer Chamber. Lincolnshire is not particularly rich in medieval fortifications, having relatively few standing castles, and amongst them Kyme Tower is a bit of an oddity because fortified houses are more typically found in Northern England, particularly the Border counties, where the threat of the marauding Scots was very real. What was the particular menace that caused such a structure to be built on the Fens I wonder?

An eighteenth century farmhouse looks across at the tower, and a few hundred yards away, out of the village in the fields, is the remaining fragment of a priory of Augustinian canons. This was founded before 1169. As with many monastic buildings it was pulled down during the Dissolution (1536-1541). The west end of the south aisle, part of the nave and the south porch were allowed to remain and serve as the parish church. Major restoration work in 1888 gave the building a neater form and it continues in use today as the church of St Mary and All Saints.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 14mm (28mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/250
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -1.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Conventional wisdom

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You may have read a couple of weeks ago, the claim by the University of York's Peter Thompson that, contrary to popular belief, horizontally striped clothes are better at disguising excess weight than those with vertical stripes. To reach his conclusion he took 200 pairs of photographs of women in vertically striped and horizontally banded clothes, and asked viewers to decide which looked slimmer. By a margin of 6%, those wearing horizontal stripes were judged to appear more slender. To underpin his findings Thompson pointed out that the more beneficial effect of horizontal lines in clothing was first noted by the German physiologist, Hermann von Hemholtz, nearly a century and a half ago in his "Handbook of Physiological Optics", published in 1867.

This snippet of recent news came to mind as I was processing my image of the reflection of a footbridge in the stretch of water known as the Sleaford Navigation. I had deliberately composed the shot with the strong band of the footbridge going diagonally across the frame. The conventional wisdom about composition is that horizontal lines are stable, calm, and give a sense of space, and diagonals are dynamic, and give a greater feeling of energy. However, looking at my shot I didn't think that the diagonal had that effect at all. Maybe it's a consequence of the strong vertical counteracting the diagonal. It could be the almost moire pattern of the wire mesh reflections. Or perhaps it's the effect of the ripples breaking up and softening the straight edges that negates those lively qualities. On the other hand, it could be that, as with verticals and horizontals in clothing, the accepted view is wrong and diagonals really don't impart the qualities claimed for them. What do you think?

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 98mm (196mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/50
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On