Palestra

 

click photo to enlarge

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

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

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

photographs and text (c) T. Boughen

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

The beasts of the field

 

click photo to enlarge

When I first moved to Lincolnshire there were times when I felt like I'd stumbled into a Mad Max movie. The agricultural vehicles that trundled along the roads and lanes reminded me of the weird and wonderful creations that figure in this series of post-apocalypse tales. The tractor-like vehicles that carry big containers of chemicals and have prehensile booms that can be folded up behind them when on the road, but extend unfeasibly far when deployed for spraying could easily be from these movies. So too could the "mini-veg packers" (small photo) - tractors with cup conveyor belts that take brassicas from the field-hand to the packers on the "covered-wagon" trailer. They would need very little adaptation to be of use to a marauding band of ne'er do wells. And as for the "Beet Eater" (main photo), well, the very name qualifies it as the mount of choice for the leader of an outlaw pack.

However, familiarity brings a different perspective and now, three and a half years into my time in this eastern county, I no longer see these agricultural machines in terms of cinema fiction. No, today I think of them as the "beasts" of the field! The undoubted king - see it as the elephant or the lion - is the beet harvester, by a short head from the combine harvester. Why? Well, a combine havester crossing a field of wheat is akin to a wildebeast ambling across the sun-soaked savanna grass, but a giant beet harvester racing across a field of beet, grubbing up the beet, devouring it, chewing up the foliage and spitting it aside is akin to a warthog boar greedily rooting out truffles! I tossed this jumble of similes and metaphors about in my head the other day when I took these two photographs. You might think I should have tossed them in the bin!

photographs & text (c) T. Boughen

First photo
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 300mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/320
ISO: 640
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Fenland fog

click photo to enlarge

In a talk I gave last month I was waxing lyrical about the purposes and pleasures of photography. During the course of my delivery I described photographers as one of the few groups of people who, on seeing fog from their bedroom window when waking, exclaim, "Hooray!", gobble their breakfast and hurry out into it. With hindsight I recognise that may be an overstatement. In fact, thinking about it more, I'm possibly the only person who does this! And yet, what can be more enticing than atmospheric conditions that change the face of the landscape that you know and photograph regularly, and which presents you with fresh views at every turn? I know that photographers definitely relish the falls of snow that bring about a similar kind of transformation, so I perhaps can't be the only one to welcome the arrival of a good, thick fog.

As I write this we've just had the first snow of the winter. But, as is sometimes the way, a walk in it with the camera produced nothing that I considered good enough to post here. So, back to the fog. Today's image is of a Fenland cottage out in the fields by the side of an unfenced lane, muddy from the passage of vehicles that have been harvesting the beet and brussels. Had I taken the photograph on a clear day the horizon would have featured telegraph poles, pylons, a few houses and trees. The fog transformed the scene by obliterating this clutter and left me to focus on the small building and its surrounding plot and trees. In fact it turned the image into one that could have been taken at any time between, say, 1850 and the present day. With that in mind, and to add to the soft qualities that the fog gave to the scene, I thought I'd convert the photograph to black and white.

For another shot of this cottage in last December's snow, see here.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 32mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/30
ISO: 320
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Donington church

click photo to enlarge

With 22mm (35mm equivalent) I couldn't do it, but with 17mmm I can. What is it? The answer is fit this church into the frame in landscape format while showing the "semi-detached" nature of its tower.

The village of Donington - like many villages in the Lincolnshire area called Holland - has a big medieval church, a reflection of the relative prosperity of this area in the middle ages when sheep roamed the flat landscape. However, like a lot of these big churches, St Mary and the Holy Rood is fairly near to the road, has houses in close proximity, and its churchyard has a retaining wall and very tall trees. Consequently, the number of positions for a photographer who wants to capture the whole of the building, are relatively few. My recent purchase of the 17-40mm zoom, a lens that covers the range from "ultra-wide" to "normal" has solved my problem at Donington. Over the next few months I'll try it out on other local churches where this is an issue.

When I first bought an SLR in the early 1970s 35mm was considered a wide angle lens. Gradually, over the years, this came to be seen as a relatively normal focal length, and 28mm became the widest that the average amateur photographer aspired to. Today 24mm is relatively common and the enthusiast can choose from a range of wide angle lenses that go down to around 10mm, at which point the "fish-eye" lens with a 180 degree field of view enters the equation. As a result of this widening of lenses and of choice, images with distortion are much more common than formerly, and viewers are much more accepting of it. But, I'm not. Perhaps it's the legacy of my days with longer focal lengths, or perhaps it's my interest in painting and architecture. Whatever the reason, with some images I just have to straighten the verticals. Any time you point the camera up or down, and straight lines feature in the subject, you get convergence. With a wide angle, however, they occur much more frequently and noticeably. Today's image had them, and they've been corrected, as has the building's relative height. But, what can't be corrected is the proper ratios within the building. Here the chancel looks bigger than it is in real life, and the balance of tower to spire isn't quite right. One day there will doubtless be software that can deal with these anomalies. Until then, this is the best I could do as the late November sun started to disappear behind the nearby houses and trees.

For more of my images of the exterior of this church see here, here and here.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 17mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/40
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation:N/A

The "Counting the Cost" Memorial

click photo to enlarge

I recently attended a talk on "remembrance" that included the subject of war memorials. These tributes to the fallen can be seen all over the country in villages, towns and cities. Most of them date from around 1920 and list the local men (and women) who died in the First World War. Invariably they were added to after the Second World War, and some have names from later conflicts. A few memorials - such as the The Cenotaph in Whitehall, London - commemorate no individual, but rather seek to remember all those who died. And then there are others that are very specific, honouring women, or particular branches of the armed forces.

On my recent visit to the Imperial War Museum aviation museums at Duxford I photographed a memorial to United States airmen who flew from Britain during World War Two. It is a very effective and moving design that departs radically from the usual stone and sculpture of earlier memorials. The designer was Renato Niemis, and his bold idea was to use 52 toughened clear float glass panels each of which is etched with a repesentation of an aircraft that was lost. The panels line the path that leads to the American Air Museum, and as you walk alongside it, passing the packed ranks of B-17s, Liberators, Mustangs etc you become aware of just how many aircraft were shot down. Moreover, as you imagine each bomber with its full complement of crewmen - 10 in the case of the B-17 - you start to grasp the human cost of the bombing campaign in terms the aircrew who never returned. In fact, 7,031 aircraft are depicted, and it is a salutary experience to see this before you enter the museum and see examples of some of the aircraft shown on the memorial.

The light was very changeable, and somewhat dull when I tried to photograph the "Counting the Cost" memorial. The best shot I got was the detail against the clouds and blue of the sky. I include the second photograph not for any special photographic qualities, but to give a better idea of how the aircraft are packed onto each panel.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

First photo
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 67mm
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/1000
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Photography and serendipity

click photo to enlarge

The word "serendipity" was coined in 1754 by the English writer and historian, Horace Walpole (1717-1797) from a "silly fairy tale" that he had read called The Three Princes of Serendip (Serendip was a former name for Sri Lanka). It means, "the faculty of making happy and unexpected discoveries by accident" (OED), though over the years it has come to have a second, linked meaning of - "good fortune, good luck or happy chance or circumstance".

Since Walpole invented the word it has been used widely and has spread across the world, even crossing into other languages. Moreover, people have come to recognize it as an uncontrollable attribute akin to fate or luck, though its positive qualities endear it to people more than those fickle powers. In most walks of life - business, science, technology, medicine, the arts etc. - serendipity is recognized as that unforseen but fortunate happening that can be seized and used. I find that in photography it can play a significant role.

Take today's image. I was standing on the bank of the River Slea at Sleaford composing this photograph. To the right I placed the short section of fence - a bit of foreground interest among the nearby nettles and grass. I moved slightly so that the reflected trees fell to the left and right of the upright post in the water. Then, surveying the scene through the viewfinder I wished for a little more interest on the left of the composition. At that moment the inverted reflection of two walkers came into view, so I waited for them to reach the patch of blue sky above the reflected bank in the top corner then pressed the shutter button. Serendipity had struck again!

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 45mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/100
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The fascination of weirs

click photo to enlarge

Over the years I must have spent many happy hours staring at river water as it pours over a weir. Being raised in the the Yorkshire Dales near the fast-flowing River Ribble exposed me to a number, and I remember, as a child, being fascinated by the way water passed over them, changing from a slowly moving, smooth sheen to an organised, falling turbulence which finally became a turmoil of frothing foam. Like most people, when I see one today, I still stop and look at it.

The weir in today's photograph is small compared with those at, say, Settle or Langcliffe on the upper Ribble. However, size isn't a crucial factor in enjoying a weir, and a diminutive example has the advantage of concentrating your attention on a smaller, ever-changing area. This one is on the River Slea in Sleaford, Lincolnshire, near Cogglesford Mill. The old water-mill is at a point where a navigable part of the river falls into the natural, meandering water-course, and has structures around it - walls, bars, grilles etc - that are no longer used. What caught my eye here was the complementary contrast of the reflected yellow leaves of the overhanging tree with the blue of the sky. I consciously composed the shot with three distinct horizontal bands. However, it wasn't until I got home and had the image in front of me on the computer that I saw the solid, dark lines - one large, and the other smaller - across the bottom of the top of the three sections. What caused them? Then I remebered that there was a bar, wooden I think, fixed across the watercourse a foot or two above the lip of the weir, and the lines are its reflections.

Incidentally, the water above the weir was smooth and quite reflective, but the passage of a few ducks had caused the turbulence that broke up the tree's reflection a few seconds before I took the photograph. For another of my weir images see here.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 154mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/160
ISO: 1250
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

November leaves

click photo to enlarge

The leaves are fast disappearing from the trees leaving them stripped, their "bones" becoming black tracery against the sky. As I walked through the village this afternoon I made a note of those trees that were clinging on to their leaves, reluctant to let them go. One or two silver birches had a few yellow leaves dancing on the northerly wind. The beech trees had more than most, a harmony of brown, orange and yellow, still looking quite full, like a skirt around the lower limbs and trunk. The sycamore leaves have mostly gone, as have those on the hawthorns, but in one or two places they too clung on to a cluster ot two. All the horse chestnuts were bare with wet black trunks and branches. The willows, as ever looked the fullest, perhaps half, maybe more of their leaves gone, but plenty still remaining, making them look like the hirsute in a crowd of ballards!

Evidence of the leaf fall was everywhere in the piles of wet, rotting leaves against the kerbs, up the side of buildings and garages, and in drifts on the hedge-row bottoms. The dank sodden piles offered no delight to children, either to hurl in the air or to kick through like a silvan plough. As I stepped over and through them, being careful not to slip, I remembered the crisp, dry banks of fallen plane tree leaves I'd crunched through in London only a fortnight or so ago. Today's photograph is one that I took then, when the earliest fallen brown leaves were still being joined by their green and yellow compatriots.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 50mm
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/50
ISO: 160
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Counterpoints and foils

click photo to enlarge

Counterpoint (v2) - 3. To set in contrast; to emphasize a contrast between (two things) by juxtaposition...
Foil (n1) - 6. Anything that serves by contrast of colour or quality to adorn another thing or set it off to advantage.
definitions from the Oxford English Dictionary

I often think of the shrubs, trees and other plants that accompany much modern architecture as the natural, random "counterpoint" to the man-made, clean, angularity of the buildings. It is no exaggeration to say that some contemporary structures do not succeed without the foil of foliage. Architects have long recognized this. The eighteenth century Palladian mansion with its light-coloured, sharply cut stone was often sited to be glimpsed through trees as the visitor approached, and Victorian villas are inconceivable without their surrounding laurels and conifers. But it is the architecture of the Modern Movement and later that most relies on the counterpoint and foil of trees and shrubs. Imagine what would be lost if Mies van der Rohe's "Farnsworth House" was stripped of its surrounding trees. And think how much better Norman Foster's "Sainsbury Centre for Visual Arts" would look for some closer planting!

On my recent visit to London I came across a new building where the architect had seen the value of placing green leaves against the high-tech sheen of his construction. The City of London Information Centre by MAKE Architects replaces a booth of early 1950s vintage sited near the south transept of St Paul's Cathedral. It consists of a sharply folded stainless steel envelope made of 220 panels, a steel frame and glazed walls. There is little planting nearby, a "city sized" tree being the largest natural specimen. However, on one side, very near the perfection of the wall where it comes down to earth, is a closely cropped line of shrubs. The juxtaposition of this clipped, undulating natural form against the architecture not only worked very well in terms of the building and location, but made - I thought - a suitable subject for a photograph.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 175mm
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/60
ISO: 500
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Tamron SP 70-300mm f4-5.6 Di VC USD Lens

click photo to enlarge

When I bought my Canon "full-frame" sensor camera I also got the 24-105mm f4 L and the 17-40mm f4 L lenses. I tend to shoot mainly in the wide and "normal" ranges and these cover most of what I want to do. However, I do like to venture into the reaches of longer telephoto now and again, and had been used to going up to 300mm (35mm equivalent) with my Olympus system. Consequently I looked around for an EF mount lens that would allow me to do that. The lower price Canon offerings didn't especially appeal, and a higher price 70-300mm wasn't available (though one has just appeared at around £1500)! However, I did like the images produced by the competitively priced Tamron SP 70-300mm f4-5.6 Di VC USD Lens. This mouthful of a telephoto had picked up a 2010 "best zoom lens" award from EISA. That organisation had been impressed by its sharpness across the whole of its range, its compact size, very quiet auto-focus and effective image stabilisation (or "vibration compensation" as Tamron calls it.) But, there was a problem for me - it was only available in Nikon mount in the UK, though supplies in Canon EF were on their way. So I decided to wait and buy one when they appeared in the shops.

I'm glad I did because this lens impresses me very much. And I don't mean "relative to its price": it impresses me in absolute terms. I haven't done any formal tests, I've simply looked carefully at the images I've produced using the lens in the light of my thirty odd years experience of long lens usage. What I see pretty much agrees with the MTF charts and other such technical paraphernalia that others have used to assess it. Many 70-300mm lenses manage to be acceptably sharp at the lower end, but soften up from about 200mm onwards. This one is very good at all lengths, even 300mm. Distortion is minimal, as is vignetting, and chromatic abberation hasn't been a problem (though someone has noticed a bit at 300mm/5.6). The stabilization is remarkable and very noticeable when you half depress the shutter button - it really does "lock on" to your subject and your shake almost disappears. If I have any criticisms it is that the lens is relatively heavy, and its lens hood is a little too long to make storage in a smallish bag possible without reversing it.

I've taken quite a few shots with it, and though I haven't produced many that I consider good enough to post here, those that I have rejected weren't discounted on the grounds of blurring caused by my shaking hands. Today's photograph was taken at 4.40pm on 6th November when the sun was very low and early evening was drawing in. It shows the crowds crossing the Millennium Bridge over the River Thames between Tate Modern and St Paul's Cathedral. I took three shots from this position with the focus at different points. Here it is on the people in the mid-distance.

For those who are interested in such things you can assume that any future photograph that I present where the focal length exceeds 105mm is taken using the verbosely named Tamron SP 70-300mm f4-5.6 Di VC USD lens.

Update 24.11.2010
A small niggle - the ease with which the AF/MF and the VC (Vibration Control) On/Off switches can be inadvertently moved if the lens is kept in a tightly packed bag.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 300mm
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/250
ISO: 1600
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

London portraits

click photo to enlarge

Eyes on the pavement, rucksack on his back, deep in his own thoughts and oblivious of the faces he is passing, this Londoner is typical of many city dwellers searching for a little solitude as they go about their business among the din and bustle of the capital's streets. And who can blame him: raise your eyes, look about and you can be overwhelmed by visual stimulation. Yet there must be times when, even in a city that changes with  the rapidity of London, the daily grind becomes monotonous, and the same routes, scenes, sounds and events become depressing, or even oppressive. Perhaps countering this is one of the motivations for the street art that various organisations fund.

Today's image shows a hoarding (billboard) with reproductions of individual portrait sketches of real people that was initiated by London Underground. The city's mass-transit system has a long and honourable tradition of giving London good design, art and architecture - from the elegant simplicity of the Tube Map, the iconic company logo and innovative station architecture that arose under Frank Pick's tenure as Managing Director in the pre-WW2 years, to the sponsored art of today, the London Undergound has been a  force for good in the built environment.

The photograph above shows portraits of staff of the organisation drawn by Dryden Goodwin. They are a selection from the sixty that he did as part of the "Linear" project commissioned by Art on the Underground. For more details see here.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 90mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Graffiti

click photos to enlarge
I feel about graffiti in pretty much the same way that I do about using the motorcycle as a form of transport - it's not for me, but when it's used properly it's admirable. Unfortunately both are often seen in an anti-social context. What do I mean by that? Well, the motorcycle is a relatively efficient vehicle, and for those that enjoy such things, a pleasurable form of transport. Regrettably however, a lot of motorcyclists see their machines as an expression of their perception of manhood and consequently ride them too quickly and too noisily. The result is far more deaths of motorbike riders (and people they crash into) than would otherwise be the case.

Similarly, graffiti art can look great, a joyful expression of the contrasting teenage qualities of individuality and clannishness (if such a word exists!), something that can enliven a dull location with ever changing line and colour. But, too often the art is sprayed on the property of someone who hasn't asked for it, or is in the form of elaborate and repeated "tags", also where it isn't wanted. This anti-social application of the art gives graffitists a bad name. However, where it is practiced with the consent of the owner - as under the National Theatre on London's South Bank, or the BMX and skateboard ramps in the place noted in the photographs - it can be great fun.

The three photographs above are contrasting examples from that Lincolnshire location. I like the first one for the shapes of the large, decorative, overlapping letters, the second for the colour and the qualities of the figurative drawing, and the third for the simplicity of the concept (a repeated, overlapping  "tag") as well as its strongly contrasting colours. One of the pleasures of graffiti in a location such as this where it is welcomed is that if I visit again next year the art on view is likely to be completely different.

One last thought. Graffiti has come to mean the sort of stuff in these photographs. It wasn't always so. It used to mean writing on walls and other places. Graffiti has been found in Pompeii, and I often see it carved on medieval church tombs by seventeenth, eighteenth and nineteenth century vandals. When I was young it was often applied to funny lines of this sort: "I'd give my right arm to be ambidextrous" or "I used to be indecisive, but now I'm not so sure". Happy days.

photographs and text (c) T. Boughen

First photo
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 35mm
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/125
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Hopton's Almshouses, Bermondsey, London

click photo to enlarge

Here is the Listing text of the Grade II* Hopton's Almshouses on Southwark Street, Bermondsey, London.

Almshouses and committee room. 1746-9. Built by Thomas Ellis and William Cooley to designs of Mr Batterson, trustee of Charles Hopton's will and a builder; house on right rebuilt after war damage; all buildings modernised and re-opened 1988.
MATERIALS: brick with rusticated stone quoins; hipped tiled roof (renewed) with overhanging eaves.
PLAN: forms the central block of a group of (originally) 28 almshouses, ranged around 3 sides of a garden (this block on the eastern side).
EXTERIOR: 2 storeys, each almshouse 2 bays, the central committee room of 3 bays pedimented and slightly projecting. Central entrance has 6-panelled door with timber surround, consoled cornice and foundation tablet above: "Chas. Hopton Esq sole founder of this charity Anno 1752". Entrance flanked by tall sash windows with glazing bars, round-arched with keystoned architraves and bracketed sills. Almshouses have gauged red brick segmental arches to ground-floor openings, sash windows with glazing bars in plain reveals to both floors.
INTERIOR: committee room panelled with shouldered fireplace and heavy overmantel and recessed panels.

Almshouses are charitable buildings, usually for the elderly beyond working age. They are sometimes restricted to a single sex, married couples, by place of birth, previous employment or by religious denomination, depending on the wishes of the original benefactor. Almshouses, some dating back several centuries, can be seen in many towns and cities of Britain. These Georgian examples are set in a garden in Bermondsey and are being slowly surrounded by high-rise buildings.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 32mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/30
ISO: 250
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Those sunflower seeds

click photo to enlarge

Over the years I've been to a few exhibitions in the old turbine hall at Tate Modern. By and large they've been "installations" that have left me cold. I'm not a fan of this kind of art, but I do think that the exponents chosen for this venue tend to be selected with an eye to provoking the wrong kind of response from the general public. And, in fairness to the organisers, they often succeed. I've blogged before about one of the pieces I saw, Rachel Whiteread's "Embankment", a collection of white, cast plastic boxes. Most of what I said about that work applies in the case of Ai Wewei's "Sunflower Seeds".

In my opinion this is a further artful work, rather than meaningful art. Anything that it says seems to me to be so slight as to be trivial - not what I want from any work. In fact it seems to be one of the all too common WYSIATI pieces of art (What You See Is All There Is). And you do have to wonder just how much meaning can be embedded in a myriad of ceramic sunflower seeds made by people other than the artist that are spread across the ground in a rectangular shape. From above it looks like gravel: from nearby it looks like what it is. There is precious little to inspire thought, wonder, revulsion, appreciation, or any of the other feelings that art can excite.

Consequently, after I'd looked at it from above I went down to see how I could possibly photograph it. I thought about filling the frame with the "seeds", but that was just as boring as the art work itself. So then I got down on my knees and looked through the camera across them to the far wall. My best shot is this one with the point of focus nearby, the rest of the seeds, the far corner walls, and people all out of focus in the distance. Not a great shot, but, given the subject matter, what's a photographer to do?

Note: The shot of the Sunflower Seeds seen from above that I link to was taken before the public were forbidden from walking on them for "health and safety reasons" (i.e. dust). Would I have felt differently about the piece if I'd been able to do what the artist intended? You decide.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 105mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/30
ISO: 3200
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Visiting London

click photo to enlarge

"No Sir, when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford."
Samuel Johnson (1709-84), English poet, critic, writer and lexicographer

I visit London about twice a year, a frequency that I find is sufficient to give me a familiarity with the city, but is not so often that I tire of it. Over the years I have sometimes identified a particular location or event to take in during my stay. However, just as often, I have been happy to simply wander and look at what is to be seen. Perhaps if I wasn't interested in photography that wouldn't be enough, though I suspect that even if I didn't have a camera to occupy me I would still find the kaleidoscope that is our capital city a visual feast capable of engrossing me for days on end.


The infrequent visitor or tourist usually has a different picture of the city, one that consists of the famous "sights and sites" that everyone knows through print and film. The other day, when walking down the dark and narrow Shad Thames, I paused outside a shop selling tourist postcards, maps, guides and souvenirs, and took this photograph. I did so to get a literal and metaphorical snapshot of the icons that today say "London". Here they are in no particular order: the red "Routemaster" double-decker bus, Houses of Parliament, Tower Bridge, Queen Elizabeth, Princess Diana (for how much longer?), Princes William and Harry, the Union flag, St Paul's Cathedral, the London Underground sign, red letter-box, red telephone kiosk, the Tower of London, a Beefeater, guardsmen in ceremonial uniform, the London Eye, a black cab/taxi, and (unaccountably) a plate of fried bacon, eggs, sausage and tomatoes.

Along with millions of other visitors to London I've pointed my camera at some of these things. But on my recent visit we decided to depart from the much-trafficed centre, and headed for the old (and new) streets of Bermondsey. And very interesting it was too. I've said before that London isn't a place where I would want to live for a long time - I prefer smaller settlements and the countryside. So, to that extent I can't agree with Samuel Johnson. But, for three years or so, I would find it a fascinating location to explore in depth, and a place of great photographic potential.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 32mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/30
ISO: 1000
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

American Air Museum, IWM Duxford

click photo to enlarge

Yesterday I made my second visit to the Imperial War Museum (IWM) air museum at Duxford in Cambridgeshire. You don't have to be interested in historic aircraft to enjoy a day out there, but it does help. The site is a former RAF airfield that was used by the United States in World War 2. Consequently it's very appropriate that the two main exhibition buildings - both of them new, purpose-built structures - are dedicated to British and Commonwealth aircraft, and to United States aircraft.

The "Airspace" houses a wide range of British-built aeroplanes including a Concorde, Avro Vulcan, Avro Lancaster, TSR2, Tornado, Harrier, de Havilland Mosquito, English Electric Lightning and Canberra and a host of others, currently totalling more than 30 machines. The building itself is enormous and has a gallery, exhibitions, small rooms, and an adjoining hangar/work bay that on the day of our visit held a Shackleton, Victor and Typhoon, all looking like they were being prepared for exhibition. The American Air Museum is smaller, with a centrepiece of a B-52 that is surrounded by 19 other aircraft including the SR-71 Blackbird, a B-17, Phantom, F-100, F-111, Huey helicopter, Liberator and many other machines of the twentieth century. On display outside is an F-15.

Of the two buildings you'd have to say that the Airspace is big, capacious and functional, while the American Air Museum is smaller and a much more attractive and interesting structure. It is the design of Sir Norman Foster and was constructed by Arup. The principal components are a curved, 6000 ton concrete roof made of 924 sections and a removable glass wall that overlooks the airfield. The visitor enters at high level and descends to the aircraft on the main floor by curved ramps to left and right. Alhough the design brief sought a neutral backdrop against which to display the aircraft, to anyone interested in architecture, the structure grabs you the moment you walk in, and is in no sense "neutral". My photograph is taken with the Canon EF 24-105mm f4 L IS UM from towards the top of one of the ramps and gives a flavour of the elegant curves of the building as well an indication of how the exhibits are arranged.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 24mm
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/80
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -1.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

These boots are made for blurring

click photo to enlarge

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

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

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

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

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

A prospect of London

click photo to enlarge

Over the past eight years I've taken a number of photographs of this view of London and the River Thames seen from Rotherhithe. It's the panorama that I survey from my son's windows, and it is an ever-changing prospect. Not only does the river traffic vary considerably - liners, warships, catamaran ferries, pleasure boats, Thames sailing barges, yachts, kayaks and more can be seen - but the skyline itself has been regularly added to as well.

When I first gazed upon this view the bullet-shaped City tower at 30 St Mary Axe (affectionately known as "The Gherkin") wasn't built. At that position on the horizon was what was then London's tallest building, Tower 42 (formerly the Natwest Tower). This can still be (just) seen, its shape adding angular protrusions to the top right of The Gherkin. Nor was the tower behind the needle-spired church built, and a couple more of the nondescript blocks are also recent constructions. However, the biggest addition to the London skyline (from wherever you view it) , "The Shard", is slowly climbing towards what will be its final height of 1,017 feet (310 metres), though it is out of this particular view, to the left.

But, river traffic and skyscrapers notwithstanding, the most significant effects on this prospect are actually the weather, the time of day, and especially, the sky. Today's photographs illustrate this. The larger image was taken for the beauty of the November afternoon sky and the way the filtered sun lit up both the buildings and the clouds. The smaller image, taken with a wide angle lens, shows the clouds and the river illuminated by the city's lights. Of course, some of those clouds could be smoke because the shot was taken on Bonfire Night (November 5th)!

photographs and text (c) T. Boughen

Photograph 1 (2)
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 70mm (17mm)
F No: f4
Shutter Speed: 1/640 (1/4)
ISO: 100 (3200)
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The "guess the building" game

click photo to enlarge

"Guess the building's purpose" is a pretty old game dating back centuries. The eighteenth century landowner, usually a God-fearing Anglican, liked nothing better than to decorate his grounds with a Greek temple or rotunda embellished with pagan deities, the purpose of which was to add an "eye-catcher" to the view and provide a spot for a picnic after a short stroll. Then there were the "follies", Gothic or Classical, often built in a ruinous state, that added a visual note of melancholy to a vista. Victorian cotton mills were sometimes designed in the "Moorish" style, complete with polychrome brickwork and chimneys built to look like minarets. Or what about the Dock Tower (1851-2) that held the water that operated the hydaulics to open the dock gates at Grimsby? It is inspired by Siena Town Hall!

The game carries on today, with art galleries that look like industrial buildings, houses that appear to be shipping containers, and information kiosks that look like something that has descended from space. On a recent walk through Bermondsey in London I came across another such building. Its outer skin consisted of metal triangles that were fully applied lower down but partly missing above. Behind this could be seen a framework of wood. And at one end were some wooden doors. My first guess was a public lavatory, but I rejected that because there was no sign. Then, since it was near a small market square, I thought it must be the building where the traders' stalls were stored. The "modern" look, I conjectured, must be to harmonise with the ultra-modern flats that towered over the square - a sop to the people who could afford these desirable residences. And with that being my final thought, I went on my way.

Later, when I searched the net to find out what it was I discovered that it is a bicycle store - garage if you will - and my guess had been very wide of the mark. How well it serves its purpose I don't know, but it made an interesting subject for the camera, particularly with the temporarily dismounted motorcyclists whiling away a few moments, standing at one end of it.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 27mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/60
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Privatising public space

click photo to enlarge

The insidious spread of private space into what was formerly, or should be, public space continues. Whether it be shopping malls, new developer-created streets, gated communities, or public-private partnerships that trade space for council-owned facilities, the result is the same: areas that would, in the past, have been publicly owned and would have offered unfettered access to everyone, are now often places in which we have restricted rights, and what we can or cannot do is limited in order that the owners can sell more effectively to the public or to their tenants. So, watch out if you're taking photographs, collecting for charity, skateboarding, or doing anything that offends the delicate sensibilities of the owners or their private security guards: if they don't like it they have the power to tell you to "clear off".

On a recent visit to London it was pointed out to me that one of the largest redevelopments of the river front is privately owned. The area upstream of Tower Bridge on the South Bank, a location that has a riverside path, green space, benches, multiple office blocks, open-air amphitheatre and is known by the ridiculous name of "More London" is not the public space that it seems to be. If one looks carefully you can see discreet metal plates fixed to walls that proclaim its private status. This is all the more remarkable because the space includes the new City Hall from where the London Assembly governs the metropolis. One of the architectural features of this Norman Foster-designed building is its openness, designed to bring transparency to the democratic process. Yet it is located in a privately owned part of the city. As they say in the United States - "go figure".

All that being so, I did wonder whether I might be stopped as I pointed my new camera at the orange coloured acers in front of the offices with their blue-tinted glass. However, anyone trying to restrict my photography would, in fairness, have to do the same with the thousands of tourists snapping away at Tower Bridge, HMS Belfast, the city skyline and the "Glass Gonad" itself, so I felt fairly safe.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 27mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/60
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Plant names and house leeks

click photo to enlarge

English plant names seem so much more evocative than their Latin counterparts, and I much prefer to use them. Consequently our garden has Snapdragons (not Antirrhinums), Forget-me-nots (not Myosotis) and Black-eyed Susans (not Rudbeckia hirta). However, if my classical languages were better then I might appreciate that Antirrhinum means "like a nose" in Greek (referring to the flower shape), that Myosotis is Greek for "mouse's ear" (after the leaf shape) and that "hirta" is Latin for hairy. Rudbeckia, incidentally, derives from the name of the Swedish botanist, Olaus Rudbeck. All of which goes to show that an understanding of languages can enrich one's life in more than the obvious ways.

I was thinking about this when I was processing this photograph of House Leeks. That is the rather uninspiring English name for what is a very attractive and hardy succulent. This one was growing by the edge of the footpath having escaped from a neighbour's house, and I snapped it with my compact camera as I passed. I liked the tightly packed rosettes and the green/blue colour with dark red highlights. My Latin is less than rudimentary but I've picked up enough during my life to know that the Latin name of this plant - Sempervivum - must mean something to do with forever (semper) and life (vivum). In fact, it means "always living", a good name for this hardy plant. I also discovered that one of the English names for it (though not one I've heard used) is "Live Forever." Moreover, in some parts of the world it is called "Hen and Chicks", presumably after its habit of producing small offspring around the larger plant - as in my photograph.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.9mm (28mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2
Shutter Speed: 1/60
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Pygmy goat sitting

click photo to enlarge

As well as wielding wallpaper and paintbrushes in recent days we are also doing a spot of pygmy goat sitting. Now, lest anyone thinks this is an act of unspeakable cruelty, let me expain that we are simply looking after our friends' herd of pygmy goats during their brief absence. So, in the spirit of "feeding the blog" I took my camera along when we went to "hay up" the sheds. Now there are those who are smitten by the looks, habits and nature of these diminutive ruminants. I'm not one of those people. After all, as I have sometimes been known to say to my friends, there has to be a reason why the Devil is often depicted with goat features. However, I do pride myself on an ability to find a photograph in just about anything, and it wasn't difficult in this case.

The best of my shots is this one, taken just after I'd loaded the hay racks. However, a new camera, my mind on other things, and a shortage of images for posting due to my DIY purdah, led me to take the shot without checking the aperture. I wouldn't have chosen f9 for this shot, and I wouldn't have chosen 1/20 second either, especially with moving subjects. But, that notwithstanding, I'm not too displeased with the outcome. What made the subject more difficult than it might have been was the low light level but more especially the white patch on the central goat, and I had to dial in a bit of negative EV to control that.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 24mm
F No: f9
Shutter Speed: 1/20
ISO: 800
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Apples, Halloween and merchandising

click photo to enlarge

A while ago I read that in the U.K., in terms of the public holiday "family spends", Halloween now comes second after Christmas. I was surprised, though on reflection I shouldn't have been because the evidence of this has been rapidly multiplying before my eyes for the last couple of decades. In early October many shops, including the obvious ones (greengrocers, florists, to etc) and the not so obvious (betting, clothes, newsagent etc), put up Halloween displays in order to either sell their associated merchandise or to catch the eye of passing shoppers. Interestingly, there is a single colour scheme that unites all of these  - orange and black. The former seems to come from pumpkins and the latter from the night/witches. And, each year the tat that is sold becomes ever more lurid. Witches abound, and so do skeletons, but they have been joined by Frankenstein, Count Dracula, severed hands, tombstones, spiders and cobwebs and all manner of "things of the night." This year I saw a gravestone that made moaning noises! It wasn't always thus.

I don't remember celebrating Halloween very much as a child. Moreover, that name competed with All Hallows Eve (the religious festival from which the modern event derives) as the appellation associated with our home-made turnip lanterns and mild attempts at spookiness. Today's jamboree that is the modern Halloween clearly owes the proliferation of pumpkins and "trick or treat" to our friends across the water, but much of the dressing up and "props" seems to be imported too. I'd be interested to know just how much the event has changed in the U.S. over the past twenty to fifty years. I suspect it has grown there too.

Today's photograph shows a few of our wind fall apples, the ones that we leave for the birds to eat over the autumn and winter. This image of decay seemed an appropriate one on which to "piggy-back" a few reflections on Halloween. It was the brightness of the recently fallen fruit against the wet, dark leaves that caught my eye, and I tried to emphasise this in my image.

click photo to enlarge

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 39mm
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/30
ISO: 800
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Seasonal expectations

click photo to enlarge

Sometimes I think I'm out of step with the world: other times I think the world's out of step with me. Take the buying of winter clothes. I expect to be able to go into a shop in February or March and buy items suitable for the season. However, too often the things I want have been removed and replaced with summer wear. Apparently late winter and early spring is the time to buy summer clothing! Or how about Christmas food. You might expect it to be available in the days immediately before Christmas. And some certainly is. But not the full range - that is long gone because it has been on sale from late September!

But it's not just the minds of retailers that are determined to thwart my seasonal expectations, so too is Mother Nature. Today's photographs were gathered on the last days of October and today, the first day of November. The shot of fallen leaves from my cherry tree is just the sort of image I expect to be able to take in early November. But how about the wild flowers. These are all in full bloom too. The cornflowers are having a second flush, and I saw the chamomile in summer too. But this variety of ragwort seems to be making its first appearance, and a photograph of flowers such as these is not what I expect to be shooting just now. Then there's perhaps the most surprising photograph of the three images  - it shows a wild grape vine growing in a hedgerow in Lincolnshire, and producing fine looking grapes. Not too out of season perhaps, but certainly out of place in England: it's a first for me. As I say, not quite what I expect to see given the season.

photographs and text (c) T. Boughen

Photo1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 35mm
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/40
ISO: 160
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On