The price of stone

click photo to enlarge

I grew up in the Yorkshire Dales, an area of upland Carboniferous Limestone. Around the small market town where I lived the geological phenomena known as the Craven Faults produced a fractured landscape that, in places, marked the separation of the light grey rock from darker Millstone Grit. The limestone quarry at Giggleswick was in full production, its crushed stone being taken by overhead buckets to wagons at the nearest railway station. Bigger quarries still could be seen up the Ribble Valley near Horton-in-Ribblesdale. However, I discovered as a boy that wherever I walked, whether it was on limestone or Millstone Grit, there were old, small quarries dotted about the landscape where people had cut and broken stone from the plentiful outcrops and cliffs. This had been used to make the drystone field walls, the barns, farmhouses and domestic buildings of the locality. Because they were small they often looked like natural features, and in most cases they blended in with their surroundings very well. This was in strong contrast with the big, commercial quarries that produced aggregate in large quantities and had associated vehicles and industrial plant to facilitate the process. Their impact on the location was (and still is) in the nature of enormous, disfiguring scars.

On a recent visit to Breedon Hill in Leicestershire I was reminded of the quarrying that was familiar to me in my childhood. Though not on the scale of those in Ribblesdale, this limestone quarry is also making a significant and damaging mark on its location which is an area of ancient settlement and the site of an important medieval church. It's ironic that the main product here is a "gold" coloured aggregate that is marketed as suitable for maintaining and enhancing the appearance of historic buildings!

That said, I did find photographic interest in the stone crusher that I could see from the wall at the edge of the churchyard above the quarry. Stone is being delivered to the machine's hopper by the digger at the right of the image, and is then passed though  its bowels and broken into aggregate of different sizes which are deposited in separate piles ready for collection. Looking down on the scene that resembled an alien landscape I reflected that the price of stone is much higher than the cost per tonne to the customer.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 70mm (140mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/1000
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

UFOs and flying saucers

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Last night I saw a UFO (Unidentified Flying Object). It was a glowing, yellowish white shape, roughly spherical against the darkening blue of the late evening sky, with a bright point of light at its base. Was it a helicopter? No, wrong shape and no noise. Was it an aircraft? No, too slow, wrong shape and no noise. A satellite? Too low and more than a bright dot. I reached for a pair of binoculars and the UFO immediately became an IFO (Identified Flying Object). It was a "Chinese" flying lantern, one of those paper hot air balloons with a small candle at its base providing the heat to make it rise, stay aloft and drift on the wind. Which idiot, I wondered, thought it was a good idea to launch one of these after two rainless weeks, when the grass is tinder-dry?

UFO sightings became very common in the post-WW2 world, when the expansion of Communism was much feared, new aircraft designs were rolled out on an almost weekly basis, and the cinema was full of films about aliens, space rockets and the future. It was a time when the sceptical, the mischievous and the imaginative could have fun at the expense of the fearful, the speculative and the gullible. Photographs of flying saucers were mocked up using car wheel hubs, dining crockery, balsa wood and string. These were passed to newspapers with a suitably mysterious written piece about how the photographer had seen the craft land and little green men disembarked to study earth people. The press, happy for a sensational and topical story supported by a plausible picture were only too happy to print such stuff. The revelation that many of these were spoofs did little to stem the flow of such newspaper articles.

A while ago I bought a multi-LED light for use in a cupboard to which I don't want to extend electric lighting. A couple of rechargeable batteries power the twenty three LEDs that fill the space with a very useable glow. I was looking at the light shortly after my "UFO" experience and thought how much better those mocked up 1950s images would have looked if such a thing had been available in those days. So, with that in mind I placed it on my desk, turned off the lights, switched on the LEDs and took this photograph with the LX3 set to macro. I think it's an image that wouldn't disgrace "Close Encounters of the Third Kind"!

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.2
Shutter Speed: 1/125
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -0.66 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Fans, football and TV

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So far my football World Cup viewing of 2010 has matched that of 2006 - I haven't seen a single game. That's not because I don't like the sport: I have inherited a passing interest from my father, and still feel the need to know enough to keep up my end of the conversation with family and friends. But I've never found that the World Cup, and the TV coverage that relays it, presents soccer in a form that I want to consume and digest.

The over-the-top coverage is the first turn-off. I do not want to know about the lives of the players, their wives, the new stadia, the machinations of FIFA, the statistical analyses and the rest: it's all padding. Then there's the quality of the football on display which only occasionally reaches the peaks that we should expect from the best players in the world. The fear of losing seems to drive down the entertainment value. In many respects I'd rather watch a game from one of the lower tiers of the Football League.

However, one of the biggest irritants of the TV coverage is the large number of interviews with players. Nowadays these seem mandatory. I imagine they are contractual. We hear their views pre-selection, during training, before the match, after the match. The answers they give to the interviewers' questions are frequently inarticulate and usually repetitious and mind-numbingly boring: in fact much the same as the ex-footballers who present the programmes and sit on the sofas commenting on the games. Quite why TV companies insist on using people who are good at the sport but have poor communication skills I don't know: far better to choose a person who is articulate with a wide understanding and love of the game, someone who can give the viewer genuine insights into what is happening. A newspaper commentator who is far crueller than I am likened interviewing footballers to soliciting the views of the canine competitors at Crufts.

Which brings me to today's photograph of three England fans that I took when I was out shopping the other day. They were accompanying an elderly lady on her electric mobility scooter. Three things struck me about the dogs. Firstly they showed great forbearance. Secondly, they had very placid temperaments. And thirdly, the rather gormless looking bulldog reminded me an England player. However, I am much too kind to suggest whether current or past, or to suggest a name!

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 10.2mm (48mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f3.2Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -0.66 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

South Chapel, St Lawrence, Evesham

click photo to enlarge

Today's photograph shows the south chapel of the church of St Lawrence in Evesham, Worcestershire. It was built in the early 1500s as a chantry, and today holds the building's font. It is a beautiful, well-lit space, with a fine fan-vaulted roof. The building is no longer in regular use and is in the care of The Churches Conservation Trust. It forms one of an interesting group of three medieval buildings in the centre of Evesham - the other two being the parish church of All Saints and the bell tower of the former abbey. The piece that follows tells something of the history of St Lawrence, and is a transcription of the text on a plaque in its porch.

"The first church built on this site was consecrated by the Bishop of St Asaph in 1295. No feature of this building remains except possibly the crucifixion panel on the north external wall of this porch. It was replaced by the existing Perpendicular building in 1470 and formed part of the conventual buildings of Evesham Abbey which was then the fifth richest in England. The church was erected for the use of the multitude of pilgrims who piously came to worship at the Abbey shrines throughout many years of storm and calm alike. Many diseases being prevalent in these times made it necessary to isolate them from the townsfolk, who exclusively used the adjoining parish Church of All Saints.The bodily needs of the pilgrims were catered for at the Abbey Almonry nearby which is still standing. The church had become sadly dilapidated and in 1730 an extensive and as it proved, disastrous reconstruction took place because owing to faulty construction and poor materials, the new roof collapsed before 1800. The church remained in ruins until 1837 when it was restored and reopened for divine worship in its present form. In 1957 a further minor restoration took place."

photograph and text (c) T.Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.4mm (26mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2
Shutter Speed: 1/50
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

England's patchwork quilt

click photo to enlarge

Visitors to England, and particularly to the lowland areas of these islands, frequently comment on the way much of the landscape is parcelled up into fields bounded by hedges. Natives returning from faraway places often only really notice the contribution that the patchwork of fields makes to our environment when they have been absent for some time and have the opportunity to see English farmland with fresh eyes. And in the minds of many - natives and non-natives alike - there is a feeling that this quintessentially English scene is one of long standing: that it has always been thus.

In fact, the hedges and the fields that they enclose are, for the most part (and especially those of the English Midlands) the product of planning and planting that took place only two hundred years ago. At that time, under a legal process known as "enclosure", the common fields shared by multiple farmers were parcelled out to individual landowners who then enclosed them with hedges. In a few areas of the country, such as the South West, small fields with hedges had long been used, but elsewhere they were imposed in the interests of agricultural efficiency. Many saw the enclosure process as a usurping of ancient rights and a re-distribution of land from the poor to the rich: hedges were disliked because they were part of that process. It is somewhat ironic, therefore, that the disappearance over the past fifty years (in the interests of agricultural efficiency!) of more than half our hedgerows, is widely lamented.

Today's photograph shows the patchwork effect of the fields near Breedon-on-the-Hill in Leicestershire. Each field is a slightly different colour depending on whether it grows wheat, barley, pasture, hay, oilseed rape etc. The dividing hedges are either neatly cut to a uniform width and height, or left to grow in a more natural way, depending on the owners' predelictions, and may or may not contain trees for similar reasons. The best view of this effect is from an aeroplane, but a prominence that rises above the general area, such as Breedon Hill from where I stood to take this shot, serves almost as well. The distant power station with its cooling tower plumes and man-made cloud is at Ratcliffe-on-Soar in nearby Nottinghamshire, and the large buildings in front of it (and actually some distance away), is East Midlands Airport.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 34mm (68mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/640
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

A quandary

click photo to enlarge

I was standing in a Worcestershire orchard on a recent afternoon when my youngest son arrived in his car, parked next to me, and presented me with the image of today's photograph. His car is dark blue, the sky was blue, and the sun had just slipped behind one of the plentiful white clouds. The reflection that started on the car's bonnet near to my feet, extended up to the wiper blades, then was repeated on the windscreen, was very arresting and almost stood up and demanded to be snapped. I immediately knew the image would work in colour but also wondered about black and white, so, breaking a habit of my digital lifetime I took two shots, one colour and one in monochrome.

However, when I came to process the images the colour shot was clearly a better composition, so I binned the black and white shot and did a conversion on the colour image. The resulting photographs are shown above. I've posted two because I'm not sure which I prefer: the impact of colour or the more abstract looking black and white where the bonnet and windscreen are more homogeneous.

N.B. This post should have the title, "A quandary and a puzzle" because I have NO IDEA why the colour image doesn't offer an enlarged version when clicked.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f4
Shutter Speed: 1/1000
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Yew hedges, dioramas and blue skies

click photo to enlarge
I'm sure the curators would disagree, but I think quite a few museums have lost their way when it comes to displaying their contents. Increasingly I find buildings where the displays are pared down in a minimalist way, the "educational" is promoted very heavily, and there seems to be an emphasis on style rather than exhibits.

The Victorians got a lot right with their approach: pile in as much as you can, label everything, add a few panels to give background information and an overview, and leave the rest to the visitor. One of my favourite London collections is the Sir John Soane Museum. It holds the artefacts amassed by the neo-classical architect, and though it was put together just before the Victorian period, it follows their approach to display.

In my youth I visited York reasonably regularly, and in that city the Yorkshire Museum was a magnet for me because of its collection of stuffed birds. Courtesy of Victorian "collectors" (whose methods of shoot and stuff I deplored) I got to see many species that I would otherwise never have set eyes on. Not only extinct birds such as the Great Auk, but also the extreme rarities that pass your way only occasionally or never. These were usually presented singly or in groups in glass cases. There seemed to be room after room of such exhibits, broken up with the odd diorama showing a bird, such as the black grouse, against a painted backdrop of its habitat, with a few plants and rocks scattered about. In fact, that was my introduction to the word "diorama", and its a word I only occasionally came across in subsequent years. Today, in museums, the diorama as a method of presentation seems to be viewed as old hat.

However, the word has made a comeback courtesy of photography. By a trick of lenses and software, people have devised a way of giving a real scene the appearance of a diorama. By adding foreground and background blur the impression of a shallow depth of field such as is found in close-up photography is achieved. This tricks the brain into, on first viewing, seeing the photograph as a set with models: see examples here and here. I understand that the Olympus PEN range of cameras have the facility to create these built into them as an effect. The only question I have is, "Why?" I can see that it's a trick that is easily done, but what is its purpose? I can't think of a use to which I would put it, so its reason is lost on me.

What has my photograph of the top of a yew hedge* against a blue sky with white clouds got to do with dioramas? Well, it occurred to me that the photograph could be mistaken for a view of the jungle-covered hills of somewhere such as New Guinea. Which would make the image something akin to a "reverse photographic diorama"!

* See another of my images of a yew hedge cut in this traditional manner here.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 28mm (56mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/1000
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Dowsby church

click photo to enlarge
A few evenings ago, as I was driving to a speaking engagement, my route took me past Dowsby church. At around 7pm in the middle of June the sun is low but still bright, and the absence of clouds on this particular day meant that it was modelling the landscape very nicely. Consequently, I pulled over, got out of the car, and took a couple of photographs of the medieval building from the roadside looking across the corner of a field of wheat.

Dowsby is in many respects a very typical English village church setting - quiet, leafy, verdant. Whilst many churches are in the centre of their settlements frequently they are at the edge, as in this case. Dowsby itself is no more than a handful of houses strung out around the junctions where a couple of side roads meet a main road. However, nearby is the old Dowsby Hall, and though it is later than the church, its wealth and influence will have exerted a pull on the church for several centuries. The churchyard at Dowsby is relatively small, as befits a building serving a small village and some farms. However, it does support a few trees as most English churchyards manage to do. The path through the churchyard is across the grass: presumably the congregation is so small that the wear of their passing feet has never necessitated the laying of something more permanent. Having said that, as the recent gravestones in this image from Google Street View show, the graveyard continues to accept the deceased.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f3.5
Shutter Speed: 1/500
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -0.66 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The Calla Lily

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The Calla Lily, also known as the Arum Lily, is not a true lily. It belongs to the family Araceae rather than Liliaceae, and to the genus Zantedeschia. Consequently its Latin name is Zantedeschia aethiopica. Like all the flowers of this genus it originates from Africa, and in the case of Calla Lily, from areas of marsh and wetland.

It is popular among flower arrangers because of its large, funnel-like, white bloom that has a prominent yellow spadix. Those who arrange flowers in churches are particularly drawn to the Calla Lily for two reasons. Firstly, it makes a fine show in the dark surroundings of a large building where smaller, darker coloured flowers are often overwhelmed. And secondly, the lily has symbolic connotations for the Christian religion (even a flower that is a lily in name only).The paintings of the Italian Renaissance frequently show figures holding lilies of one kind or another. In this example by Raffaellino del Garbo (c.1466-1524)  Mary is holding a true lily as a symbol of her purity. The renowned Mexican painter, Diego Rivera (1886-1957) was fascinated by the Calla Lily judging by the number of his paintings that feature the flower. Probably the best known is "The Flower Vendor", but further examples abound  - see here, here, and here.

Photographs of the Calla Lily usually emphasise its flawless, creamy white and gentle shading. However, in the relative darkness of a medieval church, shadows are often deeper and tinted light finds its way on to everything. Consequently my image is far from flawless, and the curved funnel has a more sombre, even slightly sinister feel.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2
Shutter Speed: 1/60
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -0.66 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Power to the people

click photo to enlarge
Sometimes I get home from a bit of photography, review my shots on the computer screen, and then realise the oppotunities I missed. Often that prompts me to return to the same location and look anew for images. I did that the other day when I went to a wind farm that has a large electricity sub-station and wildlife reserve nearby.

The line of electricity pylons that passes through this particular part of the Fens links to this sub-station, perhaps to transform the voltage or for some other reason of which I am ignorant. Whatever happens there takes place behind large metal and electric fences that are liberally festooned with bright yellow "Danger of Death" signs. Peering through an unelectrified fence you can see ranks of machinery with insulators that sit and hum. A shot I'd casually taken the previous day included the shadows of this fence, so for my second visit I went later in the day and looked for a shot that included it to greater effect. Today's image is the result. I suppose it is one of those that has limited appeal, but I quite like it, not least for my shadow pressed against the fence as I placed the camera lens between the bars.

I called this post "Power to the people" not solely because it depicts an electricity installation, but because as I was going about my photographic business I was pondering some words of President Obama in relation to the disastrous oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico, an event that has happened in part because of mankind's insatiable thirst for cheap power. He said that it would have an effect on the government and people's approach to the environment of the same magnitude that 9/11 did to the approach to national security. He may well be right. But he should be wrong! There have been other man-made environmental disasters with the magnitude to have been a wake-up call to the world, such as Minimata or Chernobyl, but the event that definitely should have caused a rethink on industry and the environment, happened in 1984, and not in the U.S.A., but in India. The Bhopal disaster was caused by a leak of chemicals at the U.S.-owned Union Carbide pesticide plant. Half a million people were exposed to the chemicals, and though precise figures are disputed, it is widely accepted that about 8,000 died soon after, and a futher perished 8,000 later from gas-related diseases (the Indian government says 3,500 within days and 15,000 in subsequent years) . A large area of land remains contaminated to this day. Moreover, the compensation given to the bereaved and injured, and for the cleaning up of the pollution was pitiably small, and legal action continues with limited effect twenty five years later. Regrettably it doesn't take a great deal of thought to work out why that was the case then, in India, and why there is a different scenario being played out now over the oil spill off the U.S. coast.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 11mm (22mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/500
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Wind turbines and dog daisies

click photo to enlarge

Drifting clouds above, drifts of dog daisies below. And, drifting by in the mid-distance, to the left of the nearest wind turbine, a buzzard. I took this photograph on one of those June afternoons when the light is bright, the air is clear because the temperature's around 16 Celsius, and the world is looking at its best. Yes, even with hulking great wind turbines dotted about!

I'd gone to the wind farm for two reasons. Firstly to get a photograph or two, and secondly to have a look at the wildlife areas that surround the associated electricity sub-station, and check on the growth of the trees, bushes, grasses and flowers. The Fens is an intensively cultivated area of England, with cereals and vegetables predominating (though near these turbines is a fruit farm), and relatively few cattle and sheep (though both could be seen from this spot). What it doesn't have that most other areas of the country do is extensive pasture. There are pieces here and there, but nothing on a big scale except along the banks of the larger, canal-like drains. It also lacks woodlands of any size and patches of uncultivated land are rare. Consequently, the deliberate planting of an area to encourage wildlife is to be applauded. This one isn't large, but in a Fenland location even a small reserve makes a significant contribution to biodiversity.

On the day of my visit the dog daisies were flowering in profusion - banks of white and yellow heads were everywhere dancing on the breeze. Birds were flitting here and there too. In twenty minutes of looking over the reserve I saw yellowhammers, skylarks, reed buntings, house sparrows, starlings, tree sparrows, sedge warblers, a whitethroat, red-legged partridges, kestrels, greenfinches, goldfinches, magpies, blue tits, great tits, a little owl and pied wagtails. Beyond its confines was the buzzard, carrion crows, pheasants, wood pigeons and collared doves. I know that if I'd visited nearer to sunset there would have been barn owls and tawny owls too.

A while ago I wrote a blog entry entitled "Co-existence" about how wind farms, farming and wildlife try to live alongside each other. It was illustrated with a photograph taken from near the distant tree line in the image above. As I drove home from today's outing I thought about the wildlife I'd seen in the shadow of the turbines and pylons, and wondered whether there were other areas that could be similarly exploited to further improve that co-existence.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 14mm (28mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/1000
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Votive candles

click photo to enlarge
The lighting of candles to mark a vow or a prayer is a practice of long standing. But whereas one can perhaps see the rationale in medieval times - a lit candle illuminated the building, and was a display of care, concern and devotion that involved a small, but significant cost - it is perhaps something of a surprise that it continues in these days of electrcity, LEDs and the like. Or perhaps not. Maybe it is the fact that it is a tradition of long standing that appeals to people and causes them to continue with it. Today it can also be seen at impromptu tributes to a deceased person and pop music concerts. My image, however, shows three votive candles that I came across in a Lincolnshire church. They are quite common in Roman Catholic churches, but these were in a Church of England building where such things are often taken as a sign that the incumbent and the congregation is "High Church".

Often votive candles are arranged on a metal stand in tiered lines, though I have seen a cross-shaped holder. This one was circular and had about half its potential candles burning. Occasionally, in medieval churches I've come across what must have been an early forerunner of the votive candle stand - the cresset stone. This is a slab of stone with several holes bored or hammered into it so that tallow and a wick can be placed in each to form a candle. They may also have been used as a safe form of lighting in what were then much more inflammable buildings.

Today's image was hand-held in a dark corner of the church. I tried for a composition that involved a curve across the frame with the nearest candle in focus. I dialled in -1.0 EV to ensure that the flames retained detail and weren't reduced to a large white glow.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 10.2mm (48mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.6
Shutter Speed: 1/80
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The pleasure of imperfection

click photo to enlarge

The fields of Lincolnshire are looking their cultivated, perfect best. Rows of cereals and vegetables are mathematically straight, weeds have been cowed into submission by tractors with spray booms, and leaves are of the deepest green following scientifically accurate applications of fertiliser. It all bodes well for a good harvest. But thankfully, in a corner here, a field there, things are not going quite as intended. The yellow and white heads of corn chamomile break up the uniformity in a few areas, and the sunshine flowers of last year's oilseed rape, guerilla plants that evaded the farmers herbicides, can be seen dotted about rising above the ears of wheat. Around field boundaries and headlands poppies have appeared, their seed having lain dormant for who knows how long. In one field that I came across an army of these redcoats was peering out over the wheat, asserting itself as June's traditional dash of scarlet.

There was a time when poppies glowed in many, if not most, cereals. But the advance of science in farming has all but ended that wonderful sight in many parts of England. Today there is no place for the uplifting spectacle that is a wheat field invaded by these scarlet battalions. So, when I saw the flowers in today's photograph, clustered and spread through about half of a crop of wheat I smiled and thought, "Isn't imperfection beautiful!", then scrambled down and up a deep ditch (getting stung by nettles in the process), stepped over a low fence, crouched low and grabbed my image.

I manage to get a photograph of wheat and poppies most years, though as with this one, it's invariably when I come upon them by chance, rather than by design. Previous examples, shot in more of a landscape mode, can be seen here and here. Incidentally, the title of today's piece was going to be "The beauty of imperfection", but that rang a small bell in my head, so I looked back through my posts and found that I'd used it in November 2008, when I blogged on the same theme, though from a different perspective.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

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

Serendipitous visual connections

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Photography has always made more of serendipitous visual connections than has painting. The fact that painters have a free rein when it comes to subjects, whereas photograpers have to root their images in something offered by the real world largely accounts for this. Surreal paintings, for example, can be anything that the painter can imagine, whereas the photographer's conceptions are limited by the subjects he can capture and the way they can be juxtaposed.

Today's photograph was taken at the same exhibition of underwear as yesterday's image. Here a group of mannequins modelling bras, corsets, briefs etc. were arranged on raised blocks in front of a wall. The curator had taken careful steps to theme the signs and props that accompanied the lingerie, even to the point of having a discreet "Please do not touch" sign painted on the backdrop in a red, cursive script. It was clearly meant to apply to the mannequins and their underwear. However, when framed by the camera alongside a headless, voluptuous female shape made of overlapping shadows it seemed to be less of a request for restraint and more an invitation to consider the nature of reality. Can you touch a shadow? Does a shadow actually exist in a corporeal sense, or in any other tangible way? How would you go about leaving a mark on a shadow?

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2
Shutter Speed: 1/40
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -0.66 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Fashion, lingerie and shadows

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"Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every six months."
Oscar Wilde (1854-1900) Irish playwright, poet and author

Wilde's sentiments, you suspect, would not be shared by most people today, so effectively have we been brainwashed into believing that new is better, that being fashionable is desirable and makes us desirable, and that anyway it is inevitable so we might as well enjoy it.

Fashion is, it seems inevitable, but that doesn't mean we should enjoy it or that it is intrinsically enjoyable. I think we sometimes forget that its sole purpose is to part the public from their money, and fashion shouldn't be confused with "styling" or "design". I've sounded off elsewhere in the blog about the idiocy and wastefulness of the fashion for bottled water, the stupidity of the public in paying more rather than less for clothing that has large adverts for the manufacturer plastered all over it (watch the current soccer World Cup spectators for mind-blowing evidence of this), and the craziness of the fashion for jeans that are artificially aged and torn before you buy them for a sum of money that is greater than you'd spend on a new, undamaged pair.

However, yesterday, when I attended an exhibition at The Hub, Sleaford, of women's underwear with my wife (I definitely needed to add those last three words in this sentence!), I was reflecting on the amazing discomfort that women put themselves through in the name of fashion. From the 1920s bras designed to minimise the size of the bust to the 1950s Playtex rubber corset that claimed to reduce the size of hips, there seemed to be no form of self-torture that wouldn't be sold and bought in the name of fashion. And when underwear wasn't being purchased with the intention of making parts of the body smaller, it was manufactured with the opposite in mind, as with the wired uplift of the "Wonderbra", or the bra that had inflatable sections to increase the apparent size of the bust at will, amply demonstrated.

Well, the ups and downs (and ins and outs) of female fashion was very interesting, and the exhibition was certainly worth seeing, but as well as illumination about the history of female undergarments, I was also pre-occupied with the possibility of finding an image with which to feed the blog. This is the one that caught my eye, a mannequin and its multiple, overlapping shadow, the result of the strong display lighting. The image looks a little like an example of "colour popping", but it isn't, as a close inspection of the shadows will reveal.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 8.8mm (41mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.5
Shutter Speed: 1/60
ISO: 320
Exposure Compensation: -0.66 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Water lilies and femmes fatale

click photo to enlarge
The femme fatale with her beguiling beauty is something of a cliche. A classic example in art is "The Beguiling of Merlin" by Sir Edward Burne-Jones (1833-1898), the Pre-Raphaelite painter and designer. This well-known piece shows the femme fatale, Nimue, luring the powerless Merlin. In religion, history, literature and film this figure abounds too, in women such as of Salome, Delilah, Cleopatra and Mae West.

The other day it occurred to me that there are flowers with something of the femme fatale about them. I was photographing rhododendrons in the Yorkshire Dales. These were introduced into England from Asia by the Victorians because of their large and beautiful flowers. Their exotic beauty resulted in them being planted in far too many locations and receiving too little management, with the consequence that they now constitute a weed in many woods throughout the country.

The same is true of a number of water plants including the beautiful water lily. Some lakes and pond have been choked by these lovely plants that were introduced by well-meaning people seeking to add a little colour and elevate the appearance of nondescript stretches of water.

This year my small pond has fourteen water lily flowers in bloom, as many as I've seen at one time. However, once the display has finished we will be cutting back the plants otherwise they will cover the whole of the surface of the water with their round leaves. I took this photograph of one of the flowers after a short, sharp shower had cleared to reveal broken clouds and a little blue sky. The water droplets and the reflected blue seemed to set off the perfect flower very nicely.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 140mm macro (280mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/500
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Inside Norwich Cathedral

click photos to enlarge

In a recent post I was a little less than complimentary about the exterior of Norwich Cathedral. Today's post shows two views of the inside of the building, the part of the building that impressed me greatly.

There are a number of architectural historians and afficionados of medieval architecture who are somewhat dismissive of Norman work. I have a feeling this stems from the nineteenth century revival of Gothic when the consensus seemed to be that the Early English and Decorated periods were the summit of achievement, Perpendicular was (in many respects) a sign of decline, and Norman was the barbarous phase before the invention of the pointed arch. Today many people have got past that point of view and can see virtue in the heavy massing, solidity, and simple, sometimes rather naive looking decoration of the style.

There's no doubt that the small windows, narrow arches and deeply cut moulding of Norman architecture gives shadow and drama that the photographer can exploit. My first image was taken in the apsidal ambulatory that wraps around the east end of the cathedral. Rounded apses with chapels are a French idea that isn't found in too many English cathedrals (there were more, but they have been re-modelled). The English taste was for a square east end that may have suited the liturgy better, or may simply been a matter of aesthetic choice, but with a square design the vistas are definitely not as interesting. The second shot shows the nave looking east from towards the west end. Norman cathedral naves in England invariably have wooden ceilings. This is because rounded masonry arches are unable span such wide distances in the way that pointed arches can. Where there is a vaulted masonry ceiling above a Norman nave (as there is at Norwich) it is invariably a later substitution (in this case after a fire of 1463).

The lighting in the cathedral on a dull day challenged the capacities of a hand-held LX3, but, apart from a slightly HDR look to the shot of the nave (partly due to the lighting) I think it acquitted itself quite well.

photographs and text (c) T. Boughen

Photo 1 (Photo 2)
Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2
Shutter Speed: 1/25 (1/30)
ISO: 800 (400)
Exposure Compensation: -0.66 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

What we've gained and what we've lost

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There is often something of Candide to comments people make about living in a developed country in the 21st century, with many feeling that "all is for the best in the best of all possible worlds." So, it is a surprise, but also refreshing, to come across a piece that not only recognises the benefits of modern life, but also looks at its downside and reminds us of some of the things that we have lost in arriving at our present state of grace. In a recent presentation at the Hay Festival David Boyle and Andrew Simms of the New Economic Foundation did just this.

Looking past the short life spans, terrible medical and dental care, lawlessness, etc. of the twelfth century they listed some of the areas where that period in history bettered our time. They commented on the "debt-free living", frequent holidays, lack of a work ethic, the concept of a "just price" for goods, and much else. A small farmer, they calculate, could have a comfortable existence (in twelfth century terms) on 195 days work, leaving 170 days available for holidays. By 1564 the farmer would need to work 280 days. Thereafter the amount of free time for people has declined to the point where today most families need two full-time workers with relatively short holidays if they are to support a home and family. If our world is to maintain its population at a level that is fair and sustainable then thinking of this sort needs to enter the mainstream discussion of economics.

I was thinking about this when I was deciding which photograph to post from my recent collection. This image of Southwell Workhouse's main entrance seemed to be a useful partner for my thoughts. It dates from 1824, derives some of its form from ideas about prison architecture, and became something of a model for those wanting to spend less on the deserving and undeserving poor of parishes during the early nineteenth century. It has been restored by the National Trust and is open to the public. The building is not without interest, but I can't help but feel that the Trust needs to spend some money on displays to better explain, and to fill, its endless series of small rooms.

This earlier blog post was taken in the room behind the front door.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 11mm (22mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/800
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Chives, cutting and principles

click photo to enlarge

Our chives look a picture at the moment. However, there are those who say they shouldn't. Their argument is that if you want plenty of leaves for chopping up to use in your culinary dishes, then you need to cut the flowers hard as they appear. But then, of course, you don't get the display of purple pom-poms as seen in today's photograph. I think there's another argument about what and when to cut. This says that if you don't use that much in the way of chives then leave the flowers alone and enjoy their fulsome beauty, cut the leaves you need, and when the flowers have finished take the lot off with the shears to stimulate further leaf growth.

Politicians in the UK at the moment are also discussing two different methods of cutting. But it's in connection with the altogether tougher problem of reducing the budget deficit. There are those who say cut hard and cut soon, and others who advocate cutting less deeply, but steadily. Our coalition government looks like it is going to follow the first course, and in arriving at that judgement it has been fun (of a macabre kind) to watch the junior partners (the Liberal Democrats) fall into line with the Tories having campaigned vociferously in the election against cutting deeply and quickly because (as they then saw it) it was too damaging and wrong in principle. The Liberal Democrats' Vince Cable is reported as saying he has changed his mind on this, and furthermore that he "is not a socialist". He may not be a socialist and he doesn't appear to be a left-leaning or Keynsian liberal either. And he may be sincere about his change of heart, but unfortunately a volte face of this order makes him look like a Marxist. A Marxist, that is, of the Groucho persuasion rather than a follower of Karl. I can't remember in what context it was, but I do recall Groucho saying, "Those are my principles, and if you don't like them...well, I have others." I can't help but think that many people who supported the Liberal Democrats in the election will feel that they have been duped when they look at U-turns of this sort.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 35mm macro (70mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Bird's eye view of Settle, North Yorkshire

click photos to enlarge 
There can't be very many small towns in the UK where a panorama as revealing as the one in today's photograph can be achieved by a five minute walk. However, that's all it takes to get this marvellous bird's-eye view of Settle in North Yorkshire. Towering over the centre of the town is the limestone cliff called Castlebergh. It is surmounted by a flagpole which on the day of our recent visit was flying the cross of St George. Two steep, rocky paths take the intrepid up through some trees to the point where they converge on the flat summit of this vantage point. Hills and limestone crags continue upwards behind you as you stand at the top and gaze over the town. On the distant horizon is the edge of the moorland known as the Forest of Bowland. To the left, out of view is the valley of the River Ribble and far off Pendle Hill, while to the right the valley extends up to Stackhouse, Stainforth, Horton in Ribblesdale and the area of the Three Peaks.

When I was growing up in Settle I often made the trip to the top of Castlebergh to play or to simply take in the view. At that time ivy, small rowan and wallflowers clung precariously to the cliff face, but today it has been largely cleared of plants and loose rock and has become a location for climbers. The view in 2010 has much that is the same as the view of fifty years ago, and quite a lot that is different. The town has spread, green fields have been filled with buildings, and the boundary between Settle and the village of Giggleswick (on the other side of the River Ribble) is less clear than formerly. However, the railway still runs through the town on its embankment, and the old part of the settlement clustered below the rock and around the market place is relatively unchanged. I've included a separate shot of the town centre with Ye Olde Naked Man Cafe (see post of 31st May 2010). You might like to find the building in the panoramic image too.

I took these shots on an unseasonally cold late May day when we went to do a little shopping and decided to include a detour to the top of Castlebergh. The wind was sufficiently strong for us to have to put on jackets - in my wife's case a backpacking waterproof cagoule that looks a little incongruous alongside her handbag.

photographs & text (c) T. Boughen

Photo 1 (Photo 2)
Camera: Lumix LX3 (Olympus E510)
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.) (61mm (122mm/35mm equiv.))
F No: f4 (f6.3)
Shutter Speed: 1/640 (1/640)
ISO: 80 (100)
Exposure Compensation: -0.66 (-0.3) EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Sheep, Penyghent and rain

click photo to enlarge

 Anyone who knows the Three Peaks of the Yorkshire Dales (Ingleborough, Penyghent and Whernside) usually has a favourite. And most people, when asked, name Ingleborough as the one they like best. It features in countless photographs and there's a lot to like about that particular mountain. It has a great flat-topped profile against the sky, the result of the differential erosion of the rocks in the Yoredale strata. Its location next to the Chapel Beck valley gives it a looming mass that is quite awe inspiring. And the limestone on and around Ingleborough is very prominent, adding to its rugged appeal. Then there's the Iron Age hill fort on its summit and the very accessible caves and potholes on its flanks. Whernside is usually placed third in this beauty contest. It is a lump of a peak, a whaleback that is difficult to pick out from some angles, and it doesn't have the characteristic profile that the other two share. Its proximity to Ribblehead railway viaduct is a plus, but its comparative anonymity is reflected in the much smaller number of photographs that it attracts.

However, my favourite is Penyghent. Why? Well, I could see it easily daily from Settle when I was growing up in that market town: I had to go on to the hills to view Ingleborough and Whernside. I noticed its changing moods and colours through each season. I walked to it and up it on a few occasions, and in later years climbed it with my family more than I did the other two. Then there's the clinching argument that means I could choose no other - in primary school I was in the "house" named Penyghent Blues! We competed against Ingleborough Yellows, Whernside Greens, and Pendle Reds (named after the Three Peaks and a Lancashire peak, all visible from in or around Settle).

It was only in later years that I learned that Penyghent is Celtic for "hill of winds", and that it is a monadnock (also known as inselberg) that stood above the glaciers that flowed round it in the recent Ice Age. In fact I know more about that mountain than I do about the sheep in the foreground of this photograph. They are a breed that is a more common sight in the Yorkshire Dales following the foot and mouth sheep culls of 2001. It must be one of the types listed on this informative website. But which one? I really can't decide.

I took my photograph from above Little Stainforth about half way through a walk that took in Giggleswick Scars and the valley of the River Ribble. Descending from the limestone near Smearsett Scar we were glad to see the rain enveloping the mountain rather than us!

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 40mm (80mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Swaledales and fashion

click photo to enlarge

Striding out on the limestone grasslands of the Craven uplands of North Yorkshire I was starting to feel sorry for the sheep. For the Swaledales in particular, the breed that is the mainstay of the local farms. A very dry spell of weather meant that the grass wasn't growing as lushly as it should have been in late May, and the animals were having to be fed supplements brought to them by shepherds on quad bikes. The temperature was unseasonally cold too, with a northerly wind causing me to don a jacket. The lambs looked to be faring quite well, their mothers' milk and what food there was stimulating the thick, curly fleece that offers very effective insulation against the bad weather. No, it wasn't the youngsters that I was concerned about, it was the ewes. Quite a number of them had fleeces that were dropping off their backs, hanging down in rags, the missing pieces blowing about among the nardus grass or caught on the drystone walls and barbed wire. Sheep shearing in the Dales usually starts at the end of May. Had it been postponed due to the weather, I wondered, or was there some other reason for the dishevelled look of the local inhabitants?

Then it struck me. Perhaps this wasn't a case of shearing delayed, but was a matter of sartorial choice on the part of the Swaledales. Could it be that a quirk of the evolutionary process was causing them to follow the precedents of some of the higher life forms who pass their way; in particular the fashionably dressed youngsters on outdoor pursuits courses, or those dragged on to the hills by enthusiastic parents (my children know that of which I speak). The sheep must have seen the ripped jeans, stonewashed shirts, artificially distressed jumpers and artfully revealed midriffs, and thought, "At last, the humans have a fashion that we can copy!" Either that or they're taking the rip and having a good laugh at our expense. What do you think?

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 83mm (166mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/250
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On