Pollarded willows

click photo to enlarge
In the middle of the Lincolnshire town of Bourne is a large, grassed open space with some stretches of water, trees and bushes. It looks like a municipal park and it is - the war memorial is sited there as is a children's playground, benches and tarmac paths. However, there are also a couple of quite old, stone-built buildings - an early C18 farmhouse and barn - and, at the edge of the area a building that was once a working water mill fed by a stream. There are also odd undulations that hint at what was formerly here and accounts for such a large area being undeveloped.

The mounds mark the site of an eleventh century motte and bailey castle that appears to have had two large enclosures. Some of the remaining areas of water must have fed defensive moats. However, the motte has gone and it is hard to discern the parts of the Norman site that must have been built to control the area after the Conquest. Recreational use has led to the planting of plentiful willows, the water-side sites being ideal for this species. However, willows in parks can present problems - they weren't called "crack willows" for nothing - and many have been pollarded to control their spread and remove high, heavy boughs that were seen as potential dangers.

Todays' photograph shows some of these pollarded willows reflected in one of the stretches of water. Immediately after they have been cut such willows look rather ungainly compared with their elegant uncut neighbours. But, as the boughs thicken and the the shape returns they look much better. These, I thought, looked somewhat sinister reflected in the water with a broken sky above.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: Pollarded Willows, Bourne, Lincolnshire
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 25mm (50mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/1000 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Town Hall, Bourne, Lincolnshire

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All Renaissance architecture draws its inspiration from the buildings of ancient Greece and Rome. English Renaissance architecture also borrows from the work of the Italian Renaissance architects who revived this style well before the architects of our islands mastered it. However, English architects, once they had come to grips with the challenge, showed themselves to be not only adept at using the traditional vocabulary of the style, but also capable of using these forms in new and interesting ways.

An example of this can be found in the 1821 town hall (former Sessions House) at Bourne in Lincolnshire. The architect, Bryan Browning, is not someone of national note. He is a regional practitioner who built much that is typical of the time and a few buildings that cause one to stop, look and think. His Bourne building has the piano nobile, pediment, Doric columns, arches, balusters etc typical of many other buildings of the Georgian period. But the way he disposes these parts is quite unusual. On a narrow, 3-bay elevation, he squeezes into the centre the form of a triumphal arch. This, quite unusually, contains a recessed entrance, a double staircase, columns, balcony and windows. Flanking it are shallow arches with windows above, the rightmost arch forming a passage through to the building's rear as well as offering further entries. Is it a dog's dinner or an innovative use of the elements of the classical style. I think it's definitely more the latter than the former.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 35mm (52mm - 27mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/250 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Newly painted

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I've heard it argued that the white marble, limestone (and whitewash) of Mediterranean buildings, as well as reducing the impact of the sun, enhance the architecture of the buildings of ancient Greece and Roman; that the styles that arose, the ornament that developed and the massing that was adopted, came about, in part, because of the way the bright Mediterranean sun is able to throw such forms into sharp relief against their attendant shadows. Those who hold such views often advance in support of their argument the suggestion that the Gothic style developed in less brightly lit Northern Europe because it was more suited to the lower levels of sunlight. I've never found these arguments very convincing. Venetian Gothic, for example, looks just as sharp as Classical architecture under bright sunlight. Were Gothic cathedrals painted white they would look sharper still.

Moreover, Classical styles in Northern Europe, when seen under clear blue skies, show similar qualities to Mediterranean examples. I thought this a couple of days ago when I passed the Classically-styled Methodist church in Bourne, Lincolnshire. It was newly painted white and positively shone in the sunlight, the shadows of its pilasters, pediment and architrave looking like they were drawn with a ruler. Quite a contrast, in fact, to the surrounding, unadorned, bricks and mortar.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 23mm (34mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/800 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Defacing buildings the modern way

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The terrace of houses known as Wood View, in Bourne, Lincolnshire, can never have been wonderful architecture. Though it is not without interest, and its scale certainly catches the eye, it was probably built down to a cost by a speculative builder. The main elevation is flat and uses stock bricks, with the only decorative embellishment being bands of orange brick that contrast with the buff of the walls, lintels and sills. What does stand out, however, is the chimneys. They are stepped, use similar bricks to the walls, and are very big.The dormers also catch the eye. Were they always there or are they added? I imagine the former. The whole terrace has been refurbished with new roof tiles, windows, doors, gutters and drainpipes. Any presence the buildings had and has comes from the long, straight row of almost identical dwellings surmounted by the rank of dominant chimneys.

But today the terrace has been defaced in the usual modern way, firstly by chimney-sited aerials and then by wall-mounted satellite dishes. The only blessing is that the roofs don't lend themselves to solar PV panels. Stick a few of those on and the row's disfigurement would be complete. As I travel about the country these three excrescences frequently scream out at me. The appearance of buildings good bad and indifferent is dragged down by aerials, dishes and panels (especially the latter), and the building in turn drags down its area. It's not impossible to have loft mounted aerials (ours is), and better locations (or solutions) for dishes are available. Moreover, we can't be far off the time when PV cells are built into roof tiles and panels can be phased out. Of course, the great danger with such devices festooning buildings is that eventually we stop seeing them. At that point we forget what we've lost.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 85mm (127mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/400 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Eau, the confusion

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"A little learning is a dangerous thing;
Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring."
Alexander Pope (1688-1744), English poet

A few years ago I read some research indicating that the further you go with formal learning the unhappier you are likely to become. Learning, the authors suggested, was characterised by an upward payback curve that stopped after a first degree and thereafter went downwards. If this is true then Pope's observation isn't entirely accurate - at least as far as happiness goes.

One could argue that it isn't true anyway because a little learning - if it is presented to the student well - is a catalyst for further self-directed learning that continues throughout life, and far from being dangerous, is life enhancing. The problem is that much education doesn't achieve this goal. It used to be a characteristic of English primary education. However, the introduction of the dead hand of the National Curriculum and the utilitarian and market demands placed on the already moribund secondary and higher education put paid to that.

Pope's famous lines and education in general came to mind when I looked at my semi-abstract photograph of Bourne Eau, a stream that runs through the town of Bourne in Lincolnshire. The word "Eau" is, today, usually pronounced like the French word for water that has the same spelling. However, this is, in the words of "A Dictionary of Lincolnshire Place-Names", "a spurious Frenchified form" of "ea" (prononounced as in "bead"), a word deriving from the Old English for a river or stream that was variously written as ea, eay, ei, ee etc. The spelling "eau" and the current pronunciation has come into use, presumably, due to the "little learning" of French in English schools that has been common for seventy or so years. The old, original pronunciation clings on in some parts of the county and with some older speakers. One wonders for how long.

It's often said that a successful photograph immediately indicates its subject to the viewer. However, this aphorism, like all such sayings, is subject to exceptions. Confusion can be an appealing quality in a photograph, with the subject not immediately apparent, and the component parts of the image requiring study for the viewer to make sense of what is seen. It was those features that I noticed in this watery scene.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 105mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/100 sec
ISO: 640
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

One from the vaults

click photo to enlarge

Recently I've been feeling, as a television advertisement of yesteryear used to say, "one degree under". It's nothing of great significance, but set against my usual healthy self, it's an unwelcome change that probably accounts for my recent photography being more sporadic than usual and somewhat uninspired. So I've done what I often do in these circumstances and trawled though the vaults for a few shots worthy of posting.

Today's was taken in February last year in the Wellhead Gardens at Bourne, Lincolnshire. It shows willow branches and their reflections in one of the stretches of water that run through the small public park. It's a shot that I like for the semi-abstract effect produced by the soft, water-colour, cloud reflections overlaid with the veil of dark, delicate, almost ink-like lines of the slender willow branches. The subtle range of colours and the difficulty of working out what is real and what is reflected also appeals to me. Reflections in water are a recurring theme in my photographs, one I never tire of, but which I suppose is an acquired taste.

If you do like this photograph you may wonder how it got overlooked or left behind. There are a few reasons. Sometimes the rate of my photography is such that I move on to the most recent crop of images before I've exhausted the previous one. On other occasions the time of year changes, and I do like to reflect the seasons in the shots I post. I also like to ring the changes over the course of a week or so, so sometimes I forsake a shot because it has too many characteristics of one I've recently used. And finally, I'm sometimes just plain careless and don't properly notice an image that I think is good enough to be posted. Today's falls into the latter category.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 32mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/100 sec
ISO: 200
Exposure Compensation:  -0.66 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Methodist Church, Bourne

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Non-Conformist chapels and churches come in a greater variety of forms than their Church of England counterparts. The earliest seventeenth century examples, such as the Friends (Quaker) Meeting House, Settle, North Yorkshire, (1678) are basically converted houses. Others such as the Methodist chapel at Walsingham, Norfolk (1791) are simple brick boxes with a porch attached, semi-circular headed windows and a single galleried room inside. Others, especially in the nineteenth century seem to vie with nearby C of E building, adopting a Gothic persona of pointed windows, stained glass, tracery, buttresses, towers and spires (though usually unconvincingly): a United Reformed Church building that I know in the Lancashire village of Elswick could easily be mistaken for the local Church of England parish church. Then there are the large circular, octagonal or other odd shaped buildings with multiple annexes, that put the visitor in mind of a court room or theatre, such as North Shore Methodist church, Blackpool (early 1900s), or the Methodist Central Hall, Westminster (1912).

The other day, during a trip to Bourne I came upon a Methodist church building of 1839 designed by the architect Thomas Pilkington. It was set back from the road and fronted by flat, green lawns and a path. All the nearby buildings were red brick, so the clean, white facade impressed itself upon the passerby, with its simplicity and purity. Perhaps that was the intention. However, behind this elegant face the same red brick that is used by the neighbouring buildings prevails. During the nineteenth century Non-Conformist churches flirted with classical forms to a greater extent than did the established church, and here Pilkington uses giant Doric pilasters and a triangular pediment to give an impression of the facade of a Greek or Roman temple. Many churchmen thought classical architecture pagan, and spurned it for that reason, but not this group of Methodists in Bourne. In fact, the building is recorded as having acroteria angularia on the two flat plinths at each side of the pediment, and undoubtedly had an acroterion on the similar surface at the apex, so the full panoply of classical architecture was obviously applied.

With this photograph a black and white conversion made more of the composition than did colour. I particularly liked the way it emphasised the building, giving it an ethereal look, and how it gave greater prominence to the outline of the gate in the foreground.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 11mm (22mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/250
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On