Our fine feathered friends

click photos to enlarge
Ever since the time when, as a young boy, I put a telescope and a pair of binoculars to my eyes and had revealed before me the beauty of the feathers of birds, I have taken an interest in their plumage. Most people notice the showy feathers of large birds, those kept in cages and farmyard species - peacocks, parrots, guinea fowl and the like. But fewer see the sometimes subtler (though occasionally dazzling) colours of our native species.

An early favourite for me was the much maligned starling (Sturnus vulgaris), often dismissed as a "black" bird, but close-up its summer plumage an iridescent metallic green and violet sheen with bright yellowish "stars". I also had a soft spot for the lapwing (Vanellus vanellus). At a distance this bird appears black and white, though the chestnt brown under its rear body is sometimes visible. However, through binoculars the dark back is revealed to be a fine green and purple iridescence that contrasts beautifully with the bold, black facial markings. The plumage of the male pheasant (Phasianus colchicus) also pleased me. I liked the way the green head (sometimes with a white neck ring) contrasted with the red wattles, and the brown/orange/gold hues of the body were flecked with dark, scale-like markings. Smaller birds such as the grey wagtail (Motacilla flava), the chaffinch (Fringilla coelebs) and the blue tit (Parus caeruleus) were also favourites. As I grew older, however, I began to appreciate the more subtle hues of birds such as the wheatear (Oenanthe oenanthe), the fieldfare (Turdus pilaris) and the woodcock (Scolopax rusticola).

Today, it seems, my taste has returned to the brighter colours of the larger birds. Or so it would appear looking at today's photographs and other images that I have posted of cockerel feathers - see here and here. Except that I haven't and these feathers are as much about what I am able to photograph well given the lenses I own as the plumage that I like. These particular cockerel and hen feathers appealed for the shapes they made as well as the lovely colour combinations that they offered.

photographs and text (c) T. Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 300mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/250
ISO: 800
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Cockerel feathers and painting

click photo to enlarge
Whether we know it or not, and whether we like it or not, fine art painting exerts an enormous influence on photography. For someone like me, with a lifelong interest in painting, and education in the history of art, the influence is quite overt. But it exists for most photographers, even if it's at a subliminal level, in terms of their choice of subject, the way they compose images, the colours they choose to use, the effects that they incorporate and apply, and in many other ways. In fact, these influences have become so firmly embedded in photographic practice that their origins are often no longer acknowledged.

I've recently been reviewing my photographic output of the past few years and one of the things that struck me was how clearly some of my shots seem to draw upon what I've observed in, and know of, the art of painting. Take this image of Lancaster seen from the Lune Aqueduct. It clearly draws its inspiration from the Romantic C18 and C19 English landscapes of painters such as John Sell Cotman, as does this evening view near Gosberton, Lincolnshire. Victorian painters who observed contemporary life through town views - artists such as James Tissot and William Powell Frith - seem to have influenced my image of Greenwich Park, London. My liking for the architectural drawings of Hugh Ferris comes through in this shot of Canary Wharf, London, whilst the influence of C17 Dutch landscapes are evident in this view of the River Welland. As a final example, Pop Art looks to be the inspiration for this shot of corrugated metal with the stencilled word "ACE" still visible.

I was thinking further about the influence of painting on photography whilst I was processing my image of cockerel feathers. It's the second shot of this subject that I've taken in the past few weeks, though this time it's a different bird (called Henry!). As I looked at the group of curved, orange feathers they reminded me of the freely-applied brush strokes of Jasper Johns and Jack Tworkov. The subject and composition is in the tradition of semi-abstract painting, a style that developed after the invention of photography, and which drew some of its characteristics from the more recent medium, reminding me that the traffic of influences is now in both directions.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 150mm (300mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/200 seconds
ISO: 200
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Aspect ratios - to crop or not

click photo to enlarge
There is a school of thought that says the best photographs are achieved by composing within the confines of the viewfinder. Those who hold to this idea often also believe that composition that takes place after the shutter has been pressed, through cropping, lessens the worth of the image. This isn't a maxim to which I subscribe. I have nothing against composing photographs in the viewfinder: I do it all the time. However, I don't believe that it's the only way to compose, or that cropping necessarily makes for poorer images.

Photographic film and digital sensors are rectangular - either squares or oblongs - following the precedent of painting. It's interesting that the circles, ovals and other shapes that painters sometimes employ haven't found their way into photography. Perhaps one day! In some respects the aspect ratio of the oblongs used in photography are arbitrary. The 35mm size, and its so-called "full-frame" digital successor, derives from the shape settled on by the makers of movie film. Like painters before them camera manufacturers also paid some attention to the aspect ratio of the Golden Rectangle. But, the imperial and metric sizes of paper used for printing (which is now a complete mess, a point that no one would have aimed to be at) are also constraints that weighed on the designers' minds. My camera has a 4:3 aspect ratio which perfectly matched the shape of most CRT monitors, but is less of a fit for "widescreen" LCD panels. So, given that photography's different shaped viewfinders arose through the influence of a group of rather odd constraints, and that our subjects vary too in terms of the best way to compose them, why should we always shackle ourselves? Painters didn't do it: why should photographers?

I was reflecting on this as I processed today's photograph, taken during a walk near Grimsthorpe Castle in Lincolnshire. The image is cropped, with some sky and some of the foreground track removed. I took the shot knowing I'd do this, and I think it makes for a better image than the full frame offered. I've also added another shot of the cockerel's feathers that I posted yesterday. I rather wish I'd used this cropped image instead of the version I chose - I think the variety of colour and texture across the cropped "letterbox" frame is definitely superior.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Image 1
Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 83mm (166mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/250
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Image 2
Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 100mm (200mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/320
ISO: 400
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Beautiful feathers

click photo to enlarge
I love individual colours, and have favourites that I appreciate whenever I see them. In a recent post I spoke about my liking for blues and greens, and commented that I'm a fairly typical man as far as my general taste goes. However, for me, colours that I wouldn't place amongst my favourites take on a new significance when paired with a suitable companion. In fact, I find that colours often work best in combination, something that artists and designers have known for years.

In that earlier post I spoke about how certain hues of yellow and pink, colours that I don't usually favour, can look great when placed togethre. And, in a post of last year I commented on how Jean-Honore Fragonard's painting called The Swing opened my eyes to the beauty of shades of pink next to turquoise hues. On that occasion I was speaking about Fragonard in the context of my photograph of orange Chinese Lanterns (Physalis franchetti) in a blue/green vase, another colour combination that appeals to me. Today's photograph is a re-working of that theme, but improved by the the blue having an iridescence that includes green and purple, and the orange having a hint of brown making it more of a "burnt orange". I find these rich, lustrous hues absolutely stunning, and think it small wonder that such deeply coloured feathers were once appropriated for women's clothes and hats.

I was glad that the owner of these feathers hadn't had them taken for other purposes, and further delighted by how he stood proudly on a wall near a churchyard, showing them off, allowing me to get this photograph.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 150mm (300mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/250 seconds
ISO: 400
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On