Wisbech port colours

click photo to enlarge
There has been a port at Wisbech since the medieval period. Of course, inland ports (Wisbech is over 10 miles from the sea) made a lot of sense when land transport was so limited by the size of carts and the speed at which they could travel. The town originally stood on the River Ouse but when the mouth of this river silted up and it was diverted to King's Lynn, the River Nene was made to serve the town.

The port became prosperous in the 19th century following the drainage of the Fens.  The area was noted for the  largest grain market outside London. Ships from Wisbech sailed down the Nene to The Wash, and from there took agricultural produce up and down the eastern coast of Britain and across the North Sea. Returning ships imported a variety of goods but notably coal and timber, the latter from the Baltic region. Trade with the Baltic continues today as does the import of timber, some of which can be seen in the photograph. A fortnightly service runs from Wisbech to Riga in Latvia.

As we walked past the docks the other day the bright blue of the sky was set against the red of a crane and the yellow warning triangles on the flood defence gates. This conjunction of primary colours seemed a good subject for a photograph.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: Primary Colours, Port of Wisbech, Cambridgeshire
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 14mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/1250 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Wisbech's London plane tree

click photo to enlarge
More than half of central London's trees are the London plane (Platanus x acerifolia), a hybrid of the oriental plane and the American plane. The first of these trees was planted over three hundred years ago and the oldest are massive, providing not only the beauty of their leaves and bark, but also shade on hot summer days and fascinating silhouettes in winter. Some of the examples in Berkeley Square (where the nightingale sang) were planted in the 1720s and have very asymmetrical outlines with large, low hanging boughs.

Walking through the main park in the Cambridgeshire town of Wisbech recently I stopped under a large plane tree that I first noted several years ago. On the ground below the canopy were many brown leaves, the first to fall from the tree this autumn, but up above there were still plenty of green leaves clinging on and many hanging fruit balls. This tree has a large, low bough - you can see it on the right of the photograph, and in taking my wide-angle photograph I made sure to include it. The main trunk has lost its attractive pattern of old and new patches of bark, but you can still see this on the low bough. The bright sun piercing the foliage, and blue sky behind, make my photograph look like it was taken in spring. But this is an autumn sight and a fine one too.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: London Plane Tree, Wisbech, Cambridgeshire
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 9mm (18mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/60 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Castor's church tower

click photo to enlarge
Castor is a village that has moved about a bit. Not in the physical sense, but rather in terms of the local authority of which it is a part. It was originally in the Soke (or Liberty) of Peterborough, a historic anomaly associated with the city and diocese. Then it became part of Northamptonshire for a while and finally it was subsumed in Cambridgeshire (along with Peterborough). Older citizens of the village can be forgiven for not remembering where they live.

That is not the only interesting feature of the village however. It also has, buried beneath the ground, the remains of a palatial group of Roman buildings. Its church has a dedication unique in England, to St Kyneburgha, the daughter of Penda, King of Mercia (d.664). She is alleged to have built a monastery at Castor. Then there is the church itself, or more specifically its tower. There are many churches of cathedral rank that can boast a tower of the Norman period that is ornately decorated. However, there can be no parish church with a tower so richly embellished. The chevrons, billet, lozenge and fish-scale diaper, corbel table, windows, bell openings and blank arcading all make for a richness that captivates the eye and makes one think anew about the supposedly crude work of the builders and masons of the 1100s.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title:Church Tower, Castor, Cambridgeshire
Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 21.8mm (59mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f4
Shutter Speed: 1/1600 sec
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Milton Ferry Bridge

click photo to enlarge
The Ordnance Survey maps of Britain are full of references to ferries. Near where I live there is Ferry Farm marking the location of a long-gone ferry across the canal-like South Forty Foot Drain. Not too distant, by the River Slea, is another Ferry Farm with, close by, Ferry Wood and Ferry Bridge - the latter presumably the structure that put paid to the actual ferry. A similar situation can be found at Langrick Bridge, a place where there is yet another Ferry Farm.

On a recent cycle ride near Peterborough we chanced upon Milton Ferry Bridge, a crossing built in 1716 to replace the earlier ferry. Interestingly it retains the record of the previous means of crossing the River Nene in its name, though chooses not to make use of its full title of Gunwade Ferry.

This bridge was, until I believe, some time in the 1960s, a toll bridge. You can still see, on the right of the photograph above, the gate that barred the crossing to anyone not paying the required fee. Just visible below is a door leading to two small rooms lit by port-hole style openings. Perhaps they were used by the crossing keeper, though not, I think, when the river was high. Around the year 1724 Daniel Defoe, undertaking his "Tour Through The Whole Island Of Great Britain" paid the very high toll fee of 2s 6d to cross the bridge and remarked, "I think 'tis the only half crown toll in Britain". I'm pleased we paid nothing: I shudder to think what the inflation-adjusted price would be today.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: Milton Ferry Bridge, near Castor, Cambridgeshire
Camera: Sony RX10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 10.4mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.) crop
F No: f4
Shutter Speed: 1/2000 sec
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Royal arms in churches

click photo to enlarge
When Henry VIII, as crown, replaced the Pope as the head of the church in England one of the steps that he had enacted, to remind people of the transfer of power, was to insist on the royal coat of arms being displayed in all churches.These were usually made of painted wood or in the form of a fabric hanging that was fixed to a wall or sometimes hung under an arch. Many royal coats of arms can still be seen today in churches up and down the country. The particular design of the arms, which has changed down the centuries, tell of the reign in which they were made. Few exist from the time of Henry and Elizabeth 1, and in the period of the Commonwealth during the C17 many were destroyed by zealous Puritans. After the Restoration the element of compulsion regarding display was removed but many churches continued to erect royal arms. Eighteenth and nineteenth century examples are common.

Today's photograph is a detail of the very large, wooden coat of arms that hangs below an arch at the west end of the parish church in Wisbech, Cambridgeshire. It dates from the seventeenth century, and is much bigger and more showy than many examples.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 17mm (34mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.5
Shutter Speed: 1/80 sec
ISO:2000
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Blues and the chapel pianist

click photo to enlarge
I think it was 1969 when I bought "King of the Delta Blues Singers" by Robert Johnson, a collection of acoustic blues recorded in the 1930s. And it was probably two years later, in 1971, that I bought the newly issued "King of the Delta Blues Singers Vol. II". These were 33rpm L.P.s with paintings of Robert Johnson on the front. The first album showed him from above. The second had an illustration of him playing his guitar in front of a microphone that was positioned in the corner of the living room of a house. Comprehensive cover notes (of a kind that died with the advent of the CD) said that, despite his wonderful song-writing ability and great guitar playing, he was incurably shy and reticent about recording and would only perform without making eye contact with anyone.

I was reminded of this illustration recently when we visited Wimpole Hall in Cambridgeshire. This stately home is in the care of the National Trust and features, among many splendours, a private chapel with interesting trompe l'oeil paintings. When we visited it we were entertained by a pianist who was sitting at his instrument facing the wall at one end of the chapel. I don't think he suffered from the performance terrors that afflicted Robert Johnson because between pieces he was chatting to visitors. However, it did look odd and it appeared somewhat unkind that he should be so positioned. Perhaps it was his choice to avoid the distractions of the steady stream of visitors.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 14mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f4.9
Shutter Speed: 1/40 sec
ISO:6400
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Spinning wool

click photo to enlarge
There are children today who, if you tell them that milk comes from cows, will look at you incredulously, thinking that you are playing some kind of practical joke on them. The same children find it hard to believe that the bread they are eating is made from the seeds of a cultivated grass. As for the notion that the jumper they are wearing was once, in rather more basic form, worn by a sheep - well, suggest that and your sanity will be questioned. If you find this hard to believe, let me assure you I have met such children. They are not widespread, but they do exist, and for two reasons. Firstly, their parents haven't told them about such things either through traditional stories or in the normal course of their early lives. And secondly, because modern life increasingly distances us from the source of our food and drink, the clothes we wear and much else.

Before I took today's photograph I was explaining the process of weaving - insofar as I understand it - to my grand-daughter as we watched the sheep fleece pass through the spinner's hands onto the spinning wheel and thence to the bobbin. What fascinated her most was the way the steady up and down foot movement of the spinner on the treadle was, via rods, cranks and wheels converted into very fast rotary movement, and how the mass of wool was drawn into a single strand. It intrigued me too and I was glad that here was someone carrying on this tradition and demonstrating it for all to see.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 80mm (160mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.5
Shutter Speed: 1/200 sec
ISO:250
Exposure Compensation: 0
Image Stabilisation: On

Dragon Rapides and selfies

click photo to enlarge
A visit to the Imperial War Museum site at Duxford, Cambridgeshire, gave me the opportunity to photograph, once again, the De Havilland Dragon Rapide. The aircraft shown is one of two that gives pleasure flights from the airfield. I've always had a soft spot for the design of this aircraft. It manages to combine elegance with seeming fragility, yet still remains airworthy more than seventy years after its manufacture. In fact, this particular aircraft was built as a trainer for the RAF in whose service it was designated the DH89A Dominie. The military markings allude to its origins.

I took the photograph with a lens with a maximum zoom of 210mm (35mm equivalent) - too short for this kind of shot. However, the camera's 24 megapixel sensor can be cropped and still produce a very detailed image, hence the shot above. When I zoomed in on the computer I noticed that one of the passengers appeared to be taking a "selfie", with hand outstretched and cameraphone pointing at the owner. I've taken a few selfies in my time. However, they have been with dedicated cameras not phones and employed a tripod, self-timer or my portrait in a reflective surface. I have yet to photograph myself with outstretched arm clutching a phone because the resultant image is usually poor. Moreover, I have no sympathy with the motivation for such shots which appears to be egocentricity - "look where I was/what I was doing/who I was with". Almost all my photography involves looking away from myself saying "look at this".

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 140mm (210mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/800 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Former Empire Cinema, Wisbech

click photo to enlarge
The uses to which redundant cinemas have been put are various. I've seen them turned into supermarkets, carpet showrooms, nightclubs and bars. However, one use for these former picture palaces has been more prevalent than all the rest put together: I mean, of course the conversion into bingo halls.

That is the current use of the former Empire Cinema in Wisbech, Cambridgeshire.This particular building was erected in 1932, the work of the architectural partnership, Ward and Woolnough. The style chosen, as for so many metropolitan and some regional cinemas was Art Deco of the Moderne variety. Reconstituted Ketton stone was chosen for the main facade where symmetry prevails left, right and above the main, entrance. The composition is stepped with a central "crest" and prominent oriel windows emphasising the middle. The glazing bars are quite unusual, eschewing the almost mandatory horizontal banding in favour of geometrical designs everywhere except for the sunburst of the main doors. Brick is used everywhere except at the front.

Most cinemas are, to my mind, interesting rather than beautiful, architecturally and socially noteworthy buildings that enliven the streetscape with their glitzy oddness. It's appropriate that they continue to be used as places of low-cost entertainment, not only because that continues by other means their raison d'etre, but also because it usually results in their exteriors and interiors remaining intact due to a lack of funds for refurbishment and "improvement".

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 18mm (27mm - 27mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/320 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Establishment graffiti

click photo to enlarge
The meaning of the word "graffito" has become modified in the past fifty or so years. During the first half of the twentieth century it had two meanings. The Oxford English Dictionary quotes this as the definitions first recorded in 1851:  "A drawing or writing scratched on a wall or other surface; a scribbling on an ancient wall, as those at Pompeii and Rome. Also, a method of decoration in which designs are produced by scratches through a superficial layer of plaster, glazing, etc., revealing a ground of different colour". The latter applied mainly to pottery.

However, the newer meaning, with a citation of use dating back to a Chicago newspaper in 1967 is: "Words or images marked (illegally) in a public place, esp. using aerosol paint." At that time the singular tended to drop out of use and the plural now tended to serve for all references. The key word in the newer definition is "illegal". From that time onwards the illegality of the growing amount of graffiti, particularly when "tagging" arose, became one of its defining features and was what turned most people against it. Graffiti became "underground" and anti-establishment.

But, the establishment has a long record of absorbing anti-establishment movements and making them mainstream. From the Beat poets to punk rock businesses have seen such trends as new ways to make money. It has happened with graffiti too. Works by graffiti artists now appear in galleries. Public spaces, such as the skate-boarders meeting place on London's South Bank, are made available and a blind eye is turned to spray painting. And, as today's photograph shows, advertising has appropriated graffiti-style illustration now that it is no longer solely associated with urban grime and illegality. This example is part of a wall in a passage in St Neots, Cambridgeshire, that leads to a printing business's establishment.

My view on graffiti has changed with the prevailing tide. I still abhor illegally daubed tags and even well-done painting if it is done without the owner's permission. But I can see interest and innovation in some of the graffiti that I come across and I have been motivated to photograph it - see here and here.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon 5DMk2
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 24mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/25
ISO: 320
Exposure Compensation:  0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Stilton cheese

click photo to enlarge
The origins of Stilton cheese are hard to pin down. I remember being told that it got its name from the fact that in the 1700s it was taken from its various makers in Leicestershire to the Bell Inn, Stilton, where it was loaded onto waggons for delivery to London along the Great North Road. If that were true then "Where did Stilton cheese originate?" would be a great pub quiz question because the answer would not be "Stilton".

Today, due to the terms of the Protected Geographical Status (PGS) of Stilton Cheese that was granted in 1996, the cheese cannot be made in Stilton. This is because the village is in Cambridgeshire (formerly in Huntingdonshire) and the PGS applies to only Leicestershire, Nottinghamshire and Bedfordshire. In fact none is currently made in Bedfordshire, with manufacture only at three Leicestershire and two Nottinghamshire locations. The white and the blue Stilton that we buy usually comes from Long Clawson in Leicestershire. Blue Stilton is probably my favourite cheese. It's clearly an acquired taste and something I wouldn't have eaten in my youth, but advancing years have seen me gravitate to it before most other cheeses, even ahead of Wensleydale, a cheese that I also like a lot.

Today's photograph shows the Bell Inn at Stilton. A datestone on one of the gable ends shows that it was built in 1642. Alterations were made c.1700 and later in the eighteenth century. Part of the inn was converted into three houses in the nineteenth century. The building fell into disuse for part of the twentieth century but renovation in 1985 returned it to its original use. The building is made of Ketton limestone with some later brick and roofs made of Collyweston stone and nineteenth century pantiles.The carriage arch remains but, as often happens these days, it has been incorporated into the building with glazing.The inside arch has an inscription, painted black, that read, "London 74 Huntingdon 12 Buckden 14 Stamford 14 Miles". The splendid wrought ironwork on the main elevation has been restored and it proudly projects the inn's sign out from the building to where it can be clearly seen by all who pass by.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 28mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/160 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Steeple Gidding

click photo to enlarge
Down a grassy Cambridgeshire lane, surrounded by trees, arable fields to the west and pasture to the south, lies the church at Steeple Gidding. It is only half a mile or so on footpaths across the fields from the church at Little Gidding - see previous post. A church has been here since at least the twelfth century, the date of the south doorway which is the oldest part of the existing building. Records show that it had a tower by 1260 and that must have led to the name of the small settlement of which it is a part acquiring the prefix "Steeple" to distinguish it from nearby Little Gidding and Great Gidding. Most of the building dates from the 1300s, including the tower which must have replaced the original one. Pevsner describes this, very appropriately, as "rather underfed" due to its slender proportions.

The interior is now largely empty of furnishings and pews. It was declared redundant in 1971 when the congregation had but one communicant (aged 90). It is now in the care of The Churches Conservation Trust. Though it's sad to see a church fall out of use a stripped interior does present opportunities, not least to admire the marvellous medieval stone floor. The light through the south aisle and clerestory windows, uninterrupted by ranks of dark pews, tables etc, made the old stone positively glow on the day of my visit and simply I had to take a photograph. It appeared that the church may have been used for an occasional service, as sometimes happens in redundant churches that remain consecrated, because the two remaining pews had been moved together to face the chancel arch. George Gilbert Scott renovated the building in 1872-73 and appears to have done so sensitively. Further work was done in 1899 and more recently, in 1976. It was a pleasure to come upon the church and equally good to see it being kept both weather-tight and open to visitors.

What did slightly disappoint me, however, was the large, wide, yew tree on the south side of the building, perfectly positioned to prevent me taking a photograph of the church from my favourite position in the south east corner of the churchyard (see small photograph). It sometimes seems that such trees are deliberately planted to thwart me!

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 35mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/30 sec
ISO: 640
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Little Gidding

click photo to enlarge
In 1626 Nicholas Ferrar was ordained and set about creating an Anglican religious community at the family's holdings at Little Gidding. The small community, variously calculated at between thirty and sixty people, lived by High Church principles and the Book of Common Prayer. They had a school and employed themselves in teaching, looking after the health of local people and in bookbinding (Ferrar worked on biblical indices called Concordances). Though the community discipline was demanding with three services a day and just two meals, there were no vows after the manner of monasteries. Little Gidding attracted admirers and critics, King Charles 1 visiting on three occasions, the critics being mainly Puritans who saw the followers as heretics. The community lasted barely thirty years and ended with the deaths of the main movers. Thereafter it was somewhat forgotten until the Oxford Movement rescued it from obscurity. Since that time it has been an inspiration of sorts and interest in the small community has never waned.

The church that we see there today dates from 1714 and excavations show it to be smaller than Ferrar's remodelled medieval building. It has a symmetrical stone facade with a large door surround and giant angle pilasters with obelisk pinnacles. The whole composition is topped by a bellcote with a steep pyramid pierced by three rectangular holes. Do these represent the Trinity? The rest of the building, except for the windows surrounds, is red brick and quite utilitarian. The interior is remarkable for its college-style nave seating (see main photograph) and a chancel that is the same width as the nave: basically an eastward extension of the space, minus the seating.

"Little Gidding" is known to poetry lovers as the title of a long poem by the U.S. born and naturalised British poet, T.S.Eliot (1888-1965). It is the fourth part of his masterpiece, The Waste Land, the poem that led to him being awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1948. This Modernist, meditative work is underpinned by Eliot's religious belief and draws upon Christian thoughts, traditions and history as well as mythology. He visited the church at Little Gidding in 1936 and was sufficiently influenced by its history to make it the title of his poem. Excerpts from it can be seen on the walls of the nave.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 24mm
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/20 sec
ISO: 1000
Exposure Compensation: -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The Tiffany window at Kimbolton

click photo to enlarge
The stained glass windows and lamps of the U.S. designer, Louis Comforty Tiffany (1848-1933) are internationally renowned. The colours, style, drawing, shapes and lines that he used show him to be allied to the Art Nouveau and Aesthetic movements. His work was popular at the time of its creation and remains so today. There are examples in the British Isles - the Haworth Art Gallery at Accrington has Europe's largest collection of pieces - and windows can be found in private houses, and a few public buildings. However, unsurprisingly, most of his work is in the United States.

Bearing that in mind, imagine my surprise when walking around the church at Kimbolton in Cambridgeshire (formerly in Huntingdonshire) and coming upon one of Tiffany's stained glass windows. All the more remarkable because it isn't mentioned at all in the relevant county edition of Pevsner. Had it been taken away for repair when he visited? Who knows? The window is at the east end of the south aisle where it adds an unearthly glow to that corner of the church. It was commissioned by the widow of the Duke of Manchester as a memorial to her two daughters who both died young. The Countess was an American of Cuban extraction so that may account for the choice of stained glass artist. Unfortunately the tops of two eighteenth century memorials impinge on the bottom corners of the window, so a full view (or photograph) of the stained glass is impossible to achieve. The composition shows Christ with two girls, surrounded by children and angels, all set in traditional architectural canopies with putti gazing down from the tracery above. One of the most interesting features of the window is that none of the clothing is represented by a single colour: rather, multiple colours are softly blend together. This gives an overall iridescence to the piece that put me in mind of some Symbolist work by the likes of Gustave Moreau.

When I first saw the window I was captivated because, compared with most English stained glass it is unusual. Moreover, it has a rich, jewel-like quality. However, I was also unsettled by it because, for me, the richness of the effects that Tiffany deploys evoke something akin to decadence rather than reverence. The quality of the figure drawing doesn't help in that respect: the flanking children look odd, gaunt, emaciated even. I've read somewhere that Tiffany wasn't especially keen to tackle religious subjects in stained glass, and after viewing this window I can see something of why that might be. His techniques seem more suited to secular and non-figurative subjects. Looking at the approach of the Kimbolton window again I can see it being more successfully applied to, say, an Arthurian illustration or something from the Norse sagas.

I occasionally come across stained glass windows where the style of the artist seems at odds with the subject. Last year I wrote about Walter Crane's "psychedelic" window in Holy Trinity Hull, and several years ago I was taken to task by someone over what I think is a downright weird, "storybook" window by the wife of Whistler in Orton church, Cumbria. On the whole I'd put Tiffany's window at Kimbolton alongside those two: interesting, not without some appeal and certainly bravely different in approach, but ultimately unsatisfactory.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 105mm
F No: f4
Shutter Speed: 1/125 sec
ISO: 1000
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

A Marian monogram and more

click photo to enlarge
The remains of original medieval painting is reasonably common in English churches though often it is in fragmentary form; for example details that have been uncovered during a restoration. However, there are some churches that retain fairly extensive schemes of wall painting, more have traces on roof timbers and quite a few, especially in Norfolk and Suffolk still have their painted rood screens. This kind of painting has sometimes been subject to sensitive restoration but often it appear to be entirely original work.

I recently came across a painted rood screen in Cambridgeshire at Ickleton church. The artwork was not as extensive or detailed as the East Anglian examples - there was no attempt as figure painting for example - but what it did have that caught my eye was a pair of fine monograms that were painted in colours that I really like. They were on the nave side of the rood screen doors. On the right was what is often called a "Marian monogram", one of the ways in which a couple of ornate letters (here Ms) decoratively entwined are used to represent the Virgin Mary. On the left was another monogram with the letters IHS, the semi-Latinized version of the first three letters of Christ's name written in Greek (IHΣOYΣ).

The two main colours the designer had chosen were fire-brick red and bottle green, reversing the colours on each door and using gold for the main lettering and for highlights in the cusp flowers and the surrounding leaf-like decoration. It is simple, effective and the colours are very well chosen. It is something of a minor tragedy that the puritanical outlook of the Reformation largely banished colour from English churches. Wall paintings were white-washed over, roof timbers were often painted too, or the colour was allowed to fade.  Pulpits, rood screens, reredos and other wood was similarly stripped of colour. It was not until the 1840s and the influence of the The Oxford Movement; of architects such as A.W.N. Pugin and writers and critics of the standing of John Ruskin, that colour on a medieval scale began to be seen again in English churches. It was principally the new buildings that were so adorned, and even then not all welcomed it. Many saw it as "Roman" and continued to prefer the more austere browns, blacks, greys and whites that had prevailed for a couple of centuries. It takes examples such as the woodwork in today's photographs to remind us that our churches during the medieval period were much more colourful places than they often are today.

photographs and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 30.1mm (81mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f4.5
Shutter Speed: 1/100
ISO: 2500
Exposure Compensation:  -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Mock shop fronts

click photo to enlarge
One of the few growth industries in these depressed times is the mock shop front. These are either manufactured in printed form, ready to be applied to the protective boarding that is fixed to the empty property, or more often, hand-painted by a local artist/painter. I've noticed quite a few of these on my travels, and over the past few years the number has visibly increased.

The main reason for their appearance is the closure of town-centre businesses unable to continue trading due to the economic downturn, and the understandable unwillingness of local traders and councils to have their high streets blighted by too many obviously empty premises. Of course, the growth of out-of-town shopping centres with their plentiful, free parking closed high street shops well before the onset of the latest economic crisis. But, what was a managed decline has, since 2008, increased to the point where something had to be done. A mock shop front is clearly only a stop-gap measure, but longer-term solutions are slower to appear and so these representations are not entirely without value.

I've seen examples that are banal, amateurish and inventive. One or two have been obvious labours of love and quite admirable. Today's example, in Wisbech, Cambridgeshire, falls somewhere in the middle of this range. It represents an old-style butcher's shop with a range of meats, pies, game etc. all priced using pre-decimal currency values. It's a facade I've wanted to photograph before, but only on my recent visit to the town was the view of it unimpeded by parked vehicles.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 50mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/320
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Winter trees

click photo to enlarge
Winter trees - at least the deciduous variety - are different from the trees of spring, summer and autumn. In the more benign seasons they appear genial, softer, friendlier, more welcoming, a complement to their location. In winter, however, these trees seem to have a split personality. Looked at on a cold, clear day, with blue sky above, or seen against the warm glow of a sunrise or sunset, the tracery of twigs, branches and boughs charm the eye with their beauty and invite us to look more closely at them and admire their delicacy. However, on a cold, damp, grey foggy day, the wet, black, skeletal silhouettes can assume a severe, malign, even depressing, appearance.

I was thinking about this as I pointed my camera across a piece of waste ground in Wisbech, Cambridgeshire, framing some factory chimneys and the smoke or steam that was issuing from them. The billowing, white clouds were being distressed and dispersed by the wind as they climbed from the stack and trailed across the dark clouds above. Should I move to my left and exclude the trees from my composition, or should I include them? I briefly tossed those thoughts back and forth in my head and decided that the trees, on this occasion, added a desolate touch that intensified the slightly grim prospect before me, and I took my shot. In summer they would add a welcome greenness, softening the location, offering towers of natural beauty in this urban setting where housing abutted the towers of industry. But, on this late November day, despite the sun breaking through the cloud cover, that welcome verdure was only a memory and a promise.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 105mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The interior of Ely Cathedral

click photo to enlarge
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

Arches, columns and colours

click photo to enlarge
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

click photo to enlarge
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