Go ask Alice

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"Go ask Alice, when she's ten feet tall", From the song "White Rabbit" (written by Grace Slick) sung by Jefferson Airplane, 1967

It's difficult to "go ask Alice" today because Alice, like Maude, Vera, Sybil and Winifred are hard to come by, being names that have dropped out of fashion. In the mid-twentieth century such names belonged to mothers and grandmothers and were seen as old-fashioned. A group of new names took their place, and once they became common-place they too dropped out of use and along came yet more new names. But, in the later waves some of the older names began to be recycled and Sarah, Rose, Victoria, Daisy, Olivia and Lily, to name but a few, made a re-appearance. But not Alice, Maude, Vera, Sybil and Winifred - well at least not in the lists of popular UK girls' names that I have scrutinised.

Today's photograph shows an artwork by Cristina Lucas. Like the quotation above it draws its inspiration from Lewis Caroll's "Alice in Wonderland", more particularly the episode in which Alice eats the cake marked "eat me" with the result that she grows to the point where she can't fit in the room and puts her arm out of the window. The location of this piece is the former Carthusian monastery sometimes called La Cartuja, in Seville, a place where Christopher Columbus once lived. The monastery has an interesting history. After it ceased its religious function it was bought in 1839 by a Liverpudlian businessman, Charles Pickman, who set up a large tile-making works there. Some time after the business ceased producing tiles in 1984 it became a museum of contemporary art - hence Alice. The smaller photograph shows the archway in the main photograph from the outside of the building. Its current status relating to art explains the blue objects in the water and the stainless steel, cylindrical "bus shelter".

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: "Alice", La Cartuja, Seville
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 20mm (40mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/800 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Heart of Darkness

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Joseph Conrad's novel, "Heart of Darkness", as a piece of art reminds me, in a couple of respects at least, of the eponymous album, "The Velvet Underground & Nico" - massively influential, long lasting, but read (or listened to) by fewer people than know of it.

The book centres around a river journey into darkest Africa to find an ivory trader, Kurtz, who is worshipped by the natives of the area. Conrad weaves a number of themes into the novel such as horror, racism, imperialism and colonialism. The most famous adaptation of the critically acclaimed novel is Francis Ford Coppola's 1979 film, "Apocalypse Now" set in the Vietnam War.

On a recent visit to the National Centre for Craft and Design in Sleaford we saw another art work that uses Conrad's novel as its inspiration. Clair Morgan's piece features thousands of flies fixed to hanging threads in columns and rows that collectively form a cuboid shape. It adopts Conrad's title and is not one of those works that the viewer finds agreeable or pleasurable. Rather, it fascinates in a disquieting sort of way, a characteristic it shares with Conrad's opus.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: Heart of Dearkness by Claire Morgan
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 17mm (34mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f3.5
Shutter Speed: 1/80 sec
ISO:640
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Reflecting on gallery walls

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When I frame a photograph or select a background for a photographic subject the colours I most commonly use are cream, black and white. There are those that argue the latter two are not colours but in everyday parlance they are and most people treat them as such. Their virtue as a backdrop is that they are neutral and interact with and modify a subject much less than any of the other colours. The same is broadly true of cream (and also grey).

In my experience today's galleries also favour these colours, especially white, above all others as a background for art works, particularly framed paintings, and undoubtedly for the same reasons. However, more traditional gallery buildings housing more traditional paintings sometimes go in for other colours such as drab purple, greyish blue, or autumn green, colours that, I suppose, better reflect the opulent decor of the houses in which the works would have originally hung. But, as far as modern galleries displaying contemporary or twentieth century work are concerned white is pre-eminent as a background with, as far as I can see, black a distant second.

Today's photograph shows a gallery with black painted walls in a small Lisbon museum - the Casa Museu Dr Anastacio Goncalves - created from a house and the collection of paintings and furnishings of its owner. The gallery was between exhibitions and lit only sufficiently to allow visitors to pass through safely to the main rooms of the building. The fall of the light and the colours appealed to me sufficiently to take this shot.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 25mm (50mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/13 sec
ISO:6400
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Gallery-going

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What do people hope to get from going to art galleries? The answer to that question is many and varied, and though all (presumably) wish to see works of art, each individual brings his or her own thoughts, opinions, prejudices, hopes, expectations and experiences to bear on what they see. Consequently every gallery-goer sees and experiences something slightly (or considerably) different from their fellow visitors.

My tastes in art, as in photography, are wide. I like representational work but also semi-abstract and abstract pieces too. I'm old enough  and experienced enough to know what I like and to be able to make a fair stab at explaining my preferences and dislikes. But, as a photographer, and as someone interested in architecture I always have one eye on the setting of the works of art - the building and the individual galleries. This is not only for the interest and variety that can be found in these  areas, but also the way in which the setting can influence one's appreciation of what is displayed.

On a recent visit to several galleries in Lisbon, Portugal, after viewing exhibitions, I took a few shots of the interiors of galleries as I sat with my camera and my own thoughts. Today's post is the first of a few on this theme.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 67mm (134mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/160 sec
ISO:3200
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Eye-scorching colour

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Living in the countryside I am surrounded by natural, largely muted colour - the greens and browns of grass and leaves, the dark earth, the bricks, tiles and stone of village and farm buildings. It's true that points of strong colour intrude in the form of flowers, large agricultural vehicles, and most of all the blue of the sky. But it's also true to say that I don't regularly experience the layers of in-your-face, man-made colours so often found in the city. And there are times when I crave them.

So, I was pleased to visit an exhibition of creative textiles by Michael Brennand-Woods at the National Centre for Craft and Design at Sleaford, Lincolnshire, and discover that many of the pieces on display offered eye-scorching colour. As I've mentioned before, it's not unusual for me to come away from NCCD exhibitions feeling disappointed. But, as I've also noted there are occasions when I enjoy an encounter with a kind of craft (or art) that I don't usually seek out, and I depart from the show visually and creatively stimulated. Such was my experience on a recent visit where I saw textiles on the theme of "Seeds of Memory". I can't say that I engaged with the works on the terms that they were offered to me, and the impenetrable, jargon-ridden, art-speak made me despair, as it always does. But I got a lot from the experience on my own terms and that was enough for me. Other visitors who, like us, seem to have popped in for a break from shopping, appeared to appreciate the exhibition too.

During my visit I reflected on whether or not these pieces would work outside the gallery, in a home or an office for example, and decided they would. I often think otherwise about NCCD exhibits because many benefit from the light, shadows and space in which they are displayed, qualities that don't easily transfer to smaller settings.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 45mm (90mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/100 sec
ISO:4000
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

A photographic truism

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It's a truism that it's possible to take a good photograph of a bad subject. In fact, as I've said elsewhere in this blog, many of the best photographs work despite, not because of, their subject matter. Certainly there are those who disagree with this proposition, maintaining that the subject is of paramount importance in all photographs. It's my belief that, whilst this is true where photography serves a wider need, in those instances where the photograph itself is the only goal, where it serves only itself, the subject matters less than everything else about the image.

Today's photograph, to an extent, illustrates this point in an oblique way. Firstly let me state that I don't consider it a particularly good shot. However, it does illustrate a subject (the "Rock Around the Fleet" art installation) that, in an earlier blog post, I described as WYSIATI: I don't think it amounts to much. So why did I photograph it again and post it here? Well, the colours are what drew me to take this shot - the green of the reflective water, the blue of the sky and the buff stonework, brown brick and orange pantiles of the old buildings. But all of that wouldn't have prompted this photograph without those quirky points of day-glow pink introduced by the "art installation". So, it was the colours that caused this photograph, including the lurid hues of a weak art installation. Here, the subject doesn't really matter but its colours do.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 18mm (36mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/2000 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Archilense

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Last October, in a post called "WYSIATI" I described how I was underwhelmed by a series of art installations in King's Lynn, a collaboration between Amiens, France, and the Norfolk town. What I didn't mention was that the installation that sounded the most interesting hadn't been set up and so I couldn't have a look at it. That was remedied recently when we made one of our regular visits to King's Lynn.

"Archilense", an optical installation by Thibault Zambeaux, is described as "a transparent door to a new landscape". Moreover, the website says that, "To create the distortion and images each panel has magnifying glasses inlayed (sic) to build a unique pattern related to King's Lynn." From a distance the piece looked interesting due to the shapes built into the glass. Looking through it, however, proved very disappointing. The inversions and distortions were not sufficiently interesting to engage the viewer: for me the piece failed in the main task that the artist had built into the piece. While we were there I saw a few people look through it and after a few seconds move on. The longest period of attention the work received was from a black-headed gull in its winter plumage that found it to be a very convenient riverside perch. In fact, it was reluctant to leave it and allowed me to get quite close. Looking at the bird I was reminded of some Lincoln sculpture that daily provides a similar avian resting place for both gulls and pigeons.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 20.4mm (55mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f4
Shutter Speed: 1/500
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation:  - 0.3EV
Image Stabilisation: On

WYSIATI

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I've always liked the acronym, WYSIWYG (wizeewig). It originated in web design, particularly with the kind of web editors that behave more like desktop publishing programmes as opposed to the original and more basic html editors. It describes the fact that as you build the page the appearance and position of objects appear as they will in the finished article, rather than as lines of code as is the case with non-WYSIWYG editors. Like many good linguistic ideas it has taken on a life of its own and can now be found applied in areas far beyond computing and web design.

I'd like to see WYSIATI assume a similar widespread use. This acronym is usually attributed to Daniel Kahneman, the Nobel Prize winner in Economics who uses the term in his 2011 book, "Thinking Fast and Slow". He applied it to overconfidence in understanding around the concepts of "known knowns", "known unknowns" etc. Was it used much, or at all, before then? I don't know, but I can claim to have used it on November 14th 2010 in a blog post about the artist Ai Weiwei's display of ceramic sunflower seeds at Tate Modern. It's something that comes to mind when I look at quite a lot of contemporary art because a great deal of it is so devoid of depth, meaning and resonance. With such work what you see is all there is, and what you take away from it is nothing but a lament about another wasted opportunity.

I had this feeling recently when I surveyed some of the art on display around the town of King's Lynn. It was the result of a collaboration between the Norfolk town and the Maison de la Culture d'Amiens in Northern France. I applaud such partnerships and projects: I just wish that they produced a better outcome than the offerings I saw the other day. That includes the example in today's photograph. Apparently, the piece entitled "Rock Around the Fleet" that is located in the old dock basin of the Purfleet River, "is a series of floating buoys with metal designs suggesting seabirds, which evoke a feeling of movement and animation reminiscent of the past." Yes, really!

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 18mm (27mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/125 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Art in the south transept

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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

The west's debt to the east

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Today's blog title might look like I'm going to reflect on the role of the "tiger economies", China in particular, and their role in keeping the shaky western economies ticking over. In fact I've been thinking about some earlier indebtedness that is owed to that part of the world.

The debt that the Renaissance owes to ancient Greece and Rome is widely known. What fewer people are aware of is the extent to which this European movement drew upon technologies from India and China. These were transmitted in one of two ways. Either the invention and process were taken and copied (and often improved), or the idea was reported in the west and that was enough for it to be developed there. Gunpowder and paper are generally known to have come to Europe to the east. However, the range of borrowed technologies is much more extensive and includes the horse breast strap, silk, the stirrup, segmental arch bridge, canal lock gates, mariners' compass, printing and business techniques including book-keeping. The rapid growth and change that Europe undertook in the Renaissance would have been significantly slowed without these and many other contributions from the other side of the world.

The contribution of China and Japan to the arts is also not widely known. However, as trade expanded in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries the decorative arts of the east became available and admired in Europe and even prompted fashionable trends. The "chinoiserie" of these centuries influenced painting, English landscape gardening, porcelain design, architecture, and interior decoration. In the nineteenth century artists such as James Abbot McNeill Whistler, the American-born, British-based painter, were heavily influenced by Japanese and Chinese prints and fabrics. Whistler amassed a large collection of such things and artists as disparate as Degas, Van Gogh and Aubrey Beardsley  show the influence of the traditional ukiyo-e style and its major Japanese exponents such as Hiroshige and Hokusai.

It's hard to imagine that Western paintings lacking perspective and shadow, that featured flat areas of colour, had strongly asymmetrical compositions and made a strong feature of empty space, would have arisen in the way that they did without the influence of eastern art. And where painters lead photographers follow, even humble amateurs such as yours truly. My photograph of the grass stems and leaves poking up through the snow wouldn't have been one that I would have thought worthy of making without the august precedents described above.

Addendum:

The photograph I had thought to use today was this one showing a Valentine's Day display at a flower shop in Market Deeping, Lincolnshire. The fine Regency bow window links with my recent posts on that period's architecture, and the subject is topical. However, my newspaper, the radio, the internet, and for all I know the T.V., are awash with ever more tenuous pieces on Valentine's Day and the associated razzamatazz - much more it seemms than in previous years - and I felt the last thing needed was yet another. So, here's the photograph and not another word on the subject.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Photo1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 90mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/400 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  +0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

London portraits

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Eyes on the pavement, rucksack on his back, deep in his own thoughts and oblivious of the faces he is passing, this Londoner is typical of many city dwellers searching for a little solitude as they go about their business among the din and bustle of the capital's streets. And who can blame him: raise your eyes, look about and you can be overwhelmed by visual stimulation. Yet there must be times when, even in a city that changes with  the rapidity of London, the daily grind becomes monotonous, and the same routes, scenes, sounds and events become depressing, or even oppressive. Perhaps countering this is one of the motivations for the street art that various organisations fund.

Today's image shows a hoarding (billboard) with reproductions of individual portrait sketches of real people that was initiated by London Underground. The city's mass-transit system has a long and honourable tradition of giving London good design, art and architecture - from the elegant simplicity of the Tube Map, the iconic company logo and innovative station architecture that arose under Frank Pick's tenure as Managing Director in the pre-WW2 years, to the sponsored art of today, the London Undergound has been a  force for good in the built environment.

The photograph above shows portraits of staff of the organisation drawn by Dryden Goodwin. They are a selection from the sixty that he did as part of the "Linear" project commissioned by Art on the Underground. For more details see here.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 90mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Graffiti

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I feel about graffiti in pretty much the same way that I do about using the motorcycle as a form of transport - it's not for me, but when it's used properly it's admirable. Unfortunately both are often seen in an anti-social context. What do I mean by that? Well, the motorcycle is a relatively efficient vehicle, and for those that enjoy such things, a pleasurable form of transport. Regrettably however, a lot of motorcyclists see their machines as an expression of their perception of manhood and consequently ride them too quickly and too noisily. The result is far more deaths of motorbike riders (and people they crash into) than would otherwise be the case.

Similarly, graffiti art can look great, a joyful expression of the contrasting teenage qualities of individuality and clannishness (if such a word exists!), something that can enliven a dull location with ever changing line and colour. But, too often the art is sprayed on the property of someone who hasn't asked for it, or is in the form of elaborate and repeated "tags", also where it isn't wanted. This anti-social application of the art gives graffitists a bad name. However, where it is practiced with the consent of the owner - as under the National Theatre on London's South Bank, or the BMX and skateboard ramps in the place noted in the photographs - it can be great fun.

The three photographs above are contrasting examples from that Lincolnshire location. I like the first one for the shapes of the large, decorative, overlapping letters, the second for the colour and the qualities of the figurative drawing, and the third for the simplicity of the concept (a repeated, overlapping  "tag") as well as its strongly contrasting colours. One of the pleasures of graffiti in a location such as this where it is welcomed is that if I visit again next year the art on view is likely to be completely different.

One last thought. Graffiti has come to mean the sort of stuff in these photographs. It wasn't always so. It used to mean writing on walls and other places. Graffiti has been found in Pompeii, and I often see it carved on medieval church tombs by seventeenth, eighteenth and nineteenth century vandals. When I was young it was often applied to funny lines of this sort: "I'd give my right arm to be ambidextrous" or "I used to be indecisive, but now I'm not so sure". Happy days.

photographs and text (c) T. Boughen

First photo
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 35mm
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/125
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Those sunflower seeds

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Over the years I've been to a few exhibitions in the old turbine hall at Tate Modern. By and large they've been "installations" that have left me cold. I'm not a fan of this kind of art, but I do think that the exponents chosen for this venue tend to be selected with an eye to provoking the wrong kind of response from the general public. And, in fairness to the organisers, they often succeed. I've blogged before about one of the pieces I saw, Rachel Whiteread's "Embankment", a collection of white, cast plastic boxes. Most of what I said about that work applies in the case of Ai Wewei's "Sunflower Seeds".

In my opinion this is a further artful work, rather than meaningful art. Anything that it says seems to me to be so slight as to be trivial - not what I want from any work. In fact it seems to be one of the all too common WYSIATI pieces of art (What You See Is All There Is). And you do have to wonder just how much meaning can be embedded in a myriad of ceramic sunflower seeds made by people other than the artist that are spread across the ground in a rectangular shape. From above it looks like gravel: from nearby it looks like what it is. There is precious little to inspire thought, wonder, revulsion, appreciation, or any of the other feelings that art can excite.

Consequently, after I'd looked at it from above I went down to see how I could possibly photograph it. I thought about filling the frame with the "seeds", but that was just as boring as the art work itself. So then I got down on my knees and looked through the camera across them to the far wall. My best shot is this one with the point of focus nearby, the rest of the seeds, the far corner walls, and people all out of focus in the distance. Not a great shot, but, given the subject matter, what's a photographer to do?

Note: The shot of the Sunflower Seeds seen from above that I link to was taken before the public were forbidden from walking on them for "health and safety reasons" (i.e. dust). Would I have felt differently about the piece if I'd been able to do what the artist intended? You decide.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 105mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/30
ISO: 3200
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Art and water lily leaves

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Yesterday I speculated whether reading about the influence of oriental art on western art, design and photography had influenced how I conceived my image. In fact, whether it is acknowledged or not, fine art painting is always a major influence on photography. In the early days of Fox Talbot, Daguerre and the other pioneers of the upstart medium, photographic portraits, landscapes and still-lifes, in particular, drew strongly on the precedents in paint. I suppose, in a way, it was like the designs of the first railway carriages: they looked like stagecoaches because it was difficult, initially, to see beyond what was the tried and tested vehicle. But as the railways (and photography) developed, so too did the forms that they used, and the influence passed back and forth between the two forms of representation. In his fascinating book, "Art and Photography", Aaron Scharf shows how painters as disparate as Ingres, Etty, Manet, Delacroix and Courbet used photographs as sources for their finished paintings. He then goes on to describe how painters and sculptors such as Duchamp and Boccioni developed their images and forms with reference to multiple photographs or photographs with blur.

When I compose a semi-abstract image I don't do it with conscious reference to any painting that I've seen. However, I am aware that the aesthetic choices that are made during that process must, in some way, be influenced by what I've seen and read: we are after all, the sum of our life experiences. Today's image doesn't, for me, have any oriental overtones. However, if it was a canvas I'd say it has something of the 1930s about it. Not the 1930s of the International Style, Moderne and the illustrations of Tom Purvis that seemed to be at work in my photograph here, but rather the colours, shapes and lines that Kandinsky brought to painting in that decade.

I make no claims that this photograph is art, of course. It is simply a composition that pleases me for the colours and shapes of the water lily leaves combined with the lines of the iris stems that have fallen into the water. And, whilst it is a straightforward representation of this section of the pond I don't see it as a description of the plants at this time of year, so much as a semi-abstract composition that makes use of them.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 12.8mm (60mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.8
Shutter Speed: 1/125
ISO: 400
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Faces at the window

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My wife said the other day that if "The Hub" (Britain's National Centre for Craft and Design) wasn't at Sleaford we'd visit the town less frequently than we do. She was right. What I like about this building, and what makes me return regularly, is that it introduces me to aspects of art, craft and design that I might otherwise not see - some of it very good, some of it less so.

Our most recent visit was to see the exhibition of winning designs from the annual international competition initiated by the Design Museum and sponsored by Brit Insurance*. The selection on display, some in actual form, others in video, included work as wide ranging as the new Oslo Opera House, the MYTO chair, and the Magno wooden radio from Indonesia. It was an exhibition well worth seeing. We also took in the exhibition entitled, "Home Sweet Home: an exploration into the subversive elements of the domestic by UK graduates in craft & design", a collection described as "innovative, inspiring and daring", which I found immature, facile and depressing. What made this exhibition worse was that every piece was accompanied by a written commentary by the artist, each of which would easily qualify for entry in the Pseuds Corner column of Private Eye.

Connecting the two main display spaces is a tall stairwell with landings. These were showing jewellery by Clare Knox. I was initially ambivalent about this, liking its originality, the fluid forms, and the tactile qualities, but I wondered whether it would work when worn. However, I warmed to it on repeated viewings, and felt that with the right clothes it could be successful. The jewellery is described as being made from "EVA, rubber", and looks like it has been poured or dripped to make the required, quite original designs. She had also created a series of big drawings that hung in front of the windows, using the same technique as she uses for the jewellery. One of these, in my judgement, stood head and shoulders above the others and appealed to me so much I took this photograph of it.

* Brit Insurance. Now there's a company I'd reject solely on the grounds of its name. I hate this recently coined contraction of the word "British".

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 8mm (37mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f3.2
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation:-0.66 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Dumped TVs and fanciful imaginings

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On a warm and sunny afternoon we had a cycle ride that took us through the flat Fenland landscape in the vicinity of Donington, Lincolnshire. In many areas of Britain the countryside starts to get a slightly unkempt look at the beginning of autumn. Not in the Fens however. This intensively farmed area receives constant attention from man and machine as crops are planted, tended, and harvested, at which point the soil is prepared for the next crop. And, since maximising output is the aim, just about every acre is well-tended and tidy.

So, as I cycled alongside a field where regimented ranks of winter wheat shoots were just starting to appear, you can imagine my surprise at coming upon an old TV resting upright on the carefully manicured soil near the road. What kind of low life would drive into the open country, open their car door and throw an unwanted television down the bank on to a field? Especially when the local council's "amenity sites" (waste dump) will receive and recycle such articles at no charge. Sometimes I despair of the selfish irresponsibility of my fellow citizens.

However, rather than dwell on the disfigurement of the countryside by the oaf who dumped this article I thought I'd see the discarded TV as an "opportunity", and took this photograph. Remembering Marcel Duchamp's dictum that anything can be art as long as it is taken out of context, it occurred to me that the unwanted television was a "ready-made", not unlike his bicycle wheels and urinals, and consequently I pronounce my photograph to be a work of art! I'm thinking that, if I can secure a sponsor to help me develop my theme then today's image will be the first in a series that will comment on the "the condition of mankind." My next image will have a man buried up to his neck in the field with his head inside the TV (screen removed), and arms sticking up to left and right. Then I'll move on to life-sized straw figures standing in the ripe wheat and caught in the act of hurling the TV at an oncoming combine harvester. Yes, that TV has definite possibilities... Or maybe not!

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f4
Shutter Speed: 1/800
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Angels, pins and peacock feathers

click photo to enlarge
"...Angels can contract their whole substance into one part of space, and therefore have not partes extra partes..."
Richard Baxter (1615-1691), English theologian

The question of what exactly an angel is has long taxed Christians and others. Thomas Aquinas and other medieval theologians were lampooned by later writers for enquiring too gravely about their physical, gender (male, female or genderless?) and religious characteristics. The probem of "How many angels can dance on the head of a pin?" is ascribed to such debates, though without much historical authority. As far as the physical appearance of angels goes, the fact is that every age has interpreted them in its own way, based on the few clues contained in the Bible, other early texts, and the depictions of previous generations.

Thus, the earliest angels of the C2 and C3 are without wings. However, by the time of the mosaics at S. Apollinaire Nuovo at Ravenna (c.520) they have halos, wings and toga-like clothes, perhaps derived from Roman murals. In the Book of Kells (c.800) the clothing changes to a mixture of toga-style drapery combined with the edged tunics worn by nobles of that period. The Winchester Psalter (c.1150) shows angels in what look like regal, ermine-trimmed robes, in a style of painting that derives from the Byzantine of Eastern Europe. From Duccio onwards the Italian Renaissance painters settled on flowing, often diaphanous dresses-cum-robes, but the ever-present halos and wings continued. Later Renaissance artists of the C16 and C17 combined the tradition of the Christian angel with the putto of late classical antiquity.

The eighteenth century didn't depart too strongly from these conventions, though William Blake, characteristically, went his own way showing a rebel angel as a naked, anguished man. In the nineteenth century they sought "authenticity" in their depictions. Thus, artists like William Morris looked back at medieval precedents and then updated the basic idea using the aesthetic of the time. Today's photograph of a musician angel is by the stained glass firm of C. E. Kempe & Co. and dates from 1882. It draws on the ideas of Morris and the Pre-Raphaelites, uses pale subtle hues overall, but with bold highlights in primary colours. The drawing is very strong, as is the sense of pattern, but what stands out is the clarity of the conception. The angel has Kempe's characteristic peacock feather wings, and is one of a group of six such musicians (each with a different instrument) that fill a south window in the chancel of St Michael in the village of Hallaton, Leicestershire.

Incidentally, one of the angel's colleagues provided a great Christmas card illustration for me a couple of years ago!

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 94mm (188mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/200 seconds
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -2.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Just mud and water

click photo to enlarge
"There is nothing ugly; I never saw an ugly thing in my life: for let the form of an object be what it may - light, shade, and perspective will always make it beautiful."
John Constable (1776-1837), English landscape painter

People, in general, have little hesitation in pronouncing things "beautiful" - a person, some flowers, a sunset, an upland landscape - all will readily be awarded the title. Nor too, do people shrink from bestowing the word "ugly" - a graffiti-covered facade, overflowing bins, a weed-strewn urban wasteland, or a dead fox by the side of the road would all invariably be thought so. But John Constable said he'd never seen anything that is ugly. How do we account for this?

It certainly isn't anything to do with today's world compared with Constable's. What we would call ugly certainly existed in his time, possibly more so. No, it's more to do with what we see when we look at the world. The eye of the painter (and the photographer) looks at the world in the same way as everyone else, but often sees it in a different way. One of the principal aims of these people is to see the extraordinary in the ordinary, the marvellous in the mundane, and the beautiful in the "ugly". Sometimes it's difficult to explain why a photograph (or a painting) looks the way it does: to say why, in the eyes of some it is "boring", "simple", "empty" or "nothing". I can see those words being levelled at this photograph. After all, it shows just mud and water. Yet from the moment I saw this particular piece of estuary, revealed by the receding tide, I liked it. I'd hesitate to call my photograph beautiful, but I do think it has a certain attraction. I suppose what I like is the contrast between the "substance" of the flat, glistening mud and the dark, angular shadows of its broken edge, with the smooth, only slightly rippled sheen of the water. I like, too, the ragged line going up the centre of the image, and the way it curves away into almost nothing in the fog. I'm pleased by how the foreground mud and inlet give the composition a base, and I appreciate the tonality across the photograph.

Now, all that sounds a touch pretentious! But then trying to explain in detail what you like about a painting or a photograph sometimes tends to veer in that direction. Yet, it's worth enduring the risible remarks it can provoke because giving voice in this way adds more to our understanding than just applying the over-worked, over-rated, and frequently wrong epithets, "beautiful" and "ugly"!

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 45mm (90mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/200
ISO: 200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Ideas and execution

click photo to enlarge

The artist, Martin Creed, hit the headlines seven years ago when he won Britain's premier art award, the Turner Prize, with a piece that involved a gallery's lights being turned on and off. You'd think it would be pretty hard to top that absurdity, but he's managed it. Tate Britain is currently hosting his latest "sculpture", which has an athlete running the 86 metres from a gallery space to the main entrance and back again, 8 hours a day, every day. A number of athletes work 4 hour shifts to "make" this "sculpture". In response to the question, "Is it pretentious?", Creed's priceless reply was, "No, it's not pretentious. No one is pretending. They are just running." So why, you wonder, if it's just someone running, is it art, and why is it happening in a gallery? If you want to read more of Creed's views on art and how he approaches his "work", augmented by the laughably reverent comments of the art correspondent from whom I gleaned this information, go here.

It seems to me that in today's cutting edge art, the idea is all. Execution and skill no longer figure in the making of a piece. This is, of course, wonderfully democratic - everyone can be an artist because there's no need to learn any skills necessary to make a work, you simply have to come up with the idea! Someone else can construct it, or better still, you can specify something that doesn't require any skill, or even making, in the first place! The problem is that it results in vacuous dross that's less interesting and challenging than the concept of an empty glass of water. However, Creed does provide an interesting answer for dealing with art today. "Why do we have to look at paintings for a long time" he opines. "Why not just look for a second? One way isn't necessarily better than another way." So there you have it - it's O.K. to give work like this just a second of your time. The trouble is Martin, a second devoted to work like this is way too long!

Last night, on an after-dinner countryside stroll I came across a disused cow shed. Or maybe it was an old milking parlour. The large metal doors at one end appeared to have been splattered with a liquid. It wasn't manure or slurry, so clearly the contemporary British artist Chris Ofili hadn't been been at work there. It looked like creosote or a diluted paint/oil. Whatever it was it had been fairly wet when it was applied in huge, sweeping arcs, probably through a hose or sprayer. The resulting effect was quite pleasing in the way that the differing levels of opacity and drips of dried liquid suggested the manner of application. Today's image is a detail from these large doors, and is offered for your artistic contemplation. Spend no more than one second looking at it!

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 106mm (212mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/60
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The subject often isn't important

click photo to enlarge

There seems to be an inverse correlation between the number of TV channels that we are able to view, and the quality of the programmes that are broadcast. I say "seems", because it probably isn't the case, it just feels like that! Unlimited air time has led to so much of it being filled with cheap, populist drivel that it is becoming increasingly difficult to find the pieces of fruit in this doughy pudding. So, many people, including me, have pretty much given up trying.

This situation is, in some ways analogous with photography. The spread of digital cameras, combined with the rise of the internet, has led to an explosion in the number of photographs being taken, and the quantity available to be viewed. It sometimes seems that photography is becoming flooded with snaps, and that the more considered images of enthusiastic amateurs and dedicated professionals are being buried in this deluge. In fact, I think there are more good photographs being taken today than at any time since the invention of the camera; it's just that they're so much harder to find amongst the avalanche of images.

I get the feeling that as photography increases in popularity we are seeing a smaller proportion of shots that are thoughtfully produced, and more that are the result of a subject interest, hobby or technical fascination with photographic equipment. For example, bird photography has increased exponentially in recent years, cars feature much more heavily than formerly, macro shots of insects proliferate with the arrival of spring, and holiday shots burgeon across the warmer months. For many the interest in a photograph is inextricably linked to the subject that is depicted. That isn't a problem in itself, but it can limit photography to a supporting role in the pursuit of another pastime. So, this is a plea for people not to forget what painters discovered a few hundred years ago - in a good image the subject is often less important than the treatment it receives. Many of the still-life paintings that proliferated from the seventeenth century onwards are living proof that imagery, lighting, composition, colour, texture, contrast, etc are not only the tools of much art, but are often the end in itself, and the vases, flowers, fruit and skulls that are the nominal "subjects" are only convenient means to achieve this goal. If photography (and photographers) aspire to the status of art then this is a truth worth remembering.

I certainly don't claim today's photograph is art. However, it is a considered image in terms of composition, colour, light, contrast and materials. I processed the shot to achieve something of the feel of a pastel drawing. It was working on this still life featuring Viburnum opulus, apples and plums, that sparked the mangled thoughts set out above.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 35mm macro (70mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f16
Shutter Speed: 1/8
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: Off