Old roofs, walls and towers

click photo to enlarge
One of the charming features of many old Norfolk buildings is a plaintile roof featuring tiles of different colours. Bright orange, brownish orange, grey, black and cream are often placed randomly to give a delightful mottled appearance. The roof in the bottom centre of the photo exemplifies the style perfectly, and the others show it to a greater or lesser extent. Plaintiles are rectangular and flat  and pre-date (though were also contemporaneous with) the equally prevalent "S" curved pantiles. They first became popular in better houses but eventually were a common and sympathetic accompaniment to many vernacular brick walls, such as the kind seen in the lower right of the shot. In the nineteenth century they declined in popularity following widespread adoption of cheaper Welsh slate.

I took today's photograph for the muted colours, the lighting, but most of all for the contrast between the ornate, finely worked stone of the medieval towers of St Margaret's church, with the humble plaintiles and brick of the medieval buildings in the foreground.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: Old Roofs, Walls and Towers, King's Lynn, Norfolk
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 67mm (134mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/1250 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The real Prince Charming and Cinderella

click photo to enlarge
Today's photograph was taken for my grand-daughter while we were out shopping and shows Prince Charming and Cinderella. Not any old ersatz Prince Charming and Cinderella, but the actual, real, one and only Prince Charming and Cinderella. I know that to be the case because I asked them and they replied in the affirmative!

What are the chances of coming across two such characters in the middle of a Norfolk town you must be thinking. Well, how about this. A little later we came across Snow White and the Wicked Queen! And several other fairy tale characters who had assembled in the market place at King's Lynn for the entertainment of the local children (and adults). Sometimes you just have to be in the right place at the right time!

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: Prince Charming and Cinderella, King's Lynn, Norfolk
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 42mm (84mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/1250 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Judas Tree, Thoresby College, King's Lynn

click photo to enlarge
Thoresby College in King's Lynn, Norfolk, was built in the early 1500s as the accommodation for thirteen chantry priest of the Trinity Guild of King's Lynn. The job of the priests was to pray in St Margaret's, St Nicholas' and St James for the King, the kingdom, the Aldermen, brethren and benefactors of the Guild. After the Reformation the the College lost its religious purpose and became a secular building serving as a house, a warehouse and a school among other things. In 1963 it underwent extensive work to preserve the building in very much the form that had developed down the centuries. Part of it became a Youth Hostel and other parts were used for offices and housing.

The photograph shows the lawned courtyard at the centre of the quadrangle of buildings. In particular it displays the Judas Tree in full flower. This species (Cersis siliquastrum) is so named because it is reputed to be the tree from which Judas Iscariot hanged himself. This example must be quite old and well-liked because its branches are being supported by steel posts to prevent them breaking off.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: Judas Tree, Thoresby College, King's Lynn, Norfolk
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 9mm (18mm - 35mm equiv.) crop
F No: f4
Shutter Speed: 1/1000 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

A humble Hampton Court

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Humble isn't a word that is usually found in the same sentence as Hampton Court. The reason being that most people immediately think of the royal palace of that name in Richmond, London. This was originally the property of the Order of St John of Jerusalem, was restored by Thomas Cromwell in the early 1500s, and was seized and enlarged by Henry VIII in 1529. Its early ornate brickwork and later extensions by Sir Christopher Wren are ostentatious to be sure, but not humble. Nor can Hampton Court in Herefordshire be so described. It started life as manor house in 1427 but today is a castellated country house, the result of work done in the mid-C19 to make it grander and more comfortable. Today it is well-known for its gardens that are open to the public.

However, when I look through the timber-framed archway of Hampton Court on Nelson Street in King's Lynn, the word humble seems quite appropriate, and not just because of the comparison with its two namesakes. Though parts of it were once owned by relatively wealthy people it has been extended and re-built over the years, and has usually been the home for multiple families. It is today subdivided into 15 flats. My earlier photograph is accompanied by a piece that tells something of its history.

When I came to take the mouse-eye view photograph above I decided not to do the obvious and focus on either the buildings or the nearest cobbles. Instead I set the aperture to f1.8 and focused a metre or so away leaving near and far out of focus.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: Hampton Court, King's Lynn, Norfolk
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 17mm (34mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f1.8
Shutter Speed: 1/1600 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Trinity House buoys, King's Lynn

click photo to enlarge
On a shopping trip to King's Lynn we walked along the riverside, past Purfleet Quay, to where the buoy maintenance ship, "St Crispin" loads and unloads buoys on its trips to and from their positions in the river and coastal waters.

I've found this a fertile location for photographs, not just because of its waterside setting, but also due to the strong colours of the buoys. Red, green and yellow dominate, almost to the exclusion of anything else, though black is sometimes seen. However, on this occasion a more subtly coloured buoy was standing among its louder neighbours. I can only assume it was painted with a primer or undercoat, yet the rust on it suggested that might not be the case.

I read on the Trinity House website that the organisation "maintains nearly 500 buoys and inspects those maintained by port and harbour authorities, utility companies and by oil/gas rig and wind farm operators (totalling more than 10,000 Aids to Navigation)." A quick search of the buoys on the Trinity House website showed none that display this particular colour.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: Trinity House buoys, King's Lynn, Norfolk
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 36mm (72mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.2
Shutter Speed: 1/1250 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

A photographic truism

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It's a truism that it's possible to take a good photograph of a bad subject. In fact, as I've said elsewhere in this blog, many of the best photographs work despite, not because of, their subject matter. Certainly there are those who disagree with this proposition, maintaining that the subject is of paramount importance in all photographs. It's my belief that, whilst this is true where photography serves a wider need, in those instances where the photograph itself is the only goal, where it serves only itself, the subject matters less than everything else about the image.

Today's photograph, to an extent, illustrates this point in an oblique way. Firstly let me state that I don't consider it a particularly good shot. However, it does illustrate a subject (the "Rock Around the Fleet" art installation) that, in an earlier blog post, I described as WYSIATI: I don't think it amounts to much. So why did I photograph it again and post it here? Well, the colours are what drew me to take this shot - the green of the reflective water, the blue of the sky and the buff stonework, brown brick and orange pantiles of the old buildings. But all of that wouldn't have prompted this photograph without those quirky points of day-glow pink introduced by the "art installation". So, it was the colours that caused this photograph, including the lurid hues of a weak art installation. Here, the subject doesn't really matter but its colours do.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 18mm (36mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/2000 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Newly painted old buoys

click photo to enlarge
The day I took this photograph, in early June, was the first day of this year when I felt that I risked sunburn by staying outside for a couple of hours. So, on went the sun lotion and the cap. We have had bright, warm days earlier in the year, but generally speaking the weather has been cooler and cloudier than usual - at least that's my perception.

This reduction in the amount of sun and heat may well be the reason why recently I've selected bright coloured objects for my photography, such as these newly painted buoys on the riverside at King's Lynn in Norfolk. They had been placed there at the end of their useful lives as objects of visual and local interest, and the town council, with an eye to tourists and tidiness, had applied generous coats of appropriately coloured paint. In the morning light they positively glowed, and each colour picked up a slight reflection of its neighbour's hue. Buoys, fair and foul, are a feature of the riverside in King's Lynn. The buoy maintenance ship, "St Edmund" is based there by a location that specialises in buoy repair and painting.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 28mm (56mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/250 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Norfolk reeds at Cley next the Sea

click photo to enlarge
Recently, as I've been travelling about, I've chanced upon several thatched buildings undergoing renewal of their roofs. English thatched buildings are generally roofed with either long straw, Norfolk reed or imported reed, combed wheat reed or sedge grass. The material of choice usually depends on local vernacular tradition, the availability of the desired thatching, and the depth of the pockets of the building's owner. In East Anglia, due to the presence of suitable watery areas, the water reed was widely used; elsewhere tall-stemmed varieties of wheat were more favoured. However, the amount of reed available in East Anglia is such that foreign reed, often from the banks of the Danube, has been imported for some years.

On my recent visit to North Norfolk, when passing through Cley next the Sea, I noticed that the reeds of the coastal marsh around the village had been cut for thatching. It was stacked on the flood bank in several piles, under tarpaulins, awaiting selection and use. This activity had denuded the thick reed beds and large, irregular areas were very flat where the reed-cutters tools had been at work. You can see something of this in today's photograph.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 20mm (30mm - 27mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/400 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

It's that windmill again

click photo to enlarge
During the Second World War the British government gave a lot of thought, manpower and money towards keeping up the morale of the civilian population. One of the means of achieving this was through the "light entertainment" programmes of BBC radio. The comedy show, "It's That Man Again" was probably the most popular of these programmes. It ran from 1939 to 1949 and entertained listeners with its characters, jokes, story lines and the fun that it made of Hitler and the Axis powers. The show was built around a comedian, Tommy Handley, and when he unexpectedly died in 1949 the long-running series ended. I'm not old enough to have heard it broadcast during those years though I have heard clips. Moreover, I do recall quite a few of the performers who went on to star in radio and TV shows of the 1950s and 1960s comedy shows; people such as Derek Guyler and Hatti Jaques.

You might wonder what this has got to do with a(nother) photograph of the windmill at Cley next the Sea in Norfolk. Well, when I came to give a title to this blog post I came up with the one above. But it seemed a bit long and not very snappy so I thought of abbreviating the words it to ITWA in the way that "It's That Man Again" was always abbreviated to ITMA. It was at that point that I thought, "Tony, you're showing your age again, people (especially younger folk and  non-UK dwellers) won't know a thing about ITMA". So I stuck with the original title and blogged about that long-gone show instead!

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 30mm (45mm - 27mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/400 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Dark Satanic Mills?

click photo to enlarge
"And was Jerusalem builded here,
Among these dark Satanic Mills?"
from the poem, "And did those feet in ancient time", by the English poet, William Blake (1757-1827)

The poem quoted above is widely loved by the English, particularly when sung to the tune written by Sir Hubert Parry, and commonly called "Jerusalem". It is built on the story that Jesus visited England - Glastonbury in particular - in his youth, accompanied by Joseph of Arimathea. Blake contrasts the England of the time of such a visit with the rapidly industrializing England of 1804 (when the poem was written), and the England that could and should be.

His disparaging of the "dark Satanic Mills" has been attributed to his dislike of the Albion Flour Mill, one of the first large, factories built in London, in Southwark, near where Blake lived. Opinion on the new buildings of industry were divided between those who saw them as efficient parts of a burgeoning economy that brought wealth and employment, and those who saw them as inhuman, unholy places with their dirty, dangerous work, child labour and long hours. But, there are other theories about what Blake meant, including the idea that he was referring to the universities of Oxford and Cambridge, institutions that promulgated a religion he thought very different from the one he espoused.

Whatever his meaning, it was Blake I thought of when, on a darkening day I took this photograph of the distant Palm Paper mill at King's Lynn, Norfolk, from near the quayside in the town. The massive structure with its chimneys, cloudy plumes and looming bulk, put me in mind of his words, and also made me recall another photograph I took in 2013 of an industrial subject - Melton Ross chalk quarries in Lincolnshire.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 37.1mm (100mm - 35mm equiv.) - cropped
F No: f4.9
Shutter Speed: 1/200
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation:  - 0.3EV
Image Stabilisation: On

WYSIATI

click photo to enlarge
I've always liked the acronym, WYSIWYG (wizeewig). It originated in web design, particularly with the kind of web editors that behave more like desktop publishing programmes as opposed to the original and more basic html editors. It describes the fact that as you build the page the appearance and position of objects appear as they will in the finished article, rather than as lines of code as is the case with non-WYSIWYG editors. Like many good linguistic ideas it has taken on a life of its own and can now be found applied in areas far beyond computing and web design.

I'd like to see WYSIATI assume a similar widespread use. This acronym is usually attributed to Daniel Kahneman, the Nobel Prize winner in Economics who uses the term in his 2011 book, "Thinking Fast and Slow". He applied it to overconfidence in understanding around the concepts of "known knowns", "known unknowns" etc. Was it used much, or at all, before then? I don't know, but I can claim to have used it on November 14th 2010 in a blog post about the artist Ai Weiwei's display of ceramic sunflower seeds at Tate Modern. It's something that comes to mind when I look at quite a lot of contemporary art because a great deal of it is so devoid of depth, meaning and resonance. With such work what you see is all there is, and what you take away from it is nothing but a lament about another wasted opportunity.

I had this feeling recently when I surveyed some of the art on display around the town of King's Lynn. It was the result of a collaboration between the Norfolk town and the Maison de la Culture d'Amiens in Northern France. I applaud such partnerships and projects: I just wish that they produced a better outcome than the offerings I saw the other day. That includes the example in today's photograph. Apparently, the piece entitled "Rock Around the Fleet" that is located in the old dock basin of the Purfleet River, "is a series of floating buoys with metal designs suggesting seabirds, which evoke a feeling of movement and animation reminiscent of the past." Yes, really!

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 18mm (27mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/125 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Rusty buoys

click photo to enlarge
I've posted a few photographs of buoys on this blog. The first, as long ago as 2006, reflected on the spelling of the word. The second, in 2008, pondered the colours of these nautical markers. In 2009 I produced a shot of buoys that I especially like for the light, with accompanying text about simplifying compositions. 2010 found me in King's Lynn, a good place for photographing buoys and waxing lyrical about bright colours. In 2011 a black and white photograph of buoys accompanied a piece about alternative voting and the folly of our electorates rejection of it. And, the same year "Foul buoys" was the title of a piece where I noted my discovery of why the word "FOUL" was written on yellow buoys.

Today's photograph is buoys once again, and from King's Lynn too, though this time only a detail. What was it about this detail that attracted me? Well, the battered yellow paint and brown rust, the result of prolonged exposure to salt water was sufficient draw. However, it was the position of the two heavy metal loops that made me take the shot. And the way the steel cable was threaded through them to keep them fixed to the quayside. It reminded me vaguely of the ying yang symbol; two similar and complementary forms interlocking, or at least related one to the other. I hoped that a tight composition would emphasise that feature and deliver enough interest to make the photograph work. I think it does.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 60mm (90mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8 Shutter
Speed: 1/100 sec
ISO:180
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Signal box levers

click photo to enlarge
There was a time, during the Renaissance, when scientists spoke of the "six simple machines". Building on ancient Greek and Roman understanding they identified these as the lever, the wheel and axle, the inclined plane, the pulley, the screw, and the wedge. Each of these uses a single force applied as work on a single load to produce mechanical advantage. All more complex (or "compound") machines, such as the wheelbarrow, windmill, trebuchet or shears, were seen as composed of multiples of the simple machines. The industrial revolution made this elegant, if somewhat basic, understanding insufficient as a way of describing machinery and forces. However, it retains a place in the teaching of physics.

These thoughts came to mind as I stood in a railway signal box at Bressingham the other day. I think it was the first time I'd been in such a building. This particular example had been moved from Raydon Wood, Suffolk, to be used with the railway exhibits at the Norfolk gardens. I was particularly taken with the levers in the lever frame that the signal man used to control points, signals, gates etc thereby facilitating the safe movement of a train through the area for which he had responsibility. I'd often seen these through the window of a signal box. However, the elevated position prevented me noticing what I could see now - they are colour coded, numbered and each has its purpose described. By manipulating single levers, or combinations of them, the signalman determined the course of the train. Today this is done electro-mechanically but for decades muscle power, augmented by the lever did all that was required.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon 5D2
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 90mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/80
ISO: 400
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The lustre of brass and copper

click photo to enlarge
A theme seems to be developing in recent posts - that of the "incidental" photograph i.e. a shot taken at a time when my attention was supposed to be on something else.

We recently had a day out at with a group of people at the splendid gardens at Bressingham, Norfolk. Before we set off I picked up the Canon 5D2, the 24-105mm lens and the 100mm macro. That seemed the best kit for the kind of shots that were likely to be available. And so it proved. The lenses gave the opportunity for general, wide angle photographs of parts of the gardens, sections of beds, small groups of blooms and individual specimens. However, the location also had a selection of steam powered vehicles and engines, some outside and some indoors, and it was one of these that drew my attention and prompted me to take out the Sony RX100.

Today's photograph shows a detail of the brass and copper cylinder, pipes, switches and dials of a fire engine of the 1890s. It was made, as its plate clearly and ornately says, by the London engineers, Shand, Mason and Company. Today we think of fire engines as motor powered vehicles with a cab for its firemen and the pumps and ladders/turntable behind. But, before this type evolved they were essentially pumps on carts that would be pulled or pushed to near the fire before being used to pump a water supply through hoses on to it. Shand, Mason and Co. were established suppliers of such devices to public authorities, large private houses, hospitals etc. A board next to the example shown above explained that it was installed at Crown Point, the mansion of Sir J. J. Colman at Whitlingham near Norwich, and that, fortunately, it never had to be used with serious intent.

I liked the lustre of the polished metal that positively glowed in the shadows of the dark exhibition room. I've photographed brass before for the same reason; see this lectern or this nameplate. And copper too has been my subject when seen in a dimly-lit room as with these pans in a country house kitchen.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 17mm (46mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f3.2
Shutter Speed: 1/10 sec
ISO:800
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Heraldry and pelicans

click photo to enlarge
When coats of arms and heraldic devices were first conceived animals were widely used symbols. Those chosen were often selected for either their relevance to the family or for their fearsome qualities. Thus, the lion and the eagle are probably the most commonly found mammal and bird. But, as heraldry progressed, a wider range of creatures was used, such as boars, elephants, beavers or stags, and a veritable aviary of birds was put to work representing individuals, organisations and towns on their coats of arms. From the humble martlet (house martin) to the towering ostrich, birds of every description were pressed into service, including the pelican.

Before they featured in heraldry pelicans were used to symbolise Christ's sacrifice on the cross. It was believed that as young pelicans grow they strike their parent on the face with their beaks and the adult bird then kills them. But, after three days mourning the mother pierces her own breast and feeds her blood to the nestlings, which revives them. In an alternate version of this story the young pelicans are poisoned and the adult feeds her blood to bring them back to life. This tale was known from the medieval bestiaries and became part of Christian iconography. It can often be seen in medieval churches as the subject of carving in stone or wood, frequently on the underside of misericords or in ceiling bosses. It is also a popular subject for stained glass as in this Pre-Raphaelite example by Edward Burne-Jones for Morris & Co. that I photographed in the church of St Martin at Brampton, Cumbria.

The coat of arms of the Norfolk town of King's Lynn has been modified down the centuries but has usually included a pelican (though sometimes a gull). A marine bird is very appropriate for a port, and the designer of the late fifteenth century door shown in today's photograph decided it would be suitable as a central embellishment in the ogee arch that he put above the small wicket door in the centre of the larger main door. It's interesting that this door has survived in a secular property since the late 1400s, though it is noticeable that the surrounding woodwork is repaired and the topmost arch is characteristic of the late seventeenth or early eighteenth century.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: crop of 10.4mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f1.8
Shutter Speed: 1/30 sec
ISO:320
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Devil's Alley and other street names

click photo to enlarge
Today's photograph shows an alley in King's Lynn, Norfolk. It stretches back from Nelson Street towards the quayside. Entry is through a carriage arch that gives access to the rear of the old houses that line this architecturally fascinating road. The narrow way goes by the name of Devil's Alley. The story goes that the devil arrived in King's Lynn by ship and slipped ashore to gather up some new souls. However, a priest followed him to this particular alley and used the power of prayer and holy water to drive him back to his ship. During his retreat the devil, annoyed at being thwarted, apparently stamped his foot so hard that it left an imprint in the alley. At one time a cobble could be seen that had an imprint like a large human foot, but this is no longer to be found.

The unusual name of this alley got me thinking about some of the other street names that have caught my eye down the years. The most recent is Breakneck Lane in Louth, Lincolnshire, a not especially steep, but quite narrow road, and one that may have caused people to come to grief in the past, perhaps the rider of the phantom horse that has allegedly been heard galloping down it! Then there is Whip-ma-whop-ma-gate in York. The derivation of this name is unclear: both "What a street!" and "Neither one thing or the other" have their supporters - the street is very short. When I lived in Kingston upon Hull I was very taken with the street name, Land of Green Ginger. This name has prompted many suggestions for its origin: from a place where spices were traded in the medieval period to "Lindegroen jonger"(Lindegreen Junior), a name associated with a Dutch family who lived there in the early nineteenth century.Other memorable examples include Dog and Duck Lane, Beverley (named after a pub), Bodkin Lane on Lancashire's Fylde (watch out for dagger-armed robbers) and Lowe's Wong, Southwell, in Nottinghamshire. If you thought wong has an oriental connection you'd be wrong; like "wang" it is from the Danish for garden or in-field and dates from the time of the Norse invasions of the ninth and tenth centuries AD.

You may be wondering if today's photograph was fortuitously lit. It wasn't, I added a vignette to give it an appropriately dark aspect.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 17.6mm (47mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f3.2 Shutter Speed: 1/50 sec
ISO:160
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Einstein on the beach (at Sheringham)

click photo to enlarge
My introduction to the music of Philip Glass was through Godfrey Reggio's film, "Koyaanisqatsi" (1983). This movie features footage from various locations in the United States presented with no actors or narration, simply a score by Glass. The only indication of the message of the film is in the film's subtitle "Life out of balance" -  a translation from the Hopi language of the film's main title. I loved the film and it quickly became a favourite of all the family.

The score of "Koyaanisqatsi" is in the minimalist style, a branch of modern classical music that seems to be either loved or reviled. It's an approach to music that I was familiar with before I heard Glass through Terry Riley's album, "A Rainbow in Curved Air" (1969), and I'm firmly in the camp that likes minimalism. We bought other music by Philip Glass in later years, but this piece that was written for the film, has remained a favourite.

On our recent visit to the Norfolk coast we came upon a series of paintings on the promenade that had been done by an artist as part of a project to involve children in drawing using chalk. The main "canvas" for this work was the sea wall. Towards the end of the series that showed deck chairs, boats, an ice-cream seller's van, etc., we came upon the example shown in today's photograph. Immediately we saw it my wife and I turned to each other and said, "Einstein on the Beach". Clearly the artist knew about Philip Glass. Why else would a seasonal, sea-front cafe be adorned with a picture of Albert Einstein drinking a mug of hot tea other than to reference the composer's first opera, a five hour piece from 1975, called "Einstein on the Beach"? It made us smile.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 32mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/250 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Into the light at Cley and Sheringham

click photo to enlarge
A camera never reproduces exactly what your eye sees but in some circumstances the results are way off. Shooting into the light often has unexpected outcomes. Sometimes the shot has high contrast and is very dramatic. At other times the light meter makes a wrong guess and either exposes the sky correctly but leaves the land unnaturally dark, or it exposes the land properly but the nicely figured sky and clouds are blown out to pure white. Cameras can't yet show the range of gradations between black and white that the eye can see though techniques such as multiple exposures and shadow boosting are making inroads into the deficit. Photographers are, by and large, able to work with this inaccuracy and sometimes welcome the camera's results because they "improve" on what the eye saw. At other times extensive digital manipulation is required to bring a better balance and greater verisimilitude to, say, a landscape where the photographer was forced to shoot against the light.

I found myself in that situation a couple of weeks ago. We were passing through Cley next the Sea in Norfolk, the location of one of the most photographed windmills in England, and I thought I'd try for a shot of it in its setting. However, it was half an hour past noon in mid-August, not the best time for landscape photography. Moreover, the view I wanted required me to shoot into the light. The result was a series of images with good sky but dark buildings, marsh and woodland. That's not what my eye saw; the scene was quite brightly lit. So, when I got home I sat down for half and hour or so with the image on the computer and tried to convert my badly exposed shot into something closer to what I saw.

Was I successful? How do you judge success? It's very hard to remember exactly how the scene looked and the relative brightness of all the elements. I suppose one measure of success is that the shot looks natural to someone who wasn't there with me. And yet, I fear that we are sufficiently far down the road in digital photography and manipulation that many people and even more photographers no longer have a secure grasp of  what looks "real" in photographs. I find myself questioning some of the shots that my newspaper presents as a record of an event, and some of the images I see on forums, in photography magazines and in competitions appear to have been taken on a planet other than earth, such is the level of saturation and the balance of tones. Another measure of success is that it looks right to me. This one isn't quite right. Nor is the smaller photograph of the beach huts at Sheringham. But they are both closer to what I saw than the images the camera recorded.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 67mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/800 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Hunstanton's striped cliffs

click photo to enlarge
The sea cliffs of Hunstanton are one of the most visually striking geological formations in England. The strata comprises essentially three layers of rock. At the top is the Upper Cretaceous white/grey chalk known as the the Ferriby Chalk Formation. Below that is the brick coloured Hunstanton Red Chalk Formation formed during the Lower Cretaceous period. The red colour of this stone is due to ferrous staining. The dark brown, lower layer is Carstone (also spelled carrstone). Like the chalk above it this Lower Cretacaous red sandstone acquired its hue through the presence of iron.

The latter stone is widely used in the old buildings of Hunstanton. In wider Norfolk it is found in buildings in a zone that runs north-south down the eastern bank of the Wash from Thornham to around Stoke Ferry, but is especially seen in the area between Hunstanton and Castle Rising. In this region it was used alone in courses, with flint in chequerwork, and as infill with brick surrounds and quoins. Its use declined markedly after the first world war, but it is being used again in new buildings that echo traditional styles, often as a decorative finish over breeze-blocks in a flat area of wall that is enclosed by brick work. The smaller photograph shows Hunstanton Town Hall, a building of 1896, where the carstone is used around the arch in chequerwork with ashlar but also as a random, almost rubble facing in between the cut stone pilasters and the carstone blocks of the window surrounds. The term "gingerbread work" has been used to describe this way of using the distinctive, cake-coloured stone.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 105mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/200 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Views from Cromer pier

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Victorian and Edwardian recreational piers make great photographic subjects. They stretch out from the shore into the sea, a wooden deck with pavilions, theatres, shops, shelters and railings, supported by a forest of cast iron or steel legs and cross bracing. Ornate metalwork, fanciful roof outlines, flagpoles and other excrescences make for lively shapes against sea and sky. People flock to them seeking the experience of being at sea without setting foot in a precarious boat or sickness inducing ship. Fishermen seek them out for the opportunity they offer to easily cast into deep water. Yes, piers offer the photographer subjects a-plenty.

However, piers offer more than a subject. The photographer at the coast, casting around for a vantage point from which to take shots of land,  the sea or the beach, can do a lot worse than position himself on a pier. I've been fortunate to have lived in the vicinity of piers for a large part of my life and I've frequently taken the opportunity of standing on one in search of a striking or unusual composition. The other day I was in Cromer, Norfolk, doing just that and I came away with a couple of views of the shore that please me. Both were taken fairly early on a Sunday morning before most holidaymakers were stirring. Both feature Cromer's medieval church with its tall tower, described by Pevsner as, "at 160 feet, by far the tallest of any Norfolk parish church." And both show the zig-zag sloping path that takes the pedestrian down to the pier entrance from the viewpoint in front of the Hotel de Paris (1895-6). But, only the smaller photograph shows the pier itself, a structure of 1900-1. It is currently undergoing a refurbishment and has "clutter" on its decking so I kept the amount in the frame to just enough for a strong leading line to the church and hotel. The main photograph, though the colour is not as interesting as in the smaller shot, has a composition that I like better, with the groynes, sea-wall, church tower and line of buildings combining asymmetrically to good effect.

If you want to see what the pier looks like in totality these views taken a couple of years ago tell the tale.

photographs and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 40mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/500 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On