The solar floodlight

click photo to enlarge
The five-day weather forecast for my part of the world, for the past few days, has been cloud, cloud and more cloud. And, every day thus far, we have experienced several sunny spells each day that have broken through the cloud cover. I'm considering becoming a weather forecaster - I would be just as good at getting the forecast wrong as the current crop of people.

Sun broke through again very briefly on an early morning visit to Boston, Lincolnshire, and prompted this photograph. When I was starting out in photography many decades ago I had a handy little Kodak booklet of hints and tips for taking better photographs. One suggestion was that the photographer should not take shots with the sun behind them. If the photograph included people it would cause them to squint at the camera, and the floodlight effect of the sun at this position would make the subject appear flat because of the absence of shadows to model it. This isn't bad advice, but like all such rules they are made to be broken knowingly.

What prompted this shot was the yellow tint that the low light gave to the subject of the church of St Botolph. The other was the way the sliver of deep shadow of the buttresses made it look like a flash gun was throwing a shadow onto the background of clouds. And the other was that this is a different kind of record shot of a subject I've photographed many times before. Incidentally, I wouldn't choose to shoot this subject with the lens open at f1.8 but I could see the shadow of the clouds slipping across the market place and I simply didn't have time to change the setting.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: Morning, St Botolph, Boston, Lincolnshire
Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 10.4mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f1.8
Shutter Speed: 1/2000
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation:  -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Boston under leaden skies

click photo to enlarge
A recent walk around Boston, Lincolnshire with my camera coincided with leaden skies and drizzle. But, as someone who believes that there is no such thing as bad weather for photography, we persevered. Today's photograph was taken from the bridge by the Grand Sluice, the point at which the tidal waters of the River Witham are prevented from extending inland. The key feature of the shot is the tall tower of St Botolph piercing the sky and reflecting in the water as it has done for the past several hundred years

This medieval structure - the tallest parish church tower in the country that isn't a spire - looms over the centre of Boston much as it always must have done. No other buildings in the town can compete with its height except for the tall slab that is the Pilgrim Hospital, and that is sufficiently far away that the two can only be seen together from a great distance. It is a a great shame that more of our country's big medieval churches don't enjoy the physical prominence that they once did and that often they are dwarfed by towers of varying quality that have been erected with little thought for their venerable neighbours.

The dark sky and low light levels gave my photograph a quite monochrome appearance, with even the green of the grass, that had been spurred on by recent sun and warmth, not managing to pierce the drabness of the day. It also obscured the details along the river banks that allow the photograph to be dated, and were it not for the "bowstring" bridge in the centre distance, the shot could conceivably been taken any year in the last one hundred and fifty.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: St Botolph and the River Witham seen from the Grand Sluice Bridge, Boston
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 14mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/640 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

A new camera system

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I've had several emails recently from sharp-eyed readers who have noticed that many of my recent photographs have been taken with an Olympus OMD E-M10. The fact is, I've sold most of my Canon "full-frame" equipment and invested some of the returns in Micro Four Thirds (MFT). I enjoyed the Canon camera and lenses but I never really came to terms with their weight. Had I been younger it might have been different. But, as someone who shot with an Olympus OM1 for about thirty years, and then eventually settled on Four Thirds cameras and lenses, it was perhaps inevitable that I would succumb and seek out something smaller.

I was very unhappy when Olympus pulled the plug on Four Thirds - everything about that system appealed to me. And, having been left high and dry with only vague promises about future compatibility of old Four Thirds lenses with future Micro Four Thirds cameras, I went to a different manufacturer for my gear. But, now I've taken the plunge, albeit in a smallish way with an OMD model at the end of its product cycle and therefore quite good value. I'll buy another, higher end, body in the fullness of time, one with both phase and contrast detect sensors that will fully utilise my Four Thirds lenses. But, for now, I'm happy enough with the E-M10 body and a selection of MFT lenses, though I must make some adjustments to make it choose lower shutter speeds. I'm also using a third party adapter with my Four Thirds 35mm macro lens, something that works quite well. The Sony RX100 will continue as the camera I always carry when photography isn't uppermost in my mind. That just leaves the question of my Nikon D5300 and the 14-150 lens. Will that still have a place in my armoury, or is that on its way out too? Time will tell.

Today's photograph is a shot taken with the E-M10 and the 9-18mm (18mm-36mm in 35mm terms) wide angle zoom, a lens I am particularly enjoying. It shows the interior of the medieval church of St Botolph in Boston, Lincolnshire. The fine Victorian font is by Pugin - not the famous A.W.N. but his gifted, prolific, though less well-known son, E.W.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 16mm (32mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.4
Shutter Speed: 1/80 sec
ISO:1250
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Love locks

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The first I heard of "love locks" was when I read a newspaper report in 2010 that told of the Parisian authorities' request that people stop fixing locks to certain bridges over the River Seine. Such was the number and weight of these locks that there was a concern about safety and the effect on the city's architectural heritage. However, I read that the phenomenon dates back to the era of the First World War when "love padlocks" were fastened to a bridge in Serbia.

I spotted padlocks on the new St Botolph's Footbridge in Boston, Lincolnshire, several weeks ago. On a recent visit to the town I saw them again, not greatly increased in number, but noticeable nonetheless. They are there in all shapes, sizes and colours, some with messages written on in marker pen. I have mixed feelings about them. One part of me sympathises with the view of the authorities in Paris; they do detract from the architecture and heritage (or will do if they approach the numbers experienced by that city's bridges). But I also like the fact that people still value symbolism and symbolic acts openly expressed.

The centre of this new footbridge has a trefoil  on each side, the only overt ornament of its bowstring design. Perhaps they are a nod to the Gothic architecture that towers over it. It provides a useful frame for the church tower, currently carries a few of the locks, and offers an interesting shape to the composition.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 10.4mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f4.5
Shutter Speed: 1/1250
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation:  - 0.3EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Starters, finishers and contre jour

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One of the lessons I've learned in life is that many people are good starters but significantly fewer are good finishers. Consequently,if you want to succeed it helps to be a finisher. What do I mean by that? Well, you've doubtless seen people who will begin a grand re-design of their garden, or begin to build an extension to their house, or start renovating an old car, or set off with great gusto on a work-related project only to slow then come to a halt before it is complete. Sometimes they get under way again, but all too often they once again give up and the task they began languishes in an unfinished state for months or years, and frequently is never accomplished. Though that doesn't stop some beginning another abortive undertaking!

Finishers have vision, determination and perseverance. Starters have vision, but lack those extra qualities necessary to see things through to a conclusion. As I took today's photograph I wondered if the builders of the new "bowstring" footbridge over the River Witham, near St Botolph's church in Boston, Lincolnshire, were finishers. The bridge has been open since February 2014, yet every time I've crossed it since that time there has been security fencing, "men at work" signs, piles of paving material etc all indicating that the finishing touches still haven't been completed. You can see some of those wretched movable barrier fences on the right of the photograph.

Purists might bridle at today's image with its flare, vignetting and blown highlights. I don't mind such things. In fact, every now and then, usually in winter, I actively seek them out with a contre jour shot, as was the case with this photograph.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 10.4mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/250
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation:  - 0.3EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Photographing St Botolph

click photo to enlarge
A shopping expedition to Boston, Lincolnshire, when the day's appearance said spring, but the air temperature and wind said the end of winter, found me, not for the first time, pointing my compact camera at the tower of the medieval parish church of St Botolph. And what a tower it is. Many towns and cities are defined and remembered by a noteworthy building and as far as Boston goes this is the one. As I've mentioned elsewhere it is also known by the nickname, "The Stump". Its tower is an oddity of Gothic architecture. The medieval masons started building upwards and just kept on going. When you look at the layers that are piled one on the other it appears that a spire may have been contemplated at one point but then they rejected that conventional topping to the tower. Up and up it went until finally they decided to top it with a pierced, octagonal lantern.

Since that time "The Stump"
has been synonymous with the town, a beacon for ships approaching the port and a marker for weary travellers crossing the flat Fenland hinterland. When you walk around the town the tower rises above the roof tops allowing you to orientate yourself. Only when you go into the market place or nearby across the River Witham do the nave and chancel, themselves almost of cathedral scale but small relative to the tower, make an appearance. The classic photograph of St Botolph is from the town bridge. The appearance of a new "bow-string" design footbridge has changed that view somewhat and on my recent visit to the town I took a shot of the bridge and the tower, though not from the town bridge. Another photograph that suggested itself to me was the tower rising from the blossom of a cherry tree that grows in the lawned precinct immediately adjoining the church. However, the shot I took on Church Street, a location where I've photographed before, is the one I like best. It has the name of a pub - The Britannia - and a couple of promotional union flags, in the foreground, with the tower beyond. I liked the contrast of the bright red with the distant stonework.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen






Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 28.5mm (77mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/1250 sec
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Boston's Stump

click photo to enlarge
The recent collision in London between a helicopter and a construction crane at the top of a new tower block raised questions in the press about the wisdom and reasons for erecting such tall buildings. It seems to me that you can argue the wisdom of it long into the night, but the reasons are three-fold and what they have always been: facilitating a technology (such as telecoms), maximising the value of land, and prestige.

Today's photographs show the 272 feet tall tower of the medieval church of St Botolph in Boston, Lincolnshire, a late example of the Gothic builders' art, made of Barnack stone. Its absolute height, its relative height (the length of the church is only ten feet more) and its appearance when seen from afar quickly earned it the name of "The Stump" (though the name may be an example of the English love of irony).

The tower was begun in 1425-30 and completed in 1510-20. It is likely that a spire was to have begun at the level of the parapet above the pair of tall windows (which were probably intended to be the belfry stage). This would have been the conventional finish to a large Lincolnshire church. However, the church authorities had different ideas and they simply kept building upwards, adding a single, transomed window for the belfry, then topping it all off with pinnacles and a large, open lantern supported by flying buttresses. Why was it built so high? I can only think that prestige and the desire to make a big, bold statement lay behind the decision. It could, I suppose, be argued that having the belfry higher gave the sound of the bells greater reach. Such height was certainly a risk because the deep soils of the Fens yield no bedrock to the builder and smaller, nearby towers such as Pinchbeck and Surfleet testify to how they can quickly acquire a disconcerting tilt. The tower is undoubtedly impressive, and parts of it, particularly the lantern are beautiful. In total, however, it doesn't work: the height is too great, the stages don't complement each other and it is not visually integrated with the nave and chancel. But, as a beacon for sailors on the storm-tossed sea of The Wash, searching for the mouth of the River Witham and safe haven, it must have been a godsend!

The smaller photograph, taken from the town bridge, is the classic view of the tower. My shots were taken when hoar frost cloaked the trees, ice was just beginning to form on the River Witham, and shopping was the main thing on our minds. A bright, clear January day is not to be spurned, however, and my compact camera proved its worth once more.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 9.3mm (44mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/800
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On 

Wide angle distortion and innovation

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The flood of innovation in cameras and photography in general that occurred following the introduction of digital into the mass market continues, albeit at a slower pace than five or ten years ago. Most recently we've seen developments such as the Lytro camera that allows you to select a point of focus after you've taken your shot, or produce versions of the same shot with different points of focus. Interesting though that is, it's not the first new development that I would wish to see. In fact, way ahead of such things I'd place a means of controlling wide angle distortion.

I was thinking about this the other day as I photographed the church of St Botolph in Boston, Lincolnshire. I've posted shots of the exterior of this building before (for example here, here, and here). These distant views show the tower or details, but not the whole of the church. That is because St Botolph is one of the largest parish churches in the country, its tower is the tallest (that doesn't include a spire), and it is quite closely surrounded by buildings. The only "open" shot you can get of the church is from a space near the edge of the market place. However, from this location a wide angle lens is necessary, and with that comes distortion that changes the emphasis of the component parts of the structure. More specifically, the tremendous tower with its "lantern" top is diminished in size and the nearness of the chancel causes it to assume a bulk approximately equal to that of the nave. Such equality of size is rare in an English church and it certainly doesn't exist at Boston even though its chancel is bigger than that of some cathedrals. If the photographer was able to somehow adjust the distortion that the wide angle lens produces and could bring a building closer to its proper proportions I'd be very happy. You may well think that to do so would break the laws of optics. But wouldn't we once have said that about selecting a point of focus after the shutter has been pressed?

The sharp shadows produced by the clear sky of an early November day prompted this shot. I usually wish for a few clouds when the sky is clear, but the searing blue of this autumn day also had its attractions, and without it those sharp shadows wouldn't have been there. Incidentally, in the photograph Herbert Ingram standing atop his column once again has the indignity of a bird perched on his head. Whenever I pass there's usually a pigeon in residence. On this occasion it was a black-headed gull that had claimed the prized spot from which to survey the world and scavenge for crumbs.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 17mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Things that bug me No. 137

click photo to enlarge
Each time I go into the town of Boston in Lincolnshire, and cross the Town Bridge over the River Witham, I gaze upstream at the very tall tower of the medieval church of St Botolph. The view from this location is one of the classic views of this building, and I usually take the opportunity to add to my stock of images. The prospect from the bridge changes with the seasons, the weather, the clouds, the state of the tide, etc., so I often come away with a photograph that is in some way different from all the others I've taken. Compare this example, with today's post.

Of course, a shot of the same scene from the same position has much that is the same too. And this particular view has one detail that really bugs me, a feature that only causes me concern when the sun is shining. Can you guess what it is? In fact, it's the writing on the side of the Britannia pub that advertises beer. "Batemans Good Honest Ales" is what it says, though it isn't always legible. That's because all the letters are mounted slightly away from the wall surface and each throws a shadow so that in a photograph it causes the words to appear blurred. And yes, it bugs me. My eyes are drawn to it. And now that I've mentioned it yours will be too! Perhaps I should have kept quiet.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 6.8mm (32mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f4
Shutter Speed: 1/1000
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -0.66 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Looking down, or is it up?

click photo to enlarge
Parishes with medieval churches have to make considerable efforts to maintain their old buildings. The religious fervour and wealth that produced these marvellous old buildings is not there to the same extent today. As congregations dwindle, so too does the size of the steady income that they donate to the church. Individual benfactors, often through wills and bequests, do leave money to churches, and a small number of parishes still have land and property that provide regular funds. But, on the whole, the situation is a difficult one.

Very large parish churches such as St Botolph in Boston - a member of the Greater Churches Group - have particular problems because they do not have the prestige and drawing power of cathedrals, yet in some cases are bigger and more costly to maintain than those more celebrated structures.

As I do the rounds of churches and cathedrals, gathering my photographs, enjoying the art, craft, history and culture that they offer the visitor, I often make a contribution. Sometimes it's a small donation in a wall-box, frequently I buy the brochure that details the history of the church, and now and again we buy a tea-towel, a book, or - where it's available - have a cup of tea and a snack to go with it. Such offerings and purchases are never going to be the mainstay of a fund-raising drive, but they're given in the hope that, added to the small amounts from other sources, they combine to make a more significant and useful total.

Today's photograph was taken as we warmed up with a cuppa in Boston's famous church. I say warmed up, but in truth the hot tea didn't have much impact on how we felt. As is sometimes the case with old churches, the temperature in the building felt as low - and maybe lower - than that outside. I usually call this the "cave effect" of churches because, like caves, these cavernous buildings seem to maintain a temperature that varies much less than one experiences outside. Which is fine in summer: churches are a welcome relief from the heat of the day. But in winter? Well, let's just say that if steaming hot soup was offered with the cup of tea they could make a killing!

Today's photograph is taken with the camera pointing into the slightly inclined mirror that enables visitors to admire the tower vaulting without getting a cricked neck.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2
Shutter Speed: 1/100
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -1.00 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The megapixels wars and dynamic range

click photo to enlarge
The rise in the megapixel count of compact cameras has become ridiculous. Models are routinely being sold boasting sensors with 14MP, and consumers are buying them thinking that they offer better image quality than the models with a lower number. Manufacturers know this isn't the case. Enthusiast and professional photographers do too. But, the camera makers, years ago, embarked on the "more is better" method of selling new models and seem unable (or unwilling) to depart from it. This has also started to infect DSLRs: witness the concerns over the Canon 50D (15MP) and the 7D (18MP).

Anyone who is confused by all this needs to know that the main factors in image quality are the lens (just as it always has been) and the processor that works on the image in the camera, but that possibly the most important factor is the density of pixels on the sensor. The lens on an inexpensive camera is usually fairly basic, but given that it's small is usually adequate. In-camera processors improve year on year, so that the images from this year's 10MP camera are likely to be better than the equivalent sensor/MP size of three years ago. Now, what about pixel density? Here are some examples from cameras available today:

Samsung TL240 - 14.1MP - 50MP/sq.cm.
Canon Powershot S90 - 10MP - 23MP/sq.cm.
Olympus E510 DSLR - 10MP - 4.1MP/sq.cm.
Pentax K-7 DSLR - 14.6MP - 4.0MP/sq.cm.
Nikon D3S DSLR - 12.1MP - 1.4MP/sq.cm.
Go to this page of DPReview to find out the pixel density of your camera.

The best image quality in that list will come from the Nikon (the one with the biggest sensor) and the worst from the camera with the highest megapixel count, the Samsung (which has the smallest sensor.) I could have chosen 5 different cameras and, by and large, the image quality would have been directly related to the sensor size and pixel density. Of course, when people ignore the megapixel count they tend to buy within a price range, and that's when choice and comparisons become more complicated. However, the truth is that usable detail, dynamic range, visual noise and all the other factors that make for a good image is closely related to the sensor size and pixel density, not the number of megapixels. In fact, most compact consumer digital cameras would today be producing better images if the manufacturers had stopped at 8MP.

Today's photograph was taken with my LX3 (10MP, 24MP/sq.cm.) and illustrates the second theme in today's "reflection." I'd trade dynamic range for megapixels any day. This shot was difficult for the camera because of the dark shadows of the street near the bright, sunlit clouds. I had to set the EV to -1.33 to control the highlights, and that introduced quite a bit more noise into the shadows which I had to clean up afterwards at the expense of detail. If digital camera manufacturers put less effort into increasing the number of megapixels and more into enabling their products to record the detail in both bright highlights and darker shadows, then images would be sharper and closer to what our eye/brain sees. Cameras that could do this would be easier to expose, and, most helpful of all, images would require less post-processing.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 7.9mm (37mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/800
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -1.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The knight and the carnations

click photo to enlarge
One of the basic themes found in all forms of art is the pairing of unlikely bedfellows. The story of Beauty and The Beast exemplifies this very well, so much so that its basic idea was plundered, and subtle changes introduced, in stories such as The Hunchback of Notre Dame and Cyrano de Bergerac.

Fashion photographers are particularly drawn to this theme, placing their model and the the clothes they are showing off in the most unlikely of contexts. The English photographer, Cecil Beaton (1904-1980), renowned for his photographs of Audrey Hepburn and other film stars, as well as for photoshoots for the big fashion houses, is generally remembered for the images of elegance that he produced. However, one photograph that sticks in my mind is of a refined woman, coat casually draped around her shoulders, reading a newspaper that she holds in her white-gloved hands, whilst sitting on a concrete splattered saw-horse among grimy buckets, spades and the like. The contrast between the subject and setting was what drew the viewer into the shot.

Today's photograph is also an unlikely pairing, but one which I think works really well. It shows a tomb of a Knight of the Order of St John, dating from the 1400s, in the church of St Botolph's, Boston, Lincolnshire. I posted an image of this knight on the blog a while ago, and it depicts the tomb as one is used to seeing such things. However, when I visited the flower festival at St Botolph's (see yesterday's post), I found that someone had surrounded this fine piece of sculpture with pink carnations (and a few orange daisies). That simple act transformed the cold, dead stone, injecting life where there was none, lightening the mood surrounding the effigy, and introducing a colour that complemented the bluish tones. It was a photographic opportunity not to be missed, so I composed this shot using the out-of-focus blooms on the left to balance the head on the right.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 17mm (34mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f3.2
Shutter Speed: 1/50 seconds
ISO: 400
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Flowers, festivals and photographs

click photo to enlarge
Today's photograph shows a small part of a flower display in the church of St Botolph, Boston. This great church, begun in 1309, is celebrating its 700th anniversary, and one of the many activities it has arranged for this significant year is a large flower festival that is currently open to the public. The idea of flower festivals is that members of the church erect a series of themed displays around the interior of the building, using mainly fresh flowers and foliage, but also dried flowers and objects that support the theme. St Botolph's seventy six displays have been conceived by members of the church, but also by groups in the town and from across Lincolnshire. This has resulted in the standard of displays being better than I've ever seen before.

The themes are very varied: "John Cotton", "The Pilgrim Fathers", and "John Taverner" are representative of famous people associated with the church, whilst "The Slodgers", " The Fishing Industry", "Boston Landscape", "700 Years of Church Music" and "Local Commerce - Vegetable Growers" are typical of those that illustrate local life. I found the most eyecatching display to be "Agriculture - The Lincolnshire Way of Life", built around an old tractor that was positioned in the nave. However, the most artistically satisfying - and this kind of work can be considered decorative art of a kind - were "Fogarty's Feathers", a display in black, white and silver illustrating the industry devoted to pillows and duvets that is still found locally, and the very original "History of the Fire Service". The latter display was about a subject I've seen covered before by flower festivals, but never so well. It included artefacts - old firemen's helmets etc., and large displays that suggested the flames of fires. However, the part that caught my eye was this small composition on the aisle floor, using a picture frame, burnt photographs, fiery, smoke-blackened tulips and pieces of net.

It was, to my eye, the best detail of the much larger piece, in terms of both colour and conception, so I decided to isolate it, and try to make something of the composition against the lighter floorboards with their interesting grain. The final image has had the digital equivalent of selective "dodging" and "burning" (quite appropriate you might say!) to increase the contrast between the lighter and darker parts of the image. I've taken photographs at a few flower festivals, but as far as I can recall, have never used any in this blog. However, my visit to St Botolph produced two, so another will follow tomorrow.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 22mm (44mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f3.5
Shutter Speed: 1/4 seconds
ISO: 200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

A signpost in the sky

click photo to enlarge
A couple of weeks ago I was Christmas shopping with my wife in Boston, Lincolnshire. I'd taken my camera along on the off chance of a suitable subject presenting itself. I frequently do this when shopping, but only occasionally do I snap something that I like. The fact is that securing good images requires more concentration than is possible when shopping is the main activity. That's not to say that I readily give my attention to scouring the shops. Quite the opposite in fact: I glaze over and sink into a trance-like state for much of the time.

On this particular expedition I was waiting outside a store in the market place, looking around, optimistically framing subjects then rejecting them. I pointed my camera at the lantern at the top of the 272 feet (83m) tall tower of St Botolph's church, and as I did so a flurry of pigeons flew out and around before settling again on the battlements and pinnacles. They did this a couple of times and I fired off a few shots trying to make them a visual counterweight to the architecture placed to one side of the frame. As I was waiting for the pigeons' next circuit I heard the distinctive sound of geese. Looking away to the right I saw two chevrons of pink-footed geese that appeared to be flying towards the tower but were some way beyond it.

The possibility of a shot with the geese and tower occurred to me, but the track of the geese was too low. Then something happened that never seems to happen in these situations - they changed course slightly, passed the top of the tower at just the right position, and gave me the opportunity to make a few shots. This is the best of the bunch, the first, with the leading "V" acting as a signpost that seems designed to draw the attention of the shoppers below to the beautiful Gothic open-work carving and tracery of the summit of this marvellous church. Not a great shot, but one that isn't going to be available too often.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 1o6mm (212mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/500
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The quest for immortality

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Is the personal quest for immortality through artefacts anything more than simple vanity? I can't see that it is. The idea that you want or need people to remember you after your death seems absurd to me. That family, friends and admirers might wish to remember a person is an entirely different matter, but naming a building after yourself, building your own marble mausoleum, having your statue cast, or writing a book with that purpose in mind, seems to me a rather pathetic act of weakness and vanity. I remember being disappointed when I read that John Keats' poetry was motivated, in large part, by his desire for fame and immortality, and that the drive that leads many to write was only a small part of his motivation. His reason for writing seemed to demean both him and his work.

This thought sometimes comes into my head as I look at the monuments and memorials in churches. Many are erected with gratitude by people who knew the deceased. But others are works commissioned by the person commemorated, and are clearly designed to portray him or her in a flattering light. Those depicting eighteenth century aristocrats in antique Roman costume, exuding classical nobility and learning, accompanied by a tablet of unctuous prose, are the ones I find particularly repugnant.

I don't know whether this fifteenth century knight of the Order of St John in the church of St Botolph, Boston, Lincolnshire, commissioned his own effigy, or whether it was made after his death. It is an interesting alabaster piece, and without sculpture such as this we would know much less about the armour of people of that time. However, as a commemorative piece it has failed, because, unlike many in this type of memorial, we no longer know precisely who is shown. We do know that the Order was active in Boston in the thirteenth century, that it maintained two hospitals and St John's church in the town, and that it was dissolved in 1540, but beyond that we know little. It may be connected with the family of Sir William Weston. Today we can enjoy it as a piece of sculpture, as social history, and as a tangible link to the place's past. But not as this person's stab at immortality.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 17mm (34mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/15
ISO: 400
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Streets and names

click photo to enlarge

High Street is one of the two most common street names to be found in England. Virtually every town and city, and many villages, feature a street with this name. "High" in the sense it is used here means "main". When street naming began in the New World it was the latter word that was chosen to prevent any confusion with "raised" or "elevated". Interestingly, when naming new thoroughfares the word "street" is much less used in England than formerly. House builders fancy that they can more easily sell a new row of houses if the address is anything but "street". So we have avenues, groves, lanes, chases, gardens, closes, places, leaps, ways, forges and even roads.

The second of the most common street names is Church Street. Most settlements had a church, and as they grew more were built. This simple descriptive name was an obvious choice. Where it was eschewed, it was often the name of the building's dedicatory saint that described the road, thus St George's Street or All Saints Road. For obvious reasons, in most villages, towns and cities, the High Street and Church Street are usually two of the oldest roads, and will frequently still have some of the most ancient and interesting buildings.

Today's photograph shows Church Street in Boston, Lincolnshire. Here the street is behind the Market Place, and leads from it to the south porch (the main entrance) of St Botolph. With a tower 272 feet high Boston's church creeps into many shots taken in the town. Here I framed it with the cobbles of the street, the Britannia pub, the row of shops on the opposite side, and the soft, white, summer clouds.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 19mm (38mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/500
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: Off

A different kind of vandal?

click photo to enlarge

The other day I paid my £2.50 to climb just over half-way up the 272 feet high tower of the church of St Botolph in Boston, Lincolnshire. As I puffed and panted up the dark, narrow, spiral staircases I couldn't help but notice the graffiti that generations of visitors had left on the walls.

The most recent were of the "Marky woz ere 22-10-07" variety, or were protestations of undying love, written in text-speak with either a pen or scratched on the surface of the stone. There were also many examples from the twentieth century, and nineteenth century examples weren't difficult to find. But, when I ducked under an arch-cum-doorway that went through a corner buttress, I came upon this interesting group. At the bottom is the date 167?, the last digit being indecipherable due to erosion. Above is the name W. Lisons, another W (to make it symmetrical?) and the date 1753. Then there are further letters (I and S), with a star, that also look eighteenth century, and a mixture of other letters and marks of more recent origin.

As I gazed at them I reflected on why someone would write their name with a hammer and chisel on this ancient building, high above the town. Then it struck me that back then pens were neither as portable nor as permanent as today's, and aerosol cans weren't even a figment of someone's imagination. So I suppose that if you were looking for a bit of fame, notoriety, or even immortality (of sorts), then this might seem the way to achieve it at very little cost. It occurred to me that today's spray painters with their "tags", bubble writing and stencils, probably mark "their" territory from much the same motives. My final thought was that the graffiti that disfigures our present environment wouldn't be quite so ubiquitous if it had to be done with a hammer and chisel. Furthermore the noise as they chip-chipped the letters would make it so much easier to catch the miscreants, and Banksy's anonymity would be very short-lived!

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 22mm (44mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/30
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The Stump

click photo to enlarge

In 1851 the Great Exhibition of the Works of Industry of All Nations opened in Hyde Park, London. It was housed in a large building called, unsurprisingly, the Great Exhibition Hall. The building's name didn't last very long because it was Joseph Paxton's revolutionary structure in cast iron and glass, and people immediately christened it "The Crystal Palace" - the name by which it subsequently became known.

This tradition of bestowing affectionate (or derogatory) names on buildings is one of fairly long standing, and it continues today. Norman Foster's curvaceously tapered office block at 30 St Mary Axe, London, built for an insurance company, is rarely referred to by either its address or its name, the Swiss Re Tower. "The Gherkin" is the name given to its distinctive shape by Londoners, and the soubriquet has well and truly stuck. A building doesn't even have to be built to acquire a nickname! Renzo Piano's proposed 66-storey London Bridge Tower is already widely known as "The Glass Shard" in recognition of its likeness to an upright tapering splinter.

When the people of Lincolnshire, in the 1400s, saw the tower of the church of St Botolph start to reach for the sky they must have been impressed by the sight. But as stage was built on successive stage, and no spire appeared they must have begun to wonder how high it would go. And, when it was topped by an open-work octagonal lantern they must have been lost for words. They were familiar with the towers and spires of nearby churches, but this was different from any of them. And it was so big! Perhaps it was the view of the 272 feet tall tower when seen from a few miles distant, across the flat Fenland landscape, that caused a local wit to liken it to a tree stump. However the name arose it stuck, and "The Stump" it has been ever since.

My photograph shows the classic view of this wonderful church tower, from the Town Bridge. I took it for the particularly good reflections on the tidal River Witham, seen to good effect in the morning light of a winter day.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 13mm (26mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/800
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: Off