Smithies and forges

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Today's photograph is posted in response to an email I have received from "down under", Australia to be more specific. It was from someone doing family history research. One of her ancestors lived in the parish of Aswarby and in her researches she'd come across my photographs of the church, the local landscape and in particular, the old smithy. In 2008 I posted a sepia coloured photograph of this building and wrote something of its history. She wondered whether I had a colour photograph of the building. As luck would have it her email came shortly after we'd had a walk in the area and I'd taken another photograph of the building. Here it is.

I wouldn't have posted this photograph had it not been for the email and, more particularly, the fact that it reminded me of another smithy I'd photographed last year. The former forge/smithy and bakehouse at Tinwell, Rutland is altogether grander and more ornate than the example at Aswarby. It too is a consciously picturesque building in an"estate village", the product of a rich and paternalistic landowner. But, whereas Aswarby's smithy is on a track off the main road in a small, somewhat scattered settlement, the one in Tinwell is in the centre of a larger village near the church, and this probably influenced its scale and decorative qualities. Aswarby has a datestone showing 1846, the year of its construction. Tinwell was built only two years later in 1848. Is it down to fashion that both have horseshoes carved on their facades to indicate their purpose? Tinwell's is massive enclosing a door. Was this a shoeing bay? If so it's certainly a grander entrance than the double doors on the left at Aswarby. The funds available at Tinwell, and the vision of the landowner and his architect also allowed for the incorporation of a water supply under the arch in the wall at the centre of the composition. Today Tinwell's smithy/forge is a post office.

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Main Photo
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 28mm
F No: f4
Shutter Speed: 1/100
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Photographing stained glass windows

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The very best photographs of church stained glass come about when the exposure is carefully planned. What is it most important to get right? Well, you have to ensure that the camera is steady using a tripod if necessary, that colour balance is accurate and that your exposure (or stacked multiple exposures) capture the full range of tones from the lightest to the darkest. But in general it's not camera settings that are the most critical factor - any reasonably competent photographer can bracket a few shots and get a decent exposure. No, what usually separates the satisfactory shot from the first class one is the quality of light and the background of the window outside the church. I always find that a shot taken on an overcast but bright day produces the greatest fidelity. Sun and gloom are both difficult to work with, the former being slightly harder than the latter. And, the presence of trees, nearby houses or a part of the church itself as the backdrop to the window is usually intrusive because of the way these elements selectively change the colour and brightness of the glass.

However, if your aim is to take an interesting photograph (as opposed to an accurate one), or if outside conditions cannot be changed, it's perfectly possible to work with the restrictions I note above and achieve an acceptable image. Today's pair of photographs do, I hope, illustrate this. The first shows the triple east windows of Essendine church in Rutand and were taken early on a day in February when the morning sun was streaming through the brightly coloured glass.The reversed image that each window has projected onto the nearby wall is not the sort of effect that you'd want to have in a good stained glass window photograph, but it does make for an interesting shot, the indistinct quality making a nice contrast with the sharpness of the actual glass and lead. The second image was marred by the projecting building behind the leftmost figure - you can see some above and to the left of the head, and this had to be compensated for in post processing. It resulted in the colour of the white draperies of this figure being a different colour from the others; something that I didn't quite manage to correct. Moreover, a single exposure could not capture all the tones and colours because the left side of the window was so much darker than the right. Notice, for example, that some of the small red, blue and green pieces of glass in the border that frames each figure are recorded as black. Despite these shortcomings I think the shot has enough to offer in the form that I present it - though its more subtle colours do look dull by my juxtaposing them with the brighter hues of the more modern glass above!

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Main Photo
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 24mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/20
ISO: 500
Exposure Compensation: -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Box hedges and cottage gardens

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The English cottage garden is a thing of beauty. It features a large variety of traditional flowers planted in beds and borders, against walls and next to fences and hedges: varieties such as hollyhocks, delphinium, rudbeckia, geranium, dianthus, euphorbia, yarrow and rambling roses. Tall species at the back of the border peep over lower plants at the front. Paths of brick, stone, gravel and grass meander through the garden, past the lawns, greenhouse, cold-frames and vegetable plot. Apple and plum trees, together with gooseberry and blackcurrant bushes provide the fruit for pies, bottling and jam. The appearance of this kind of garden is one of control being imposed on gentle disorder.

However, there is a regular addition to the cottage garden that sometimes seems at odds with the overall feel of this kind of planting, and that is the formal box hedge. It has its origins, I suppose, in the disciplined parterres and symmetry of the formal gardens of the sixteenth century, but how and why it found its way into the cottage garden is a mystery to me. Its straight, closely clipped lines and sharp shadows contrast strongly with the riotous drifts of pastel flowers and the anarchic growth of climbing roses. Perhaps that is the point of it in this context - to lend a little formality to the pleasing patchwork and to demonstrate that the gardener can and does exercise control, even though, in some areas it may not look like it!

Today's photograph was taken at Barnsdale Gardens in Rutland, and features in their cottage garden, one of thirty seven small garden layouts that inspire the many visitors who go there each year.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f4
Shutter Speed: 1/640
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Morning light at Stockerston

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The Leicestershire village of Stockerston is no more than a few houses clustered around the junction of a road and a lane, with, a little higher up the hillside, a medieval church and a large house, Stockerston Hall.

My first visit to the village was made last year to see the church of St Peter, the tower of which can be glimpsed through the trees in the top centre of today's photograph. This building is noted for its stained glass of the 1400s and for a selection of good memorials. However, the photograph that I posted from that earlier visit wasn't of anything architecturally significant or historically interesting: rather, it was the morning light slanting down through the old church windows. And, as I post my second image from Stockerston it is, once again, the morning light that is the main feature of the shot.

This view was taken from King's Hill, on the other side of the Eye Brook valley, in Rutland. The small stream that flows into the Eyebrook Reservoir marks the county boundary in this area, so here I was photographing Leicestershire from Rutland. On this October morning the air seemed thick, and the hillside, buildings and autumnal trees were suffused with a faint pink tinge. But, since it wasn't strong enough to affect the nearer grass and trees, the resulting image has a feeling of depth and distance that I find pleasing.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 73mm (146mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/100
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

A cricket pavilion and a puzzle

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A cricket pavilion in a village or small town often has to fulfill a number of purposes. It is a meeting place for a team and its supporters; a vantage point (often raised) from which to sit and watch the game; a place in which to change into cricket "whites"; somewhere that refreshments can be prepared and served; and often it includes a scoreboard or box in which the progress of the match is recorded, and a clock.

But, whilst the functional aspects are clearly most important attributes of this type of building, cricket pavilions are often designed with aesthetic considerations in mind too. Often they are symmetrical, with centrally placed steps out of which the players issue. Gable ends and decorative barge boards frequently feature in their make-up. So too do clock turrets, bay windows (for a good view) and balustrades. In fact, they sometimes seem to combine the details of a bungalow and a miniature town hall! And then there are the thatched pavilions! Thatch pretty much died out as a first-choice roofing material in the seventeenth century when clay tiles began to be more widely available and affordable. So one wonders why it re-appeared in the early twentieth century on quite a few houses, barns and, yes, cricket pavilions. The answer lies in the Arts and Crafts Movement which sought to revive traditional techniques and materials, but use them in a modern way.

This pavilion at Uppingham, Rutland, even though it was built as late as 1923, shows the influence of Arts and Crafts ideas in the plain white walls, the simple, vertical, closely spaced windows, the half-height glazing to each side of the entrance door, and in that thatched roof with its thatched bell-tower. There are two further interesting aspects to this pavilion. Firstly, most such buildings have a front facing the field of play - as this one does. They also have a definite "back" that is utilitarian in character because it is often close to the field boundary. The location of Uppinham's pavilion, at a corner where two roads meet has led to the architect giving it a second front at the back - the one in my photograph. The second aspect that puzzles me is this. Why, when so much effort has gone into making the facade (and its landscaping) symmetrical, is its perfection broken by the single small window on the left?

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f4
Shutter Speed: 1/640
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -0.66 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The Welland Viaduct

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The Welland Viaduct (also known as the Harringworth Viaduct and the Seaton Viaduct) is a railway viaduct that crosses the valley of the River Welland. In so doing its brick arches straddle the border of the counties of Northamptonshire and Rutland. It was built between 1876 and 1878, is three-quarters of a mile long, has 82 arches each of which is 40 feet wide (with an average height of 57 feet) and required 20 million bricks, 20,000 cubic yards of concrete and 19,000 cubic yards of stone for its construction.

As was often the case on large engineering projects in the Victorian period, workmen ("navvies") came to the site with their families to secure employment. Here they were housed in two temporary settlements. A curate built a mission hut in one of the camps to serve the religious needs of the 400 migrants! The bricks were made nearby with local clay, those who dug it earning £2 a week. Bricklayers were paid £2 10s weekly, foremen £3.00, labourers £1 5s, and mechanics £1 16s. All could earn overtime pay for working into the night. Part of the labour force comprised 120 horses used for pulling waggons.

The viaduct is the longest such structure in Britain and its unique size and form has resulted in it being designated a Grade II listed structure. For a number of years after the 1960s trains used the viaduct only infrequently. However, a regular service now runs across it (as you can see from my second photograph). I took my images during a bicycle ride that included visits to a number of churches, villages and this monument to the vision of our Victorian forbears. Incidentally, I was really pleased to be able to incorporate the very co-operative horse in my first image: it gave a welcome touch of scale to a subject that is very difficult to photograph.

photographs & text (c) T. Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f4.5
Shutter Speed: 1/1000
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation: -0.66 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Photo 2
Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 110mm (220mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Autumn landscapes

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A few days spent walking, cycling and driving in the area of England where Leicestershire, Rutland and Northamptonshire bump up against each other have given me an opportunity to reflect on the relative merits of each form of travel as a means of securing photographs. It confirmed my instinctive preference for walking with a camera because its slow pace gives more opportunities to see and compose images. More than that, however, if your walking isn't in a known photogenic location, then it presents you with more "ordinary" subjects which you can try to turn into extraordinary images. Furthermore, it places shots before you that are unlikely to have been taken by anyone else - a consideration in our modern world where the yearly output of digital photographs probably outnumbers the grains of sand in a Saharan erg!

Cycling is, for me, the second best way of going about photography. When you're on two wheels you tend to choose the less frequented highways and byeways, places where it's easy to stop and snap, that pass through more interesting areas, and that haven't succumbed to the sanitising effect of the traffic engineer. However, even the speed at which you travel by bicycle means you miss a lot. Photography by car comes last, in my estimation because, by and large, when car-borne we gravitate towards the more obvious locations, or are forced to disembark where we can park, and consequently end up taking the more obvious shots. And, we tend to look less searchingly once there because if we don't find anything of interest it's so easy to move on to the next place. That's not to say, of course that good photographs can't be harvested using each of these modes of travel.

During my few days away I took photographs on a day-long walk, a day-long cycle ride and a couple of drives. The first of the two images in today's post was gathered near the start of our walk from the Leicestershire village of Hallaton, looking back at our departure point in the morning sunlight. It is an image that for many people will represent the quintessential English village, with church spire dominating, roofs of slate, tile, thatch and stone clustered around, trees changing colour as autumn progresses, and green fields beyond the settlement's edge. This particular shot can only be taken if you stretch your legs. The second was taken on the cycle ride (which also started at Hallaton), and was snapped after I'd screeched to a halt on a downhill section of lane, next to a gateway in a hedge. This scene of the Rutland village of Lyddington, when compared with the first shot, is "the same but different": a more distant prospect of a more wooded location. It was the autumn tints in the trees that prompted me to "slam on the hammers" and take this photograph.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Photo1 (Photo 2)
Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 137mm (274mm/35mm equiv.):(70mm (140mm/35mm equiv.))
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/200 (1/320)
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV (-0.3 EV)
Image Stabilisation: On

Stoke Dry, Rutland

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The village of Stoke Dry, on its hillside site overlooking the Eyebrook Reservoir, must be one of the smallest villages in Rutland, England's smallest county. In 2007 it had a population of 39 living in the 14 dwellings that comprise the settlement. My introduction to the village was as I cycled round the edge of the reservoir and saw its narrow church tower piercing the horizon amongst the surrounding rooftops and trees. I was heading for what Pevsner calls "a most lovable church" to see its curious Norman carvings and its C13 and C14 wall paintings. However, I was to find much more to enjoy in this outwardly unprepossessing building. But more of that in subsequent posts.

Today I want to promote the virtues of long focal lengths for landscape photography. The conventional wisdom has it that wider lenses are most suited to this task. My view is that landscape itself dictates the choice of lens, and even a focal length of 300mm or 400mm (35mm equivalent) can deliver the goods in the right circumstances. When I look through my collection of landscapes I find that I've used the entire range that my lens cover i.e. 11mm to 150mm (22mm to 300mm 35mm equivalent). Yes, there's a bias to the wider end, but the longer focal lengths have been heavily employed too. Today's photograph is a case in point. It was taken using the 40-150mm zoom (80 to 300mm 35mm equivalent), set at 132mm (264mm 35mm equivalent). I used it because it was the best (in fact only) way to show the village in its hillside setting amongst trees and small, irregular fields. I've cropped part of the narrow end of the reservoir from the bottom of the image to concentrate the viewer's attention on my main subject. It's a shot that only a longer lens could produce.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 132mm (264mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f76.3
Shutter Speed: 1/400 seconds
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Access and freedom

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As a teenage birdwatcher I used to travel to a reservoir deep in the hills to view ducks and other waterbirds. However, in the late 1960s and early 1970s the reservoirs of England were pretty much no go areas, and I had to view from a public road or a footpath. Signs around the fenced off reservoir said "Keep Out!" backed by threats of heavy fines. Other notices reminded me that it was my drinking water and needed to be kept pure! What did they think I had in mind? The surrounding forest was also out of bounds to the public (the danger of fire seemed to be the justification) despite, like the reservoir, being publicly owned.

Today reservoir managers positively encourage visitors, and provide facilities for their enjoyment. I used part of the cycle track around Rutland Water (above), and very pleasant it was too. Forests now have waymarked paths and mountain bike trails. In both kinds of locations wildlife (and wildlife watching) is positively encouraged, with hides and visitor centres This is a far cry from the restrictive days of forty years ago and a very welcome improvement.

However, a recent development in towns and cities runs contrary to this liberalising trend. So-called "malls without walls" - large shopping centres built by private companies - are being erected that include privately owned streets. These are thoroughfares that are privately policed, and that can exclude "undesirables". Liverpool One, a development of 42.5 acres with 35 streets in the middle of Liverpool is the latest such scheme. It follows others in places like London, Sheffield and Hove. I think such projects need to be carefully monitored. Any limitation of our right to move freely through our cities by private companies curtails our freedom. Will photographers, for example, face the restrictions in these streets that are commonly placed on them in covered shopping malls. For further information see this article in The Guardian newspaper.

My photograph was taken at the edge of Rutland Water where anglers' boats for hire are moored. When I looked at the boats on a different photograph I took I noticed the highest numbered vessel was 61. Poor fish, I thought, if they were all to to set sail at once!

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 11mm (22mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/500
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: Off

Brightening the way

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The English village churchyard has always been a place of utility. All began life as a graveyard, a place where parishioners were laid to rest, originally in unmarked graves. However, from the seventeenth century onwards tombstones of varying degrees of expense and ornament became much more widely used. As the population outgrew the space available for burial new graveyards were made, often at some distance from the church. Today it is relatively unusual to find burials still being made in the original churchyard. Churchyards were also places where the English longbowman, that scourge of the French knights at Crecy and Agincourt, practiced their art. Yew trees growing amongst the tombs sometimes provided the wood for their weapon. Local politics and education was often carried out in the churchyard and its surrounds, and boards and doors bore official notices and declarations.

In the past forty or so years churchyards have seen many changes. "Dangerous" monuments have been taken down. In some places the oldest and most ornate tombstones have been lined up around perimeter walls leaving an expanse of green that is easy to mow and keep "tidy". More enlightened parishes realised the environmental value of the churchyard, and left some wild areas, put up bird and bat nest boxes, and encouraged wild plants, increasing the biodiversity. And many have created attractive garden areas, with colour through all the seasons, a joy to the eye, and an attractive counterpoint to the ancient stonework of church and grave.

Today's photograph illustrates one of the latter examples, and shows the path to the south door at St Mary, Manton, in Rutland. Both sides of this lovely cobbled way are planted with a variety of flowering perennials that brighten your passage and seem to beckon you into this marvellous old building that dates from the twelfth to the fifteenth century.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 20mm (40mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/20
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On