Osbournby church

click photo to enlarge

There's no easier way to announce yourself as an outsider to this area of Lincolnshire than by pronouncing the name of the village of Osbournby phonetically, just as it's written i.e. "Ozbornbi". For reasons that I'm sure few, if any know, the local pronunciation is "Ozzenbi". In an attempt to get to the bottom of why this is so I delved into the derivation of the placename.

The Domesday Book of 1086 gives two spellings - Esbernbi and Osbernedebi. Also used in the eleventh century was Osbernebi. It is thought that these come from the combining of an anglicisation of an Old Danish personal name - Aesbiorn (changed to Osbeorn) - with the Old Danish "by" meaning farmstead or village. So, the settlement was named after this person who founded it or was of importance within it. All very interesting, but as far as the current local pronunciation goes, not a great deal of help. The elision, contraction or slurring of the "bourn" part and its replacement by a "zz" sound is the interesting change that needs explaining. In fact, Osbournby is not alone in being subjected to this particular corruption. Just over five miles south, down the A15, is the village of Aslackby where the "zz" sound replaces "lack" to give the local pronunciation, "Azelbi" (as in Hazel where the "h" isn't sounded). I'll have to do a bit more digging if I'm to come up with an explanation for all this.

We passed Osbournby's church the other day as a light wind was blowing the chestnut and beech leaves of the churchyard trees on to the closely cut grass. This particular building, that dates mainly from the fourteenth century, is quite hard to photograph in summer from the south east with sunlight on it because of those tall trees. Their shadows fall across much of the aisle, nave and chancel. However, on this autumn afternoon the trees had shed enough leaves for light to filter through and give the scene both illumination and interest, so I took my shot.

For a photograph of the fine medieval bench ends that the church is famous for see here.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 24mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/160
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -1.00 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Spires, views and hits

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Ever since July 2010 I've used Blogger's in-house hit counter to analyse the traffic that comes to this blog. It's called "Stats" and it gives a reasonable summary of information: not as much as some of the other free offerings - I also use StatCounter and Google Analytics - but enough for it to be my main port of call. Regular readers of this blog will recall that in August 2010 I posted a list of the top 10 pages by hits and speculated on why they were popular. I looked at this information again recently and found some interesting developments and, once again, more questions. The current 1 to 10 (with last August's placing in brackets) are:

1 (1) Tree shadows and architectural drawings
2 (2) Lichfield Cathedral
3 (5) The corrugated chair
4 (new) Old tools and toffee hammers
5 (3) Promenade silhouettes
6 (new) Views with spires
7 (new) The story of a blog post
8 (new) Church music
9 (new) Colour or monochrome?
10 (new) Rooks, hoar frost and adverts

I find it interesting that only four of last year's top ten feature in the current list, though given the relatively short amount of time I'd been using Stats when I did the first survey perhaps that's not so surprising. As before I'm given to wondering why these particular posts receive more hits than others. However, one of the newcomers is, I think, particularly noteworthy. The entry, View with spires, dates from as recently as May 24th 2011, yet in that short time it has become the 6th most viewed blog post with 351 hits. Not as many as the number one with 2,101, but a high number (for this blog) in quite a short period. Why? The photograph isn't what I'd call my best, and the writing that accompanies it is unremarkable. So what is it that brings so many viewers to that particular page? I haven't a clue!

Incidentally, in October 2010 I noted the top ten countries providing the hits for PhotoReflect. Here is that list compared with today's:

2010 (2011)
1 UK (UK)
2 USA (USA)
3 Australia (Australia)
4 Canada (Canada)
5 India (Germany)
6 Germany (Netherlands)
7 Netherlands (India)
8 Brazil (Poland)
9 Italy (France)
10 France (Russia)

Much less of a change here: eight countries remain in the top ten, with Brazil and Italy being replaced by the newcomers, Poland and Russia. The connection of all this with today's offering is tenuous, but my photograph sparked the line of thought that resulted in the subject of this blog post. The Swaffham church shot is a view with a spire, a lead-covered spire that looks like a later addition to a tower of about 1500. However, it seems that a spire was part of the original design, was replaced by a Gothick version in 1778, and the one we see today is a rebuilding of the eighteenth century incarnation that dates from 1897.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 21mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/250
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Reflecting on church towers

click photos to enlarge

When I first saw the church of St Peter and St Paul at Wigtoft in Lincolnshire, I thought, "Ah, a Kentish tower." What is it about the tower that makes me think of the ragstone, flint and clunch churches of Kent? It's that stair turret that climbs the south-west corner of the tower from ground level and finishes as a crenellated projection above the tower top. This kind of turret is not exclusive to Kent, but that county does have a fondness for them that has caught not only my eye, but that of a few architectural historians.

Church towers come in many shapes and sizes. The two most common variants in England are the square tower that is often, though not always, crenellated, and the tower surmounted by a spire. Both of these forms seem to me to be visually satisfying shapes. I particularly like the broach style where a stone spire is placed on a tower leaving no space for parapet or crenellations. The round towers of Norfolk are interesting departures from the norm that I find often work quite well in a naive, rustic way. Some of the domes and cupolas that top eighteenth century towers are also welcome additions. However, a tower with a single, small turret of the sort seen here at Wigtoft, as well as in Kent, and reasonably commonly elsewhere throughout the country, always looks awkward to my eye, especially when it accompanies a spire. It's as though the builders couldn't make up their minds and decided to have the lot - tower, spire and turret - not appreciating that the two topmost projections compete for attention rather than complement each other, with over-elaborate fussiness being the end result.

Not everyone will agree with me on this, and there are those who will see the asymmetry that the turret introduces as romantic by form and association. I will concede that it can give a sort of "fairy tale" quality to a tower, though to my mind it is more Disney than Grimm. The Victorians liked these turrets and sometimes added them when they were undertaking a restoration. Wigtoft's turret may be original, but its stonework suggests that it could be a later addition. Did the turrets have an ecclesiastical or lay purpose? I don't know, though it is hard to imagine any benefits coming from a vantage point that is a mere six feet or so higher on a tower that would have been easily the tallest building in most towns and villages.

 I photographed the south side of Wigtoft church in the spring of 2010, but from a slightly different angle. And, for those who like such things, here is the original colour version of today's image. The remants of the morning's light fall of snow can be more easily seen in it.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 28mm
F No: 6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/250
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Familiarisation

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I've been familiarising myself with my new camera over the past few days. Not just the obvious things such as how to change the exposure mode, white balance or ISO: those will come quickly with regular use. No, the character of the camera is what I've been wrestling with - composing within an aspect ratio of 3:2 rather than 4:3, how to make it give me the sort of exposure that I like, and especially how to expose for images with a wide dynamic range.

Today's photograph is pretty much an exercise in the latter. A sunlit medieval church, in this case St Peter & St Paul at Algarkirk, Lincolnshire, taken in the afternoon from below trees that are casting deep and dappled shadows. The final image (one of seven I took) has had some post-processing to bring the image nearer to what my eye saw and my brain remembers.

The composition of this photograph is a fairly standard one with the dark shadows and trees framing the building. Behind the building the sky shows that appealing quality often seen on sunny autumn afternoons, the beauty of the clouds being in the many delicate shades of grey on show. In fact, the photograph is something of a late October version of a shot I took in June 2008 that accompanies a blog piece about the village name and the church.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Image data in Exif

St Peter & St Paul, Wigtoft

click photo to enlarge
Go into any Lincolnshire churchyard towards the end of March and aspects of the scene above will meet your eyes. There will probably be a medieval church at the end of a path leading from the lych gate, mainly Gothic of the period 1200 to 1500. At Wigtoft, however, significant parts of a Norman building remain. On the west face of the tower is a Norman doorway and an elaborately decorated window, with elsewhere blocked windows and a section of corbel table from the same period.

The gravestones are of the typical mixture to be found in most Lincolnshire churchyards, the oldest dating from the eighteenth century and blending harmoniously with the building, some nineteenth century examples managing this too, but later ones from that century and most from subsequent years sticking out like sore thumbs: note the two snow white ones to the right of the centre of the image. The landscape of the Fens is not known for its woodland, and without the trees of the churchyards the plentiful rooks of this part of the world would have great difficulty finding enough nest sites. As I walked around the church the birds rose from the tops of the trees, and with raucous cries circled around until I was far enough away for them to feel safe to settle down again. When their eggs have hatched they'll sit tight, ignoring anyone walking below.

Then there's the churchyard grass. About now it gets its first cut, and you can see in the foreground that the mower has begun its work. A few yellowish patches reveal the moss that has grown in the grass during the damp of winter. It's a thankless task, steering the grass-cutter around the hundreds of gravestones, keeping "God's acre" tidy, but people continue to volunteer to do it, and it is a job that will be repeated at regular intervals until late October.

The fine skies and photographic withdrawal symptoms took me out to Wigtoft church, and I took a few shots during my visit. This is the best I managed, with the church framed between trees, the graveyard below, the clouds above, and the straight line of the concrete path, as well as the perspective of the lines of gravestones, leading the eye towards the building.

photograph & text (c) T.Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 16mm (32mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/80
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Medieval bench ends, Osbournby

click photo to enlarge
It is not unusual to hear a member of a church congregation complain about the hardness of the pews, benches or chairs that they must sit on. Perhaps they should spare a thought for the early medieval congregations. Like the clergy of that time, they had to stand throughout the services, though the old or infirm could use the stone ledges that are sometimes found projecting from the nave wall (a practice that is supposed to be behind the saying, "the weak go to the wall"). During these centuries our parish churches were also public meeting places for secular events, and only when these began to be conducted in pupose-made buildings could the church authorities countenance the provision of seating for services.

It is not unusual to see the remains of seating that dates from the fifteenth century and later in our churches. The Victorians rescued and restored a great deal of it, especially in East Anglia and the West Country. The oldest benches in England, however, are probably those at Dunsfold in Surrey, dating from the early 1300s. This early date is unusual: most remaining examples date from after 1450 when increasing prosperity seems to have led to the installation of seating in many churches. The benches from this period are often made of oak and are fairly rudimentary. However, they were frequently enlivened by decorative carving on the bench ends that face the aisles.

The examples above, at St Peter & St Paul, Osbournby, Lincolnshire, are a particularly noteworthy set. They have the characteristic pointed shape with a foliate or figure "poppy head" (a finial whose name derives from the French poupee meaning a bunch of hemp or flax). The lower parts are generally filled with patterns similar to Gothic window tracery, whilst the upper parts, beneath the pointed arch, have scenes from the Bible, from saints' lives, the bestiaries and folk tales. At Osbournby these include the Crucifixion, the fox preaching to the geese and (see above) Adam and Eve, and St George and the Dragon. The aim of the figurative illustrations was much the same as the pictures in stained glass: to place before a largely illiterate population important episodes from the Bible alongside a series of secular, "improving" tales. The charming naivety that shines through the bumps and knocks of the centuries is because these were not, in the main, the work of renowned metropolitan wood carvers, but were fashioned by local individuals.

I took a few photographs of these ancient seats aiming to show them in context and also to highlight some of the figure carving. For the shot down the nave I got down low to keep the bench ends vertical and give them prominence in the image. The two details were pasted onto a white background, and the surroundings given the digital equivalent of "burning" to reduce the impact of what was behind.

photographs & text (c) T. Boughen

Photo 1 (Photo 2)
Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.):(5.4mm (26mm/35mm equiv.))
F No: f2 (f2.1)
Shutter Speed: 1/30 (1/30)
ISO: 125 (400)
Exposure Compensation: -0.66 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Shots I've missed No. 172

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About a week ago as I was driving along the main road through Gosberton, Lincolnshire, I glanced across at the 160 feet tall spire of the medieval church of St Peter & St Paul. Fortunately the road was quite clear because I took my eyes off it for longer than I anticipated as I did a "double take". I'd spotted, half-way up the spire, the outline of a man climbing a ladder that had been fixed to it. Across his back, at right angles to his body, was another ladder. The man was a steeplejack, and I immediately knew what he was doing. A few weeks previously I'd been to the flower festival at the church, and a parishioner had told me that a new weather vane was soon to be fixed to the top of the spire. This man was clearly starting the preparatory work of assembling sections of aluminium ladder that stretch from the top of the square tower, up the tapering spire to its very tip. Once that was completed a scaffold platform would be erected around the top of the spire, allowing the work to begin.

My heart sank. Why? Because I didn't have my camera with me! One of the reasons I use Olympus cameras is the relatively small size of their bodies and lenses. That makes them easier to carry, and therefore much more likely that I'll have it with me. But, here I was with a wonderful photo opportunity and no camera. I could have wept! However, my mission was the weekly shopping, so I gritted my teeth and drove on, cursing my ineptitude. Yesterday, as I drove along on this week's shopping expedition, I looked at the spire expecting to see the weather vane in place. But, work had proceeded slower than I anticipated, and the men were in the process of assembling their work platform. Determined to seize the moment this time I took a small detour and grabbed a few shots of them about their business. Compared with the workers who construct the gleaming towers of Shanghai or Dubai, these men weren't very high above the ground. But unlike their high-tech counterparts they had the major disadvantage of working on an inclined stone surface that was built 500 to 600 years ago, and which has been subject to a damp climate for all of that time. Furthermore, a fall from the top of this spire would leave you every bit as dead as a fall from the latest Middle Eastern mega-tower. It certainly isn't a job that I'd relish.

My photographs aren't much to write home about, and, at the risk of sounding like a fisherman, can in no way compare with the one I missed. However, the subject of the images will be unfamiliar to many, and you might find them of interest. The moral of this tale is, of course, always have your camera with you because you can guarantee that the best shots will present themselves the moment you leave it at home. And the title of this entry? I thought it would make a good companion piece for Photographic Tip Number 127.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Image 1 (2)
Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 40mm (142mm) (80 (284mm)mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1 (7.1)
Shutter Speed: 1/800 (1/1250) seconds
ISO: 200 (200)
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 (-0.7) EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Inside a Georgian church

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A traditional English church interior looks very much like that shown in my photograph of St Mary, Weston, Lincolnshire - a long nave with pews facing the altar at the east end, often with aisles to left and right, a chancel with pews facing the central aisle, a tower arch and font at the west end, and a pulpit near the chancel arch. This is a model found in many medieval churches, and one that Victorian architects frequently (though not exclusively) adopted.

However, churches built during the intervening Georgian period of the eighteenth century often differ markedly from this template. Like the church of St Peter & St Paul at Langton-by-Spilsby, Lincolnshire (c.1720-1730), shown above, they often comprise a single room with banked box pews that face across a central aisle. Additional seating, as here, is frequently found in a raised gallery across the west end of the church (from which I took this shot). The pulpit in Georgian buildings can be quite elaborate. This example, on the right, is a "triple-decker". The clerk sat at the lowest level (near the aisle) and delivered general announcements. The minister performed most of the service from the middle level (with the inclined lectern), and went up to the highest level (below the tester i.e. sounding board) to deliver the sermon. In Georgian churches the font is often found at the west end, but it can turn up elsewhere: at Langton-by-Spilsby the top of its dome-shaped cover can just be seen at the east end, to the right of the altar. Where medieval churches had elaborate exposed timbers supporting the roof, in Georgian churches a plaster ceiling with a cornice and perhaps roundels or coffering in the classical style is more common. Hatchments -the diamond shaped funeral boards with coats of arms - are often displayed. As in medieval churches, the organ is usually a Victorian addition. Music for services, where provided, was usually performed by a small group of wind and string players. Organs first started to appear in churches during the Georgian period, so you can come upon an example that dates from the time of the building. Here it has clearly been placed in front of the panelling on the east wall, breaking the symmetry that the architect intended.

Many people disparage Georgian church interiors, comparing them unfavourably with their medieval predecessors. I like them. The different take on what a church should look like is interesting, and the variations on the basic themes of the period offer endless fascination.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 11mm (22mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/13
ISO: 400
Exposure Compensation: -1.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Harvest festival flowers

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The Harvest Festival is a tradition that continues in most English primary (age 5-11) schools. It is essentially a church service redrawn for the school setting. In a typical Harvest Festival children present songs, poems, drama, readings and prayers on the theme of giving thanks for the harvest, and also on the associated season of autumn. Many schools ask parents to donate packaged and fresh food that is arranged as a display during the service. This food is then either collected by charities for distribution to those in need, given to elderly people living in the vicinity of the school, or distributed in some other way. It is a moment in the year when pupils, staff and parents pause to give thanks for all that they have, and share some of it with others.

In some ways this is quite anachronistic because the harvest, except for those in rural schools, is now quite a remote experience for most children. Churches carry on the tradition, and every year at this time decorate the nave, chancel, aisles, font and pulpit with flowers, wheat, berries, and collections of food for distribution. It is seen as an essential part of the church's annual cycle of worship and thanksgiving. In these days of failing banks and faltering economies brought on by "I want more" and "I want it now" attitudes, the theme of gratitude for what we have that pervades the Harvest Festival is a refreshing corrective to this modern mindset.

I noticed this vase of flowers and scattered rose hips on a stone bench in the porch of St Peter & St Paul, Osbournby, Lincolnshire, as I entered the church. The October sun was piercing the interior through the doorway and side windows, the shafts of light illuminating a dark corner, that the golden sunflowers and blue vase made even brighter. Someone had created this colourful arrangement as their contribution to the harvest decoration of the church, and it made a fine opening statement for the display that was inside.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 21mm (42mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/40
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -1.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On