Holy Trinity, Hull

click photo to enlarge
Holy Trinity, Hull, is one of those medieval churches that should be much better known. Its absence from lists of renowned churches is probably due to its location in a city that, for people south of Watford, is imagined to to be a depressed northern backwater. In fact, it sits near the ancient heart of an old settlement, one that had and continues to have national importance, and which still retains many fine historic buildings in a very distinctive and different kind of urban setting. The church of Holy Trinity would grace any city, and were it in the home counties, would be feted and a major visitor attraction.

So, what does the building, erected between 1285 and the mid-1500s, offer. Firstly it is big (length 285ft/87m, width 72ft/22m, height 150ft/46m), often described as the biggest English parish church by area, bigger in fact than some small cathedrals. The size gives grandeur and awe to the interior, and the painted ceilings are spectacular. Then there is the transept walls and the lower stage of the crossing tower. These were built of brick in the 1300s, a very early use of this material in the medieval period, and said to be the first use of brick for a large building in Britain since the time of the Romans. The tower itself is a particularly fine example of the Perpendicular style and still able to hold its own against more recent tall buildings in the city. Finally there is the west front that overlooks the Market Place. It too is an exceptional piece of work, well-proportioned, symmetrical with good window tracery and a lovely entrance doorway. It has to be said that the setting of the church adds to its appeal. Around it are narrow streets, the old Market Place, the newer (1902-4) Market Hall, the old Grammar School (also brick, 1583-5), Trinity House, and a host of Victorian and earlier buildings.

The January day on which I took my photograph was cold and bright. I liked the way Holy Trinity's tower and the upper parts of the nave, transepts and chancel appeared to rise towards the light out of the deep shadows of the surrounding streets.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 18mm (27mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/125 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

A River Humber skyline

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In the 1970s I moved from a relatively small settlement in the upland area of the Yorkshire Dales to the Yorkshire city of over a quarter of a million people called Kingston upon Hull. I was a country boy who, unlike most of my contemporaries, enjoyed living in the country, and I found, to my surprise, that I also liked living in a city. I relished the anonymity, enjoyed the visible history, and my photographic eye fed on the ever changing images that were daily before me.

Hull is a port built on a river and alongside a large estuary. It is a flat area, the nearest hills being the Yorkshire and Lincolnshire Wolds several miles away. One of the new things I discovered in my new home was that flat landscapes have beautiful and impressive skies that are ever changing and that make a fine substitute for hills. I also realised that just like hills and mountains, big skies have the capacity to make man, his works and habitations seem insignificant.

On a recent visit to Hull I was reminded of this when I took today's photograph. I was standing on the pier of the long-gone Humber ferry that juts out into the River Humber. Looking over the water downstream I could see on the skyline the ships, cranes, chimneys, cooling towers etc of the city's port and petrochemical site silhouetted against a sliver of pale yellow sky below dark, brooding clouds. Having walked and cycled near these industrial structures I was aware of their imposing size yet here, in this context they looked quite insignificant.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 75mm (112mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1 Shutter Speed: 1/125 sec
ISO:110
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Volute handrail

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This is the third photograph of a volute handrail that I've posted on the blog, and like the other two it dates from the Georgian period. On our recent visit to the city of Kingston upon Hull we coincided with the annual Heritage Open Day, a nationwide event that features public and private buildings open to the public, usually at no charge. Anyone interested in historic architecture values the opportunity to enter buildings that are closed for the other three hundred and sixty four days, and in Hull we had a look in Trinity House School chapel and Maister House on the old High Street.

The latter is a flat fronted, three-storey Georgian town house of 1744-5 built for Henry Maister, a merchant. The only exterior ornament is a stone doorcase with a pediment and surround of the Ionic order. It is, in fact a quietly unassuming building of the sort that graces many streets in England. However, once you step inside the buildings piece de resistance hits you with full force. It is an open stairwell that rises the complete height of the building and is lit by a glazed roof lantern at the top. The stairs are stone, the walls decorated with stucco panels, brackets, swags and festoons, with sculpture a fine statue and paintings on the walls. The work is attributed to Joseph Page and Lord Burlington is reputed to have been consulted.

My eye was taken, as it often is, by the handrail up the stairs, and particularly by the volute newel on the ground floor. There is something about that shape and that way of terminating the rail that I find particularly satisfying and I couldn't stop myself from taking another photograph of this subject.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 18mm (27mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/13 sec
ISO:6400
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Photographic chickens and eggs

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I've often wondered if people are drawn to photography because they notice things more than the average person, or whether its the act of engaging in photography that makes you notice things more. The likelihood is that photographers probably include both those types of people (as well as those who notice subjects that result in photographs of the type they've seen before).

I know that when I post a photograph such as today's that many people, to use the modern parlance, "get it", and many don't. And frankly, that doesn't matter a jot because enthusiast photographers should photograph what pleases them, what they notice, without regard for what other people might like or dislike. That's the joy of not being a professional!

I've always liked the way that rivers carve and mould mud. Here's another black and white shot of this subject that I took a while ago. For contrast, here's one in colour.

© Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 56mm (84mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f9
Shutter Speed: 1/125 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The beauty of church vaulting

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The vaulting that graces many a church and cathedral ceiling, especially inside a tower, is a recurring topic on this blog. I am fascinated by the variations on a theme that medieval masons and carpenters wrought in their desire to beautify the space above the worshippers' heads such that an upward glance really did feel like a glimpse of heaven. Architectural historians have created a whole specialised vocabulary to describe the development of vaulting down the centuries from its beginnings in simple barrel vaulting, to groin vaults, rib vaults, quadripartite and sexpartite vaults, vaults with tiercerons and liernes, culminating in the glories of stellar vaults and fan vaults.

The purpose of vaulting is to take some of the weight of a roof or tower above and distribute it laterally on to arches, walls, piers and columns. In the crossing vault shown above the ribs that form fans stretching from the centre to the four corners are instrumental in achieving this weight transference. However, this vaulting also has a central star pattern made by the addition of short decorative ribs called liernes. Clearly it is a design that seeks to impress with its beauty as well as do an architectural job of work. In fact, all is not what it seems with this vaulting. The tower of Holy Trinity was built during the period 1500-1530 on a raft of oak trees for the lack of any firm bedrock below. These were replaced by concrete in 1906. The vaulting, however, was erected as late as the 1840s, and the beautiful, rich paintwork must surely originate from that time - a mixture of medieval ideas and Victorian interpretation and development of those ideas. When I magnify my photograph I can see that the infill is timber planks so I imagine the ribs must be timber too. This vaulting will have replaced an earlier ceiling. That may have been stone, but is more likely to have been timber too. I've often seen fine Victorian work that replaced an insensitive, flat Georgian ceiling (itself inserted in place of the medieval original) though I've no reason to believe that is the case here. In fact, timber roofs were more widespread in England during the medieval period than in any other North European country and exhibit a unique ingenuity and beauty. Here, at Holy Trinity, the wood mimics painted stone and is none the worse for that.

The organ pipes on north and south sides of the crossing belong to the largest parish church organ in Great Britain. The oldest of the more than 4,000 pipes date from 1756 and are by Johannes Snetzler.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 10.4mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f1.8
Shutter Speed: 1/30
ISO: 800
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

Blots on the landscape

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Mankind is responsible for many blots on the landscape. Limestone and other quarries take some beating. They are often found in areas of scenic interest and beauty and invariably produce the ugliest of scars that are not usually healed even decades after they've shut down. Then there are the so-called retail parks. Anywhere less park-like it's hard to imagine. Yes, they usually have a sprinkling of lollipop trees and a few shrubberies that are mechanically savaged yearly, usually at the wrong time, but they are basically a collection of ugly steel and glass sheds surrounded by acres of tarmac. I once opined that, had Breughel and Bosch been living today, they would have set their visions of hell in somewhere like Manchester's Trafford Centre.

Then there are the oil refineries. Mostly located on estuaries to enable the convenient supply of the raw material, and often incorporating other industries and processes based on oil, they are usually particularly bleak places. The forest of towers and pylons, some belching steam or smoke, are visible for miles. They are even, or perhaps especially, a night-time blot on the landscape. Because they are twenty four hour operations, when darkness falls thousands of lights appear and a sulphurous glow that reflects off low clouds marks their location.

And, yet, and yet. Even the darkest, most dismal of these blots, when seen in the right light, by someone in the right mood, can offer a fearsome grandeur. And, in much the same way that Philip James de Loutherburg found a subject for his paintbrush in the mighty furnaces of Coalbrookdale at the start of the industrial revolution, the photographer too can find something today in these places that offers a spectacle worth capturing on film. On my recent visit to Hull, when I was casting around for a subject, it was the distant refinery and power station at Killingholme that offered a detail to place between the darkening sky and the cold River Humber.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 218mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/640 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -1.00 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The sun and The Deep

click photo to enlarge

Each winter I try to take a few photographs that include the sun. I don't mean sunrise and sunset shots, though these are easier to acquire at that time of year - you don't have to be out and about early or late! No, I'm thinking more of when the sun is fully above the horizon though low in the sky: early afternoon is a good time.

What appeals to me about such images is the drama conferred by the big glowing white ball, the contrast that results from the deep shadows thrown by objects in the foreground, the flare that the lens often produces, and the sheer unpredictability of the outcome. On a recent day visit to the city of Hull I had little time for photography. However, I did manage to spend a short time around the point where the River Hull meets the River Humber. When I lived in the city I often cycled and photographed in this area so it's always a pleasure to return. On my visit I took a few shots that include the sun on the old High Street and then again from the new footbridge over the River Hull, upstream from the big, futuristic looking aquarium called "The Deep". Regular readers of this blog may remember images taken last year in this location (see this sequence). I was prompted to take today's photograph as much by the glistening mud revealed by low tide as anything else, but I was careful to use the sun as a visual counterweight to the building in my composition. The overall effect is a touch other-worldly but not, I think, unappealing.

For other winter images including the bright sun see this one with a gate and snow, this one also with snow, or perhaps this one with vapour trails.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 24mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/1000 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The Observatory Cafe

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I'd never been into the cafe at "The Deep" aquarium in Kingston upon Hull until a few days ago. Moreover, until we headed up to it I didn't know that it was called "The Observatory Cafe". When I got there the view of the River Humber, the River Hull, the waterside buildings and the distant shore of Lincolnshire, showed that it was well named. However, as I sat and drank my cup of tea, gazing down through the angled windows, and studying my surroundings, it occurred to me that it wasn't as well named as it could have been.

I imagine the architect envisaged diners looking out at the view and pointing out the passing river traffic. But, the days when this scene would always have had a ship or boat heading up or downstream are long past. The focus of shipping in the port of Hull is now downstream (left) of this view. One or two small craft use the River Hull, yachts and launches moored in the marina venture out at reasonably regular intervals, the occasional small vessel from the Port of Goole passes, and the docks that remain open upstream (right) of the view generate the odd craft. But the fish docks that would have sent deep-sea trawlers regularly past this point are virtually silent, and the smaller commercial traffic of the adjacent docks, has almost vanished.

There's nothing wrong with "The Observatory" as a name for this location, but it seemed to me that "The Bridge" (of either a trawler, a liner or some futuristic starship) was more appropriate. Looking at my photograph on the computer screen only reinforced this feeling. I was in two minds whether or not to turn this almost monochrome image into a black and white shot, but the blue/green tinted glass and the muted colours that just about make themselves felt gave it a quality I liked, so I stayed with colour.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 35mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/200
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The deep end

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I've written about Kingston upon Hull's Terry Farrell designed aquarium, "The Deep", before. On that occasion I had a few thoughts about its purpose and shape, and posted a photograph of its angular steel exterior and colourful windows. That shot shows part of the elevation that faces the River Humber. On my recent visit I noticed that this area of steel has been coated with some kind of dark paint/covering: presumably the original finish has been found wanting in some way. Today's main photograph also shows part that overlooks the Humber, but this time it includes what is probably the most interesting exterior feature of the building - its sharp, glazed prow that encloses "The Observatory" cafe. The gleaming steel, angular shapes, coloured glass cladding and the the thrusting point of the tip invited a semi-abstract approach to my composition.

I also took a more distant, contextual photograph from the old pier, and this shot set me thinking once again about the design of the building. The location, on a triangular promontory, determines the overall shape, but what I wondered as I took my photograph was why the architect treats the elevation at which the visitor arrives so poorly, and applies his art to the less frequently seen elevations that front the Humber and the River Hull. Certainly anyone crossing the latter river and standing near the old pier gets a good view of the building. However, those who see the River Humber elevation is restricted to people on boats and ships. I wondered too about the overall shape as seen in my smaller photograph. It seems animal-like, with a pointed head to the right, a creature about to pounce on its prey with details that can be interpreted (am I being too fanciful?) as feet and an eye. Was that the intention? I left thinking that, firstly, I'd like to have seen that great flat wall recess or protrude in one or two places a bit more than it does, and secondly, that if the slight breaks in the incined roof line were a bit bigger they would have offered more interest. If that sounds like I'm damning what I see, I'm not - there is a lot to like, and a lot to photograph.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Main Photo
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 24mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/1600
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Juxtaposition

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Photographic composition can be approached in a number of ways. One that I like, and which I don't use enough since I moved to a rural location - is juxtaposition, the conscious placing of disparate objects in the frame.

This technique is one that comes easily to painters, but is slightly more difficult for photographers. Firstly the juxtaposition has to be seen, then it has to be organised into a composition. Often this will mean excluding objects and the photographer changing position to bring the juxtaposed objects into  "engagement". It is a device that can work well where the objects are figurative, but also where the intention is to construct an image with semi-abstract elements.

The other day, when walking near "The Deep" aquarium in Kingston upon Hull, I noticed a building that I'd seen before but had never looked at. It is a blocky structure, clearly utliitarian, probably connected with its futuristic looking neighbour, and has a mosaic-like decoration on its main facade. It wasn't just the building that caught my eye, however, but the building and the car park arrow on the tarmac in front of me. I framed my shot so that the ranks of parked vehicles to left and right were excluded, and let the juxtaposition of the arrow, the horizontal bands and the colourful grid work together in my composition.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 65mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/640
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Hull and Humber

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I lived in Kingston upon Hull for several years in the 1970s and 1980s. Having been raised in the Yorkshire Dales I found moving from the hills and the drizzle to a port city in drier, brighter Eastern England quite a contrast. Hull has a range of industries along the two rivers on whose banks it stands, and I found a lot of interest and good photographic opportunities in them, as well as in its historic "old town" and docks.

Residents of this Yorkshire city invariably call it by the name that derives from the narrow river on which it was built - the River Hull. The grander version of the name bequeathed in 1299 by King Edward 1, in preference to Wyke or Wyke upon Hull, is favoured by official bodies but eschewed by the locals. On a brief, recent visit to the city I walked around the area at the confluence of the River Hull and the mighty River Humber into which the lesser river flows. The old pier head remains, but the Humber Bridge did for the "Lincoln Castle" paddle steamer that used to be the means of crossing the Humber from Yorkshire to Lincolnshire. At the junction of the rivers, on a point that once was empty of buildings, a large, futuristic looking new aquarium sits. New crossings span the River Hull, and it was as I stood on the pedestrian bridge over the water that the "Rix Eagle", a fuel bunkering lighter, passed under the tidal barrier, then beneath me, and headed out past "The Deep" into the Humber and downstream towards the commercial docks.

I photographed the long, barge-like ship as it passed below the tidal barrier, then turning, took another shot as it headed into the Humber. The latter photograph, with a very bright sky, works better in black and white, but the first shot benefits much more from colour.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Main Photo
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 24mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/500
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

750th post

click photos to enlarge
I just noticed that yesterday's post was a small milestone - the 750th PhotoReflect post. Add the 60 posts under the PhotoQuoto heading and that makes 810 posts since December 2005. All of which begs the question, "How many more posts will I make?" Recently I've had the feeling that I may be drawing to a conclusion with the present format, or that perhaps I need a new direction. Well, we'll see.

Today's pair of photographs show a couple of contrasting buildings with slightly different photographic approaches. The first is a piece of Victorian showmanship from 1856 by the Lincoln architects, Bellamy & Hardy. Corn Exchanges in England are often wilfully odd and awkward looking buildings that take enormous liberties with the Classical vocabulary. Hull's is relatively sedate in comparison with many, and, its original purpose long past, is now part of a museum. For this image I stood in the narrow High Street, positioned myself at the centre of the building, pointed the camera up, and took this symmetrical shot which echoes the symmetry of the structure.

The second photograph is a detail of the corner of the north facade of Grimsthorpe Castle, Lincolnshire, a work of the 1720s by Sir John Vanbrugh. It is also a strictly symmetrical design, and in my earlier photograph of a detail of the centre of the building I acknowledged this. However, in this image I was looking for balanced asymmetry, and so placed the pair of heavy columns slightly off-centre (though with one in the centre anchoring the composition), and included the angular cornice-line and sky, as well as the differing windows, as elements of imbalance.

Perhaps it's because of my interest in painting, architecture and architectural drawing (see yesterday's post), but representing buildings with strongly converging verticals doesn't come naturally to me. It's always seemed to me to be a convention exclusive to photography - which I suppose it is! When I'm photographing architecture I find myself aiming for shots that keep the verticals properly upright, and only after I've done that do I look for shots of this sort.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Image 1 (Image 2)
Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 16mm (11) (32mm (22mm)/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1 (5.6)
Shutter Speed: 1/320 (1/500)
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 (-1.3) EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Windows on The Deep

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Will the day come when we lament the passing of the right angle in architecture? The answer to that will surely be, "No, there is too much that is right about the right angle, and too little that is wrong!" I ask the question because for the past couple of decades we've seen an increasing number of buildings whose aesthetic depends on acute and oblique angles (as well as curves.) Architects such as Frank Gehry and Daniel Libeskind through their various cultural buildings have been influential in this trend, a development about which I have very mixed feelings.

It seems to me that buildings such as Gehry's Walt Disney Concert Hall, Foster's 30 St Mary Axe, Libeskind's Imperial War Museum North, or Future Systems' Selfridges Department Store are expressionistic designs that have arisen for reasons other than being the best solution to the needs of the client. They are "landmark" buildings, structures that are designed to catch the eye, to promote the locality, intended to say "modern" or "the future" to all who look at them. They seem to be buildings whose forms are as they are because they can be: the product of architects who have fully grasped the change that computers and new materials have brought to the profession. They also give the impression of being the work of frustrated sculptors! I won't, however, deny that these buildings can bring focus to a location, can act as a regenerative force, and have great visual appeal. I would say, though, that those qualities should be secondary to the functional purpose of a building, and therein lies my equivocation about such structures: I'm not sure that many of them fulfill that principal objective.

I recently visited The Deep in Kingston upon Hull. This deep water aquarium by Terry Farrell sits at the confluence of the River Hull with theRiver Humber. Its angular, thrusting shape is very eye-catching, and includes few right-angles. Its raison d'etre is to assist with the regeneration and development of the river front of this part of the city. As such it was funded by the National Lottery's Millennium Commission project. It has been successful in achieving its stated aims. However, one has to ask whether the building is this shape, and made of these materials, because it's the most effective way to house the aquariums and the attendant facilities. But, my quibbles aside, there's no denying its "presence" and the use a photographer can make of its origami shape. My photograph shows a detail of the wall and windows on the River Humber elevation. I composed it with a thought to balance, line and colour, and deliberately left a sliver of sky at the top right.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 19mm (38mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/400 seconds
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

People as scale, focus and compositional element

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I've said elsewhere in this blog that people are rarely the main subject in my photo- graphs, family snaps excepted. However, I do value the contrib- ution that the human figure can make to an image. Moreover, in one area of photography I search for people where others would make every effort to remove them.

Perhaps it's my interest in painting that makes me include people in landscapes wherever it's possible. Look at landscape paintings from the Italian Renaissance through to the twentieth century and you'll usually see figures somewhere. Titian has them, Breughel too, the English landscape painters of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries invariably include them, as do the Impressionists. But, from Cezanne onwards, and particularly where an element of abstraction is introduced, landscapes start to appear that are devoid of the human form.

On the other hand, perhaps it's because I don't compose images around people that I include them in landscapes. I think not however, preferring to see my reasons for their inclusion as three-fold. Firstly, people can give scale to those scenes that aren't always easy to read in terms of the size of the objects on view. Secondly, our eye instantly recognises and is drawn towards the human form, so it immediately confers a point of interest or focus to an image. The third point arises from the second: given the visual importance that we attach to a person in a photograph, a figure can be a useful compositional device. Moreover, even if the figure is quite small it still has a lot of visual "weight". So, a relatively insignificant, distant figure on the left of a scene can quite easily balance a large and prominent object on the right.

Today's photograph exemplifies my first two reasons for the inclusion of people. I took several shots of the Humber-facing point of this aquarium in Kingston upon Hull called "The Deep". The thrusting, prow-like shape and the aggressive architecture (by Terry Farrell & Co.), alongside the navigation lights and markers, make for an interesting photograph, even when taken against the light. But, when a family came into view at the base of the building I knew that their inclusion would add scale and a point of interest that would add significantly to the image.

photographs & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 61mm (122mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/800 seconds
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

In praise of marching bands

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"There's a band coming!" shouted my wife. We were in Kingston upon Hull and she was at the King Street end of Holy Trinity church whilst I was at the opposite end, the Market Place, taking photographs of the building's reflection in the glass curtain wall of some offices, a shot I've done before. Judging by the loudness of the skirling pipes and booming drum, and given that Holy Trinity is claimed to be the largest medieval parish church (by area) in Britain, I calculated that by the time I got to her the band would be gone, and all I'd get was the swinging kilts and rear ends of the bandsmen as they disappeared towards Fish Street.

I wondered, as I finished my architectural photography and walked swiftly towards where the band would pass, whether it's just we "older folk" (and perhaps young children) who are stirred by the sight and sound of a marching band. Then, sure enough, the band passed across my path a hundred yards or so away, followed by grey haired men in dark blazers and slacks, some with sashes laden with badges: perhaps veterans (though no caps), a friendly society, or some such group. By the time I got to King Street the marchers were filing into Holy Trinity by the west door. However, the bandsmen (and women) were standing under the statue of Andrew Marvell, in the shade of the trees in front of the old Grammar School of 1583, chatting. I took a few shots of the informal group from a distance, and reflected further that such bands bring welcome sounds, colour and tradition to our towns and cities, and are well worth a short dash to enjoy their musical offering. Long may they continue to march.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 94mm (186mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/160 seconds
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

One Humber Quays

click photo to enlarge
What is it about Prince Charles that leads him to comment on architecture? Sure, he spends a large amount of his time living in notable examples of the architect's craft, and much of the rest of his days involves visiting important buildings or staying in them. But as a qualification for pontification of the sort that he engages in that's the equivalent of everyone being an expert on education because they once went to school! Our present heir to the throne has clearly been too influenced by his ancestor, Victoria's consort, Prince Albert, and feels that he's got the duty (and right) to influence the built environment of Britain.

Now you might think that someone like me who approves of quite a bit of modern architecture, who much prefers to see buildings of our time being erected rather than pastiches of the past, would obviously disapprove of someone who could come up with a venture like Poundbury. But even if Prince Charles were such that he saw Quinlan Terry as a baleful influence, and agitated for the "Glass Shard" to be built in London, I'd still prefer him to spend his days slaughtering pheasants and cutting ribbons. Fortunately, however, his influence on architectural development is limited, and most practitioners and professional bodies seem treat him with polite disdain.

The other day I visited the rather grandly named "Humber Quays" in Kingston upon Hull. I say "grandly named" because the business sector consists of two office blocks, a desert of paving and a few spindly trees. However, mighty oaks from acorns grow, and I'm sure the city will extend this development in the coming years. Of the two structures that have gone up, this one caught my eye. It's a fairly mainstream building that quotes from the history of twentieth century Modernism - Le Corbusier would recognise the pilotis, Mies Van der Rohe the graphic surface grid, and Walter Gropius the glass curtain walls. It is, of course, embellished by the currently favoured sun-shade slats to reduce solar gain. It's not a building that shouts "innovation", but it is quite an elegant, even classical, construction - the sort that Prince Charles would doubtless deplore.

In the UK I don't often find myself photographing modern architecture under a clear blue sky, so the opportunity to do so, and thereby emphasise the sharp, angular, graphic qualities of this building, was not to be missed.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 14mm (28mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/800 seconds
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Self-portrait in Green Bricks

click photo to enlarge
"If red houses are made out of red bricks, blue houses are made out of blue bricks, and yellow houses are made out of yellow bricks, what are green houses made out of?
from "1001 Jokes for Kids"
(answer below*)

Many Victorians had the feeling that they were living in an age, the like of which, the world hadn't seen before. It was a technological age, an age of new industries, burgeoning cities, mass transport, migration, population growth, exploration and change. Architects were asked to rise to the challenge of designing buildings that had never been needed before. What should a railway station look like? Or a hospital? Or how about an urban school, a museum, or a cotton mill? And with these new buildings came new construction techniques and new materials. Cast iron, steel, fire-proof floors, large areas of glazing, terracotta mouldings, and glazed bricks were all employed to create the new structures.

I came across some fine Victorian glazed brickwork yesterday when I was in Kingston upon Hull, a city and port on the north bank of the River Humber in eastern England. I lived there for several years so I know it reasonably well. As I walked around the marina that has been formed out of the former Humber Dock I passed what I remember as the "Humber Dock Tavern" but is now called "Green Bricks". This changing of pubs' names to suit the fashion of the day is not something of which I approve: old names carry part of the history of an area and shouldn't be expunged on a whim. The best I can say about this example is that the new title at least has a certain logic to it. The Victorians liked to use glazed bricks to face pubs, and green was especially popular, though burgundy, red, blue, yellow and a few other colours can be found in most big cities. Here the elevation also has tiled panels with swags and arabesques, as well as crude capitals on glazed "columns." One of the virtues of glazed bricks is they last remarkably well, providing a smart, easily cleaned, low-maintenance finish that still looks good over a hundred years later: they should be used more today. I've seen a few examples from the late twentieth century - here's some Southwark flats - , and I've posted another image of a pub (now a hotel) with a tiled facade that I saw in Windsor.

My reason for snapping this pub elevation was not only the glazed bricks, but the reflection of the sunlit marina in the window. It was, I thought, another opportunity to add to my ongoing theme of reflected self-portraits!

*Answer: "Glass!"
That joke is only funny if you know that in the UK glasshouses, that is to say the glass horticultural buildings used for growing tomatoes, lettuces, cucumbers, etc., are more commonly known as greenhouses. And, even if you do know that it still isn't very funny!

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 22mm (44mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/125 seconds
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On