Blue and yellow

click photo to enlarge
Many years ago, when I was studying the history of art, I came across the technique known as sgraffito. When used in wall decoration this involves applying two contrasting layers of plaster to the surface and then scratching through the top to reveal the lower. The word derives from the Italian for "scratch" which in turn is linked to the Greek for "write". It is, of course, also connected with the word "graffito" (singular) and the more commonly used (and seen!) plural, "graffiti".

As I've said elsewhere in this blog, in general I'm against graffiti because it is most usually found in the form of "tags" on surfaces where it has no right to be, degrading the appearance of the locality. Even when it has some artistic merit, if it is on someone's property against their wishes or without their permission, I'm against it. However, there's little to object to when graffiti is on a surfaces specifically provided to receive it, or where permission has been granted.

I came upon the graffiti in today's photograph recently and decided that it too was unobjectionable. The marks had been made by fingers in the patina of dust and dirt on the metal surface of a water-borne crane. The state of the boat on which the crane was mounted was more objectionable than the graffiti, which isn't permanent and of little merit, being merely the names and scrawl of passing youths. What made me think the subject worthy of a photograph was the yellow steps and hand rail (with their shadows) against the blue paint and smudges of writing. Blue and yellow are near complementaries - the yellow would have to tip more towards orange for them to be truly complementary. This is a colour pairing that sometimes appeals to me very strongly, and at other times I find quite garish. On this crane the yellow must be for visibility reasons and I quite like it. The irregular graffiti adds an undisciplined counterpoint to the colours and regularity of the metal, and it's probably this that caused me to take my shot.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 105mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/800
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Helicopters, bubble canopies and quotations

click photo to enlarge

"Definition of a helicopter: a conglomeration of spare parts flying in close formation."
Anonymous

"Helicopters are like horror movies: you know something bad is going to happen, you just don't know when."
Anonymous

Helicopters don't fly, they just beat the air into submission.
Anonymous

I remember once reading an article about the invention and development of the photocopier, during the course of which the author said that many engineers engaged in the task felt that what they'd created was so complex, with so many parts, it really shouldn't work at all. The latter suggestion has been made about the bee and its ability to fly. And, as the three anonymous quotations above suggest, the helicopter is viewed in pretty much the same light.

Perhaps it was the fact that the first helicopter flew a long time after the first aircraft and sufficient time had passed for people to become comfortable with what a flying machine should look like. The appearance of a gawky craft without wings, tailplane, fin and with no long thin body, that when airborne wobbled alarmingly, and always crashed if the motor stopped - no gliding possible - must have immediately sown seeds of doubt about the safety and future of the helicopter, thoughts that haven't entirely disappeared from the general public's mind even today.

I recently went to Newark Air Museum in Nottinghamshire, a quite large private collection of military and civil aircraft of various types. Today's photograph shows a Westland-built version of the Bell Sioux, a military version of the Bell 47 that first flew in late 1945. Like many early helicopters it has something of the dragonfly's appearance, with a large perspex bubble cockpit at the front and a steel lattice-work "body" (more a skeleton) that ends with a tail rotor. Above are two rotor blades with, below, the same number of landing skids.

This particular helicopter was on display in one of two large buildings that hold most of the aircraft. The plastic cockpit was reflecting the multiple skylights of the roof, and the pattern they made drew my eye and suggested a photograph. I took this shot knowing that I would crop it to square and vignette the background to emphasise the bubble with its mannequin pilot.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 24mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/20 sec
ISO: 200
Exposure Compensation:  -1.00 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The dignified terrace

click photo to enlarge

Between about 1725 and 1735 the building speculator, John Simmons, erected a row of seven houses along the east side of Grosvenor Square, London. They were designed in such a way that the central house was larger than the others with a pediment and rusticated quoins. The house at each end of the row was also emphasised, but to a lesser extent. The result was that the terrace looked like a single, large and expensive building. This idea was then developed by the builder/architect, Edward Shepeard, on the north side of the square. His row of houses had the appearance of a fashionable, Palladian villa. At the same time, in Bath, John Wood the Elder (1704-1754) surpassed these efforts with a grand design on the north side of Queen Square. It too had a central pediment, but also a rusticated ground floor, a piano nobile emphasised by Corinthian pilasters, and embellished end blocks. It looked every bit the grand Palladian house of the sort that was appearing on country estates throughout the British Isles. This idea was expanded by Wood, his son and other architects with fine crescents and circuses, and soon such developments - long facades composed as a piece but actually subdivided into a row of dwellings - were appearing all over the country. The basic idea had been taken from Italian Renaissance designs, but these British architects made it very much their own.

Though buildings composed in this way were generally associated with prestigious developments such as those found in the London squares, humbler efforts began to appear too. In fact, as the grand terrace was adapted to a less wealthy clientele, the utilitarian, working- and middle-class terrace was often elevated to the point where the trajectories of the two forms met. I came across one such example a while ago in Long Sutton, Lincolnshire. The terrace of four houses at 22-28 Market Street were built around 1820. The composition is symmetrical with the carriage archway marking the centre point. Four arched doorways indicate the four dwellings, and it is quite obvious which windows belong to which house, with the exception of those over the central arch. Presumably the dwellings to the left and right of this are slightly larger than those at each end: the possession of four first storey windows and an extra dormer window compared with the three of the others proclaim this. Looking at the chimneys it appears that each property has a full stack and half a stack, though the leftmost gable stack has been removed.

This facade is very much a, later, middling cost, provincial essay in the terrace as a single composition. It lacks the grandeur of the examples cited above, and there is a certain awkwardness to its proportions. The first floor windows seem too squashed together to me and I'd like to see the outer doors not quite so close to the edge of the facade. In fact, I'm surprised that the main elevation wasn't visually "closed" by pilasters on the extreme left and right. It's a device that was popular at this time, is evident on a few buildings in the street (see smaller photograph), and would help here. The panelling of the doors themselves is very odd, not to say clumsy, as is their rather skimped surrounds and the inelegant fanlights above. And yet I can't help but feel that though the terrace is the work of a builder rather than an architect, the row does have a certain style, presence and interest that adds a slightly decayed, artisan grace to the street in which it stands.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 28mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/500
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Work - a four letter word?

click photo to enlarge

"Nothing is really work unless you would rather be doing something else."
J. M. Barrie (1860-1937), Scottish author and dramatist best known for "Peter Pan"

There are many who would agree with the implied definition of work that lies at the heart of Barrie's quotation. For many - probably most - work is a four letter word, a daily grind that is necessary for the income that it produces rather than the accomplishments that it entails. I've heard it argued that capitalism provided the wherewithal for a life that satisfies the bodily needs of the greatest number, but did so at the expense of increasing the amount of stultifying work. And yet, hasn't much work always been physically and mentally wearisome, at least since the time mankind started cultivation and a range of personal tasks became the role of specialised workers; jobs they did to the exclusion of all else in exchange for bartered goods or money?

What I found interesting during my experience of a variety of employment is the way that people find in their work rewards beyond money that make it more pleasurable. Factors such as friendship and camaraderie are not often the intentional product of an unfulfilling job, but frequently they make it more bearable. Those of us who have experienced employment that is generally fulfilling, and is seen by people as socially useful, have been fortunate. However, even this work has its downside as management techniques, systems, and the like impinge negatively on the core activity. It was certainly the case in my line of work that the higher I got within the system the more this happened. It was frequently the companionship of co-workers that kept me grounded at these times.

The other evening I cycled past a combine harvester working over a field of wheat. The sight of the driver in his noisy, air-conditioned isolation, only feet away from the tractor driver, similarly alone, caused me to reflect for a moment on the lot of the Fenland farmer. In the past, when agriculture was more labour intensive, human companionship (or even animal companionship) was common. Today many large Fenland farms are entirely managed by a single person with help hired, or else sought from friends and family, when needed. For much of the year man and machine do the necessary ploughing, sowing and tending of crops alone. Even the buying, selling and other routine exchanges often no longer involve face-to-face discussion but is conducted from the fields by phone. This increasing solitude is the experience of more work these days, from call-centre staff in their booths, hundreds in close proximity, individually spending most of their time alone, to home-workers at their computers and smartphones, communicating without speaking a word.

I stopped  my bicycle and got my camera out to take this shot. Immediately that was done I packed it into its case and put it in my pannier, sealing them tight as a cloud of wind-blown dust and chaff enveloped me.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 73mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/250 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Underpants, celebrities and gibberish

click photo to enlarge

I had intended to write a piece on an aspect of castle architecture today, a subject that I was going to illustrate with this photograph of a spiral staircase at Castle Rising, Norfolk. However, as I read "The Guardian" newspaper over my breakfast of a bowl of porridge and a cup of tea I saw a full-page photograph that made me laugh out loud. Now, "The Guardian" is a serious newspaper, and though it often has articles of a deliberately humorous nature that do provoke such a reaction, and whilst it sometimes publishes pictures with the same intention, it doesn't often raise a titter elsewhere in its pages.

What I'd come upon to cause  my merriment was an advertisement featuring a black and white photograph of David Beckham in his underpants (sorry "boxer briefs") and nothing else. When I say nothing else, parts of his hands, arms and torso were obscured by tattoos drawn in a style that could charitably be called naïve. And his head, of course, currently hides behind a bouffant quiff and a Three Musketeers-style beard and moustache, the latest in a long line of hairdos that seem designed to periodically refresh his image. But, apart from the underpants (sorry "boxer briefs"), tattoos and facial hair, he was revealed as nature intended. Actually, that's not quite true either. His face wore what I can only describe as a scowl-cum-frown. That was one of the causes of my laughter and it surprised me because he usually flashes a happy-chappie smile. Perhaps, I thought, he's been taking lessons in scowling from his wife, Victoria, a woman whose default public face, it has been widely observed, looks decidedly unhappy. On reflection I thought that it was probably a requirement of the company whose underpants (sorry "boxer briefs") he was advertising. I think, for reasons best known to themselves, they wanted him to look "hard". That would also account for the simian arm positions - slightly away from the body - making him look like he's ready for a scrap.

Now, I can't claim any deep knowledge of fashion, men's undergarments, celebrity culture or advertising. But I can recognise gibberish when I see it in print (I should, I write enough). However, the advertising slogan "David Beckham, Bodywear" struck me as ludicrous. Bodywear? What sort of word is that? Where else does one put underpants (sorry "boxer briefs) except on your body. And, assuming that this is the exposed tip of a merchandising iceberg, does "bodywear" differ in the slightest scintilla from "clothes"? But then perhaps I'm being too critical. Maybe I'm ill-informed or simply not part of the target demographic. Surely it was enough that an advertiser and their hired celebrity had given me a moment of levity first thing in the morning. I should be thankful for that and forget the rest. But the fact is, I can't. More specifically I worry about anyone who, on looking at this advertisement, thinks, "Mmmm, if those underpants (sorry "boxer briefs") are good enough for David Beckham they're good enough for me" and rushes out to buy some. Such people surely don't exist. Do they?

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 17mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/8
ISO: 3200
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: N/A 

Reflecting on reflections

click photo to enlarge

Today's photograph brings together two Peterborough buildings that I've featured before. One is the determinedly modern and reflective offices of a firm of solicitors (lawyers), and the other is a large, brick building, full of fine, simple details, a former teacher training college of 1856-64 by the eminent Victorian architect, Sir George Gilbert Scott.

I suppose it's quite natural for a photographer to be fascinated by reflections. After all, the art of photography is, in part, making a permanent reflection of the world using a camera. A photograph of the sort I've posted today could be seen as a reflection of a reflection. One of the reasons architects use mirror glass is to reflect the surroundings in their creation and thereby better "anchor" the structure in its setting. Sometimes it's to acknowledge or respect an adjacent building. That would seem to be the motivation behind the glass wall shown in one of my earliest blog posts. At other times the reflective glass is used to visually lighten the building, to reduce its apparent mass. And then there are times when the mirroring seeks to retain the actual light in the locality, ameliorating the shadows and gloom that a new, big building can bring to its neighbours.

The modern building is a good example of this kind of structure. Though only a modest four storeys it graces its location. I particularly like the faceted bays that reach from the ground to the top of the elevations, and the way they are turned into two storey oriels where the building fronts the major road. The paving, trees, grass and ivy ground-cover that takes up quite a lot of the site works well with the building and enhances this part of the road. My photograph shows part of the side elevation facing the side of Peterscourt, and contrasts the modern materials of the new building with the traditional bricks and tiles of its neighbour. It was good to find that the architects wrapped their reflective glazing around the building and didn't, as many still do, concentrate their spending at the front.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 45mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/100
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Another go with split-toning

click photo to enlarge

Every now and then I like to apply a split toning effect to a photograph. My most recent attempts are with a photograph of an old cinema in Sleaford, Lincolnshire, and the House of Correction at Folkingham (also in Lincolnshire). My best effort to date is a shot of the re-vamped sea-front at Cleveleys, Lancashire. This was taken when I lived in north-west England and I like it sufficiently well to have a framed print of the subject on the wall above my desk in my study.

I imagine some people might wonder what it is about split-toning that attracts me. As I've explained elsewhere in this blog it was one of the photographic treatments that I always wanted to do when I processed my own prints in the darkroom. However, I never got round to buying the coloured toners necessary for the task. The advent of digital, especially the plug-ins to image processing programs that allow this effect to be emulated very well, have allowed me to indulge my fascination. I have to say though, that it's only the sepia/blue mix, where the highlights are sepia and the shadows blue, that I like. It is (and was) common to apply split-toning in other combinations such as magenta/yellow, red/green or magenta/orange, but none of these work as well for me as my chosen pairing. I especially enjoy the 1930s poster-like, graphic quality that results from applying sepia/blue to a black and white photograph.

Today's photograph is probably a candidate to put alongside the image in a post that I gave the title, "The 'Guess the building' game", because looking at this one you could be forgiven for thinking that it was a chemical plant, a high-tech warehouse, perhaps a severely modern hotel or maybe the interior of a maximum security prison. You'd be unlikely to think that it was the atrium/stair-well of a city council's offices. Of course, "council offices" is no longer good enough to describe such places, too socialist sounding I think, so this one is styled a "customer service centre". Looking at the detail and vaguely Art Deco curves of the image I immediately marked it as one to try with split-toning. I'm not disappointed by the outcome.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 17mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/50 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Elvis lives

click photo to enlarge

“He was the firstest with the mostest.” said of Elvis Presley by Roy Orbison (1936-1988) U.S. singer and songwriter

There are many who would agree with Roy Orbison's words. For musicians, the music business and teenagers in the 1950s and early 1960s Elvis Presley was the biggest name and the game changer in popular music. He was the creator of a new sound, a new image and a new status for the popular singer. With hindsight it's clear that Elvis was part of a continuum of musical change and absorption that fused aspects of country music with facets of rhythm and blues. But if you were a teenager growing up with the radio and the jukebox as your source of new music Elvis was simply the artiste who swept away the old and heralded the new.

From my perspective, as a teenager in the second half of the 1960s, Elvis was a clear, important and strong influence on the music that I liked. Perhaps that accounts for my feeling that his best music dates from his 1954 versions of "That's Alright" and "Blue Moon of Kentucky" through to 1963's "Devil in Disguise". Thereafter, for me, the songs were much weaker; more mainstream ballads than rock and roll, and sometimes downright awful. His ventures into films, though commercially very successful, left me unmoved. In fact, his career path through the second half of the 1960s to the time of his death in 1977 followed that of many pop singers - general decline with the occasional peak, and a future in live performance rather than sales of hit records - but with the exception that his audiences remained massive and his records continued to sell better than most.

And that brings me to the enigma of Elvis: why he continued to receive such adulation, not only in the latter part of his career, but even after his death. Everything connected with Elvis has sold for decades, and continues to do so. His house became something of a shrine. People refused to believe he was dead. There were numerous reports of "sightings" after he had died. And people still display their allegiance to this long departed singer even now in 2012, thirty five years after his death. His followers are greater in numbers and more adoring of his achievements than those of any other long gone popular musician. It's hard to think of another who has received devotion anything like that accorded to Elvis. Today's photograph shows a fan declaring his allegiance at the recent Boston Classic Car Club Show in Kirton, Lincolnshire.

One of the non-musical characteristics of Elvis that I liked was his self-deprecation. In an interview he said, with only a touch of overstatement: "I don't know anything about music. In my line you don't have to." What's not to like about a major star who can be so ingenuous!

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 65mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/125 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Megapixels and cropping

click photo to enlarge

How many megapixels does a photographer need? That question is as difficult and as pointless to answer precisely as, "Which is the best camera?" It all depends on your requirements in terms of image size and the type of photography you undertake.

If you sell photographs to print publications it's quite difficult to argue that you need more than 8 megapixels in a suitable camera with a good lens.. Why 8? Well, a 10 inches by 8inches photograph printed at 300dpi requires 7.2 megapixels. If you bear in mind that some magazines print at 240dpi and that most single page magazine images are less than 10X8, then 8 megapixels is clearly enough. (You'll have worked out that 5 megapixels is more than enough at 240dpi.) If, quite understandably, you want to allow for reasonable cropping then 12 megapixels is absolutely fine. If you aspire to cover the odd two page spread then 16 megapixels will do it comfortably. The number of megapixels that manufacturers offer us continues to increase, but as the above shows, unless you have a particular requirement to print large, then 8, 12 or 16 is plenty. Moreover, as print slowly gives way to screens in their many guises those numbers become significantly more generous and allow much heavier cropping.

If it isn't maximum detail in very large size prints that is used to justify high megapixel counts then it's the ability to crop and stillretain a large file. There are purists who scorn cropping, seeing virtue in composing using the camera's frame and sloppiness in composing after exposure by trimming bits off the four sides of the image. I have no qualms about cropping. I see no intrinsic worth in the offered aspect ratios of 3:2, 4:3, 1:1 or 16:9. I do have preferences, and some suit a particular subject - say portraiture - but generally speaking they all have their uses. But to find compositions in the world that perfectly fit these proportions is not always easy and can be an exercise in futility. So I think that cropping has its place.

Today's photograph is one that is double cropped. If I had a tilt-shift lens it would be only single cropped. The Broadway Theatre on Broadway in Peterborough is quite a large building, probably a former 1930s cinema, with a recent, rather good, big, glazed extension on the main elevation. Even standing on the opposite side of the road with my widest lens at 17mm I couldn't photograph it with the correct verticals that I wanted for an architectural interpretation of the building. So, I placed it in the frame with plenty of space around it and took my shot. Then I corrected the verticals and cropped the surround (smaller photo above). However, that composition wasn't as good - I think - as the further crop (main photo above) that gives greater emphasis to the people that I had deliberately included. My second crop changes the character of the photograph from architectural to a bit more of a "street" or "urban" shot, and makes an image that I like better. It's not the way a purist would shoot, but I see no problem with it. The original shot was 21 megapixels: the second crop took it to 15, and the final crop to 9 megapixels.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 17mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/500 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On 

Look forwards, not backwards

click photo to enlarge

A few months ago I happened upon a photograph of the winner in Boston Borough Council's "Building Excellence Awards 2012". It was a new farmhouse in Kirton, and when I looked at it my heart sank. The accompanying text described it as being in the "traditional country house style". Quite what the writer meant by that I have no idea because the features of the English country house as we know it were nowhere evident. In fact, the exterior was, as are far too many English houses, an amalgam of vernacular details. The best you could say of this example was that they were derived with a reasonable degree of consistency from the eighteenth century where, often, they are plucked eclectically from any or all of the sixteenth through to the nineteenth centuries. Though the photograph was small I could see gable chimney stacks, shouldered gable wall parapets, dormers, a plait band and brick hoodmoulds. The main elevation was symmetrical except for one of the two main ground floor windows being in the form of a bay with a splayed lead roof. The walls were brick and the roof appeared to be an artfully mottled collection of plain tiles. I'm sure that this is a perfectly satisfactory house to live in, and will serve its owners well. What disappointed me so was that it had been chosen as the very best example of local building to be found in the area during the designated 2011-2012 period. If that's the best, I thought, the others can't be much. Why, I thought, does anyone today want to clothe a building in the appearance of a modest eighteenth century house? Admittedly, the eighteenth century did more with less than most centuries and produced simple, pleasing brick houses that look better than many later examples. But where, I wondered, were the innovative, modern houses, the buildings that sought to push forward the boundaries of what can be achieved within a budget? Buildings that were built in response to today's families' needs rather than the sort of thing that might feature as a background in a kitsch watercolour featuring men in Tattersall check shirts and moleskins and women in Laura Ashley dresses.

Similar thoughts descended on me when I attended the Boston Classic Car Club show (also at Kirton) a short while ago. I was standing in front of what, with my limited knowledge, I thought was an SS100 Jaguar. This sports car was built between 1936 and 1940 by SS Cars Ltd of Coventry, England, the company that after the war was renamed Jaguar (the SS initials having acquired negative associations). However, on reading my booklet, and after further research, I discovered that it was a replica manufactured by Suffolk Sportscars in 1978. The idea of building a replica of an old car is as alien to me as building a modern version of an eighteenth century house in 2011-12, or creating a "new" Mini or a "new" VW Beetle. It represents a failure of vision, a lack of belief in now, it promotes the sham over the authentic, the past over the present, and it shunts design into a cul-de-sac. Most of all it is a missed opportunity for progress. Retro that involves merely aping the past should have no place in either design or styling. Taking old forms and deploying them in new and innovative ways is another matter. Some Renaissance, Victorian and Edwardian architects managed this very well. But, unfortunately, that's not often what we see nowadays.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 47mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/250 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On 

Citroën H-Type Van

click photo to enlarge

One of the stages of the design process is conceptualization. This results from ideation (idea generation). Looking at modern automobile styling and design you could be forgiven for wondering if there is an agreement that every manufacturer has to use the same half dozen basic ideas. Further, that any resulting car design and styling is not not allowed to diverge from those of their competitors by more than fiver percent. It's got to the point that if manufacturers didn't put a badge on the bonnet or radiator you'd be hard pressed to distinguish one model from another. Of course, where the same model is actually produced by more than one manufacturer - as happens with, for example, Fiat and Suzuki (Sedici/SX4) or Toyota, Citroën and Peugeot (Aygo/C1/107) the confusion is understandable. As it is also when the basic body and internals is used by more than one manufacturer e.g. Opel and Vauxhall Corsa/Fiat Grand Punto or Ford Fiesta/Mazda 2. But even where this doesn't happen there seems to be an enormous amount of design convergence making cars virtually indistinguishable. Kias, Hyundais, Opels, Volvos, Peugeots, Toyotas, etc - who can tell them apart?

There have been times and manufacturers that have bucked this trend. In the past the French firm of Citroën had a name for turning out distinctive cars that stood out from the herd. The Citroën DS, a design produced by the combined talents of the industrial designer and sculptor, Flaminio Bertone and the aeronautical engineer, André Lefèbvre, was renowned for its idiosyncratic qualities. So too was the "umbrella on four wheels", the Citroën 2CV, an economy car that was so successful it remained in production for over forty years, from 1948 to 1990. Citroen's H-Type van (shown above) wasn't produced for quite that span, but it did remain available from 1947 until 1981. It too has qualities that make it stand out from vans of its time and today. I particularly like the flat glass windows and the corrugated metal. Both are chosen for their low cost, though putting folds into metal does, of course, increase its structural strength. The overall aesthetic of the vehicle is utilitarian with a slight hint of the military in the angled faces of the cab. When it was first made it was distinctive: it remains so today. Which is more than can be said for the vans made by the major manufacturers. These are even more clone-like than their cars.

This particular van has been restored and beautifully painted to act as a mobile coffee shop for "Café Classique". It was doing steady business at the Boston Classic Car Club Show, as the smaller photograph illustrates.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 70mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/400 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On 

Old Jags as automotive sculpture

click photo to enlarge

My interest in cars is strictly limited so I feel left out of most conversations about them. I see cars as a relatively inefficient form of transport that is very destructive of our environment: I much prefer my bicycle. For many years I tried to live without a car, using public transport, a cycle and a tandem. However, Margaret Thatcher's assault on the former and a growing family forced my hand and I got a car.

Today I choose my cars on the grounds of utility and economy. I have a small Japanese hatchback that has the virtue of almost total anonymity and the reputation of being one of the most reliable cars on the road. I bought it on the premise that it does everything I need and that a car that doesn't work is nothing more than a useless tin box. Its size (compact), speed (0 mph to well above the legal limit), acceleration (0-60 eventually), ride (whatever that means), its status, what it says about the owner to others, all these are of little consequence to me. Hence the fact that I tend to get marginalised in discussions about cars. Actually that's not strictly true: I am known to offer my views even if they're not sought. At times I see myself as something of a missionary bringing truth and light to such conversations, throwing in what are seen as contrarian views like hand grenades. On other occasions I resort to ridicule. Neither approach is one that wins friends and influences people. The trouble is that at these times I can't help myself because, of all modern conversations, those surrounding the car are one of the most in need of a strong dose of reality.

There is, however, one aspect of cars that I find interesting, which I can debate with car lovers, and that is as objects of design and styling. But here again my tastes are often conflicting because in the main I am more interested in the design of small cars and utilitarian vehicles than luxury vehicles and sports cars. I say "in the main" due to an idiosyncratic liking for some of the 1960s Jaguar designs - the 2.4, 3.8 etc. These are vehicles that I remember from my youth, often characterised then as "getaway cars" (in the bank robber rather than holiday sense) though also used, I recall, by the British police. The front ends of this range of cars have a quality that few other marques can match. Smooth, flowing, tactile, sensuous, they could be detached from the vehicle and displayed in an art gallery simply for their sculptural qualities. I photographed today's example on a visit to the recent Boston Classic Car Club annual show (that's Boston, Lincolnshire, the original Boston, not Boston, Massachusetts). An urge to photograph something bright and shiny overcame me and so I indulged myself at this festival of all things automotive. More to come over the next few days.

I suppose you may be wondering if I fancy one of these sought after old cars. Not on your life! Noisy, unreliable and uneconomic is what they are. That handsome form masks a load of trouble and expense.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 70mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/400 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On 

Heraldry and grave diggers

click photo to enlarge

Heraldic coats of arms as we know them today became common in Europe around the middle of the twelfth century. They identified a family, especially the men when they were in armour, but were also used in sculpture, interior decoration and stained glass. Coats of arms were passed down through families by inheritance, often with modifications following marriage.

A typical coat of arms has a shield (escutcheon). Its surface (field) employs various colours (tinctures) in shapes (ordinaries) with motifs such as animals, leaves, shells etc (charges). A written phrase (motto) on a scroll or banner is often found below the shield. To left and right are figures, usually people or animals (supporters). The shield is topped by a helmet, its style dependent on rank, which may have a crest and is usually flanked by ragged cloth (mantling).

Recently I stood in the south aisle of the medieval church of St Mary at Long Sutton, Lincolnshire, and looked up at a memorial that included a coat of arms (of sorts). It wasn't the kind that you often see, carefully sculpted and carved in marble or fine stone, a tribute to a man (or woman) of wealth and importance. Rather, it was crudely fashioned and made fast and loose with the heraldic vocabulary. In fact, I was in two minds as to whether it was a naive attempt to emulate the style of the deceased's "betters", or a mischievous parody that poked fun at the style. The convex disc at the bottom of the memorial, in the place where a motto might be on a coat of arms, was difficult to read, the carving being barely better than scratch marks. However, from what I could read it appeared to be words in memory of someone who died in the early 1700s, perhaps 1725. One look at the carving above the disc make it very obvious that the person must have been a grave digger.

The shield is divided into four (quartered) by two large bones. In the top left corner is the bell that would toll for the deceased. The top right corner has keys on a chain, perhaps symbolising St Peter and the hope of entry into heaven. At the bottom left is a coffin and what appear to be two rib bones, whilst at the bottom right are tools of the trade of a gravedigger - a pick axe and spade. The supporters are a man, full of life, and a skeleton. Quite what is in place of the helmet above the centre of the shield I'm not sure. However, it may be a clumsy depiction of the simple helm found on the coat of arms of an untitled person. If so, the crest that surmounts it looks for all the world like an hour glass in a wooden frame, the sands of time marking the passage of life. The mantling resembles the sort of palm-like leaves that the eighteenth century often used to represent the Tree of Life. Further leaves provide the "ground" on which the supporters stand.

So, is it crude emulation or knowing parody? It's hard to say, and it may be a bit of both. What is certain is that the coat of arms documents its time in an interesting and entertaining way, and seemed like a good subject for a photograph.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 105mm
F No: f4.5
Shutter Speed: 1/50
ISO: 3200
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Photography, fishing boats and the sea

click photo to enlarge

I've lived near the coast and spent quite a bit of my time photographing it for a fair chunk of my life. That's not unusual, of course, when you live on a relatively small island. However, one of the characteristics of the British Isles, England in particular, is that it is densely populated and and its landscape can change quite markedly over short distances. A consequence of this is that some people don't visit the coast much because it requires a journey on heavily used roads or public transport. Others forsake regular visits because there are competing attractions in the form of mountains, lakes, moors, woodland etc.

I've always enjoyed the coast, not least because of the sense of space that you find there and the quality of the light that positively invites photography. Then there's the distinctive sights that are also manna to the photographer. Whether it is shingle or sand, salt marsh or sea cliffs, harbours, bays, promenades or whatever, the coast is a great place for photography. It's also, I find, a location that encourages you to slow down and contemplate as you gaze out over the flickering water. Small wonder that people often retire to a seaside location.

One of the things I often reflect upon by the coast is the fishermen that I see in small, inshore boats. Their life is, I know, dangerous and not without its travails, both physical and financial. And yet, on a sunny, summer day with the wind a benign zephyr and the water quiescent it appears to have its attractions. Perhaps without such days people wouldn't continue in the occupation: stormy weather and the icy blasts of winter must have their compensations. My photograph shows an Aldeburgh fisherman attending to his catch accompanied by gulls feeding on his scraps. His was the sole craft on the sparkling water that morning, an image of easy tranquillity as the tide reached its maximum height. For my shot I positioned the boat off centre and used the coiled rope on the beach as a visual counterweight. Black and white seemed to suit this fairly minimalist composition better than the original colour.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 47mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/500 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Social climbing and The Old Custom House

click photo to enlarge

When Margaret "there is no such thing as society" Thatcher was prime minister the Conservative Party came up with a wheeze to increase the number of people who voted for them. The idea was to sell off local authority housing at a very generous discount to the tenants who currently rented them. The theory was that once such people became property owners they would transfer their political allegiance from Labour to the Conservatives and, if they didn't currently vote, they would begin doing so, favouring the Conservatives out of gratitude and because they now saw themselves as one of "our people". Forgetting the political ramifications for now, the policy had  a number of unintended consequences, one of which was to change the visual appearance of local authority housing.

Britain's local councils were given permission to build housing for rent in the early part of the twentieth century because the low cost housing erected by the private sector was so indaequate in almost every respect. Councils often hired socially aware architects and built some of the better properties in this sector of the market. They were, for their time, well designed and relatively spacious. The building density was reasonable and the layout was well considered. A downside that some people saw was that individual developments tended to be quite uniform in appearance. Others thought this often gave areas a better appearance than if deliberate differences had been incorporated. However, when from the 1980s onwards, they were sold to tenants one of the first steps some new home owners took was to replace the front door with something different that signified their possession of the property. It seemed that intuitively people knew of the importance of the front door in making a statement about a building, and a proclamation of the change of ownership was needed. Over the years windows were replaced, porches and extensions - all different - were added, as were fences, hedges and much else. The result was that the modest but agreeable style of the individual house was usually lost, and so too was the visually satisfying homogeneity of the area. In an attempt to elevate the building, quite often the reverse resulted produced by a jarring heterogeneity.

I was thinking about this after I'd photographed The Old Custom House in Aldeburgh recently. This building from the early nineteenth century is essentially the same as many of the other small, gault brick and pantiled residential houses that line the town's older roads. However, in order to make it imposing and more distinctive, to stress its status as an office of the government's Customs, and to impress upon the seamen visitors that they are dealing with an institution and people of importance, the main door and offices were located on the first floor and reached by a really quite ridiculous, overblown, flight of stone faced stairs. One wonders if, on seeing it for the first time, a ship's skipper smiled at the pretentiousness of it, as I did. Today it is a residential building, probably quite an interesting dwelling to inhabit, and one that poses a few questions to an observer of its exterior. For example: when was the ground floor door to the right of the steps inserted, at what level is the ground floor ceiling/first floor floor, and what happens behind that main door? Is it a narrow corridor, are there further steps? I can't imagine.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 32mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/640 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Back yard or back garden?

click photo to enlarge

"England and America are two countries separated by a common  language".
George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950), Irish playwright, critic and activist

The above quotation has been attributed, with subtle variations, to many people including Winston Churchill and Oscar Wilde. However, it seems more likely that Shaw originated it. The point of the quotation being, of course, that although English is spoken in the United States and the United Kingdom, there are slight variations in usage, spelling and pronunciation that render it subtly different and make it obvious from which side of the Atlantic the speaker (or writer) hails.

One such linguistic nonconformity is apparent in the words "back yard". In the UK it generally refers to the small area immediately behind an urban or suburban house, that is the property of that house, that is usually enclosed and which has a wholly or predominantly hard surface. In the United States the words are used to mean any open space behind a house that forms part of the house's property. The UK uses the words "back garden" to describe a mainly lawned or planted area behind the house. In the United States this distinction, as far as I know (please tell me if I'm wrong), is not observed: whether paved, gravelled, grassed or planted, or a combination of any or all of these, it remains the back yard. Does it matter? Not really, because in each country the meaning is understood. Such things merely serve as cultural signifiers and are a small and welcome difference in a world that is slowly gravitating towards uniformity.

Today's photograph shows a back yard in Aldeburgh, Suffolk. The narrow strip behind the blue painted terraced house may once have been a back garden with a path to the rear door. Today it is block-paved with raised beds made of brick, and so has become what I would call a back yard though some may insist it is still a back garden. Regardless of nomenclature the multi-coloured flowers against the painted walls looked bright and cheery in the morning sunshine and so I photographed them.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 58mm
F No: f11
Shutter Speed: 1/250 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Southwold and the weather

click photo to enlarge

"The English winter - ending in July, to recommence in August"
Lord Byron (1788-1824), English poet

Given that he devoted so much of his life to his poetry, his love affairs, travel in the Mediterranean region and revolutionary activities, it's a wonder that Byron noticed the English weather. Perhaps the poet in him drew his attention to it and his experience of hot, sunny climes caused him to lament its relative coolness. As a summary of England's weather, however, he was woefully inaccurate, though today's photograph might seem to suggest otherwise.

It shows the Suffolk coastal town of Southwold, renowned as a watering hole of the English middle classes. I took the shot on August 2nd on a day that was dull, cool, windy, showery, warm (in spells) and sunny. English days often involve multiple kinds of weather and this early August day was one such. What it wasn't was wintry. In fact, I don't imagine that Byron's words were meant to be taken literally. Rather, the intention would have been humorous, making a joke of England's weather as so many do. It reminds me of the remark by Michael Flanders, the late English actor and singer: "It's spring in England. I missed it last year. I was in the bathroom."Many have seen the weather as an influence on the character of the English. The Victorian writer, Charles Kingsley, said in his poem "Ode to the North-East Wind" (1858), " 'Tis the hard grey weather breeds hard English men." Whether that be true or not, shortly after I'd taken this photograph I noted several men and women swimming in the dark grey sea, to be joined by quite a few more as the clouds were whisked away on the wind to be be replaced by more prolonged sun.

I took my shot from Southwold's pier. This is one of the few around our coast that are not Victorian or Edwardian constructions. Consequently it has less of the ornate, decorative metal work characteristic of the older structures, little by way of brash colour, and is altogether a more tasteful, sedate sort of pier, eminently suitable for its location. Some of the town's beach huts can be seen lining the promenade. The uniformly white and blue row to the right are available for hire: The multicoloured collection nearer the centre are some of the many privately owned examples, each loudly (though sometimes subtly) asserting its individuality

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 100mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/1000 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Aldeburgh, keyboards and dead letters

click photo to enlarge

Several years ago I received a couple of old Dell computer keyboards (Model AT102W). They were mushroom coloured, large, robust and a dream to type on. They have never matched the computer cases that I've bought and assembled, or the screens that I've used, but that doesn't bother me in the slightest. Why? Well, unlike most contemporary computer keyboards they use mechanical linkages beneath each key rather than a plastic membrane. Consequently typing on them is bliss and reminds me of the pleasures of using an electronic typewriter rather than the experience of typing in porridge offered by today's cheap keyboards. But, nothing lasts forever, and for the past few years I've been typing happily on the last remaining AT102W, all the while fearing the day when it too will give up the ghost.

There have been a few false alarms as individual keys have stopped working. However, I would simply take the keyboard apart (just six screws to remove), indulge in some vigorous brushing and vacuuming, the recalcitrant keys would dutifully return to life and off we'd go again. Until today. This morning the "w" key refused to work. On previous occasions it had been the "b" and the "9". I completed my cleaning cycle, re-connected it and it appeared to be working fine. But when I came to write this blog post about the Suffolk coastal town of Aldeburgh the "w" had packed in again. I only realised this when I looked up from the keyboard and noticed I'd written a couple of sentences that were even worse (or should that be "orse") gibberish than usual. So, I'm going to try more cleaning. But I'm also going to buy a second hand keyboard (same model) off eBay, and hope that between my faulty one and a newer (to me) old one I'll continue to experience pleasurable typing.

Today's photograph shows a small boat that is also past its best. It stands at the southern edge of the area of beach that is used by the local fishermen and appears to have been abandoned. It looked just the sort of foreground interest that I could use in my composition of the shingle beach and the sea-front buildings.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 47mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/500 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Do mermaids wear makeup?

click photo to enlarge

A few years ago, when I went to see the famous angel roof in the church of St Wendreda at March in Cambridgeshire, I read in a leaflet that the carved wooden angels were "half life size". It was a description that made me smile and caused me to wonder who it was that first measured an angel and how they did it. But then I thought, perhaps no measurements were taken and there was simply an assumption, based on the descriptions of those who claim to have seen one, that they are the same size as the average person. Thoughts not too dissimilar to these came to mind the other day when I gazed up at a ship's figurehead in the shape of a mermaid that is fixed to the "Golden Galleon" fish and chip shop in Aldeburgh, Suffolk.

Now you may wonder at the suitability of a mermaid, a creature that is half woman and half fish, being used to attract diners to a shop that sells a variety of species of fried fish for consumption by whole women and men. However, it wasn't that which initially taxed my brain. No, my first thought was, "Do mermaids wear make-up?" Is red lipstick, I wondered, suitable in a pelagic environment? Just how long can it reasonably last? Is all that sitting about on rocks that we associate with mermaids nothing to do with luring sailors to their doom but actually time spent fixing their make-up?  And what about the camisole top? Surely that is a touch impractical, not to say flimsy in a world of storm-tossed waves, currents, spray, undertow and the rest. One plunge in at the deep end and it would be gone.

But on further reflection I wondered if the figurehead had always been a mermaid. In Britain they are usually seen as sources of bad luck that frequently provoke disaster, and though figurehead mermaids are not unknown, voluptuous maidens seem more common. Change the fish scales for the fabric of a dress and this lady fits the more commonly seen template.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 90mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/400 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Looking and seeing No. 2

click photo to enlarge

In 2008 I wrote a blog post called "Looking and Seeing" in which I briefly attempted to articulate something of the distinction between those two words. It's a topic I find interesting and I want to return to it today.

When people ask me what my interests are my stock response is "everything". That's not true, of course: no one can or should be interested in everything. However, it's easier to say that than to recite an extremely long list of subjects, and it succinctly makes the point that in learning and education I have always valued width over depth (or narrow-mindedness as I have been known to call it). The reason for this is that I long ago realised that I rejoice in what I see, that the visual is very important to me, and that my life is immeasurably enriched by looking, and by thinking about what I see.

It took me many years to appreciate that a walk down a street or a stroll in the countryside can be a source of interest, pleasure and education for some and an empty experience for others. That where some see, for example, fragments of our past that interlock to create meaning, planned vistas that invite our judgement on their success or otherwise, modelled forms with colour, shape and line, wildlife characteristic (or not) of a location, or landforms that reveal something of the genesis and use of the locality down the ages, others see urban or rural monotony, a place "like any other" that is "boring". Those widely differing experiences sum up another difference between looking and seeing. A person sees only when their eyes work in tandem with a brain that is inquisitive and knowledgeable, that is open to sensation as well as enquiry. Otherwise they just look and they see very little.

I've neglected my blogging of late. PhotoReflect has been on autopilot while I have been enjoying my family and some time away in Suffolk. The other day, walking along the beach at Aldeburgh, my eye was drawn to the small fragment of the landscape in my photograph above. It wasn't the crab pots (or are they lobster pots?) themselves, a fairly hackneyed photographic subject, but the juxtaposition of the three strong colours - red/brown, blue and yellow (plus the black of the shed). I've always enjoyed combinations of these colours in this range, and it was that alone that prompted me to take my shot. Photography is a great aid to seeing rather than just looking, and I find that many of my images, as well as those of photographers whose work I like, stem from this facility.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 82mm
F No: f11
Shutter Speed: 1/100 sec
ISO: 160
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Front gardens, parking and poppies

click photo to enlarge

In 2008 legislation was introduced in England requiring any homeowner who wants to lay hardstanding of more than five square metres in their front garden to apply for planning permission if they propose to use a material that is not permeable. The proliferation of cars has resulted in quite a few front gardens being converted into parking spaces. The impermeable surfaces used for this purpose have increased the amount of urban run-off from rain and is a contributory factor to increased flooding. The legislation seeks to ameliorate this effect by encouraging the use of porous surfaces such as gravel, block paving, etc, rather than concrete.

I'm all in favour of this: flooding in built-up areas is something to be avoided. However, I'm also against turning front gardens into parking deserts. I recognise that quite a few houses have little or no off-street parking and that such a facility is desirable for a vehicle owner. But, the greenery that a front garden offers to the householder and the rest of the neighbourhood is desirable too, not only for the beauty that it can bestow, but for the habitat that it offers to our wildlife. It saddens me to see front gardens lost to parking, but it makes me annoyed when I see gravel, paving, tarmac and concrete put down because the owner doesn't want the "effort" and "inconvenience" of looking after a front garden. There are just as many eyesore gardens created for this reason as there are for parking, and with less justification.

Creating a front garden that more or less looks after itself is relatively easy. An area closely planted with shrubs, small trees, perennials and self-seeding annuals (such as the California poppies above) requires only a few hours maintenance per year and rewards the gardener with all-year-round beauty as well as the approving glances of the neighbourhood. The amount of work required is, in fact, less than if the garden is a lawn, the surface that is often chosen by ignoramuses who want a "labour-saving" garden. Of course, if you set your mind against more interesting gardening and are happy to remain blissfully ignorant then this knowledge will have escaped you. But, with a little effort anyone can learn enough to plant, maintain and - yes - enjoy, an attractive and environmentally beneficial front garden. Even if it has a car parked alongside it.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

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