The essential compositional element

click photo to enlarge
Photographic compositions can be constructed in many ways, some orthodox and some not so usual. Down the years I have come to realise that some compositions depend on a single element to complete it or to connect the disparate parts. It can be a leaf, a reflected figure, an empty can, or a tiny group of people whose compositional significance outweighs their size.

On a recent walk by the River Witham in Boston, Lincolnshire, I took a couple of photographs of some old hulks, wooden boats of early twentieth century vintage that have been left to rot on the river banks, their mud-covered forms inundated daily by the tides and exposed at low water. I couldn't compose a satisfactory photograph of the complete boat that features in today's photograph but I liked the bow detail and thought that, together with the gull, it would make a composition. But, the space between the two elements was too great and, to my mind, the whole did not bind together satisfactorily. However, when I changed my position the gull's footprints leading to its position at the water's edge were more strongly emphasised and they created an essential element that, for me, made the composition work much better.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 52mm (104mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/800 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3
Image Stabilisation: On

It's that windmill again

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During the Second World War the British government gave a lot of thought, manpower and money towards keeping up the morale of the civilian population. One of the means of achieving this was through the "light entertainment" programmes of BBC radio. The comedy show, "It's That Man Again" was probably the most popular of these programmes. It ran from 1939 to 1949 and entertained listeners with its characters, jokes, story lines and the fun that it made of Hitler and the Axis powers. The show was built around a comedian, Tommy Handley, and when he unexpectedly died in 1949 the long-running series ended. I'm not old enough to have heard it broadcast during those years though I have heard clips. Moreover, I do recall quite a few of the performers who went on to star in radio and TV shows of the 1950s and 1960s comedy shows; people such as Derek Guyler and Hatti Jaques.

You might wonder what this has got to do with a(nother) photograph of the windmill at Cley next the Sea in Norfolk. Well, when I came to give a title to this blog post I came up with the one above. But it seemed a bit long and not very snappy so I thought of abbreviating the words it to ITWA in the way that "It's That Man Again" was always abbreviated to ITMA. It was at that point that I thought, "Tony, you're showing your age again, people (especially younger folk and  non-UK dwellers) won't know a thing about ITMA". So I stuck with the original title and blogged about that long-gone show instead!

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 30mm (45mm - 27mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/400 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Two eye-opening statistics

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Newspapers and the internet throw statistics at us all the time. A good number or a summary encapsulated in a figure is a powerful tool for grabbing your audience. But you have to be careful. Sometimes the statistics are a product of a journalist's innumeracy, are often simplified, extrapolated or taken out context from more complex data, rendering them inaccurate at best or fictitious at worse. So, it is with caution and an element of scepticism that I present two statistics that I came across recently. The first, on initial inspection, seems to have nothing to do with photography - but it does. The second is directly photography related.

In a recent Guardian newspaper article about data storage I read the following:

"DatacentreDynamics' research also reveals that British datacentres consume 6.4 gigawatts of power annually – enough to power 6m homes – and that is set to increase by 6.7% over the next year."

That is an awful lot of electricity, even allowing for the fact that a significant proportion of the data stored here is for overseas users. It also clearly underlines that cloud computing and electronic data are not quite the no-cost or even low-cost option, that we sometimes think. I used to be sure that photographs viewed on screens and stored on servers, and that blogs such as this one that exist away from the computer on which they are written, used less physical resources than prints and paper. But do they? Perhaps. Perhaps not.

The second statistic that brought me up short was reported on the website, "Visual News", and is a graphic that purports to be "A Snapshot of the Photography Industry". It documents the rise of the phone camera, the consequent decline of the point and shoot camera, the dominance of sites such as Facebook and much else. It also includes the following:

"Today we snap as many photos every two minutes as humanity as a whole did in the 1800s."

In other words it takes us 120 seconds to accumulate the number of photographs that were amassed in the 100 years between 1800 and 1900. Which prompted me to think that the first statistic about energy use for data storage could well be accurate! It also made me consider whether ever higher pixel counts on cameras should be opposed on environmental grounds, something that hadn't occurred to me before. All of which has little to do with today's photograph, taken on an overcast day, of boats on the river at Ely, Cambridgeshire. Except these two further thoughts. Firstly, this shot represents yet another addition to the total data stored across the world. And secondly, I wonder how much electricity this one image uses in a year and at what cost?

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 28mm
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/200
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Bridlington harbour, Britain and the sea

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According to the Ordnance Survey the farthest point from the sea in Great Britain is near the farm of Church Flatts outside the village of Coton in the Elms in Derbyshire. From that location to the nearest sea - at Fosdyke Wash, south of Boston in Lincolnshire - is 70 miles (113 km). That information tells you that for the people of our island a trip to the coast is a relatively easy proposition. Nonetheless, people being people, quite a few go there rarely, if at all.

I grew up in the Yorkshire Dales, an area of valleys, hills and mountains. The nearest sea to me at that time was about 30 miles distant, and I loved to go there. I liked the sea so much that later in life I spent fifteen years living by a tidal estuary with the North Sea only 16 miles away and twenty years living a mile from another tidal estuary a mere two miles from the Irish Sea. During those decades I spent a lot of time by the sea, enjoying the light, the open space, the air, the sights of the coast and offshore, and revelled in its ever changing quality. Today a trip to the nearest sea is about 11 miles. However, that location is the saltmarsh edge of The Wash, and whilst this is fine for bird watching and has potential for photography, it isn't the kind of coast I've known and came to enjoy. I once again have to travel about 30 miles for that experience. Consequently, when I recently went to Sewerby in East Yorkshire I took the opportunity to spend an hour or two in nearby Bridlington with its working harbour.

Boats attract photographers like ripe fruit attracts flies, and I wasn't the only person that day pointing their camera at the many and varied boats tied up there. The foreground of today's shot shows a few small, probably pleasure or hobby boats tied up on the landward side of the harbour. The centre now has pontoon jetties for yachts and launches, but the seaward side of the harbour, in the lee of the curving harbour wall, the inshore fishing vessels and landing facilities can still be found, looking much as I first saw them forty or so years ago.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 17mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/500
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

River Welland scene

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I sub-title this blog, "Photographs and reflections from Lincolnshire, England", so it's perhaps about time that I featured a photograph from the county where I live. The trouble is, I haven't got too many photographs that were taken locally in the past month. Here's one, however, that I took it on a shopping trip to Stamford. The River Welland runs through the town and this section often has a small boat or two moored under the trees. It's enough to give a point of interest around which to build a composition. I posted a shot a while ago of the same area of river, though with a wider perspective.

As I walked over the bridge I noticed a few mallards and mute swans in front of the pair of rowing boats. After something of a wait as the birds swam here and there, never quite getting into a compositionally "right" location relative to the boats, this solitary bird obliged me by positioning itself in the area of dark water on the right of the frame and I pressed the shutter.

In one of my early posts on this blog I reflected on photographing swans, and in particular the slightly apologetic note with which enthusiast photographers often accompany such an image. There is the feeling that swans are "corny" subjects, photographed to death. I've always been of the view that if we excluded subjects that have been heavily photographed there'd be precious little left to photograph, and that the approach you adopt is more imprtant than the subject itself. Evidence for my belief in that assertion can be found in the number of photographs of swans on this blog and my different treatments of the subject! See here, here, here, here and not least, here.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 140mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/125
ISO: 160
Exposure Compensation:  -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Sepia, Sutcliffe and boats

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Every now and then I come over all Frank Meadow Sutcliffe. I blame this affliction on the book of his photographs that I was given on leaving a job many years ago. The most recent occasion when I was struck by the condition was as we walked by The Haven. This is the tidal section section of the River Witham below the Grand Sluice, that serves as both a mooring place and quay for pleasure boats and fishing vessels, and links with the dock of the Port of Boston. The usual varied selection of craft were tied up along the winding waterway, and as the river was low, a selection of ancient, rotting hulks, stained green and brown with weed and mud, were also visible. It was the latter that made me think of the great Whitby photographer, because the shape and style of some of them reminded me of the craft that fill the photographs he took of that town's harbour. Some of them may even have plied the coastal waters during his lifetime.

Among the well-kept yachts and utilitarian inshore fishing boats I saw a few of, what I call, "hobby boats". By that I mean craft that are past their best and have been bought by an enthusiast as a "project". Such vessels can often be identified by their paintwork (colourful), name (fanciful), lettering (amateurish), the slabs of marine ply that replace original timber, and the clutter of tools and other bits and pieces that litter the deck. I first became acquainted with such craft when I lived in Lancashire. The River Wyre and Skippool Creek near Poulton le Fylde had a few dozen such boats. The biggest was called "Good Hope". My wife and I called it "No Hope" because the speed of renovation never kept pace with the speed of decay.

The little group of craft in today's photograph look like hobby boats. Interestingly most of them are not Boston registrations, but are from nearby King's Lynn. Their styles and arrangement brought Sutcliffe to mind and I took my photograph. Later, back at the computer, I compared a sepia treatment with both colour and black and white versions and decided I preferred it. Sepia tone is often used in photography today to suggest the past, but I think it has merit of itself. The warm cast that it gives to an image is different from the colder tones of black and white and lends a different feel to a photograph.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 84mm
F No: 10
Shutter Speed: 1/80
ISO: 1000
Exposure Compensation: -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Photographic composition - some thoughts and ideas

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There is a craving amongst photographers to "learn the rules of composition". This is quite understandable because composition is crucial to constructing a good image. However, composition isn't a list of tricks, it is a way of seeing. John Ruskin has a couple of memorable lines on the teaching of composition. He was speaking in relation to architecture and painting, but what he said clearly applies to photography too. His first remark that I recall is, "If a man can compose at all, he can compose at once, or rather he must compose in spite of himself." In other words, a trained eye or a someone who is driven to create art does it without thinking. He added, "It is impossible to give you rules that will enable you to compose. If it were possible to compose pictures by rule Titian and Veronese would be ordinary men." Alexander Pope, in his poem "Windsor Forest", described landscape composition most succinctly and what he said applies to photography too: "Where order in variety we see, And where, though all things differ, all agree."

Desirable though it may be, it is unrealistic to expect the average photographer to immerse himself in Venetian painting, art theory, and poetry in order to master composition. Consequently writers on photography frequently list compositional "dos and donts". Here are a few that I have come across over the years. Most of them are helpful, especially to someone starting out in photography. They are in no particular order, and clearly there is no suggestion that a composition should include all of these devices. Rather the list is an aide-memoire, or a menu from which to select.

• The rule of thirds (the only compositional tip that many photographers remember!), whereby the subject is "best" placed at an intersection of two vertical and two horizontal lines, that divide the picture into thirds.
• Give the image visual balance about an imaginary centre line, always remembering that it is not the size of an object that determines its visual weight. In a landscape, for example, a person can be as "heavy" as a tree, a red object invariably has more weight than one that is brown, etc.
• Choose a rigidly symmetrical composition only when the subject suggests it or is itself symmetrical.
• Balanced asymmetry should be the usual aim because it offers the viewer more interest.
• Have a single main subject, thereby telling only one story in the photograph.
• Introduce contrast (dark/light, rough/smooth, near/far, in focus/blurred etc.) to give variety and interest.
• Introduce repetition of forms to give a rhythm (a line of columns, a row of trees, fence posts etc.), and consider breaking it with a person or some other intervening device.
• Give the composition a focal point in the sense of a principal area or climax...
• ... towards which leading lines (for example a road, railway track, fence, buiding facade etc.) will sometimes point.
• Look for cohesion in the composition so that every part relates to each other and supports the narrative that you are illustrating. 
• Introduce calm and stability with horizontals and verticals, dynamism with diagonals.
• Some say avoid horizontals, such as the horizon, at the centre of the composition because of the tendency for it to split the image into two parts. 
• Avoid large, empty areas in an image unless it is a device to emphasise an object.
• Avoid distractingly bright or strongly coloured areas away from the main subject.
• Consider framing the main subject with a naturally occurring object such as a tree branch, an arch, etc.
• Separate subject and background by, for example, lighting, colour, focus, etc.
• As well as left/right balance aim to have the bottom of the image heavier than the top: this feels more "right" to most people.
• People facing or moving into the frame usually works better than people "leaving" it.
• Objects and people usually need "breathing room" around them in the frame otherwise they look constricted.
• Many find an odd number of objects in a photograph works better than an even number (when the number is below 7 or thereabouts)
• Linked to the above, some say that a third element can make a simple composition more satisfying e.g. a vase of flowers (two elements) plus a few fallen petals (third element).

I suppose I could add to this list, or illustrate it, but that will have to do for now. The most important thing to remember about any advice concerning composition is it is just that - advice - and can be ignored to very good effect. There are fine photographs that flout each of the suggestions above, and many are equally good because they, knowingly or unknowingly, include them. The best advice about composition is this - if it looks right to you then it is right, because it's your photograph.

I was prompted to venture into this subject because I (unconsciously) included a third element in today's photograph. The distant boat is the one on the right of yesterday's photograph (which also has three elements!) I moved my position to include it in this image because it seemed to make it work better. Put your finger over it to decide whether you agree or not!

To prove my final point about rules being made to be ignored, here's a photograph that has compositional similarities to today's but has only two elements.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 14mm (28mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/500
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Soft sky at Aldeburgh

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When, many years ago, I first started to take a deeper interest in photography I began to think more about the weather, and particularly about the sky. Until I put more thought and effort into my pictures the importance of these two things hadn't really struck me. I'd read about light being the key to good images, and had seen how light can transform the mundane into something special. But, in every example that illustrated this point in magazines and books (no web then) it was either sunlight or flash that was the light source working its magic. Contre jour lighting, a low sun, flash pointed at the camera, deliberate flare, deep shadows contrasted with illuminated areas, and other techniques were very alluring, and fixed in my mind the value of a bright light source as a way of achieving drama.

What was never said, or at least I never read, was that soft, natural light, the sort of light that is spread evenly across a scene by a thick covering of cloud, can also lend a scene a delightful quality that has an appealing, understated beauty. But, over the years, I came to appreciate this kind of light and the weather that produces it. However, not just any old clouds will do. Low, uniform, stratus offers little to the photographer: the clouds have to have shape and shadows or include thinner, brighter areas. When this happens the colours on the land below are muted and highlights are few; the landscape can appear to have been drawn on dark paper with pastel crayons. A couple of days ago I had one of these skies as I was photographing on the beach at Aldeburgh in Suffolk. The shot I secured could never be described as dramatic, but it does have that calm, subdued softness that I like.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 19mm (38mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/800
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

River Thames sculler

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I am fortunate to be able to stay in London in a flat on the Thames, and over the years this experience has opened my eyes to the life of the river. Birds, in the form of cormorants, gulls, terns, ducks, crows and pigeons are reasonably plentiful. My son has been fortunate enough to see a seal and a whale, but I haven't. The other day we found crabs on the narrow beach that is revealed when the tide goes out, and the water these days holds many fish, though they are only visible to the angler.

Then there are the ships and boats that are constantly to-ing and fro-ing. Just as there is a hierarchy of wildlife, so too is there with the craft. At the very top are the warships and cruise liners that can venture as far as Tower Bridge. Next, I imagine, are the tall sailing ships and large, expensive cruisers. Then there are the Thames Clippers, high-powered, fast catamarans, that offer a "bus service" between jetties along the river. Occasionally the refuse barges and original Thames sailing barges pass. Most frequent are the trippers' boats, brimming with people during the day, listening to commentaries about the sights to be seen. It's always fun to wave to them and receive waves in return. Many of these boats are transformed at night and pulsate to a disco beat as revellers party afloat. Further down the scale are the police launches, sailing boats, small launches and powered inflatables. Right at the bottom of the hierarchy are the canoeists who travel in groups, hugging the edge of the river, wary of the wakes from the bigger, faster boats. And, only one step above them, are the scullers, often members of clubs, each craft holding a single person, two, four and occasionally more. They are faster than the canoes, stay farther out into the river, and are sometimes accompanied by the sound of a cox with a megaphone.

The absence of aircraft noise on Saturday morning allowed me to hear the approach of the scullers when I was indoors with a balcony door ajar. Without the omnipresent sound of jet engines the splash of the oars or the quiet chat of the crews was enough to alert me to their presence. I took a few shots of these rowing enthusiasts, including this lone man going upstream on the tide - and consequently using his oars rather less than he otherwise might - a small, sharp shape on the expanse of dark water.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 12.8mm (60mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.8
Shutter Speed: 1/320
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -0.66 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Rutland Water anglers

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Looking at the anglers' boats on Rutland Water the other day it occurred to me that the only other vessels I recall seeing that have identification numbers on their side are warships and the rowing boats on park lakes. Perhaps there are others that are marked in this way, but if so it hasn't registered with me. As I took my photographs I idly wondered whether the person from whom they are hired consulted his watch and, as with the boats on municipal park ponds, when the rental period was up, bellowed through a megaphone, "Come in number 29, your time is up." Probably not, he'd need to be a champion town cryer given the size of the area of water over which these anglers range.

It was a holiday weekend when I took this shot, and more fishermen than I'd seen on previous visits were chugging about, rods extended, lines in the water, searching for their prey. These two boats caught my eye because they seemed to be circling a spot like a couple of frigates about to depth-charge a submarine. However, when I studied my image I realised they were too far apart for such a co-ordinated approach, and anyway, by the curve on his rod, one angler seemed to have a "bite". To compose this little shot I waited until the bottom boat (which was moving) was positioned to the left of the frame, balancing the stationary boat on the right. I cropped the shot slightly to remove the distraction of the distant shore at the top of the image.

When I look through my collection of blog photographs I realise that I've featured anglers a few times - see here (very distantly), here (rather insanely) and here, also at Rutland Water (quite statuesquely). I've also photographed the boats in today's image (parked very neatly).

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 142mm (284mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/500 seconds
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

What we leave behind

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Every now and then, as my wife and I dig our garden, we turn up pieces of broken clay pipes - the sort with a very long, narrow stem that people filled with tobacco and smoked. So far we have gathered fourteen fragments, all but one being pieces of tubular stem. However, we do have a single bowl decorated with a star (or flower), and scallop shell (or honeysuckle petal) patterns. The design is very distinctive, and research leads me to be fairly sure that it dates from the period between 1790 and 1820.

Did the agricultural workers who threw away these inexpensive, disposable artefacts realise that a future inhabitant of that piece of land would see them as the most tangible connection with their time? Probably not, yet that is just what they are. I read about the history of this part of Lincolnshire, I look at the gravestones in the local church, I reflect on the old buildings, and ponder the landscape that man has moulded for millennia, yet none of these more substantial things touches me like these pieces of clay pipe. Some years ago I read that, should civilisation be swept away, archaeologists of the future will use the layer of cigarette filters thrown away in the second half of the twentieth century as markers for that period of time. On the basis of such insignificant things is our history written.

I reflected on this as I made a black and white conversion of my photograph of the remains of a boat on the beach at Sheringham, Norfolk. Perhaps it was the way it looked like the spine and ribs of a dead animal that drew my attention to it, but it led me to thinking about whose boat it was, why it had foundered there, and how long it had been subject to the twice daily attrition of the tides. Someone, somewhere will know, and will have written at great length about it. But, for as long as the remains lie there, something that we can gaze upon, recognisable for the small wooden boat that it was, it will be a daily, direct and palpable reminder of our past that words will struggle to equal.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 17mm (34mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/640 seconds
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Thinking about fishing

click photo to enlarge

The other day, as I stood on a footbridge over the River Welland in Stamford, Lincolnshire, I thought about fishing - the sort that you do with a rod and line. Judging by all the newly created "fishing ponds" that I've passed in recent years, the number of people wanting to pursue this sport must exceed the water available. And, each time I see a group of fishermen sat around one of these ponds I wonder just what is the attraction?

Several years ago, when I was in France I watched, open-mouthed, as fishermen sat round a pond pulling massive carp after massive carp out of the water. They stored them in their keep-nets, then at the end of their session, put them back in the pond. Maybe they weighed them; maybe they kept one or two for eating, I don't recall. However, it looked like "shooting fish in a barrel". It seemed to require no skill on their part, and they always caught a "big un". The only time I've pursued this sport was for a year or so in my youth when I fished the rocky River Ribble in the Yorkshire Dales and had a few goes on the River Lune near Kirkby Lonsdale. Here the skill was to find the location that held some fish (brown trout, grayling and salmon were the main quarry) then decide whether to use a lure, float or fly to catch them. The best areas to fish would change with the season and the height of the water. So, local knowledge and skill was necessary. I remain to be convinced that much of either is necessary when fishing a small pond that is stocked by man rather than nature. The incidentals that I enjoyed all those years ago - walking the bank, dodging the trees, wading into the shallows, standing on rocks, and watching the plentiful wildlife as I waited for a "bite" - also seem to be absent. However, there is clearly some pleasure to be had from casting from the edge of a pond or this pastime woudn't be proliferating. Perhaps the reason I can't see it is linked to the reason that caused me to cast aside my rod after such a short time. Truly, freshwater fishing can be a puzzling sport!

So why was I thinking about fishing as I surveyed this verdant river view. Well, try as I might, I couldn't see a single fish in the water. They must have been there, but hiding! I've pointed my camera at this particular view before but never taken the shot. However, this time the boats, the water, the trees, and particularly the light, made it work better as a photograph. So I pressed the shutter.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 48mm (96mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/125
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Access and freedom

click photo to enlarge

As a teenage birdwatcher I used to travel to a reservoir deep in the hills to view ducks and other waterbirds. However, in the late 1960s and early 1970s the reservoirs of England were pretty much no go areas, and I had to view from a public road or a footpath. Signs around the fenced off reservoir said "Keep Out!" backed by threats of heavy fines. Other notices reminded me that it was my drinking water and needed to be kept pure! What did they think I had in mind? The surrounding forest was also out of bounds to the public (the danger of fire seemed to be the justification) despite, like the reservoir, being publicly owned.

Today reservoir managers positively encourage visitors, and provide facilities for their enjoyment. I used part of the cycle track around Rutland Water (above), and very pleasant it was too. Forests now have waymarked paths and mountain bike trails. In both kinds of locations wildlife (and wildlife watching) is positively encouraged, with hides and visitor centres This is a far cry from the restrictive days of forty years ago and a very welcome improvement.

However, a recent development in towns and cities runs contrary to this liberalising trend. So-called "malls without walls" - large shopping centres built by private companies - are being erected that include privately owned streets. These are thoroughfares that are privately policed, and that can exclude "undesirables". Liverpool One, a development of 42.5 acres with 35 streets in the middle of Liverpool is the latest such scheme. It follows others in places like London, Sheffield and Hove. I think such projects need to be carefully monitored. Any limitation of our right to move freely through our cities by private companies curtails our freedom. Will photographers, for example, face the restrictions in these streets that are commonly placed on them in covered shopping malls. For further information see this article in The Guardian newspaper.

My photograph was taken at the edge of Rutland Water where anglers' boats for hire are moored. When I looked at the boats on a different photograph I took I noticed the highest numbered vessel was 61. Poor fish, I thought, if they were all to to set sail at once!

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 11mm (22mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/500
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: Off