Dark Satanic Mills?

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"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

The Lynn Ferry

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In the UK there has been, for many years, a discernible drift away from the principle of narrowing the gulf in weath between the poorest, least advantaged in society and the well-off by taxing the latter and redistributing the money to the former. This approach was universally supported by all the major political parties for a long period after the Second World War. However, for the past thirty or so years the Conservatives have sought, through their policies, quite the opposite; to transfer resources from the poor and the middle classes to the richer sections of society, business, commerce and the City. The recent financial crisis has allowed them to accelerate what they are doctrinally disposed to favour under the guise of "necessity." The Labour party during its time in government, though making some efforts at redistribution, were so half-hearted that the effect was nowhere near what was possible given their duration in office and the resources that they commanded. Today's Liberal Democrats will have to speak for themselves on this matter because I find it very difficult to discern what, if any, principles they now espouse.

Part of the problem is that politics and politicians have eschewed principles and philosophy in favour of managerialism. Dealing with immediate issues has become an end in itself rather than a means of achieving a vision. The problem with most managers, of course, is that they know the price of everything but the value of nothing. So, instead of universal provision and the equalising across the country of the prices of essential items such as utilities, healthcare and transport in the interests of affordability for all, but especially the less well off in society, we are seeing the growth of regional pricing structures, the decline of cross-subsidisation and unitary pricing.

One consequence of all this is that enterprises such as the Lynn Ferry (see photograph) that regularly crosses the River Great Ouse to link the small, relatively deprived community of West Lynn with the large market town of King's Lynn face the possibility of a loss of subsidy at a time when its users face declining incomes. The ferry subsidy is £25,000 per year which allows the operators to charge fares of 80p single and £1.40 return (reduced to 60p and £1.00 for children). There is a need for fares to remain competitive with the cost of either driving round by the nearest bridge and paying for a parking space or using an infrequent bus service. More than that, there is every reason to ensure that the residents of West Lynn remain in regular contact with the major part of their community, one that they can almost reach out and touch. And, there is a need to recognise that West Lynn grew, in part because of the existence of the river ferry and to cause its closure would be iniquitous.

I photographed the ferry landing on the King's Lynn side of the river at low tide. Unfortunately the number of passengers doesn't make my case very well - two young girls heading for town and a woman crossing to West Lynn. I've tried for this silhouette shot before (when passenger numbers have been higher), but this is my best attempt so far.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 300mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/800
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Votes and buoys

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For most of my lifetime the majority of the electorate have voted for left of centre candidates in UK elections. And, for most of my lifetime our first past the post voting system has delivered a right of centre government with a parliamentary majority. As a result of yesterday's vote against the proposed AV system for future elections, this state of affairs looks set to continue.

Is this what those voting "No" wanted? Perhaps, but I find it hard to think so. There are several reasons people rejected change including inertia, a preference for "simplicity" over "complexity", a campaign of bile and lies (from both sides), the desire to punish the Lib-Dems, a disillusionment with politics in general and more. But, at the heart of it is, I think, the fact that a large section of the British public are not terribly interested in politics and still collectively leans towards the "they're all the same" point of view when it comes to political parties. This would account not only for the low turnout but also the tendency to vote for the status quo. However, it never was true in the past that all parties are the same (though under New Labour it was sometimes difficult to discern the difference) and it's not true now. We have many political parties in the UK, but the fact is, of those that are well-supported there is only one whose principal aim is to transfer wealth from the poor and the middle classes to business and the wealthy. Don't know which one? Well, today you can identify their leaders by the grin on their faces, a smirk that has appeared because the "No" vote means their core task will be just as easy as it always was.

I've photographed the subject of today's image several times and have never been happy with the outcome. It shows the area where buoys are re-painted on Purfleet Quay on the River Great Ouse at King's Lynn, Norfolk. As well as a few old buoys there are paint marks on the ground and a contraption that, in some way, must be used to aid the painting, though quite how I can't imagine. Given that the subject is colourful, with red, green and yellow buoys and rings of paint, it may seem odd that I've chosen a black and white treatment. But, the truth is that light is usually more important than colour in creating a photograph, and here shooting fairly close to the sun gave me a curved composition, made more of the shapes and delivered a shot that I liked.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 28mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/320
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

A black and white argument

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I've often thought that black and white photography is to colour photography as drawing, ink wash, etching etc is to painting. Not so much in the sense that it is inferior (as some believe), but because in printed form it pre-dates colour. Today, now that colour photography is widespread,  black and white continues only where lower cost or "artistic" reasons demand it. In the field of art photography, of course, black and white is a conscious choice, frequently the preferred medium of a practitioner, and is usually printed to the very highest standards. However, the man in the street frequently sees it as a lesser medium, a fragment of reality from which something has been deliberately witheld.

It's not my place to convince anyone of the fine qualities that black and white photography offers, though if I were to do so I'd begin, not with examples of noted practitioners such as Bill Brandt or Alfred Steiglitz, but with the work of John Bryan and Wilfred Shingleton. Most photographers are perhaps scratching their heads at these names: cinematographers are more likely to have heard of them. Bryan and Shingleton won the 1947 Academy Award (Oscar) for Best Art Direction - Set Direction, Black and White, for their masterful work on the 1946 film of Charles Dickens' Great Expectations directed by David Lean. I watched this film (for the third or fourth time) over the Christmas period, and as I did so I marvelled again at the striking use of monochrome; at the drama, beauty, style and atmosphere that it brought to the production. As an opening argument for the virtues of monochrome photography it is hard to beat. It is also the best film version of this dark tale. If you haven't seen it then do so!

Over the past few weeks I've slipped into black and white a little more than usual. I've always liked the medium, have processed my own prints from film, and continued using it in the years when colour printing gained the ascendancy in the UK. Winter has always seemed to me to be a good time for black and white images. Today's photograph of an Ipswich registered fishing boat near the quayside at King's Lynn, Norfolk, cried out for the treatment because of how it made so much more of the boat's silhouette against the light expanse of water and sky.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 45mm
F No: 6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/160
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

King's Lynn buoys

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Earth colours and subtle, matching hues are all very well, but sometimes, for a photographer, there's nothing better, than to happen upon some good, strong primary colours. I did just that the other day when I visited King's Lynn in Norfolk. I'd been to the particular location before, and knew that it was the place where buoys used in the River Great Ouse and The Wash are renovated and re-painted (see previous photographs here and here). However, nothing prepared me for the brilliance of the colour I encountered. Perhaps it was the deep blue of the sky, itself accentuated by the soft, white clouds, that gave the yellows and reds of the buoys their extra "punch". Or maybe it was the newly painted examples sitting on the boat, ready to be taken to their turbulent moorings. The fresh green and the battered green added to the effect, giving me the opportunity to take a photograph that was as much about the colour as it was about the subjects depicted.

Over the years I've often found myself, toward the end of a cold, dark winter, craving the colour that a sun higher in the sky, and the season of spring itself, promises. My bee-line to the first flowers in the garden usually beats the real bees, and the flowers that my wife buys to arrange in our vases during this period are also a draw. This year, in mid-February, I found myself manufacturing the effect of sun shining through the petals of a flower. I even stole the title and sentiments of George Harrison's "Here Comes The Sun" as a hook for the "reflection" as well as for the title of the post. However, in mid-August, after a summer that has had as much, and possibly more, sun as the average English summer, what excuse can I profer for gleefully photographing some brightly painted buoys. I can only plead a surfeit of rural vegetative greens and browns. It's true that Lincolnshire's landscape is punctuated by roofs of orange pantiles, and the over-arching sky is often of the deepest blue, but my photographic diet in recent weeks (quick trips to bustling Lincoln and the glitz of Skegness notwithstanding) has been pretty much one featuring rural "earth colours". So, like a schoolboy whose sweets have been confiscated, I was craving the sugar of primary colours, and I took the opportunity to get my fill in King's Lynn.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 11mm (22mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/1250
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The bridge chapel, St Ives

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Today's photograph shows the old bridge over the River Great Ouse at St Ives, Huntingdonshire*. It is one of only four bridges in England that still have their complete medieval chapels (the others are at Rotherham, Wakefield and Bradford-on-Avon). This crossing was built in the 1420s, replacing a wooden bridge that dated from around 1100, which itself superseded the shallow ford on the gravel river bed - the original method of getting from one bank to the other. Traffic used the single lane of this ancient bridge until 1980 when a new crossing was built on the town by-pass road further downstream.

Bridges have long had religious associations. In Britain many Bronze and Iron Age artefacts have been found deliberately placed in rivers next to fragments of wooden structures that may well have been bridges. The remains of a Roman bridge has altars dedicated to Neptune and Oceanus nearby. In the medieval period chapels were often built at one end of a bridge, or actually on the bridge. This continued the old association, but was also because the church frequently funded the construction of a crossing and then collected a toll to pay for its upkeep. Travellers would receive a blessing from a priest at the chapel after they made their payment. A few bridge chapels (such as that at Wakefield) were chantries, funded by a private individual, where mass was said daily for the salvation of their souls. During its lifetime the chapel at St Ives also saw use as a private residence, an inn and a doctor's surgery (though never a prison, the fate of some bridge chapels).

St Ives' bridge is unusual in having two newer, rounded arches to the left (as we look at it), and original fifteenth century pointed arches to the right. This came about because in 1645, during the Civil War, Cromwell's Republican army pulled down two arches and replaced them with a drawbridge in case of Royalist attack. The arches were rebuilt in 1716 to a design that reflected the fashion and constructional theories of the time. I visited this location on a late September morning of bright sunshine, and couldn't resist using the mute swans as foreground interest, despite the difficulty that their bright, white plumage presented in terms of metering the scene.

* For a number of reasons I tend to use the historic county names and boundaries that preceded the local government reorganisation of 1974. Consequently I assign St Ives to Huntingdonshire rather than Cambridgeshire in which it now resides for administrative purposes. For more information on this see the Association of British Counties.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 14mm (28mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/1000
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -1.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On