Photographing spires

click photo to enlarge
Pevsner calls St Mary Magdalen, Newark, in Nottinghamshire, "among the two or three dozen grandest parish churches of England." It is quite big - 222 feet (68 metres) long, with a spire reaching 237 feet (72 metres). The tower and spire of Newark church are a particularly fine pairing and a landmark that can be seen from miles around. The tower itself is unusual in that it is "engaged" i.e. positioned flush with the west facade. This isn't common. The lower part was begun in the thirteenth century (Early English). At the level of the bell openings we have a crocketed gable indicating the fourteenth century (Decorated). The spire above was completed during the same architectural period.

Newark's church is surrounded by a group of narrow streets and a fine, open market place. None of the surrounding buildings are particularly tall and so the view of the tower and spire are uninterrupted. This makes photography difficult in so far as a lot of sky is inevitable if you wish to include the complete spire. One answer to this problem is to tilt the camera and use trees, lamps and buildings to fill the area that would otherwise be clouds or sky.

Today's photograph was taken in just that way from a nearby footpath called Church Walk. The verticals were corrected in post processing. A November sky is, to my mind, one of the best for church tower photography. There is usually some interest in the clouds, which when combined with the shadows of autumn and any glint of sun make for an atmospheric feel.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 16mm (32mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/400 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: 0EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Art in the south transept

click photo to enlarge

I tend to be disappointed if I turn up at a church that I want to look around and I find it being used for an exhibition by the local art group. It means that the the fabric of the structure is obscured by paintings, pottery, screens and sculpture and I don't see it in the way it appears on most days of the year - as an old building fitted out for worship and the rites of the Christian religion. It's not that I have anything against art, or the desire of people to exhibit or view the products of enthusiasts. And I do appreciate that the church often seeks to be a hub of the community in which it sits, and that such events help it to fulfil that function. Rather, it is my selfish desire to view the church as I would like to see it and my feeling of being thwarted. Of course, if it's a church that is reasonably local to me then I can easily turn up on a different day and indulge my interests. However, if it's a building that I visit on holiday or when I'm travelling, then it feels like a once in a lifetime opportunity is lost to me.

I feel the same way about churches that are full of decorated trees at Christmas but not about a building decked out for harvest festival, all wheat sheaves, marrows, tinned food, fruit and vases of chrysanthemums. Why? Well, the former feels like a modern gimmick designed to attract an audience whereas harvest festival is a centuries old religious celebration and thanksgiving that has endured. On a recent visit to Newark we came upon an exhibition of art in the south transept of the town's major church. St Mary Magdalene is a large and beautiful parish church and, fortunately, it could easily swallow up a small exhibition of this sort so my usual feelings of disappointment lay dormant. I had a look at the artwork - fabric with photographic representations of famous pieces of religious art printed on them to which had been added the artist's contribution, sometimes graphical, sometimes text. The offerings didn't appeal to me but the lighting of the location did - photographically speaking. The low sun and clear glass of the transept window made the interior space very bright; much more so than is usual. Strong shadows contrasted with glowing patches of light. It was a recipe that suggested a photograph so I took one of my wife viewing the artwork.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 13.3mm (36mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/40
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation:  -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

A Norman font

click photo to enlarge
In about 1840 the Victorians decided that church architecture should be based on Gothic forms. This was a style that had originated in northern Europe, one they saw as "Christian", as opposed to the classical styles that were derived from the architecture of ancient Greece and Rome, and hence were "pagan". It was a false argument, of course, but one that persuaded the majority of churchmen and architects, and consequently most churches (and their fittings and furnishings) that were built during the rest of the century were in one or other of the Gothic styles. Thus, at a stroke, the Anglo-Saxon and Norman architecture of England was dismissed. Well, almost, because a few brave and idiosyncratic souls did build churches that used the forms of the twelfth century, but they were a distinct minority, their chosen style was seen as "crude", and it didn't achieve wide acceptance. For some the term "Romanesque", that embraces Anglo-Saxon and Norman architecture in England, became a label of abuse.

A few of these daring architects went so far as to design Norman fonts to complement their Romanesque buildings, though they usually restricted their decorative details to the rounded arches, cushion capitals, chevron moulding and great solidity of this earlier style. I know of no nineteenth century Norman fonts that sought to emulate the crude vigour of the figures of the original fonts, such as is seen in this example at St Mary Magdalene, Eardisley, Herefordshire. This wonderful font, dating from c.1150, exemplifies much that repelled the Victorians, and everything that I find fascinating about this style. The overall form is quite simple - a large bowl sits on a wide, tapered stem - but the surface is extremely complex. Encircling the top is a plaited band and around the base are knot patterns that recall the penwork of illuminated manuscripts as well as the stone preaching crosses of the C7 -C10. Between these abstract elements is a frieze. This depicts two soldiers fighting, one with a lance, the other with a sword, as well as The Harrowing of Hell, a further figure, and a large lion. These dramatic and dynamic figures have a sculptural naivety compared with Gothic work, but their greater animation draws the viewer into the depictions much more effectively than the later works. The men who carved this font revelled in the use of line: their delight in covering the surface in sinuous and interlocking pattern is very evident. In fact, the whole piece is as much a drawing as a sculpture, and tells us a lot about how a culture that worked in wood, that inscribed metal, and that valued the beauty of illuminated works, made the transition into stone sculpture and architecture.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 14mm (28mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f4.5
Shutter Speed: 1/20 seconds
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: N/A