Ludlow rooftops

click photos to enlarge
One of the best views that you can have of any old English town is from the top of its church tower. If the church is medieval or older then it is likely to be located at the heart of the settlement surrounded by the oldest buildings and the tight, narrow streets that they stand alongside.

A church tower that is open to the public - and quite a few are - not only gives a fascinating insight into a town, one that can't be had just by walking around it, but also limits the privacy of those who live in its shadow! I took quite a few shots from the top of St Laurence at Ludlow, Shropshire, that include people eating in "hidden" solitude in pub courtyards, window shopping in tight alleys, working in their enclosed gardens, or repairing windows and walls. All are seemingly unaware that their activities can be surveyed by anyone who pays the small fee to climb the spiral staircase to the summit of the 135 feet tall tower. However, today's photographs don't show these small human dramas: rather, they expose the materials, structure and layout of the closely packed roofs of the nearby streets. Plain clay tiles and slate seem to be the dominant roofing materials in Ludlow's centre. The proximity of Wales might account for the slate. Thatch would have been common in earlier centuries, but it is now mainly found in smaller settlements and country cottages and farms in Shropshire. Lead valley flashing is evident on many of the roofs, and is quite extensive between the three gables of "The Feathers." Note also, at the back of this hotel a bank of three air-conditioning units. Flat roofs are few and far between. The clay chimney pots in the usual cream or terra cotta seem, for the most part to be Victorian. What is interesting is those chimneys that have rectangular holes at the top of the brick stacks with no pot on top. The view from above gives a very real feel for the high density of building in settlements such as this.

On the first shot I deliberately kept the edge of the street market and the people at the top of the frame to give some scale to the image. The second is a companion piece to the post showing the facade of "The Feathers".

photographs & text (c) T.Boughen

Top (Bottom), where different
Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 40(80mm), 73(146mm)/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/400, (1/500) seconds
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Fuss and Feathers

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The brouhaha over English Members' of Parliament (MPs) expenses claims has consumed much of the time and energy of Britain's media reporters and commentators over the past month. That a very few were on the fiddle is undoubtedly true, and it's good that they have been exposed. That many others, quite legitimately, were milking a fairly lax system is also true, and if the recent fuss results in a tighter rein on allowable claims we should all be happy. But, there was a group of people who got lost in all of this, namely those MPs of integrity who made very modest and reasonable claims. Unfortunately, a large mass of the public (and press) in England is only interested in politics when it involves tittle tattle, and so for many our politicians are now "all the same", and "only out to feather their own nests." This widely held view simply isn't true. Of course, the focus on this scandal is like manna from heaven for bankers and financiers who have had the spotlight taken off their much greater greed and incompetence, and they are quietly trying to slip back into their bad old ways of paying themselves far too much, for doing too little, badly.

The system of MPs' expenses is currently under review, and into this discussion has been thrown the issue of MPs having a job at the same time that they sit as a representative of the people. There are those who say it's a good thing that MPs know about the "real world" through a second job. But, for many of our politicians that involves earning a lot for advising a financial institution that inhabits a world that few people would recognise as anything approaching "real." Others say that MPs should earn their pay by devoting all their energies to Parliament and their constituents. My view is that if you say that the duties of an MP allow time to do a second job, then you're accepting that it's a part time job and the remuneration should be downwardly adjusted accordingly. Moreover, those who are drawing two salaries are unlikely to be representing the people well, and would seem to be undeserving of their pay from the state. However, if MPs salaries were reduced substantially to take account of the "part-time" nature of their work it would penalise those who scrupulously devote all their energies to their parliamentary work. Consequently, here's a suggestion. Firstly, all those putting themselves forward for election to Parliament should have to declare whether they will hold a second job if elected: that would concentrate a few minds and also be a consideration that peope could take into account when deciding who should receive their vote. Secondly, an MP's salary and expenses from the state should be withdrawn if they have a second job. That would send a clear message of disapproval of the practice, and reinforce the message that constituents deserve all their representative's time and attention.

All of which has not a thing to do with the subject of today's photograph. It shows The Feathers Hotel in Ludlow, Shropshire, a very ornate, timber-framed building of 1603. The whole facade has been constructed with an eye to decorative effect; even the asymmetry caused by positioning the entrance slightly off-centre, with two projecting bays to the left and one to the right. The Feathers began life as a private house, but was converted to an inn around 1670. It's one of a number of "black and white" buildings in this market town in the Welsh Marches, but the most embellished by far, and is considered an exemplar of its architectural style.

I didn't catch this building at the best time for a photograph, with the sun just brushing the facade and most of it in shadow, so exposure and processing proved "challenging".

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 55mm (110mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/500 seconds
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Tower vaulting compared - Louth and Ludlow

click photos to enlarge
During my primary school years, in any spare moments that the teacher allowed, I loved to draw and doodle. And, as I progressed through my education, painting and drawing became subjects that I pursued academically in greater depth. However, picking up my theme of a couple of weeks ago, that everything important in my education happened in the primary years (age 5-11), I want to dwell on doodling. At one stage, when I was 7 or 8 years old, I had a penchant for making symmetrical patterns with a pencil and ruler. I'd start with a square, connect the corners with diagonals, find the centre of each side of the square, connect those, then build a pattern that developed from that basic "Union Flag" shape.

The other day, when I was processing these two images of tower vaulting, it suddenly struck me that my fascination with this aspect of medieval Gothic architecture may well derive from those childhood doodles. Look at the patterns here and you'll see those same diagonals and cross shape underpinning the basic structure in each instance. The central circle is there by necessity, and usually lifts out to allow access to the bells. The Ludlow design has cusping incorporated into the geometry, giving it a less regular feel, but the Louth vaulting is strictly rectilinear when seen from below.

Anyone who has explored this blog will have come across other examples of tower vaulting photographed from below, and all those other designs are individual. With today's images I decided that I'd use my widest lens which is 11mm (22mm/35mm equiv.) and make the columned piers that support the tower part of the composition. So, each picture has a centre illuminated by tower windows, and has four arches. Why does Louth have windows filling three of its arches? Well, that tower is at the west end of the church, whereas Ludlow's is a crossing tower, in the centre of the building, off which are the nave, the chancel and a pair of transepts. You can tell which is the chancel because it has the most elaborately decorated roof.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Top (Bottom), where different
Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 11(22mm), 11(22mm)/35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6, (3.5)
Shutter Speed: 1/80, (1/200) seconds
ISO: 400, (200)
Exposure Compensation: -2.7, (-0.7) EV
Image Stabilisation: On

A matter of life and death

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"It's a funny old world - a man's lucky if he can get out of it alive."
W.C. Fields (1880-1946), U.S. actor, in film "You're Telling Me", 1934

"Eternity is a terrible thought. I mean, where's it going to end?"
Tom Stoppard (1937- ), English playwright, from "Rosencranz and Guildenstern Are Dead", 1967

"Death is nature's way of telling you to slow down." Graffito, London, 1978

Death happens very day - to individuals and to groups of people. The modern media overflows with reports and images of death. Yet, despite its ubiquity, and even though it is something that will happen to us all, modern society isn't particularly good at dealing with the subject in a straightforward way. We are good at incorporating multiple deaths in a cartoonish way in an "action" movie. And we're very good at alluding to the subject through humour, as the quotations above illustrate. But, when it comes to a funeral, or talking about our own death or that of those we know well, we're sometimes lost for words. Perhaps that's because, where we can, we shuffle the everday act of dying out of our sight, into hospitals and hospices. The past was more open about these things. Death commonly happened at home, involved young people more than it does now, and was attended by a more prescribed ceremony.

A few days ago I was trying to decode this memorial, in the church of St Laurence, Ludlow, in Shropshire. It records the death of Theophilus Salwey in 1760, and comprises a panel filled with sculpture, above which is a pediment topped by an urn, with an inscribed tablet detailing the deceased placed at the base. It is a fairly run-of-the-mill piece in the Classical style, with a concept and sculpture that doesn't rise above the average. However, it typifies some of the things that the eighteenth century had to say about death. The rather podgy putto (cherub) sits on a pedestal praying for the soul of Theophilus. To its left is an open book signifying that he was an open, honest man of learning during his lifetime. Next to it is his coat of arms, a reminder of his high status in society. Linking these two are acanthus leaves, a symbol of immortality in Classical civilization. To the right of the pedestal is a prominent skull, marked as aged by its scattered teeth, along with a few large bones. These, of course, signify death. They are balanced on a pile of closed books - a metaphor, surely, for a life that has ended. Then there is a snake with a bird-like head about to bite some fruit. The serpent's body is wound into a circle. Does it allude to the story of Adam and Eve? More likely the circle signifies eternity once more, because the items to the left of the cherub are concerned with life, while those to the right are about the afterlife. Interestingly the acanthus leaves cross from one side to the other perhaps suggesting that death is conquered through faith, and that after we leave our earthly existence life continues in heaven.

Whatever one makes of this Christian iconography sprinkled with Classical details, it can't be denied that it results in a memorial that confronts physical death more directly than is the case with the gravestones of the last hundred years. I decided to photograph it in a way that captures the main details of the central sculpture, but emphasises the, to our modern sensibilities, rather disturbing skull, so went for this diagonal composition.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 18mm (36mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f3.5
Shutter Speed: 1/125 seconds
ISO: 400
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Motorbikin'

click photo to enlarge
I do so want to see motorcycles as the eminently sensible form of transport that they can be, but it's hard. Why? Well, I get the impression that many motorcyclists see their mounts principally as something other than a useful form of transport. And therein lies the problem. Once you choose a motorcycle for its speed, its noise, its machismo, or the exhilaration that it offers, then certain other consequences follow, some positive, but mainly negative.

Firstly you're going to be tempted to ride it very quickly - either within the speed limits in terms of acceleration, or fast in absolute terms, beyond the legal limit. That will, sadly, result in a disproportionate number of deaths amongst motorcyclists, either by their own hand or by the hand of other road users. Secondly, you're often going to make the machine noisier than it needs to be, so it'll either sound like a demented mosquito, a grass strimmer on steroids or an amplified steam tug-boat, chugging, thumping, and crackling along. And in so doing you're going to disturb enormous numbers of your fellow citizens for wholly selfish reasons, and ratchet up the stress of modern life one more notch. Thirdly, you'll be likely to buy the best machine you can afford and cosset it. There's nothing wrong with that - it seems to be a human trait. But it leads to the purchase of machines that aren't especially good for the purpose of transport, and to the employment of them as hobby vehicles. So, your riding will be concentrated into weekends and holidays, and you'll congregate with like-minded people to discuss and admire your respective steeds. And there's nothing at all wrong with that either. However, it's also possible you'll see yourselves as distinctive, on the edge of society, and some will feel part of a persecuted minority.

So where does that leave the apparently small number who use motorcycles as a form of transport that is quick, economic, efficient, environmentally better, less hindered by traffic congestion. As a genuine minority, genuinely distinctive, definitely on the edge of society, that's where! When I was growing up in the 1950s and 1960s utilitarian motorcycling was commonplace. On one occasion when I went on holiday with a friend to his uncle's and aunt's house he came to collect us on his Vincent Black Shadow with sidecar. We thought nothing of it, and, though he was proud of his motorcycle he saw it primarily as a transport choice that he adjusted to purr along because that was best for him and for everyone else. Perhaps a few more motorcyclists of that sort on the roads would help me to see motorbikin' in a more positive light.

Today's photograph was taken a couple of days ago in Ludlow, Shropshire, at what must have been a meet-up of Harley-Davidson owners. They were mainly genial older riders who looked to be having a fine time, basking in the summer sun, viewing each other's hardware, and enjoying an ice-cream. When I saw the odd machine gliding around the ancient town there seemed to be those who wanted to make the bike as noisy as possible, and others who aimed for that subdued purr. I know which my old ears preferred.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 45mm (90mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/500 seconds
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On