Walter Crane, Art Nouveau and psychedelia

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In the south aisle of the church of Holy Trinity in Hull there is a stained glass window designed by Walter Crane (1845-1915). Crane is best known as a very original and accomplished book illustrator though he also painted and designed pottery, textiles and wallpaper. He was the second son of a portrait and miniature painter, and grew up influenced by not only his family, but also Japanese prints, the work of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood and the writings and philosophy of John Ruskin. In time he associated himself with William Morris and the Arts and Crafts Movement, and became one of their chief propagandists.

It is this background that helped turn Walter Crane into one of the seminal influences in the development of Art Nouveau, a movement that flowered in continental Europe and the United States but which had its origins in Britain. It sprang from a group of Arts and Crafts designers, illustrators, painters and architects who stepped beyond the medievalising advocated by Morris and injected notes of willfulness, decadence, and extreme curvilinearity into their work. The man responsible for what has been called the first manifestation of Art Nouveau, Arthur Mackmurdo, is not well known today. But, to those interested in the history of art at the end of the nineteenth century and the beginning of the twentieth the other pioneers are better remembered - C.R. Ashbee, Arthur Liberty, Aubrey Beardsley - and in the case of Charles Rennie Mackintosh, widely recognised.

I cannot claim to like Crane's work in stained glass at Holy Trinity but I do find it remarkable. Why is this? Well, I find the composition too "busy" with figures that feel artificially "forced" into the restrictions imposed by the tracery. The colours are, to me, kaleidoscopic, but not in a good way, seeming too uncontrolled. The overall "feel" of the window is sensual, voluptuous even: quite out of keeping with most Church of England stained glass, something that makes it appear a bit of an oddity among the more formal pieces. Moreover, the label that always comes to my mind when I see this window is not Art Nouveau but "psychedelic." That's perhaps not surprising. When psychedelia was at its height in the late1960s and early 1970s Art Nouveau (and the Arts and Craft Movement) made a comeback. So, in those years, as well as seeing the psychedelic art on album covers by the likes of The Incredible String Band and Cream, we could also pop along to the Athena poster store and buy Alphonse Mucha prints, or call in at the local shops and buy a range of fabrics and wallpapers newly printed with original Willam Morris prints, such as "Strawberry Thief" or "Chrysanthemum Major". Perhaps it's my age, but it's a memory of those times rather than the origins of Art Nouveau that the heady, swirling lines and dazzling colours of Crane's Hull stained glass sparks in me.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 40mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/30
ISO: 500
Exposure Compensation:  -1.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Reflecting on Holy Trinity, Hull

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The advent of the world wide web opened up so many avenues and repositories of information on such a wide variety of subjects that, for many, it has become completely overwhelming. Some older people find the idea of searching this massive morass daunting and having dipped their toes in once, vow never to return. Younger people have different strrategies for dealing with it, one of which is to limit what they look at. On the face of it this seems fair enough: you simply can't engage with everything when "everything" means just that! However, what looks like rational and reasoned selectivity is frequently just another coping strategy not entirely unlike the rejection adopted by quite a few senior citizens. How so? Well, often it involves looking only at what you like or agree with. Take politics. If you are left-leaning the tendency is to visit only those websites that reflect your views; to avoid the online newspapers of a right-wing persuasion, and to simply reinforce your existing beliefs. And, the internet specialising in nuance as it does, provides a menu of sites to satisfy particular viewpoints. What it does less well is offer intelligent sites that are more broadly based, where opposing or differing viewpoints sit side-by-side. Now you might think that it's quite easy to select and view multiple sites that offer these contrasts and thereby expose yourself to conficting opinions. But, as we all know, few do that. In fact, by its very nature and organisation the internet seems to positively encourage people to limit the range of experiences to which they subject themselves. Quite the opposite of what some of its cheerleaders proclaim.

I drifted into this line of thought when I gazed once again on the reflected image of the medieval church of Holy Trinity in Hull. The 1970s tinted glass curtain wall that was erected at a time when I lived in the city, is losing a little of its sheen. It always reflected back that which was in front of it (rather like some internet users' screens). On a bright day with deep colours and sharp shadows it can look quite a sight. On a dull day with muted tones, featureless stratus above and fading light below it makes much less of an impact. The green paper stuck on the inside of some windows isn't helping either. I searched for an alternative to the obvious main shot, but the complexity of my second attempt, though not without interest, is somewhat intricate; real church, reflected church and trees appear to compete rather too much.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 55mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/60
ISO: 400
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Pigs, shadows and symmetry

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The low, wood and steel buildings designed for pig-rearing are not the most promising of photographic subjects. At least that would have been my thought prior to passing some of these industrial-looking units the other day. However, on a late November afternoon, with the sun low in the sky, the shadows deep, and the gleaming metal, clean timber and pristine concrete of the recently erected buildings catching my eye, they seemed entirely suitable for a shot or two. It's a truism that good photographs can result from the most unlikely subject because in photography the subject itself is often less important than the way it is presented by the photographer. I don't make any great claims for this pair of images, but perhaps they do, in some small way, serve to illustrate that point.

We passed these buildings twice on our walk as the different position of the shadows indicates. They are two of several sheds arranged in a barracks-like row. I took my photographs from a gap in a hedge next to a footpath, so my room for manoeuvre was limited. The treatment I've applied to both photographs is to increase the contrast to deepen the shadows and thereby emphasise the repeated forms of the buildings. Clearly I've converted one to black and white (and applied the digital equivalent of an orange filter). I also, consciously, took shots that were symmetrical and asymmetrical. For reasons that are rarely clearly articulated photographic advice frequently advocates avoiding symmetrical compositions. My view is that symmetry is fine if the subject is symmetrical but that it rarely works well if artificially introduced by the photographer. Moreover, symmetry in images is rarely mirror-like, and the best "symmetrical" photographs often feature a dissonant note that mars the perfection. Here the shadows interfere with it sufficiently to prevent it mirroring at the central vertical line of symmetry.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 12.8mm (60mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: 6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/1000
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On 

Prince Street, Hull

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On a recent dull and very windy day I spent a few hours in and around Hull's "old town", the original core of the city that is built around the medieval street plan. It's an area that holds a fascinating variety of buildings dating from the medieval period through to the present day. When I lived in the city during the 1970s and 1980s I enjoyed many a happy day walking the winding streets, decoding buildings that had been overlaid with the hopes and aspirations of successive centuries, photographing the worn streets, dark alley ways (called staithes in this part of England), and enjoying the reflected light from Hull and Humber. At that time the old town was barely holding its own, venerable buildings were being pulled down and the interesting road surfaces made of pitch-impregnated timber blocks were patched with tarmac and concrete. However, the 1980s and 1990s saw a more enlightened attitude to the area take hold, its visual, historic and tourist value began to be appreciated, and things took an upward turn, mainly for the better. Today, the effects of the depression of recent years are starting to take a toll on the old town and a certain shabbiness is becoming evident once more.

Today's photograph shows the arch that leads from the Market Place into Prince Street, a curving cobbled road of three-storey houses dating from the 1770s. This row has kept the good looks of the most recent restoration. However, even here a dissonant note enters the view in the form of objects that weren't part of the street scene when I lived in the city. I mean, of course, those awful wheely bins. These wretched, multi-coloured, plastic rubbish containers too frequently blight our streets. A recent newspaper article illustrated one of the worst examples. One can only hope that such pieces open people's eyes to the degradation of our environment that follows from the insensitive siting of these bins.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 58mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/60
ISO: 200
Exposure Compensation:  0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

BBC, Hull

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As I've said before, I'm not a photographer of people.* That is to say, I'm not naturally drawn to making people the main subject of my photographs, though I do like to feature them as part of a composition for interest or scale. However, I detect signs that may be changing a little. Over the past couple of years I've deliberately taken several shots, some of which count among my favourites, where people are the main subject or where they share equal weight in a composition with another subject. Yesterday, in the city of Kingston upon Hull, I took another such photograph.

I was framing a shot of the building in which the BBC Studio Centre is located. The composition I wanted meant I needed to use a wide angle so the zoom was at 24mm. I had placed the building in the top part of the frame so that the verticals didn't converge and I composed knowing that I would crop the bottom off later. My position was close to the rounded corner of a building. As I raised the camera to my eye and pressed the shutter a woman came round the corner into my shot. When I reviewed the image I could see two things. Firstly, she'd unwittingly spoiled my photograph. But secondly, and most importantly, I could appreciate that a figure, better positioned, where she had appeared would make for an interesting composition. So, I adjusted my position, waited, then pressed the shutter at the appearance of the next person. In these "always available" days I suppose it was inevitable that person would have a phone clamped to their ear. But it was less likely that the clothing would be dark and stand out well against the background. So I was pleased with my shot, an example of developing an idea that presented itself to me, and a further step in my drift towards "people photography".

* except for family

photograph and text © T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 24mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/200
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Cameras and coffee

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I've been idly thinking of replacing my Lumix LX3. Recent compact cameras, notably the Sony RX100, offer a much improved feature set in a similar sized body. In particular, the low light performance is considerably better, as is the video. Those are characteristics that would give me greater success in my evening photography in London and elsewhere, and with the photography I do with my grand-daughter.

However, though I could open my wallet and buy that particular camera, or another model that gave me better image quality, I won't at the moment. Why? Well, first of all there's the relative price. I judge the newer offerings to be too expensive. I'm sure others will disagree, but when it comes to spending my money then it's mainly about me! The manufacturers set the opening price of new cameras high, and they almost always fall, sometimes by an enormous amount. The Sony's price has dropped significantly already, and will, I'm sure keep going down. If it approaches my mental "guide price" I will consider it. Of course, the other thing holding me back is the fact that I know that while the surface qualities of low light shots from a new camera would be better than I get from the LX3, the more important photographic qualities will be no different. In other words, a new camera won't make me a better photographer. And lastly, while my old (in digital terms) camera produces shots like today's, this one, or this, that satisfy me greatly, then why bother.

I apply this kind of thinking to lots of things I buy. I have a guide price for coffee, for example, and won't pay what I think is the ridiculous amount asked by the bigger chains such as Costa, Caffé Nero, Starbucks etc (Starbucks' attitude to paying UK corporation tax is another reason to stay away from them.) As a consequence our coffee drinking is done in locally run shops and cafés such as the one above in Spalding, Lincolnshire. I took today's shot there as we ascended the stairs. The low viewpoint accentuated the coffered, concrete ceiling, and the single diner - others are out of shot - added the human interest I wanted in the photograph.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 12.8mm (60mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: 2.8
Shutter Speed: 1/160
 ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On 

Fleet church and the via mirabilis

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A recent unusual and unwelcome bout of illness saw me more house-bound than usual, taking no photographs, and consequently using up my reserve of shots of postable quality. So, I've done what I usually do when my well of current images runs dry; I've looked through those that I previously classified as "possibles" and have selected a few of those for posting.

Today's offering shows the fourteenth century church of St Mary Magdalen at Fleet, a church in the Decorated style, a building of great grandeur, with a detached tower and spire. The A17 road from Sleaford to King's Lynn has  been described as "the via mirabilis...the finest procession of churches in England." A list of all the medieval buildings worthy of a visit on or near this highway is very long but highlights would include Ewerby, Asgarby, Heckington, Helpringham, Swineshead, Sutterton, Algarkirk, Holbeach, Fleet, Gedney, Long Sutton, Terrington St Clements and Tilney All Saints. Indeed, the start of that route is so rich in churches that the old Murray's "Handbook" for Lincolnshire records that, "from almost any church tower near Sleaford fifteen or twenty spires can be counted."

I took this photograph of Fleet church at the end of a winter's day, after the sun had slid below the horizon, before any stars could be discerned, and as the chill of oncoming night signalled an end to photography. I liked the way the man-made, disciplined silhouette of the church contrasted with the waywardness of the skeletal trees. From the position that I took the photograph it looks as if Fleet church has a traditional west tower. However, the smaller shot, taken a few years ago, shows that this is not the case and reveals the campanile to be one of the few medieval examples in Lincolnshire that is completely detached from the rest of the building.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 75mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/80
ISO: 1250
Exposure Compensation:  -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Market Hall, Louth

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The nineteenth century English market hall is usually a combination of the decorative and the strictly functional. The aim is to provide an open covered space where traders can sell from stalls and people can browse their wares, safe from the vagaries of the weather. They are, like the rather grander glazed arcades, an early shopping mall, though market halls tend to cater for less expensive or fresh goods of the kind seen on open market stalls. So, the utilitarian aspect of their design usually relates to the provision of the large, covered space, and the decorative features are at their most pronounced on the main elevation. In this respect they are not unlike that other characteristically nineteenth century building, the corn exchange, where the structure is both a commercial undertaking and a symbol of civic pride.

The market hall at Louth in Lincolnshire exemplifies all these characteristics particularly well. It was built in 1866-7 by the Louth architects, Rogers and Marsden. This firm had a reasonably wide range of commissions including churches, church restoration, vicarages etc. With Louth market hall's facade they adopted a Byzantine Gothic style featuring a set-back, narrow, spired, clock tower (too narrow for me) between two flanking wings. The structure uses mainly red brick with stone and yellow brick details. The wings have shops at the base, a fine row of round-arched windows above with rather nice pointed dripmoulds lined by string-moulding. Below the gutter is a fine cornice, and the whole is topped by Welsh slate. One unusual feature of the facade - that doesn't work for me - is the fact that the main entrance is set so far back as to be lost in shadow: this de-emphasises it rather than drawing the eye.

The back of the building is quite a contrast, owing more to industrial buildings or train sheds than an acknowledged historical style. In some respects I like it more than the front. It's big, bold, functional, eye-catching in the narrow street, and has nice details, especially the two doors with their scroll hinges. The unadorned metal of the semi-circular window arch with its rivets showing is great, even if the scalloped wind-bracing at the corners of the rectangular window lights detracts from the industrial aesthetic.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 17mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/20
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: N/A

The interior of Ely Cathedral

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Can there be anyone who, having walked below the crossing tower of Ely cathedral, hasn't stopped and gazed up in wide-eyed wonder at the work of the medieval builders? I do just that each time I visit, and even though I've got lots of photographs of the vaulting and arches (and have posted a couple), I take a few more. I did it again when we were last there.

In my recent post about this Fenland cathedral I said that, to my way of thinking, the unusual exterior made Ely something of an ugly duckling. However, as everyone knows, the ugly duckling grew into a beautiful swan, and the transformation of Ely comes about when you step through the doors into the wonderful interior space. The crossing with its glazed lantern is the star of the show, of course, but the sturdy Early Norman nave has an austere beauty too, one that is lit up by the painted ceiling above.

To the east of the crossing is the choir, and here the relative simplicity of the nave gives way to rich materials, colours and textures, and the soaring forms of Gothic replace the sturdiness of Norman. There are many fine details to pore over inside Ely, but for me its success comes not from individual pieces but rather the all-embracing spatial experience.

Unusually for an English cathedral Ely makes no charge for personal photography. I've got used to paying anything between £2 and £4 to take photographs. Here a charge is made if a tripod is used. All my shots were taken with a hand-held camera!

photographs and text © T. Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
 Focal Length: 40mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/30
ISO: 1250
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Ceramic sculpture

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I find my visits to the National Centre for Craft and Design (NCCD) at Sleaford, Lincolnshire, hit and miss affairs. Sometimes I am delighted, excited, provoked, intrigued and surprised. On other occasions I am bored, bewildered, depressed, disheartened, and affronted. My recent visit to see the main gallery exhibition of Gordon Baldwin's ceramic sculptures definitely fell into the second category. After viewing the pieces, looking at the curatorial commentary, listening to the artist on a video, and reading quotations by him I left, regretting that I had devoted time to the experience. On this occasion I won't elaborate on my reasons for feeling that way because I can think of little to say that is positive, a situation that I can recall occurring only once before when I briefly viewed an exhibition of Vivienne Westwood shoes.

One of the virtues of the NCCD is that there are two further exhibition spaces: a smaller top-floor room (The Roof Gallery) and the stairwell (Window Space), so if you are disappointed by one exhibition you can hope that you'll discover something to enjoy elsewhere. Unfortunately I found the offering at the top of the building - "Class of 2012" -  only minimally diverting. However, the exhibits on the landing, window ledges and walls of the stairwell were much more interesting. They were the work of an Italian ceramic sculptor, Pina Lavelli. She had created small, white shapes with surfaces that resembled leaf cell structures or some other plant texture. These fractal-like patterns didn't cover all the shapes so they contrasted with the remaining smooth roundedness. Other white, pebble-like shapes were gathered in black openwork wire spheres. The pieces stood on surfaces in groups as sculpture or were fixed to flat white frames to form relief pictures. Plants had inspired the artist, and one could see that connection, but the beautiful, unsullied whiteness of many of the pieces most closely resembled, to my mind, water-worn pebbles, pumice stone, perhaps sea-urchin shells or, to return to plants, newly-appeared toadstools and mushrooms.

I took a few quick snaps of the exhibits and show here a closeup, two of the spheres and a photograph of a relief. The latter I shot at an angle, showing only part of the artwork and I included a segment of a nearby wall light. I left the NCCD as I usually do, glad that I'd gone, and ready for the next exhibitions be they good, bad or indifferent.

photographs © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 12.1mm (57mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: 2.8
Shutter Speed: 1/100
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On 

The exterior of Ely Cathedral

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The exterior form of Ely is something of an oddity among English cathedrals. As you approach it across the flat Fenland landscape its appearance above the town, on a rise only 68 feet high, is long and low with towers at the crossing and  the west end. That is a quintessentially English profile. However, the crossing tower is lower and wider than usual, and there is but one west tower, not the usual two. It is principally this arrangement and the attendant details that make the cathedral something, to my mind, of an ugly duckling.

The low, wide crossing tower was built after the more typical tower of Norman date collapsed on 22 February 1322. The replacement is octagonal, the lower part stone and the upper corona or lantern, timber. It quickly acquired the name of The Octagon. This curious structure that looks wide rather than tall, is surrounded by pinnacles and topped by slender castellated turrets that echo those of the west tower. The west tower itself was built in the early thirteenth century, and in 1230 a spire was erected on the top. However, in the later fourteenth century the spire was taken down and replaced by the current octagon and the slender corner turrets. A small lead spire was added to this at an unknown date, but this too was removed in 1801 to leave the building looking as it does today. Germany is the home of cathedrals with a single west tower, so to see one in England, and with such an unusual design - more castle-like than ecclesiastical - is unusual. Moreover, to have the big tower echoed in a smaller tower to the south (see main photograph) makes for a strongly asymmetrical west facade, something that is equally odd in an English context. But, whilst the overall form of Ely is strange and awkward, the details of the exterior are interesting and often beautiful, particularly the blank arcading of the walls. The large, rectangular Lady Chapel that is a separate building but for the linking corridor is a further Ely quirk. However, the location and style make it look like a chapter house so it does not stand out in the way that the towers do.

Photographing the exterior of Ely is quite a challenge. It is closely surrounded by buildings, and where there is a big sloping pasture on the south side, there are plenty of large trees that get in the way. The cathedral green in front of the west facade offers just enough space for a reasonably satisfactory shot, and I took advantage of this on a recent visit. Incidentally, the incongruous looking cannon in the left foreground has these words on a nearby plaque: "Russian canon captured during the Crimean War. Presented to the people of Ely by Queen Victoria in 1860 to mark the creation of the Ely Rifle Volunteers." Around the edge of the plaque are the words, "Give peace in our time O Lord."

photographs and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 27mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/320
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The Mereway, Ingoldsby Wood, Lincolnshire

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When I was young the woods managed by the Forestry Commission were places where the public were not welcome. Signs told us to keep out, graphic notices warned of the risk of fire, and at various points collections of implements for beating out blazes were pointedly stacked. All this served to suggest that public access was a threat that couldn't be countenanced. Today people are, I'm glad to say, welcomed into what are a national and publicly owned asset - our woods. I was reminded of this recently as we passed through Ingoldsby Wood near Boothby Pagnell, Lincolnshire, when I came across a Forestry Commission sign inviting people to enjoy the sylvan beauty.

We were walking along a route known as The Mereway, a path that follows part of the perimeter of the woodland. This area of trees is probably a patch of ancient woodland, and may be part of the larger woodland recorded in the Domesday Book. The vicinity of the wood has a number of earthworks including a circular feature with ditch and bank that may be an Iron Age enclosure though it has produced Romano-British and post-medieval artefacts. There is also the site of a medieval moated enclosure with a fishpond. This could have been the location of a grange associated with Vaudey Abbey. Then there is The Mereway track itself. Anyone seeing its name written on the Ordnance Survey map might well think that it was named after a long-gone area of water. However, the word "mere", as well being Old English for a pool or pond, can also derive from the Old English "mære" meaning a boundary, and that is clearly the intended usage here because the track follows the western edge of the wood. There is some speculation that the path may be on the line of an ancient trackway. On the other hand its name may indicate that it is simply a wood boundary, a feature serving a similar purpose to the woodbanks that frequently mark the extent of old woodland, and of which there are signs in Ingoldsby Wood.

I took today's photograph to record the track, but also for the red-orange of the beech leaves and as a record of a fine and sunny day. Some trees are still clinging to their leaves, but an increasing number of bare boughs and branches are evident as the temperatures drop, the light dims and winter edges autumn aside.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 28mm
F No: f10
Shutter Speed: 1/50
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The threatened ash tree

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The sea that separates the British Isles from continental Europe is generally thought of, by the inhabitants of these islands at least, as a blessing, a defensive moat that kept Napoleon and Hitler at bay, has stopped rabies from becoming widespread here, and prevents European integrationism from too deeply affecting our idiosyncratic ways. However, a longer view must also record how, when the ice ages covered our islands in glaciers, sending the wildlife south to escape its deadly touch, the thaw that followed and the North Sea and English Channel that it created and which separated our islands from Europe, also prevented the return of many plants and animals. Thus, fallow deer were present before the last glaciation, but did not return after it, the present herds all being introduced animals. As many school children used to know, the adder made it back to England, Scotland and Wales, but it wasn't St Patrick who banished it from Ireland, but rather the inundation that became the Irish Sea prevented it reaching that country.

However, in these days of regular international and inter-continental travel, when goods are shipped around the world with barely a thought, and when companies source products from whoever can provide them at the lowest price, the narrow stretch of sea that was once seen as a formidable barrier, is today a mere ditch that can be stepped across at will. Ash dieback disease, the Chalara fraxinea fungus that was first seen in Eastern Europe twenty years ago, which has spread rapidly across the continent, badly affecting the ash trees of Germany, France and elsewhere, and has affected 90% of Danish ash trees, is now spreading in Britain. There is some debate over whether it was brought in solely on imported saplings or whether it also arrived on the wind from across the narrow North Sea. But, it seems widely agreed that it is here, it can't be eradicated, only slowed in its progress, and it will have a major effect on our hedgerows and woodlands, as well as on the wildlife that favours this particular species. Current thinking suggests that the best course of action is to leave trees to die naturally, to identify those individual trees that seem to be resistant, and to begin a breeding programme to produce new plants from them.

This depressing business was on my mind as I processed today's photograph. I didn't notice when I took the shot, but it features a young ash tree. Five and half percent of British woodland trees are ash, but 12 million grow elsewhere, particularly in hedgerows. It is the second most commonly seen individual tree (after the oak). I read that in Lincolnshire and East Yorkshire combined the ash accounts for 40 percent of the trees. A loss of such magnitudes would be devastating nationally and locally.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 45mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/800
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -1.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Arches, columns and colours

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Most of the interior wall surfaces of England's medieval churches and cathedrals are unadorned stone. Where this isn't the case they are generally painted with a light coloured wash, plastered, or decorated with painted patterns or pictures. In this country we've grown accustomed to the austere looking walls of stone, enlivened only by the occasional memorial tablet, hatchment, British Legion flag or Mothers' Union embroidery. But it wasn't always like this.

England's churches used to be as colourful as any to be found in Spain, Italy or France. In fact these countries were often the model for the painted patterns, figures and architecture that covered many walls. Figures such as St Christopher, Mary, King David with his harp, Adam and Eve; subjects such as the Last Judgement or the symbols of the Four Evangelists, and scenes from the morality tales provided instruction and illustration for the illiterate and decorative surroundings for all. Most of this painting was banished by the Protestant reformation, either physically removed or buried under limewash. Today some relics of these grand schemes can still be seen, examples that have been revealed by the painstaking removal of the covering paint. And, if you look carefully in the carved details of the sculpted figures and plants on column capitals or blind arcades you can often see traces of the original red ochre or blue paint that was quickly applied after the sculptors had finished their work.

We were in Ely Cathedral, Cambridgeshire recently, a building that has fragmentary examples of medieval painting still to be seen. However, as I walked down the south aisle of the nave it was a different kind of colour that was enlivening the unpainted stone of the twelfth century Norman columns and cushion capitals below the groined vaulting. The low November sun was shining through the Victorian stained glass, projecting its colours onto the stonework, temporarily returning long lost colours, but with hues and an intensity that the medieval artists could never match. It was a fine sight, and one that demanded a photograph.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 84mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/800
ISO: 1600
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The Ouse Washes

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When, in the seventeenth century, further concerted attempts were made to increase the agricultural potential of the Fens, the 4th Earl of Bedford and his financial partners employed the Dutch engineer, Cornelius Vermuyden (1595-1677), to undertake a programme of drainage.The aim was to make pasture available for summer grazing. As part of his works Vermuyden created, on the course of the River Ouse, two straight channels. These were designed to more speedily and effectively transfer water from the rivers and drains of the Fenland area into the sea near King's Lynn. Today these straight channels, about two thirds of a mile apart, are known as the Old Bedford River and the New Bedford River (formerly the Hundred Foot River). Both are embanked, but the banking is lower on the sides where the parallel channels face each other. The purpose of this is so that when they flood they overflow into the land between the channels and the floodwater is managed  without detriment to nearby villages and more productive farmland. In England land subject to periodic flooding is often called a wash, and this particular land is known as the Ouse Washes (not to be confused with the large bay and estuary near King's Lynn called The Wash). It is rough pasture and wet land when not inundated, and in winter when it is most likely to be flooded, teems with waterfowl (particularly geese and whooper swans) and waders.

The other day we went to Ely. Our preferred route takes us over the twin Bedford channels and the Ouse Washes. However, as we drove onto the bridge over the Old Bedford River we were confronted with a sign saying, "Road closed due to flooding". It hadn't occurred to me that the Ouse Washes would be under water and that our road might be affected. We drove a short way to see how bad it was, and after negotiating a small area of floodwater came upon a place where the road disappeared under a quickly flowing current. Needless to say we stopped. A tractor found the depth of water of no consequence and went through, water flying everywhere, but we decided that discretion was the better part of valour and beat a retreat. Then we consulted our maps for an alternate route, though not before I'd got out of the car to take a few photographs of the floodwaters around us. The early morning light, plus the glow of blue sky on the water all around us gave something of the feel of being on a boat on a lake. The smaller photographs were taken from the road, the larger one from the bridge over the Old Bedford River, its banks and tree trunks hidden beneath the flow.

photographs and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 28mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/125
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The tide of green paint

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Over the past twenty years a tide of green paint has lapped over our villages and towns, initially affecting the more well-to-do areas, then extending into less prosperous regions. It started out as almost exclusively sage green, then branched out into other shades of muted green, sometimes with a hint of blue, often leaning more towards grey. If you search out this range of colours you'll find them offered by suppliers of "heritage" paints. However, such is their popularity, some mainstream paint companies now stock them. Is this simply fashion or are there deeper influences at work? The change in the colours of doors, windows, fences and other exterior woodwork from white and strong colours to these more earthy hues is not something that has been widely noted or much commented upon, so here are some of my thoughts on the subject.

The increasing search for authenticity in heritage projects and building restoration during the last quarter of the twentieth century prompted interest and research into the use of paint from the seventeenth century through to the present day. By scrutiny of primary records - job specifications, contractors' estimates and bills, buyers' and visitors' diaries etc, as well as microscopic analysis of the layers of of paint on old surfaces - a revised view of the composition and colours of paint used in the past was formulated. A range of muted greens were found to be popular during the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. So too were colours in the off-white, brown, mauve/peach, orange, blue, grey and stone ranges. None of these, especially when used outdoors, were strident colours, though stronger colours were used indoors. For reasons difficult to determine, the range of greens became much more popular than the other muted colours. That's not to say the others weren't used, they were, especially for external render, but also for woodwork. But, the greens were much more widely used. Perhaps their popularity grew as a result of the increase in membership of organisations who first used these colours - bodies such as the National Trust and English Heritage. People visiting houses that were restored using the new thinking about paint may well have been influenced to adopt the new colours too, especially if they lived in a period property.

Today the greens described above are used fairly indiscriminately on buildings old and new. I recently passed some very new flats (styled in a modern way) in Chatteris, Cambridgeshire, that had windows and doors painted sage green and walls that were clad in hardwood. As I've travelled around the country I've also detected that this kind of green paint seems to be used as a badge of belonging by people of a certain class and outlook. This struck me most forcibly when I was recently in Tewkesbury, a town that more than most has succumbed to this fashion.

Today's photograph shows two such doors in Ely, Cambridgeshire. That the tide of green paint continues unabated is clear when you compare the colour of the rightmost house on Google Street View with that of today. As I took my photograph, drawn to the scene by the overlay of tree shadows on the yellow brick walls, I wondered what colour the painter was going to use when he had finished preparing the wood.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 45mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The Shard, viewed and eclipsed

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If I take my camera with the 70-300mm lens mounted on it, lean out from the balcony in Rotherhithe where I often stay, brace myself against the metal work and point it upstream towards the centre of London, I can take this photograph of The Shard. I've taken quite a few shots in this way during the construction of the building, some of which I've posted on the blog.

As well as showing the glass spike itself this view also features Guy's and St Thomas' Hospital - the tall building on the left. This utilitarian, concrete structure has sprouted what looks like scaffolding, an indication, perhaps, that it is being spruced up to be a more presentable neighbour for the new tower. A segment of the big wheel that is called the London Eye can be seen immediately to the right of The Shard. To the right of that is one of the pointed roofs of Tower Bridge visible between the two cranes. The buildings in the lower half of the photograph are the converted warehouses and new-build riverside flats along the Thames. The river itself is in the foreground.

The Shard's moment of fame as Europe's tallest building was brief. Apparently its height of 1,016 feet (310 metres) was recently eclipsed by Mercury City Tower in Moscow. It is though, by a big margin, the tallest building in the United Kingdom, though not the tallest structure. That honour belongs to the Emley Moor transmitting station, a telecommunications mast at 1,084 feet (330 metres) that was built in 1969-71 in Yorkshire. I mentioned in a recent post that I must buy a ticket to access the viewing gallery near the top of The Shard and in writing this piece I came across the fact that tickets are already on sale for the opening in February. I think I'll wait for the rush to die down before I buy one. If, that is, it does ever die down.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 228mm
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/60
ISO: 3200
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Photograph what you like the way you like

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Photographers, perhaps more than many others who work in the field of visual arts and crafts, seem to take far too much notice of the opinions of others. Perhaps it's due to the fact that photography is a mixture of the technical and the artistic. Or it could be because the camera is a consumer durable, heavily marketed, constantly updated, available in multiple forms and hence subject to the familiar tyranny of choice, analysis paralysis and information overload that afflicts much buying today. If you agonise over the camera you buy, visiting countless websites, absorbing myriad opinions, listening to the informed, the opinionated, the "brand fans" and the mildly deranged, there's small wonder that you do the same when it comes to deciding what and how to photograph.

There are plenty of people who will tell you what is a good photographic subject and what are the "best" ways of taking a photograph. The problem is that if you follow this - often contrary - advice, you'll end up making images that look like everyone else's that please them, not you. Of course, if you ignore all the siren voices you may well end up doing that anyway because it's difficult to ignore photographs in our everyday lives and seeing so much we are very likely to be influenced by it. Nonetheless, I consider the best advice anyone can give to a photographer is, "photograph what you like the way you like." Given that is my view you'll realise I've not been one for camera clubs, books about photography, photographic qualifications, competitions or the the lure of professional photography. For me - and I'm only speaking about me here - all those have the potential to limit my photography rather than expand or deepen it. I do like to look at the photographs made by other photographers and I am interested in the wider visual arts and photography's place therein. But beyond that I just like to make pictures that please me!

Looking at today's offering and some of my other shots you might legitimately wonder whether it's so different from anyone else's output. Some of my work clearly is mainstream. However, some of my other images are, I think, less so. If I have a defining characteristic it is that I have no defining characteristic. In that respect my photography reflects my personality; I enjoy and pursue a wide range of interests and specialise in none.

The shot above of the Thames embankment lights at Rotherhithe, with Canary Wharf in the background, is a subject that I've photographed a few times before on visits to London, though I've only previously posted this fog-shrouded example.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 50mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Look behind you

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A casual observer, watching me walk down the street or through the countryside may think that I'm paranoid, that I imagine I'm being followed, that I have a persecution complex or that I think everyone is out to get me. Why? Well, the fact is, I  regularly stop and look behind. The more perceptive observer would notice the camera or at least the camera bag, and would work out that I'm looking to see if there's a shot in the opposite direction to the one in which I'm walking.

I take most of my photographs on walks, and I learned fairly early in my photographic development that we tend to see shots ahead and to the side of us, but often forget to look for those that are behind. It's now November and we've reached the time of year when, if you are walking with the low sun behind and floodlighting all before you, there may well be a contre jour shot to be found by turning round towards the sun. Yesterday's blog post illustrates that quite well. Today's photographs show that this habit of looking behind you is also helpful if the sun is from the side because it reveals a composition that you might have missed due to your attention being fixed on the direction in which you were walking.

Both shots show part of the River Witham in Boston, Lincolnshire, that is known as The Haven, a stretch a couple of miles long where inshore fishing boats berth. I took the small photograph first, using the moored boats as foreground interest and the river bank as a line through the image leading to the short curved terrace of houses. On this photograph I was keen to minimise the amount of sky and to include the figure on the left. My second shot was taken when we'd walked further downstream to a point past the most distant boat in the small photograph and I looked behind me. This view - the main photograph - is dominated by the tall tower of the church of St Botolph with its lantern top, and that meant more sky needed to be included. But once again the same group of boats is important, and with the curve of the river and the buildings by the roadside, provides the main subject of the shot. However, though the subject remains the same, the differing viewpoints make for quite different images.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 75mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/200
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Changing London

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"London is a splendid place to live in for those who can get out of it."
George John Gordon Bruce (1883-1967), English banker and peer

"I've been walking about London for the last thirty years, and I find something fresh in it every day." Walter Besant (1836-1901), English novelist and historian (words said on his death bed)

English people have differing views of their capital city. There are those who see it as the centre of the world, a place where anything and everything can and does happen, somewhere that shines brighter and more intensely than anywhere else. But there are also those for whom London is a place to avoid, a large, crowded, noisy, tumultuous place bent on making money or extracting it from the unwary visitor.

My view of London leads me to find sympathy with both of the above quotations. I really enjoy visiting London, but I wouldn't want to live there on a permanent basis. I've said elsewhere in this blog that a few years would suit me nicely, but then a yearning for the country, for the sea, for villages and small towns, for wide open spaces and wildlife would be so engulf me that I'd have to move out. So yes, a splendid place to live if you can regularly go elsewhere. As a photographer I'm always overwhelmed by the choice of photographic subjects that London offers. Like anywhere else it changes with the light, time of day and season. But it also changes because infrastructure development is an ongoing process to a much greater extent than anywhere else in the country. Buildings change use, old ones come down and new ones go up. The view up the Thames to the city from where I stay in London changes every year. A rather odd shaped building that flares out towards the top is currently under construction, a feature that has already earned it the name, "The Walkie Talkie". Then there is the view of the completed splinter of glass called "The Shard" that can be seen on the right of today's photograph (memo to self: must visit the viewing gallery when it opens to the public). For someone like me who is interested in architecture such buildings offer something fresh everyday at which I can point my camera.

Today's image, though it has a backdrop of the River Thames and the southern edge of the centre of the city is in fact a family photograph. I took it as my eldest son, his daughter, my wife and I were having a short walk. The sharp silhouettes and almost monochrome qualities softened by the clouds that threatened a further downpour suggested a contre jour shot would work, so I framed my photograph and pressed the shutter.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 45mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -1.00 EV
Image Stabilisation: On