Photographing trees

click photo to enlarge
I like trees and I've taken a lot of photographs of them over the years. However, only a relatively small number of my many tree photographs have made it to the blog because making an interesting shot of a tree, where it is the main subject, is a difficult task.I've done multiple single trees, groups, parts of trees (leaves, roots, bark and more bark), seasonal trees, silhouetted trees, semi-abstract trees and reflected trees to name just some of the angles I've come at this subject.

One approach I do favour, however, is a shot of trees where order is imposed on the randomness of these natural forms. Today's main photograph has order that was decided by whoever planted this row by the River Slea in Lincolnshire. However, I've emphasised this externally imposed order by shooting at this particular angle and by choosing to include the reflections in the water.

My second, smaller, photograph was taken where this row disappears into the distance in the top photograph, and where saplings by the water's edge accompany the main row further back. In this composition I imposed order by using the junction of the river bank and water as a diagonal line dividing the composition into two roughly equal-sized parts. The top half  shows the trees, an old fence and the bank; the bottom half the reflection in the river. Here the colours, reflections and that slightly curving line assume an importance that is greater than if I'd included more of the trees and some sky in the scene.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 18mm (27mm - 35mm equiv.) - cropped to 4:3 ratio
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/100 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The camera and the eye

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Something that I like about photography is that the camera often sees what the eye doesn't, and sometimes it sees what the eye can't. Take this photograph. Had I been walking by the River Slea in Sleaford without my camera, and with my mind on anything but photography, I wouldn't have noticed this semi-abstract composition. I wouldn't have seen the line of three posts in the water supporting the boarding that stabilises the river bank. Nor would I have seen the way they make a lower left to upper right diagonal across which the branches of a nearby tree makes wavy diagonals at right angles to them. More than that, without a camera I wouldn't have seen the extent to which the shifting surface of the water was making a scribble of lines out of those branches. I know the latter to be the case because my eye noticed a lot less movement than was recorded by the camera, and before I pressed the shutter I wondered if the composition would have enough interest.

It is said that the camera never lies, but, as I've said elsewhere in this blog, it's truer to say that the camera always lies, in one way or another. Sometimes the lies matter little, as when the perspective is altered by the focal length or the dynamic range is less than our eye can see. At other times it matters more, for example when colours are noticeably shifted, or what appears sharp to the eye is blurred, or a scene that looks deserted is only empty of people because you waited for a rare moment when no one was in the field of view. In fact, the camera induced effects that impinge on some photographs can make a shot what it is and sometimes it's worth deliberately trying to generate them: or at least be welcoming of them when they unexpectedly appear. Here are a few examples -silhouettes of ducks under an overhanging tree, the sun deliberately included in the frame, a sepia effect resulting from contre jour lighting and laser pen light and distorted colour (that radiator is white!) from a long exposure.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 27.9mm (75mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f4
Shutter Speed: 1/80 sec
ISO:400
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Yellow-tinged January light

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The light from the low winter sun has to travel obliquely through more of the earth's atmosphere than does the light from the higher sun of spring, summer and autumn. Consequently it is tinged with colour for the same reason that light from the rising or setting sun is coloured. In the second half of December and the first half of January the light of the middle of the day in Britain has a decided yellow cast. This colouration slowly retreats towards the beginning and end of the day as spring approaches. So, even if the appearance of the landscape doesn't betray the month the quality of the light in a photograph often shows that it was taken during that time of year when the hours of daylight are at their shortest.

We had a walk by the River Slea near South Kyme a few days ago. Here the slow flowing river meanders through flat farmland and small woods, past villages and their churches, and offers the photographer the element of water to add to the ever-present earth and sky. We've done that walk in winter a few times in recent years and I've photographed the medieval tower and church in their riverside locations before. On our recent walk I took a shot from a position where I remembered taking one previously. This time it was not only the yellow-tinged light that attracted my eye but also the dark clouds behind the sunlit river, fields and church. For the same reason I took a photograph of the nearby manor house, a building that has been added to over the centuries and is built of both stone and brick. Surrounded by its trees it makes the third of three very English buildings - a fortified tower/house, a small church fabricated from the aisle of a larger priory demolished during the Dissolution, and the manor house of the local worthy, a land and property owner who wielded power and influence in the locality. Today all the buildings are less than they were in terms of their position in their communities. The church has been in decline for a couple of hundred years, Kyme Tower fell out of use centuries ago, and manor houses and manorial rights are often not in the hands of the original family, where they exist at all.

Many enthusiast photographers reduce their picture taking in winter. Partly it's the inclement, cold, wet and windy weather that keeps them indoors. Others seem to prefer the photographic feel and appearance of the other three seasons. Then there are those who don't like the reduced light. I'm not one of those people. I've said elsewhere in this blog that I can't envisage living anywhere that doesn't have clearly differentiated seasons. Perhaps it's simply what I'm used to and I would get used used to permanent summer. However, the differences that seasons offer me as a person and a photographer are something that I would surely miss and would, perhaps, pleasantly surprise those who use their camera where the sun always shines.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 17.4mm (47mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/640 sec
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Photography and serendipity

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The word "serendipity" was coined in 1754 by the English writer and historian, Horace Walpole (1717-1797) from a "silly fairy tale" that he had read called The Three Princes of Serendip (Serendip was a former name for Sri Lanka). It means, "the faculty of making happy and unexpected discoveries by accident" (OED), though over the years it has come to have a second, linked meaning of - "good fortune, good luck or happy chance or circumstance".

Since Walpole invented the word it has been used widely and has spread across the world, even crossing into other languages. Moreover, people have come to recognize it as an uncontrollable attribute akin to fate or luck, though its positive qualities endear it to people more than those fickle powers. In most walks of life - business, science, technology, medicine, the arts etc. - serendipity is recognized as that unforseen but fortunate happening that can be seized and used. I find that in photography it can play a significant role.

Take today's image. I was standing on the bank of the River Slea at Sleaford composing this photograph. To the right I placed the short section of fence - a bit of foreground interest among the nearby nettles and grass. I moved slightly so that the reflected trees fell to the left and right of the upright post in the water. Then, surveying the scene through the viewfinder I wished for a little more interest on the left of the composition. At that moment the inverted reflection of two walkers came into view, so I waited for them to reach the patch of blue sky above the reflected bank in the top corner then pressed the shutter button. Serendipity had struck again!

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 45mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/100
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The fascination of weirs

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Over the years I must have spent many happy hours staring at river water as it pours over a weir. Being raised in the the Yorkshire Dales near the fast-flowing River Ribble exposed me to a number, and I remember, as a child, being fascinated by the way water passed over them, changing from a slowly moving, smooth sheen to an organised, falling turbulence which finally became a turmoil of frothing foam. Like most people, when I see one today, I still stop and look at it.

The weir in today's photograph is small compared with those at, say, Settle or Langcliffe on the upper Ribble. However, size isn't a crucial factor in enjoying a weir, and a diminutive example has the advantage of concentrating your attention on a smaller, ever-changing area. This one is on the River Slea in Sleaford, Lincolnshire, near Cogglesford Mill. The old water-mill is at a point where a navigable part of the river falls into the natural, meandering water-course, and has structures around it - walls, bars, grilles etc - that are no longer used. What caught my eye here was the complementary contrast of the reflected yellow leaves of the overhanging tree with the blue of the sky. I consciously composed the shot with three distinct horizontal bands. However, it wasn't until I got home and had the image in front of me on the computer that I saw the solid, dark lines - one large, and the other smaller - across the bottom of the top of the three sections. What caused them? Then I remebered that there was a bar, wooden I think, fixed across the watercourse a foot or two above the lip of the weir, and the lines are its reflections.

Incidentally, the water above the weir was smooth and quite reflective, but the passage of a few ducks had caused the turbulence that broke up the tree's reflection a few seconds before I took the photograph. For another of my weir images see here.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 154mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/160
ISO: 1250
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Walking by the River Slea

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A twelfth century document notes that a record dating from 852AD refers to the Lincolnshire town of Sleaford as Sliowaforda. This is the earliest known reference to the settlement. Over the centuries the spelling of the town's name varied considerably - Eslaford (1086) and Sleforde (c.1170) are two examples - but generally bore some correlation to either that first name, or the name we use today. The first element of Sleaford's name comes from Sliowa, an Old English river name that means "muddy waters", or "water with slimy vegetation." So, the full name of the town means the ford over the river called the Sliowa (Slea). Evidently the town was at a good crossing point, a common reason for the siting of a settlement.

Today's photograph shows the River Slea flowing through the countryside a few miles east of Sleaford, near the village of South Kyme. Nothing about the river on the day of our walk suggested that it was well-named! The water was clear and the patches of vegetation on the river bed were visible, aligning themselves with the flow, though I didn't ascertain whether or not they were slimy! As I headed back to the car Kyme Tower, St Mary & All Saints church, and a tractor harrowing a river-side field came into view. The serpentine leading line of the river, these three points of interest across the scene, and the increasing cloud mass suggested a landscape shot, and here it is. Take out the tractor and the telegraph poles and it is a fairly timeless scene of the sort that features in English landscape painting by the likes of John Constable.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 67mm (134mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On