Dark chancels

click photo to enlarge
I visit a lot of churches and over the years I've come to appreciate dark chancels. You might wonder why since they are clearly harder to photograph than one that is well lit. What I like is the contrast between the better lit nave, and the air of mystery that the subdued lighting gives to the focal point of the church. Fortunately, through most periods of architectural history the builders and furnishers of churches have agreed with me and have generally inserted fewer, smaller windows and have filled them with stained glass. The tendency to insert more memorials, elaborate seating, reredos, organs etc in this, usually, smaller space has deepened the darkness in many buildings. However, broadly speaking, during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, the eighteenth century, and the twentieth century more light was allowed to enter the chancel.

In the fifteenth century the fashionable architecture of the time was responsible for light chancels, and frequently there was no dividing arch between and the nave. This example at Skirlaugh in East Yorkshire is a good illustration of what I mean. In the eighteenth century more inclusive worship lightened chancels, and the same trend influenced the twentieth century. But the Gothic Revival in the nineteenth century and the original Gothic of the twelfth to fourteenth centuries usually exhibits dark chancels, as does the earlier Romanesque period where large windows were technically unfeasible.

In my recent visit to St Denys in Sleaford, Lincolnshire, I photographed the chancel to capture the jewel-like appearance that low light usually imparts to the stained glass. Here, even the sunlight streaming in from the south facing windows could not overpower the deep reds and blues of the glass, though I did need some negative EV to better capture what the eye saw.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title:Chancel, St Denys, Sleaford, Lincolnshire
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 14mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/800 sec
ISO:3200
Exposure Compensation: -1.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

21st century stained glass

click photo to enlarge
The year 2000 saw a proliferation of "millennium windows" in the UK's churches. The stained glass that they added to chancels and naves was, as might be expected, of varying quality. Moreover, there was no unanimity on whether the compositions should be figurative or abstract. I haven't done any research on this issue, but my feeling, having visited many churches in the past sixteen years, is that figurative work substantially outnumbers the windows that are abstract. I include amongst the figurative those windows that have elements of abstraction but also have recognisable objects - people etc - "semi-abstract" if you like.

Today's main photograph shows a detail from a fully abstract window of 2005 by Glenn Carter in the church of St Denys, Sleaford, Lincolnshire. It is a tribute by Eddy Double to his late wife, Yvonne Double (1938-2003), an active member of the church.St Denys is a church where the majority of windows are filled with stained glass, including, unusually, those in the clerestory. However, quite a few have light coloured glass or areas where darker glass is concentrated, with lighter glass elsewhere. This is presumably deliberate to allow sufficient light into the building. It may be this precedent that prompted the composition of a band of stained glass across the three lights of this window in the south aisle of the nave, with clear glass elsewhere.

I like this stained glass - the colours, drawn lines, the cluster of shapes, and the overall composition. What I can't see - can anyone? - is the way the "design reflects the shape, structure and emotion" of Schumann's "Arabesque" Opus 18, a favourite piece of the deceased, and how this particular group of colours "symbolises various aspects of the Christian faith." Incidentally, the appreciation of this window, like many in churches, suffers from the background of trees and the impinging of the buttresses that flank the window on the exterior. My small photo emphasises this, and the eye is not quite as troubled by it when you actually view the window.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: 2005 Stained Glass, St Denys, Sleaford, Lincolnshire
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 80mm (160mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/200 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The strainer arch

click photo to enlarge
When I first visited Wells Cathedral in Somerset many, many years ago I knew there were two things that I particularly wanted to see. The first was the worn stairs to the Chapter House, the subject of a famous 1903 photograph entitled "Sea of Steps" by the British photographer, Frederick H. Evans (1853-1943). His platinotype image appealed to me because of its purely photographic qualities but also because the subject was an aspect of church architecture, an interest of mine then that continues to this day.

The other thing I searched out that day was the famous strainer arches under the crossing tower. These were inserted as bracing in the arches to the nave and transepts (the choir arch is braced by a screen) by William Joy in 1338. The existing, orthodox arches had begun to show signs of stress after the tower had been heightened, and the "St Andrew's cross" strainer arches were the solution Joy came up with the alleviate the problem. They worked. However, opinion on the aesthetic merits of Joy's arches was divided and remains so. Some see them as an awkward intrusion while others think them an elegant answer that enlivens the interior. I like them and think they are an interesting and beautiful addition to the cathedral.

When I moved to Lincolnshire I came upon a smaller scale copy of the Wells arches in the church of St Denys in Sleaford. Here a strainer arch clearly derived from the Somerset example was inserted at the west end of the north aisle in 1853. Apparently it solves a problem with the original arch that was exhibiting movement due to the weight of the west tower. Though not on the scale of the Wells examples, and introducing a note of asymmetry to the west end of the church, Sleaford's arch is not without its utilitarian beauty.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: Strainer Arch, St Denys, Sleaford, Lincolnshire
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 17mm (34mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f3.2
Shutter Speed: 1/80 sec
ISO:2500
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Nativity and photographing stained glass

click photo to enlarge
When I first started photographing stained glass a tripod was a necessity. Today, thanks to image stabilisation and improved high ISO capabilities, that's not the case. As a subject stained glass presents quite a few challenges, particularly when it is in a church. Firstly there is the fact that it is usually above head height. This necessitates either raising the camera or correcting converging verticals. Then there's the very wide range of tones in stained glass, usually ranging from white through to black. How to expose them all correctly is the problem: usually some underexposure is necessary followed by selective post processing.

Stained glass is best photographed on bright, overcast days because sunlight on the window usually presents insuperable difficulties if you are seeking true colours. Windows near transepts and porches are a problem because the shadow of the building projection often makes one side of the window much darker than the other. I've never succeeded in satisfactorily overcoming the exposure challenge that this situation presents. The demands of the clergy and congregation often present problems. For example, the east window (often the most elaborate stained glass in the church) often has a sanctuary lamp hanging in front of it, resulting in a silhouette of the metal holder and chain. Other window sills are frequently used for vases of flowers and other objects designed to beautify the building.

However, these difficulties notwithstanding, I enjoy photographing stained glass, as this blog will testify. At the end of each year I search my collection for a nativity scene to use as the illustration on our Christmas card that we make. Above is this year's example, an example of Victorian glass from the parish church of St Denys, Sleaford, Lincolnshire.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 120mm (240mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/320 sec
ISO:640
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Views with spires - take two

click photo to enlarge
For quite a while my blog statistics have shown a photograph that I posted in May 2011 called "Views with spires" as the one that receives most hits each month. I often try to work out why such things happen because, on the whole, the most frequently viewed post in a particular month is one published early in that same month. However, for reasons that are usually unfathomable, posts reasonably frequently depart from this pattern. Sometimes it's because I can see a particular website has referenced it and readers have looked at a link to it. But mostly I simply can't account for it. Why, I often wonder, is "Tree shadows and architectural drawings" my blog post with by far the most hits, fifty percent more than the second most visited? Who knows? It certainly can't be down to the quality of the image!

"Views with spires", to return to the current favourite, does I suppose, describe a subject that appeals to those of a traditional and Romantic mindset, and that title may in fact explain its popularity. Today's photograph of the church of St Denys at Aswarby, Lincolnshire, is another photograph on the same theme. More than that, it shares compositional similarities, with the road curving away to the prominent church tower with its tall spire. When I look through my landscapes I find that I frequently use church spires as strong compositional elements. And why not? Is there anything to beat the strong vertical accent of a medieval tower and spire set against the flat or rolling English countryside? Lincolnshire abounds with convenient examples. Churches such as Sempringham, Gosberton and Donington grab the eye and grace any photograph in which they appear, even if they are shrouded in mist or fog, as is Swineshead in this winter photograph.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 55mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Reflecting on Aswarby church

click photo to enlarge
I visit and photograph Aswarby church every year when we walk in the vicinity of Osbournby. Sometimes it's autumn or winter when we pass by, at other times it may be spring or summer. Whatever the time of year I never fail to admire both the building and its setting. On our recent visit it struck me that in many respects St Denys is a very typical English church. The earliest parts are twelfth century with the nave showing evidence of rebuilding in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, and the tower is a fine example of the fifteenth century, the last phase of Gothic. Much of the external ornament shows the inventiveness and wit of the minds of the medieval masons and sculptors who carved it.

A west tower is characteristic of English parish churches, as is a four-bay arcade and a lower, shorter chancel (this one was rebuilt in the Victorian period). The main entrance is typically through the south porch, though here, as is sometimes the case, the north door is favoured for convenience. The photograph above shows the view from the south, consequently the north aisle that projects from the nave and has its own lean-to roof can't be seen. However, such an addition is also very common. The north side was favoured for such an extension because the south side was usually chosen for burial before any other part of the churchyard.

Inside Aswarby church what we see is also very typical of what an English church offers. The view in my smaller photograph is one I took from the pulpit. It shows the bright west window seen through the tower arch. The area railed off in the corner by the north door holds the local landowner's tombs, in this case the Whichcote family. One less commonly found feature is the box pews. The Georgian period liked these for their comfort, privacy and freedom from draughts, but the Victorians often got rid of them, installing sturdy and uncomfortable pews. The rightmost box pews with the pierced, decorative woodwork are raised above the main blocks of seating and have a good view of the pulpit. This is the area reserved for the Whichcote family. Its elevated position reflects their elevated status. It also has its own fireplace!

The two boards above the tower arch are hatchments, paintings of coats of arms that were hung on the house of a deceased member of the well-to-do and often removed to the church after the burial. The Australian flag hangs in Aswarby church. This isn't unique but is unusual. It commemorates George Bass, a man who was raised in the locality, baptised at this church, and who discovered and mapped parts of Australia. The Bass Strait that separates the Australian mainland from Tasmania is named after him. It comes as no surprise to find that quite a few of the visitors to the church hail from Victoria and Tasmania.

photographs and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 28mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/400 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Early medieval gravestones

click photo to enlarge
The gravestones, tomb slabs and funerary monuments of English churches range in date from the twelfth century to the present day. Each one seeks to remember or exalt the deceased. Few of the older ones are in the position where they were first placed and many of these have been damaged by incident, accident or design. Sometimes they have been crudely cut so that a later architectural embellishment could be effected. Often Protestant zealots of the Reformation or later have taken their hammers to them, knocking off noses, limbs and any other easily removed projection as they sought to demonstrate their hatred of "idolatry". However, despite the vicissitudes of time, many have survived, largely intact, bequeathing to later generations information about the sculptural abilities and stylistic preferences of earlier times.

The oldest such monuments were often lids for stone coffins, decorated by a foliate cross or lines of stylised leaves. These usually date from the 1100s. Also found at this time, and a little later, are stone coffin lids with circles, quatrefoils or almond-shaped holes within which are carvings of parts of the  body that is being commemorated. Today's photographs show an example of just such a gravestone that can be seen in the church of St Denys at Sleaford, Lincolnshire. The viewer is invited to look, asit were, through "holes" in the surface of the lid, at the face, hands held in prayer and feet of a woman. The inscription around the edge tells us who she is. It says, "Ye who here pass by, for the soul of Yvette pray, who was the honoured wife of William of Rauceby on whose soul may god have mercy". These holes are incorporated in a leafy cross that decorates the surface of the coffin-shaped stone. It is likely to date from the 1100s. Despite being broken in two and now being fixed to the wall rather than laying flat on or under the ground, the stonework is still clear and the writing remains legible, a testament to the durable qualities that the sculptor conferred on the piece and to the care with which the church has been maintained for the past thousand or so years.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: iAuto+
Focal Length: 10.4mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f1.8
Shutter Speed: 1/30
ISO: 400
Exposure Compensation:  0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Taking the same photograph again

click photo to enlarge

The truth is you can never take the same photograph twice. Whatever steps you take to try and achieve this goal it will always end in failure. The light will be different, as will the sky, the shadows, the movement of living things, the colours - everything in some small or major way. Ah but, I hear you say, what about if you shoot an inert subject under studio conditions with a tripod-mounted camera and reproducible artificial lighting? Even in those conditions, and even if your eye can't discern a difference, a close examination of the electronic file that you produce will show it to differ from the previous one. However, I will agree that if you can't see a difference then to all intents and purposes there isn't a difference!

So, if we accept that it's extremely difficult to take the same photograph twice, why are many photographers loath to shoot the "same" shot again. Is it seen as boring or a mark of a lack of creativity? Having "done" that subject, are such people simply incapable of doing it again? It isn't all photographers - or painters for that matter. Many creative people recognise the value in studying and portraying a subject in different ways, in different light, at different times of day and year. It certainly suits me to re-visit a subject and try and improve on what I achieved earlier, or make something different of it.

Today's image is a case in point. Each time I visit the National Centre for Craft and Design (also known as The Hub) at Sleaford I walk to the top of the converted and extended warehouse building and take some photographs of the medieval church of St Denys and the surrounding roofscape. I posted such an image in February of this year, and on my afternoon visit last week I took another shot which I post today. The two shots differ principally in terms of light and field of view/aspect ratio, with the second one looking much more three-dimensional. What I did find interesting, however, is that the point at which I took the recent shot was not discernibly different from where I stood for the earlier one. It seems that, despite me knowing that I was taking a different shot, there was part of me unconsciously trying to make it the same.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 9.3mm (44mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.5
Shutter Speed: 1/640
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

St Denys, Sleaford, Lincolnshire

click photo to enlarge
Architectural historians know St Denys in Sleaford, Lincolnshire, as a beautiful, interesting and intriguing parish church. The stone broach spire is one of the earliest to be found anywhere, dating from around the beginning of the thirteenth century (see also Frampton, Lincolnshire.) The blank arcading with rounded arches and circular windows above the west door show that the tower base is earlier still.

However, the aisles to the left and right of the tower, with their big, flamboyant (in the sense of "flowing" or "flame-like") windows are fourteenth century, and it is the way that later builders brought these forward, virtually level with west wall of the tower that prompts disagreement. Some see it as awkward, this large flat area at the "front" of the church overlooking the market place. They say it prevents the tower from being seen in all its beauty, and that the multiplicity of gable ends, and pinnacles is visually confusing. Others like it, valuing its different approach to composition compared with most other English churches, and revelling in the richness that the fourteenth century work (Decorated period) brings to the more austere early twelfth century structure (Early English period.)

What all agree on is the beauty and innovative variety of the fourteenth century aisle windows - "some of the finest Decorated tracery in England", says Betjeman: "the great Sleaford windows", Pevsner calls them, and adds that, "their detail varies infinitely...it is a prolonged delight to follow the mason's inventiveness along the building." I agree with both on the windows but I'm with Betjeman on the composition of the west end: I like it. Pevsner's observation that "it makes the old tower look glum" is something I don't see. But his criticism of the fifteenth century clerestory - that it isn't an effective contribution to the existing architecture - is something with which I can concur. Their mechanical regularity and repetition sit uneasily with the tower and the imaginative fourteenth century windows below.

The roofscape view was taken on a visit to Sleaford in late February. I've taken this shot many times, but finally (and unexpectedly) got this one that I like on a dark, overcast day. The photograph of the west front was taken in January when the square was filled with cars rather than the small market that is still held weekly.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Photo 1 (Photo 2)
Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.) (12.8mm (60mm/35mm equiv.))
F No: f4 (f2.8)
Shutter Speed: 1/640 (1/60)
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -0.66 (-0.33) EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Plumbing the medieval mind

click photo to enlarge
The gargoyles on a medieval church, such as this one at Aswarby in Lincolnshire (see yesterday's post), are pieces of sculpture that form part of the medieval plumbing system. They are designed to carry rainwater off the roof and other coverings, then out from the walls, and deposit it on the ground below. However, despite this rather prosaic purpose it sometimes doesn't pay to look too closely at them. Why? Because amongst the grimacing, devilish faces, weird beasts and elephants you might spot something a little more earthy.

When you've worked out just what today's photograph shows you might wonder, as I did, precisely what was going on in the mind of this particular sculptor, what the priest was thinking of sanctioning the design, and why in the middle ages people thought toilet humour appropriate for the decoration of a church!

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 110mm (220mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/800
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Making pictures

click photo to enlarge
I'm not particularly interested in photography! Correction. I'm not particularly interested in photography as it is currently conceived, especially cameras or the technical side of it. Discussions about the relative high ISO performance of different models and brands, the minutiae of Imatest result or, the relative virtues of CMOS versus CCD leave me cold. So too does "pixel peeping", endless debates about the quality of colours produced by each manufacturer's cameras or the problem of photographic "noise." I believe (and so do more than a few of the saner commentators on photography) that every DSLR available today is capable of producing commercial quality images in the sizes demanded by the vast majority of publishers. Moreover, we've now arrived at the point where this is possible with today's better digital compact cameras. So, I'm firmly of the opinion that whilst an intelligent interest in the hardware is fine, agonising over technicalia is a waste of time that could be more profitably spent taking photographs. To anyone who says that they need a camera that produces the highest pixel count and the best possible output for large scale prints or cropping, I say fine, but remember that print is a dying medium, and that the increasingly prevalent display of images on screens and projectors needs fewer rather than more pixels! A new 5 megapixel camera anyone?

So what is it about photography that does interest me? Well, that really begins and ends with the pictures. Having said that, I'm also not wildly interested in the body of "theory" that has grown up about composition and the general business of putting together an image. I'm familiar with it, but, just as my post processing tends towards the "intuitive", rather than a regimented "work flow", so too does this aspect of my picture making. However, I have to say that my image construction does lean very heavily on a lifelong interest in the history of art.

Despite the remarks above, every now and then I take a photograph that illustrates one of the maxims of photographic composition. Today's image of the medieval church of St Denys, Aswarby, in Lincolnshire, will say "leading lines" to many phographers, as they follow the curving contour of the fence from the bottom right corner to the base of the church tower. I took this shot on an early autumn walk, and tried to find a new take on a building I've photographed a couple of times before.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 17mm (34mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/500
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On