Church clock mechanisms

click photo to enlarge
I'm not someone who is particularly interested in mechanical objects. I maintain my bicycle quite well and don't mind doing so. But, I bought a car on the understanding that I wouldn't have to poke about in the engine. That indifference to things mechanical spreads to most other areas including old clocks. There are those who relish looking at and tinkering with the innards of clocks. Whilst I understand, I think, their motivation and fascination, I don't share it.

During my wanderings around churches I frequently come across the mechanical workings of tower clocks. Sometimes these are old, no longer used clocks, often dating from the late medieval or Georgian period, put on display in an aisle or a transept, gathering dust and tick-tocking no more. Other times I climb towers and pass by the current mechanism driving hands that can be five feet long on a face twelve feet or more across. That happened a while ago when we went up the tower of Holy Trinity in Kingston upon Hull. The workings, as can be seen in today's photograph, date from 1903 and came from the Leeds clockmakers, W. Potts & Son Ltd. Everything looked beautifully kept, well oiled, with nicely painted wood and metal, and shiny, polished brass; perfect for a photograph.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 24mm (36mm - 35mm equiv.) - cropped to 4:3 ratio
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/40 sec
ISO:900
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Reflecting on church brass

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It's customary for Anglican churches to have a raised pulpit and a separate reading lectern from which sermons and readings take place. Pulpits have an inclined shelf that traditionally holds The Bible, a prayer book or any other document that the officiating clergy wishes to use. The reading lectern is a humbler (and usually lower) affair, often a simple wooden post with feet surmounted by the inclined shelf. However, in many churches the material is brass rather than wood, and the piece often dates from the Victorian or the Edwardian period. In these cases the shelf is frequently decorated with foliate or cross patterns, and many are pierced. I've photographed such lecterns before because the reflective glow of the brass in the darkness of the church makes an attractive subject for the camera.

The other day we visited a Lincolnshire church, one very near the border with Leicestershire, a building that we'd not been in before. It had a rich and fertile interior for a passing photographer. But, despite the fine tombs, interesting woodwork, unusual font and column capitals and much else, my eye was once again drawn to a brass reading lectern. What caught my attention on this occasion was the reflection of a south aisle stained glass window in the polished surface of the brass. The shelf had a quatrefoil design, each leaf filled with a flower stem with two leaves, and in the centre, a cross. These raised brass shapes were emphasised by black paint or lacquer and the out of focus colours of the window gave the yellow brass a jewel-like glow, inviting the close-up shot that I post today.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 52mm (78mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f4.8
Shutter Speed: 1/80 sec
ISO:250
Exposure Compensation: 0. EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The lustre of brass and copper

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A theme seems to be developing in recent posts - that of the "incidental" photograph i.e. a shot taken at a time when my attention was supposed to be on something else.

We recently had a day out at with a group of people at the splendid gardens at Bressingham, Norfolk. Before we set off I picked up the Canon 5D2, the 24-105mm lens and the 100mm macro. That seemed the best kit for the kind of shots that were likely to be available. And so it proved. The lenses gave the opportunity for general, wide angle photographs of parts of the gardens, sections of beds, small groups of blooms and individual specimens. However, the location also had a selection of steam powered vehicles and engines, some outside and some indoors, and it was one of these that drew my attention and prompted me to take out the Sony RX100.

Today's photograph shows a detail of the brass and copper cylinder, pipes, switches and dials of a fire engine of the 1890s. It was made, as its plate clearly and ornately says, by the London engineers, Shand, Mason and Company. Today we think of fire engines as motor powered vehicles with a cab for its firemen and the pumps and ladders/turntable behind. But, before this type evolved they were essentially pumps on carts that would be pulled or pushed to near the fire before being used to pump a water supply through hoses on to it. Shand, Mason and Co. were established suppliers of such devices to public authorities, large private houses, hospitals etc. A board next to the example shown above explained that it was installed at Crown Point, the mansion of Sir J. J. Colman at Whitlingham near Norwich, and that, fortunately, it never had to be used with serious intent.

I liked the lustre of the polished metal that positively glowed in the shadows of the dark exhibition room. I've photographed brass before for the same reason; see this lectern or this nameplate. And copper too has been my subject when seen in a dimly-lit room as with these pans in a country house kitchen.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 17mm (46mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f3.2
Shutter Speed: 1/10 sec
ISO:800
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Eagles, angels and lecterns

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Go into any English parish church and the chances are that somewhere below the chancel arch, on the south side of the nave, you'll see a lectern holding a Bible. It's the place from which extracts are read during services. In the vast majority of churches the lectern will take the form of three footed base supporting a column with a ball on top, on which stands an eagle with outstretched wings. The inclined plane formed by those wings forms the surface on which the Bible rests. In most instances the whole of the lectern will be made of brass, and will date from the nineteenth century.

That being the case, it is quite refreshing to go into a church and find a variation from this dominant design. Sometimes I come across seventeenth or eighteenth century versions, occasionally made of wood, with an eagle that looks more like a parrot. More often I find a simpler design with a column holding a decorated, inclined shelf. Today's main photograph shows a detail of one such lectern that I saw a few days ago. The brass shelf had been designed (in 1897) with a very pleasing fretwork pattern, and I felt motivated to capture this close-up that shows something of the intricate leaves, swirls and central cross. A couple of weeks earlier I'd stumbled upon an altogether different take on the lectern. The church of All Saints, at Harmston, Lincolnshire, has an angel with upstretched arms holding the usual inclined shelf. It has something of the Art Nouveau about it, and I guess it dates from somewhere between 1890 and the beginning of WW1. It is not without its attractions, and as far as symbolism goes has just as much to commend it as an eagle perched on a ball. But, I have to say that I find it a touch disconcerting, perhaps because the slender figure holding that  large weight in such an awkward pose for eternity makes me feel decidedly uncomfortable. On the other hand it could be that, to me, the figure looks a little too worldly for its setting, and might be more appropriate in a town hall, opera house or grand hotel.

photographs and text (c) T. Boughen

Photo 1 (Photo 2)
Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.), (10.2mm (48mm/35mm equiv.))
F No: f2 (2.8)
Shutter Speed: 1/20 (1/40)
ISO: 400
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 (-0.66) EV
Image Stabilisation: On