Church memorials and spelling

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"Lexicographer: a writer of dictionaries; a harmless drudge that busies himself in tracing the original and detailing the signification of words", definition from "A Dictionary of the English Language" (1755) by Samuel Johnson (1709-1784), English writer, poet, editor and lexicographer

English church memorials of the late sixteenth and the seventeenth centuries are very distinctive. They typically feature a debased classical style with the elements handled rather clumsily, large and small scale figure sculpture, heraldic devices, a descriptive text and striking paintwork.

Today's photograph shows all of these things. It can be found in the church of St Nicholas in King's Lynn, Norfolk and is one of several excellent examples of the type adorning its walls. The memorial commemorates Thomas Snelling who died in 1623. He is shown devoutly kneeling before a bible opposite his wife. Below are smaller representations of his children - a very common feature of such memorials. Corinthian columns frame the main figures, a broken segmental pediment tops the piece and at the bottom is a winged cherub's head and classical scrolls. An interesting feature is the crowned, winged skull in the top panel, presumably a reminder of the inevitable triumph of death. However, on this particular memorial it was the dedicatory panel that interested me. At the time I took the shot I'd recently been reading about the genesis of Samuel Johnson's "A Dictionary of the English Language" (1755), and the wayward spelling of the text on this piece clearly signals the need that his work was designed, in part, to address.

The second photograph is a detail from the first that shows the panel enlarged. It makes an interesting read, not only for the way it eulogises and describes the deceased (it is much less effusive than usual), also for the verse that constitutes the bottom half, but especially for that whimsical spelling and the fact that the punctuation comprises a single colon (used to abbreviate Matthew to Matt:) and one full stop. For anyone unused to reading such things it may help to know that J and Y being substituted with I, V instead of U, abbreviations such as YE (THE), W with smaller TH meaning WITH, W with smaller CH meaning WHICH, and the shortened form of ANNO DOMINI were common on such memorials and elsewhere, serving to reduce the amount of text and often to make  the line of writing fit in the allotted space.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 65mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/60
ISO: 800
Exposure Compensation:  -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On 

Visiting London

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"No Sir, when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford."
Samuel Johnson (1709-84), English poet, critic, writer and lexicographer

I visit London about twice a year, a frequency that I find is sufficient to give me a familiarity with the city, but is not so often that I tire of it. Over the years I have sometimes identified a particular location or event to take in during my stay. However, just as often, I have been happy to simply wander and look at what is to be seen. Perhaps if I wasn't interested in photography that wouldn't be enough, though I suspect that even if I didn't have a camera to occupy me I would still find the kaleidoscope that is our capital city a visual feast capable of engrossing me for days on end.


The infrequent visitor or tourist usually has a different picture of the city, one that consists of the famous "sights and sites" that everyone knows through print and film. The other day, when walking down the dark and narrow Shad Thames, I paused outside a shop selling tourist postcards, maps, guides and souvenirs, and took this photograph. I did so to get a literal and metaphorical snapshot of the icons that today say "London". Here they are in no particular order: the red "Routemaster" double-decker bus, Houses of Parliament, Tower Bridge, Queen Elizabeth, Princess Diana (for how much longer?), Princes William and Harry, the Union flag, St Paul's Cathedral, the London Underground sign, red letter-box, red telephone kiosk, the Tower of London, a Beefeater, guardsmen in ceremonial uniform, the London Eye, a black cab/taxi, and (unaccountably) a plate of fried bacon, eggs, sausage and tomatoes.

Along with millions of other visitors to London I've pointed my camera at some of these things. But on my recent visit we decided to depart from the much-trafficed centre, and headed for the old (and new) streets of Bermondsey. And very interesting it was too. I've said before that London isn't a place where I would want to live for a long time - I prefer smaller settlements and the countryside. So, to that extent I can't agree with Samuel Johnson. But, for three years or so, I would find it a fascinating location to explore in depth, and a place of great photographic potential.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 32mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/30
ISO: 1000
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

High windows

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"Rather than words comes the thought of high windows;

The sun- comprehending glass,

And beyond it, the deep blue air, that shows

Nothing, and is nowhere, and is endless."

Philip Larkin (1922-1985), English poet, novelist, jazz critic and librarian

As I looked at my photograph of No 1 London Bridge, a monolithic office block pierced by large apertures, Larkin's final words from the title poem of his 1974 collection, "High Windows", came to mind. This powerful, characteristically dour work is, after "The Whitsun Weddings", Larkin's best known poem. It starts with a viscerally shocking observation that appalled many at the time, leads into a reflection on religion and life, and ends with the feeling that death is perhaps a welcome release from temporal concerns. I remember reading at the time of its publication that the poem was inspired by the ranks of faceless high windows he saw when he visited the Royal Infirmary at Hull, the city in which he lived and worked.

Samuel Johnson (1709-1784) is reported by his biographer, Boswell, to have said, "Depend upon it, sir, when a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully." Many people find that a visit to a hospital has a similar effect. Poets are no exception to this feeling, and use the thoughts such a visit provokes about their own mortality very effectively in their verse. One of the well-known poems of John Betjeman (1906-1984), "Before the Anaesthetic or A Real Fright", was inspired by a stay in the Radcliffe Infirmary, Oxford. It dwells on themes similar to those found in Larkin's poem, but revolves around the anguish of the poet's belief in Christianity.

The image above, one of several I have taken of this building, is cropped square, and is essentially symmetrical. I liked the overlapping reflections, the contrast of light and shade, the angularity, and the clouds glimpsed through the hole in the structure. When I looked up to take the shot I had no thoughts about life, death or religion. However, in a photograph of this building posted a while ago I did say it reminded me of a deeply boring Channel 4 (UK) station ident!

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 40mm (80mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/200
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On