Carre's Hospital Almshouses, Sleaford

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The word hospital comes from the Latin for "stranger" and this gives a clue to the origins of the buildings we today call hospitals. In the medieval period many hospitals provided temporary accommodation for pilgrims, others operated a schools and many were dwellings for the poor of the locality - what came to be called almshouses in the UK. A similar, though older building - Browne's Hospital - can be seen in Stamford, Lincolnshire.

Today's photograph shows some almshouses in Sleaford Lincolnshire. They were built under the name Carre's Hospital by the Carre family on land that had previously had almshouses and subsequently the principal home of this well-to-do family. It was constructed by the architect, H. E. Kendall in the 1830s and 1840s, and comprises two adjoining ranges on two sides of a rectangle. The nine bay east range was built in 1830 and the seven bay south range (that includes a chapel with a large window and bellcote) in 1841-6. It originally provided homes for twelve "poor men" though in 1872 this was increased to eighteen. Each resident received the sum of 10 shillings per week, 1.5 tons of coal per year, and a blue cloak.

The building still provides homes for the elderly who continue to enjoy the shared garden. Today, however, it is somewhat spoiled by the busy traffic that uses the corner site near St Denys on which it is built. The almshouses are quite prominent in the town and their Gothic style echoes that of the nearby church. You can see both from the staircase windows of the NCCD building.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: Carre's Hospital Almshouses, Sleaford
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 14mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/400 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3EV

Floral Hall portico, Borough Market, London

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We've visited Borough Market, Southwark, in London on many occasions over the years. In fact, in a recent discussion with friends about London markets I named it as my favourite. It specialise in food, and is a great place to see the variety that the world has to offer, as well as somewhere to find an interesting snack or a sit-down meal.

In recent years it has been comprehensively re-developed but has retained much of its original structure that interfaces with the nearby buildings of Southwark (including the cathedral and the Shard), as well as the railway that passes over it.

However, there is one building in Borough Market that has always puzzled me. It is a steel and glass portico painted silver; an ornate, obviously Victorian structure that appears to be an entrance and which bears little relationship to the rest of the market. On our recent visit to the capital I resolved to find out what it is. It seems that the building dates from 1858-9 and was originally part of the Floral Hall adjoining Covent Garden Theatre. It was re-sited as the entrance to Borough Market in 2003 having been in storage since the 1980s when it was taken down during a re-development of Covent Garden. The architect of the piece was Edward Middleton Barry and the structure is Grade II Listed. It was been sensitively restored at the time of its installation and it makes an eye-catching addition to the street scene in this part of London.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: Floral Hall Portico, Borough Market, London
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 14mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/320 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

St Pancras Hotel, London

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George Gilbert Scott was one of the most prolific and able of Britain's Victorian architects. He came from an architectural dynasty and is sometimes referred to as "the middle Scott" to distinguish him from his similarly named father and son. In the 1860s he had many projects underway including three of national importance - the Foreign Office, the Albert Memorial and St Pancras railway station and hotel. Scott's office trained many architects who went on to achieve fame in their own right but he kept close control of all that passed through the firm, and ensured that the high standards that characterised his work was maintained.

St Pancras railway station on Euston Road was the London terminus for the Midland Railway. Scott's Gothic-based design incorporated the engine sheds and platforms (the latter designed by William Henry Barlow) as well as the rooms needed for the station and the Midland Hotel that fronted the building. The functional engine sheds and the elaborate Gothic brickwork, towers and spires admirably convey the Victorian fascination with and ambivalence about buildings as art as well as the allure of new technology and engineering. My photograph shows a large part of the main elevation facing Euston road, but doesn't include the curved wing out of view on the left of the frame.

I've tried for a photograph of this elevation before but haven't produced anything that satisfies me. On a recent visit I decided that the ornate lamp post might be a suitable "anchor" for an asymmetrical composition, and so it proved.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: St Pancras Hotel, London
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 15mm (108mm - 30mm equiv.)
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/320 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Southrey's charming little church

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The church of St John the Divine at Southrey is unusual among Lincolnshire village churches in a number of interesting ways. Firstly it was built in 1898, a late date not only for one of the county's Victorian churches but also because most villages have a medieval building. Then there is the fact that at this late date no architect was involved in its construction. It was built by Richard Turner, the village carpenter, with the help of villagers, the Rev C. Laing and his curate, Mr Knox. This must account for the fact that the church is made of wood, a further unusual characteristic. This material gives the building something of a colonial appearance. The foundations are probably the oldest feature of the church. It is said that the stone slabs that form the plinth were grave covers from the dissolved Bardney Abbey.

The overall design is quite simple - a rectangular nave and chancel in one, a west porch with a large window above, and a small bell turret surmounted by a large weathercock (with cartoon-like painting). What look like four  supporting buttress/poles on each side appear to be later additions holding up the building, perhaps due to movement of some sort. They are, in fact, part of the original design, perhaps a case of "belt and braces" applied by the builders to ensure the structure's integrity.

The exterior timber has been replace by uPVC with little detriment to the overall appearance of the building which is charming. The congregation and clergy clearly look after the building very well and on our recent visit, as on a previous one a few years ago, the church was beautifully presented both without and within. Until recently here was only one piece of original stained glass - a small roundel at the east end above the altar. However, in 2014 the four-light west window above the porch received a remembrance window. The "Southrey Soldiers Windows" by Derek Commander depicts the church in its setting and the military personnel who came from the village and died on active service, the earliest during WW1, the most recent in 2011.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: St John the Divine, Southrey, Lincolnshire
Camera: Sony RX10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 12.9mm (35mm - 35mm equiv.) crop
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/640 sec
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Railway stations and cathedrals

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The invention of the railways in the nineteenth necessitated the design of a new kind of building - the railway station. In large cities these needed to be large buildings to accommodate the multiple lines, platforms, offices, buffets, waiting rooms etc that were required to cater for the thousands of people who would pass through daily. Moreover, the stations had to protect the users from the weather whilst at the same time allowing sufficient space for the smoke from steam-powered engines to dissipate without inconveniencing people.

Large, glazed train sheds came into being in response to these demands and immediately created a problem for the engineers and architects: what form should the building take that fronts these sheds? Usually a stone or brick facade in one of the established historical styles was erected that contained a main entrance and the necessary offices with, often, a hotel. In London the terminus for the Midland Railway, St Pancras (opened 1868), typifies on the largest scale, this approach. However, the nearby King's Cross railway station (opened 1852) took a radically different approach. Here, George Turnbull and Lewis Cubitt came up with a more utilitarian design in stock brick that won many admirers for its bold simplicity. The large main arches that front the two arched roofs of the Arrival and Departure Halls echo how the big arches of medieval cathedral facades signify the nave and flanking aisles within. The symmetry of the station facade with its central clock tower is still a thrilling sight, and one I enjoy each time I go into and out of London by train.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: King's Cross Railway Station, London
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 17mm (34mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.8
Shutter Speed: 1/60 sec
ISO:1000
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

A palatial pub

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Can there be any English building that has borrowed its style so readily and so widely as the pub (public house) or tavern. The first such buildings were essentially houses, and the subsequent purpose-built pubs followed the style of the periods in which they were built. So, many were thatched, timber-framed, tile hung, brick-built, stone-built, pargetted etc. Quite a few of these pubs from the fifteenth to the eighteenth century still stand and, where they haven't been converted into dwellings, still serve beer.

However, from the nineteenth century through into the twentieth pubs vied to attract customers. Two devices commonly employed were siting the pub on a corner so that it could be seen from two or more streets, and presenting a decorative exterior that attracted the eye and thence the customer. Backwards-looking styles were often favoured, particularly brick and timber-framing. Part-tiled exteriors that were showy (and durable) were also favoured. Many were decked out with the trappings of grand buildings, featuring towers, turrets, balconies, balusters and more. The other day I cam across an example of the latter in Islington, London.

The inspiration for the style of the Marquess tavern is clearly the eighteenth century English country house, the residence of the landed rich. It has a rusticated ground floor, a piano nobile with tall windows surmounted by alternating triangular and segmental pediments, smaller windows above and a balustrade hiding the low-pitched roof. The three-bay facade is divided up by giant Corinthian pilasters. Brick and painted stucco (no stone here) are the materials of choice. All this is, of course, a historicising veneer, a means by which to attract custom. It was built in 1854 and remains a pub today, a palatial pile in miniature in the tight streets of this north London borough.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 18mm (36mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/500 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3EV
Image Stabilisation: On

St Pancras station train shed

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It's a testament to the engineering skills, vision and achievement of the Victorians that so much of the infrastructure that they created still serves us today. Our large towns and cities, for example, still depend to a very great extent on the sewers that they constructed, and the essence of the railway system is almost wholly a creation of the nineteenth century.

I was reminded of this the other day when I walked through the arch under St Pancras Hotel in London and stepped onto the platform where the Eurostar trains were were lined up. What caught my eye wasn't the sleek elegance of the shiny locomotives and their carriages, but the enormous, soaring, single-span arch of the engine shed. This structure was the work of the engineer, William Henry Barlow (1812-1902) assisted by Rowland Mason Ordish (1824-1886). It is slightly pointed, creates a space just over 245 feet (75 metres) wide, and was the largest such building in the world at the time it was erected in 1868. The materials used were wrought iron, timber and glass. Each of the 24 main ribs are six feet deep and are created from a lattice-work of metal that lends the whole structure a light, almost insubstantial appearance. That it continues in service today is a testament to its strength and the skill of those who designed and built it. In the fifteenth year of the twenty first century we are used to being impressed by large, new, exciting structures - earlier in the day I had been looking at 1 St Mary Axe (the "Gherkin") and the new Broadgate development - and it's good, I think, that the buildings that awed the Victorians are still capable of inspiring that feeling in us today.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 10.4mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/125
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation:  -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Enduring Newark shops

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It's not unusual to find old shops that are retail premises no longer, perhaps having once been converted into housing, only the large window revealing their original purpose. And it's also quite common to find buildings that were once houses that are now shops, their location on a street frontage proving less of an advantage nowadays for genteel living but very suitable for catching the passing trade. Then there are those premises that were shops a hundred or two hundred years ago and are still used for that purpose

The other day we were shopping in the town of Newark in Nottinghamshire, an ancient settlement on the River Trent. As we walked round the fine old market square I looked at the timber-framed inns of the 1500s and the grander stone and brick examples of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Interspersed among these I could see town houses of the 1700s, the imposing town hall of the same period and some early and later nineteenth century retail shops. There was even a fine Moderne building from the 1930s, it's jazzed-up stripped classical styling trying to complement the earlier authentic examples but failing, though not without bringing its own welcome contribution to the streetscape.

However, it wasn't these grand or prominent buildings, often Listed for their historic or architectural importance, that caught my photographer's eye on this occasion. Rather, it was a couple of nineteenth century shops that were still, today, selling their wares to the people of the town. One, the taller of the pair, was largely as completed a hundred and fifty or so years ago, an illiterate mixture of Gothic and Classical decorative elements all infused with a hint of polychrome Venetian Gothic. Its verticality seemed to be a testament to the value of its small site which could only be maximised by building upwards. The ground floor was the most changed level, with the large window and glazed door obviously not the originals. However, the wooden surround was still there and I have no doubt that the box above the window still held an awning and a metal mechanism for deploying it. What a pity, I thought, that the proprietor had succumbed to paint of the fashionable "heritage" green. The adjoining building had been worked over very comprehensively, a veneer of modernity completely obscuring any traces of the original building. And yet it sat reasonably well next to its lanky neighbour, its name and the chosen font being the most jarring elements.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 22.7mm (61mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/640 sec
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Cemetery gatehouse, Boston, Lincolnshire

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The increase in Britain's population during the eighteenth century led to the graveyards around churches becoming overcrowded, bodies being buried above bodies, and some graves being a matter of only two feet below the surface. By the nineteenth century it was clear that churchyard burial was no longer tenable in many places, particularly in the rapidly expanding cities and towns, and that some alternative measures for dealing with the dead must be found. The answer was the cemetery.

Pere Lachaise Cemetery in Paris was opened in 1804 and influenced British cemetery design. Early examples such as the Rosary Cemetery, Norwich (1819) and Chorlton Row Cemetery, Manchester (1821) drew on its example. Private companies saw profit in the burial of the dead and examples of their work  include Key Hill, Birmingham (1834) and York Cemetery (1836). The first cholera epidemic of 1831-2 also spurred cemetery building and J.P. Loudon's book, "On the Laying Out, Planting and Managing of Cemeteries: And on the Improvement of Churchyards"(1843) offered an architect's views on their better design and construction. The second cholera epidemic of 1848-9 prompted a series of public health Acts, one of which gave newly appointed boards of health powers concerning the burial of the dead. However, it was not until a series of Acts, the first of which was passed in 1852, and which were consolidated in 1857 (becoming known as the Burial Acts), that a nation-wide structure of public cemeteries was established. Many town and city cemeteries were laid out during this time and in the following decades.

Today's photograph shows part of an entrance gatehouse to the cemetery in Boston, Lincolnshire, a facility that dates from this period having been opened in 1855. Today it is almost three times the size of that first cemetery. The original plot is now a designated wildlife area though it retains its distinctive memorials, chapel and entrance avenue, as well as the gatehouse. The newer extensions have graves more closely spaced, and today a crematorium is sited there too.

I took my photograph of the rear of the gatehouse, as the late afternoon light was fading, after doing some shopping in Boston. The old building retains most of its original features including the ornate bargeboards, and it was these that I decided to make the focus of my image.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.9mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.1
Shutter Speed: 1/125
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation:  0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On 

Market Hall, Louth

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The nineteenth century English market hall is usually a combination of the decorative and the strictly functional. The aim is to provide an open covered space where traders can sell from stalls and people can browse their wares, safe from the vagaries of the weather. They are, like the rather grander glazed arcades, an early shopping mall, though market halls tend to cater for less expensive or fresh goods of the kind seen on open market stalls. So, the utilitarian aspect of their design usually relates to the provision of the large, covered space, and the decorative features are at their most pronounced on the main elevation. In this respect they are not unlike that other characteristically nineteenth century building, the corn exchange, where the structure is both a commercial undertaking and a symbol of civic pride.

The market hall at Louth in Lincolnshire exemplifies all these characteristics particularly well. It was built in 1866-7 by the Louth architects, Rogers and Marsden. This firm had a reasonably wide range of commissions including churches, church restoration, vicarages etc. With Louth market hall's facade they adopted a Byzantine Gothic style featuring a set-back, narrow, spired, clock tower (too narrow for me) between two flanking wings. The structure uses mainly red brick with stone and yellow brick details. The wings have shops at the base, a fine row of round-arched windows above with rather nice pointed dripmoulds lined by string-moulding. Below the gutter is a fine cornice, and the whole is topped by Welsh slate. One unusual feature of the facade - that doesn't work for me - is the fact that the main entrance is set so far back as to be lost in shadow: this de-emphasises it rather than drawing the eye.

The back of the building is quite a contrast, owing more to industrial buildings or train sheds than an acknowledged historical style. In some respects I like it more than the front. It's big, bold, functional, eye-catching in the narrow street, and has nice details, especially the two doors with their scroll hinges. The unadorned metal of the semi-circular window arch with its rivets showing is great, even if the scalloped wind-bracing at the corners of the rectangular window lights detracts from the industrial aesthetic.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 17mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/20
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: N/A

Police stations new and old

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Ever since I started to take an interest in architectural history, about forty years ago, I've compared buildings. Take town halls. These are invariably made to look imposing and designed to ornament the community in which they are located. They are a visible symbol of civic values and pride. Architectural styles and fashions come and go, and town halls reflect these changes. I've seen excellent town halls, mediocre examples, and some that are downright terrible. You'd think the same would be true of police stations given that they originate from the same public procurement processes. Yet, as far as Britain goes, it's unusual to see a good police station and all too common to see a bad one.This is partly because many date from the period when Britain had a spell of building new, bigger police stations - the late 1960s and 1970s. Examples from this time often exhibit the worse fashion of those years: raw, shuttered concrete, acres of barren paving, grim glass walls, main entrances that are hidden from view, and flat roofs topped by excrescences - lift gear rooms, flag poles and multiple aerials. I remember particularly dour examples in Morecambe and Blackpool, Lancashire.

The other day I came across a police station from a much earlier time, 1847 to be precise. It was in the small Lincolnshire town of Barton upon Humber and it currently serves as the premises of a veterinary surgeon. However, the main entrance doorway boldly proclaims (sans one letter) its original purpose. It is made of brick laid using the Flemish bond (alternating headers and stretchers) with stone dressing round doors and windows and a Welsh slate roof. The main entrance is flanked by windows and at each side a wing projects forwards, single storey on the left, two storey on the right.The building is not, overall, a thing of beauty. But, the section with the main entrance, shown above, has a certain simple charm. What prompted my photograph was the paving, seating and planting, some work of recent years, and the way it complements the symmetry and regularity of the building. As I looked at the building I reflected that the original door would almost certainly not be the strong red that it is today, was more probably dark blue, perhaps black, or some other reserved or muted colour, but definitely benefited from the louder hue.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 35mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/125 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Corn exchanges

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A nineteenth century building that can be found in many of England's towns and cities is the corn exchange. Most of them were built during Victoria's reign, though some date from the first few decades of the 1800s. Their main purpose was to provide a space where farmers and merchants could trade cereals. However, anyone who has seen a selection of corn exchanges will realise that important subsidiary purposes of the buildings were to proclaim the wealth of those involved in this branch of agriculture and to adorn the community of which they were a part: corn exchanges are often very ostentatious! It's unusual to find a corn exchange that merges comfortably with the vernacular style of the locality: in the main they are built of stone, usually in a classical style, though occasionally Gothic is used, and they mostly dwarf the buildings around them.

Where the corn exchange is entirely new (as opposed to a conversion of an existing building) they are typically three bays wide. The central bay has the main entrance door, and often the flanking bays have doors too. Central towers are not uncommon, even above a classical facade where no Greek or Roman would have put one (though the architects of the English Renaissance such as Wren might have done so). A discernible order of architecture is often seen: at Newark it is Corinthian, King's Lynn chose Ionic. But what is mandatory (apart from the date of construction and, usually, the words "Corn Exchange") is sculpture, either in relief or in the form of symbolic figures - Ceres, the Roman goddess of agriculture, is commonly seen. Other popular subjects are, unsurprisingly, sheaves of wheat, scythes and sickles, cornucopias and rakes.

The life of most corn exchanges wasn't very long, the process of trading wheat changed, and these interesting, showy buildings were often turned to new uses based around the large trading hall that had been the focus of their commercial activity. Many towns converted them into theatres. This happened at Stamford, Lincolnshire, at Cambridge and at King's Lynn (above) to name but three. Others, such as the one on the High Street in Hull became museums. At Newark (above) a nightclub currently makes use of the building. It is a testament to their quality and adaptability, as well as the local affection that exists for these buildings, that they continue to serve their communities many years after their original purpose has passed. Long may they continue to do so.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 24mm
 F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/160 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Brick Victorian Gothic

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The building in today's photograph, the former Christian Association & Literary Institute at Spalding, Lincolnshire, was built in 1874, the end of the Mid-Victorian period in English architecture, when the "battle of the styles" between Classical and Gothic had been won by the Gothicists, and when common brick had been widely accepted as a suitable material in which to build even the grandest, most noble of structures. This particular building isn't grand, nor is it noble, but it does exhibit a feature that was rampant at the time, and which in later years would cause architectural historians to look down their noses at much that the Victorians built in England, namely exuberance!

That denigratory attitude continues in some quarters today. For example, this former institute has not been awarded Listed Building status despite the fact that it remains very much as it was built, is a fine regional and local example of a building style that was once common, and is, to my mind, one of the most interesting Victorian exteriors in the town. If it was the work of a major architect - a Scott, Butterfield, Pearson or Burges - it would have a better overall form, more refined details, and would usually feature cut stone or sculpture that was specifically commissioned for the building. As far as I can see this uses ready-made bricks and stonework that many architectural and building suppliers of the period would furnish. Possibly the datestone over the door was cut to order, but even that was probably part of the ready made piece that surrounds it with the central panel awaiting the final chisel. It seems to me that this building is too "common" - in both senses of that word - to warrant the honour and recognition of  Listing at even Grade II. Pity.

My photograph and the Google Street View image show some of the characteristic and not so common features of this style of brick building. The dressed stone is reserved for the doorways, windows, platbands and gable shoulders. Blue-black brick is used to outline openings and for decorative strips. Projecting, stepped brickwork features on the gable and, curiously, on the side elevation. At the top of the tower and above the central first floor window it suggests machicolations. This building isn't especially well proportioned, it doesn't exhibit qualities that can't be seen elsewhere, it has no special historical significance of which I'm aware, nor is it an integral part of a larger scheme in this area of the town. But it is of greater than usual interest in this location, possesses an exterior that remains much as it was when first erected, and it exemplifies that under-rated quality of Victorian exuberance. For those reasons I think it warrants greater recognition.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 35mm
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/40
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Peterscourt, Peterborough

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As I've said elsewhere in this blog much of my photography is incidental. By that I mean the subjects that I photograph are the ones that present themselves to me as I go about my immediate locality and the wider world. So, when I set off on a pleasurable walk somewhere I take my camera and usually return home with some shots. If I go to explore a village, town or city my camera is pointed at anything that looks to be a suitable subject. It is unusual for me not to carry a camera when I'm out and about, and consequently the majority of the images in this blog were taken almost as a by-product of another activity.

However, every now and then I set my mind to photographing a specific subject. Or I shoot a subject and make a mental note to do so again in better or different light, weather or season. Today's photograph is an example of the latter. I've photographed Peterscourt before but only ever produced one shot (in September of this year) that I thought worthy of posting. It's a large brick building in Peterborough dating from 1856-64, the work of the eminent Victorian architect, Sir George Gilbert Scott. Peterscourt isn't a spectacular building, nor is it sufficiently feted to appear in many books about architectural history. Rather, it's one of those quietly competent,visually interesting, well-made buildings that can be found in most cities and which in their own undemonstrative way, grace our streets and make our passage through them a pleasanter experience.

I've struggled in the past to get a shot that shows the whole of the building. Parked vehicles, roadworks, the position of the sun and much else has conspired to get in the way. But, on a recent visit to Peterborough to do some Christmas shopping I took this shot in more favourable circumstances. It shows the asymmetrical nature of Peterscourt, the prominence given to the chimneys and dormers, the unassuming and functionally positioned main entrance and the dark brick detailing. Anyone interested in English architectural history will have noted the awkwardness of the white painted Georgian doorway within the Gothic, pointed arch of the entrance. Scott did not design the building this way. The doorcase was brought to the city from the London Guildhall when it was damaged during the second world war. Its prominent placement here detracts from Scott's overall conception but at least conserves an interesting piece of history.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 45mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/160
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Smithies and forges

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Today's photograph is posted in response to an email I have received from "down under", Australia to be more specific. It was from someone doing family history research. One of her ancestors lived in the parish of Aswarby and in her researches she'd come across my photographs of the church, the local landscape and in particular, the old smithy. In 2008 I posted a sepia coloured photograph of this building and wrote something of its history. She wondered whether I had a colour photograph of the building. As luck would have it her email came shortly after we'd had a walk in the area and I'd taken another photograph of the building. Here it is.

I wouldn't have posted this photograph had it not been for the email and, more particularly, the fact that it reminded me of another smithy I'd photographed last year. The former forge/smithy and bakehouse at Tinwell, Rutland is altogether grander and more ornate than the example at Aswarby. It too is a consciously picturesque building in an"estate village", the product of a rich and paternalistic landowner. But, whereas Aswarby's smithy is on a track off the main road in a small, somewhat scattered settlement, the one in Tinwell is in the centre of a larger village near the church, and this probably influenced its scale and decorative qualities. Aswarby has a datestone showing 1846, the year of its construction. Tinwell was built only two years later in 1848. Is it down to fashion that both have horseshoes carved on their facades to indicate their purpose? Tinwell's is massive enclosing a door. Was this a shoeing bay? If so it's certainly a grander entrance than the double doors on the left at Aswarby. The funds available at Tinwell, and the vision of the landowner and his architect also allowed for the incorporation of a water supply under the arch in the wall at the centre of the composition. Today Tinwell's smithy/forge is a post office.

click photo to enlarge

Main Photo
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 28mm
F No: f4
Shutter Speed: 1/100
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Oliver's Wharf, Wapping, London

click photo to enlarge

Oliver's Wharf is a warehouse on the River Thames in Wapping, London. It was built by F. & H. Francis in 1869-70 for George Oliver. The building handled general river-borne cargo but had some special facilities for tea. It is a 6-storey structure constructed of yellow stock brick with red brick and stone dressing that contributes to the Venetian Gothic styling. The art critic, John Ruskin (1819-1900) popularised this particular form of Gothic through his three-volume work on the art and architecture of that city, "The Stones of Venice" (1851-3), and it was applied to churches, museums, town halls, libraries and many other public and private buildings. Here at Wapping the ornate "polychrome" brickwork, pointed windows, brick relieving arches and stone three-bay windows makes the building stand out among the more utilitarian nineteenth century warehouses that line the river.

It was undoubtedly the ornate character of the main elevations (the street and river facades are very similar) that led to Oliver's Wharf being one of the first redundant warehouses to be converted to flats. In 1972 twenty three luxury dwellings were created within its old walls. The architects responsible for the adaptation wisely left much of the original exterior details intact, and today the building is a noticeable and noteworthy feature of this part of London.

I have looked across the Thames at Oliver's Wharf many times on my walks along the south bank from Rotherhithe into the City. I've photographed it a couple of times too. However, not until a few days ago, when a bright sky with thin cloud illuminated the building very nicely, did I capture an image that pleased me. I like this shot because it has something of the quality of an architect's watercolour elevational illustration about it.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 200mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/320
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Harrington church and S.S. Teulon

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My interest in church architecture leads me to read a lot about the architects of the Victorian period: the major names of the nineteenth century such as Scott, Pearson, Street, Butterfield etc, but also the second rank of practitioners and the lesser lights too. The other day, following a visit to the church of St Mary at Harrington, Lincolnshire, I was delving into my books to find out more about Samuel Sanders Teulon (1812-1873). I'd always known of him because he was one of Harry Goodhart-Rendel's "rogues" i.e.one of the architects who departed drastically from the mainstream Gothic of the time, and injected their own whim, fancy and personal vision into their country houses and churches. I recall too seeing his estate cottages at Sunk Island, East Yorkshire, and his individualistic churches dotted about in Lincolnshire at places such as New Bolingbroke, Riseholme and Burringham. However, when I read about the extent of his practice and the number of commissions he worked on, I felt as I often do when reviewing the work of these men - exhausted.

It's hard to imagine how the successful Victorian architects juggled their commissions. Yes, they had assistants and trainees, but the sheer weight and range of commissions that came to someone like Teulon is staggering. And that doesn't take into account the amount of church restorations, rebuildings and extensions that many undertook. Harrington church was a rebuild by Teulon of a medieval structure, but such an extensive rebuild that little of the old work remains. So, given his reputation for dazzling polychrome brickwork, weird gables, tall towers, complex silhouettes, a style that some admired and others called "illiterate", what characterises Teulon's work here. The word that comes to my mind is "boring." It is a greenstone church with little to distinguish it from others. Inside the building its painted plasterwork, pulpit, windows and roof are all too typical of a Victorian church. The building disappoints because it displays neither novelty or a respect for the original building. The fact that I'd visited Harrington twice before and could remember nothing of it says it all.

But, from a photographic standpoint, the light on the day of my most recent visit was strong and Teulon's painted walls reflected it around the interior giving it quite a nice glowing quality. So I composed this asymmetrical shot looking down the nave, past the "wine glass" pulpit to the "Geometrical" east window.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 24mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/20
ISO: 500
Exposure Compensation: -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Royal Arcade, Norwich

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In a recent post I suggested that the buildings that survive the bulldozer are those built in the right place to high standards. I could have added that structures exhibiting qualities before their time also have a chance of a long life. In that group of buildings stands the arcade, the forerunner of today's shopping malls.

Victorian shopping arcades can be found across the UK. Glass roofed, with rows of small shops, each with an entrance door and window, sometimes single storey, often with two levels, cross-shaped or simply linear, these arcades have seen their ups and downs over the decades, but have sufficient charms and economic attractions that they still exist today.

One of my early posts shows the Leyland Arcade at Southport, Lancashire, a fine example from 1898. Today's photograph shows the Royal Arcade, Norwich, built the following year. What makes this example special is the entrance front at Back of the Inns, and the decorative scheme, which is the closest that English Arts and Crafts gets to the Art Nouveau of Continental Europe. It is by George Skipper, a gifted provincial architect, who went on to design in the Edwardian Baroque style. In this building the arcade's plan is a "T" shape, with a single transept branching off the main thoroughfare. The entrance is a scheme in Doulton-made coloured glazed tiles (faience) by W. J. Neatby. The stylized, inverted heart-shaped flowers, the stained glass flowers/trees and the characteristic lettering are all Art Nouveau in style. So too is the female head framed by elongated wings at the apex of the concave gable. Inside the building are bow-fronted shop windows and a colourful frieze that includes peacocks and flowers. The striking lamp shades and the floor details date from a sympathetic restoration of 1986-91.

The Royal Arcade is a building I have been familiar with through books and photographs for many years. I was pleased to have the opportunity to see it and photograph it even though the dull, damp day wasn't quite what I would have wished for. I was also delighted to find it busy with shoppers, a confirmation of its continuing attraction.

photographs & text (c) T. Boughen

Photo 1 (Photo 2)
Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 7.4mm (35mm/35mm equiv.) (5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.))
F No: f5.6 (f4)
Shutter Speed: 1/800 (1/1000)
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -0.66 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Former Fogarty Feather Factory, Boston

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Today's photograph title isn't a tongue twister designed to catch anyone out, but is a factual description of the building shown. South Lincolnshire has long had industries making products that use the feathers from poultry rearing, and this tradition continues today. This Boston factory was established in 1877, the date displayed at the top of the building. It advertises its connection with the manufacture of pillows and down bedding by the large stucco swan that looks down from on high. The company that erected the factory was taken over by Edward Fogarty in 1901 and Fogarty's went on to establish itself as pre-eminent in the field. Today the company has branched out into man-made fillings, and this building has been converted into flats, but the tradition of bedding manufacture continues in the Boston area.

The change of use from factory to residential premises happened with little change to the main elevation of the building because it has Grade II Listed Building status. So, the three storeys of red brick with stucco pilasters and arched windows remain, as do the decorative cornice and panelled parapet. The central and flanking doorways have been modified for its current use, but the twisted iron half-column mullions on the windows are untouched along with the heavy, pierced guard-rail above the main entrance. The piece-de-resistance of this factory, and the feature that makes it stand out from other industrial premises of this period is, however, the big swan, a symbol of the purity and warmth of the products that the factory produced.

I'd have liked to moved back a little more for my shot so that the couple of feet missing from each side of the building were included, but doing so brought in foreground clutter, and without extra height I couldn't keep it out. If I'd been carrying the Olympus with the 11-22mm lens I'd maybe have got it, but I only had the maximum of 24mm (35mm equiv.) of the LX3. However, I did notice a couple of people passing, so, realising that they'd bring scale to the shot, I waited until they were silhouetted by the central door and then pressed the shutter.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f3.5
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The Institute, Deeping St James

click photo to enlarge
As I passed this Victorian building on Church Street, at Deeping St James in Lincolnshire, two thoughts crossed my mind. The first was, "That's an interesting way of dressing up a facade." The second concerned the wire that stretches from the top left to the centre, then drops down to disappear into a hole above the doorway. It occurred to me that it had been positioned with all the sensitivity of a tattoo on the end of a person's nose.

I photographed the building, known as "The Institute", mainly because of the unusual yellow brickwork designs that form both the quoins to the left and right, and the surrounds for the tall windows and the door. However, once I'd got my photograph onto the computer, had corrected the converging verticals, and began to study the facade, a lot more details caught my eye, and quite a few questions came to mind. For example, why did the builder or architect place a large piece of stone at the bottom left and bottom right corners? Why did he use stone for the sills of the three windows rather than wrapping the brickwork surrounds underneath? Why does his design for the "shoulders" of the door surround differ from those of the windows? Why is the band of yellow brickwork that crosses the facade at the level of the window sills flush with the wall and hence barely visible?

The building's style borrows from that of a church or chapel (tall and pointed openings), and from classical precedents (the brick plinth, quoins and hints of "Gibbs surrounds" in the work around the windows and doorway). It is Classical too in its severe symmetry: note that even the bootscrapers are doubled up, one on each side of the door, lest the building become even slightly unbalanced. The use, almost exclusively, of brick, and the vernacular touch of a dog-tooth corbel just below the eaves, betrays its provincial origins, lower cost, and lower status. Despite its relatively elaborate decoration it is still quite a utilitarian building. I haven't been able to find out much about its origins. Was it always an Institute? Was it a non-conformist chapel originally? Whatever its past, its present includes housing the Parish Council of Deeping St James, and offering more than a little interest and intrigue to passers-by who care to stop and stare.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 11mm (22mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/640
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On