Threshing machines, balers and photo processing

click photo to enlarge

Today's photograph is taken at the other side of the threshing machine that features in yesterday's shot. You can see the smoke from the traction engine's funnel rising above the trailer of wheat that is being forked into the thresher. The green traction engine visible on the other side of the baler is powering a large wood saw. On the side of the baler someone has painted the date, 1946. I'm informed that the threshing machine and the baler are both of the same date, having been bought by the same person at the same time. I'd imagined, given the wooden spoked wheels of the thresher and the pneumatic tyres of the baler, that the threshing machine was older, but apparently that's not the case. Incidentally, the baler's plate says, "The Powell Baling Press" and the maker's name, "Powell and Co, St Helens".

After I posted yesterday's photograph I received an email from someone asking how I'd achieved the painterly effect of the image. He wondered if I'd applied a proprietary Photoshop action or somesuch. In fact, I simply did what I sometimes do with shots where I want this effect: I underexposed the original shot, Recovered the blown highlights, applied the Shadows and Highlights slider, then increased the Contrast. I then tweaked the final image with a little selective Dodging and Burning. The final result isn't too far away from what the camera captured, but the alteration of the balance of light and dark does give the shot something of the quality of a painting.

There are those who don't like this sort of thing, feeling that photography is about recording and that means accepting what the camera produces. My view is that using a camera for making records is fine, but the device is mainly about making pictures, and the dumb machine can rarely do that unaided. Firstly, it does not record what you saw: if you want a better record you have to process the camera's output to make it more closely approximate to what your eye/brain "sees". Secondly, a picture (as opposed to a record shot) usually requires pre- and post-exposure input to emphasise the qualities that the photographer needs to achieve his conception. In the past this involved lens, film, speed, and aperture selection before the shot and various printing processes afterwards - paper choice, dodging, burning, chemical choice etc. Very few of the significant photographers in the history of the craft/art made no use of such things and many chose their printers by name and instructed them specifically about how they wanted the print to look. That process, using a sensor and computer/printer continues today.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 32mm
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Threshing machines

click photo to enlarge

Mankind has a great capacity for invention. Throughout the ascent from cave to skyscraper inventions have been one of the driving forces of change, progress and a better life for many. But not every invention is an unalloyed good. For every person who argues that nuclear weapons have prevented a third world war, there are many more who would wish that they had never seen the light of day. And the fact is, though we can invent, we cannot un-invent: once something has been formulated and exists there seems to be no easy way to prevent it existing - though nuclear war might accomplish it!

The first threshing machine was invented by a Scotsman, Andrew Meikle, in the 1780s. It was designed to take the place of hand flails in separating the grain from the husks and stalks. Hand threshing was slow, arduous and labour intensive and a machine offered speed, ease and a reduction in cost for the farmer. It didn't take long for those employed on farms to realise that such inventions reduced the number of jobs available. The Swing Riots of the 1830s were caused, in part, by the increasing adoption of threshing machines, and the rioters particularly targeted them as they roamed the countryside giving vent to their fury. The early machines were horse-powered though a primitive steam engine was used to provide power as early as 1799. However, it wasn't until the 1830s and later that steam-powered threshing machines became widely used, and they remained busy into the mid-twentieth century when combine harvesters replaced them.

Today's photograph shows a threshing machine built by William Foster and Company of Lincoln. I don't know when it dates from, but it is probably the early twentieth century. I photographed it at work, powered by a big traction engine, at the Bicker Steam Threshing event. This is an annual country fair held in the village of Bicker, Lincolnshire, that features traction engines in particular. A strong wind was making the work of those feeding the threshing machine with their pitchforks a little more unpleasant than it otherwise might have been.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 35mm
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/640
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -1.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Watercarriers for Mesopotamia

click photo to enlarge
The story of how the word "tank" to describe the armoured fighting vehicle came to be used is an interesting one.

During the First World War the British Admiralty Landships Committee was charged with developing a fighting vehicle that could cross the mud and trenches of the modern battlefield. The members turned to a number of designers and companies to help them in their task. One firm that was approached was the agricultural machinery manufacturers, William Foster & Co of Lincoln. Foster's began life as a mill owner in 1846, but soon expanded into milling machinery and threshing machines. It opened its Wellington iron foundry in 1856 and went on to make traction engines and steam tractors. In the First World War it made large Daimler-Foster tractors and trailers for hauling howitzers, so it was natural that the Commitee saw it as the possible developer of a new fighting vehicle.

William Tritton (the chairman of Foster's) and Walter Gordon Wilson worked together in 1915 to develop the first "landship", named "Little Willie" after its co-designer. When the Lincoln factory came to produce the first batch of the new armoured vehicles there was a great need for secrecy so that the impact of their deployment could maximized. Consequently, the workforce were told that they were engaged in making "Watercarriers for Mesopotamia" (modern day Iraq)! This mouthful was soon shortened by those working on the machines, so the story goes, to "tanks", and the name stuck. Fosters went on to make hundreds of tanks for the British Army, with examples also going to the allies, including the United States and Canada. In recognition of the pioneering work in designing and making the first examples of this important military weapon the company incorporated it into the design of their nameplate that adorned the vehicles they manufactured.

I came across the example in today's photograph at a Lincolnshire gathering of traction engines. Unless one knows the story of William Foster & Co of Lincoln, the inclusion of a military tank on an agricultural vehicle maker's nameplate looks decidedly incongruous. But once you do know the reason it seems entirely natural!

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 64mm (128mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/160
ISO: 400
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On