Old slides, newly processed

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It's remarkable how well most old film transfers to digital format. I've recently been using a dedicated negative and transparency (slide) scanner to digitise photographs taken in the 1970s, and I'm very pleased with most of my output. The colour positive slides (Agfacolour in the case of the example shown above) produce a pretty good scanned image that requires a little work on the colour balance, some cleaning of blemishes (usually persistent dust) and a little sharpening. The facility to do multiple passes of the scanner head to neutralise any noise generated in the scanning process doesn't have to be used too often, but when it's needed it works well.

I've chosen this photograph to put on the blog not only because I've been working on family shots, but also because it exemplifies compositional characteristics that have persisted in my photography since my early days - particularly repetition, simplification and spots of colour. It shows the loggia of the Stoa of Attalos, part of the Agora in Athens, Greece. The original building was destroyed in 267AD and what is shown is the reconstruction built in the 1950s that houses a museum. The shot is one of two composed in this way with a figure breaking the repetition: in the second shot that figure is me, and the photograph was taken by my wife.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: Repetition - Stoa of Attalos, Athens, Greece
Camera details etc: My memory of which camera I used at this time is a little hazy. Was it the Olympus OM-1n or the more humble Zenit E? It will take a little more scanning and remembering to work that one out.

Norman architecture, Melbourne, Derbyshire

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Too many writers and architectural historians damn Norman (Romanesque) architecture with faint praise. Because they look at it alongside the principal phases of Gothic architecture, styles that are later in date, more architecturally inventive and refined, and the sources that Victorian Gothicists usually used as their source of inspiration, they find Norman architecture wanting. I've never shared that view, being able to recognise in the style qualities that I find admirable and interesting.
Where detractors see crudity I see primitive vigour, where they see overpowering mass I see grounded strength, "savage" ornament and sculpture is, to my eyes, sturdy, dramatic, even dynamic. Norman architecture should not be judged by the absence of Gothic qualities but for its own elementary and evolving features that give it a grandeur of a different kind from that seen in Gothic architecture.

Today's photograph shows a view along the nave of Melbourne church in Derbyshire. It dates from the 1100s is much larger and grander than most Norman parish churches, but illustrates the sturdy nature of the style very well. The large, cylindrical columns, shallowly carved scallop capitals, rounded arches with heavy moulding and zig-zag , and the simple tub font on four squat columns, can all be seen elsewhere in parish churches, but not too frequently all in the same church. The rounded arches, of course, only allow a narrow nave and aisles, narrow windows, and a relatively short distance between the supporting columns: pointed Gothic arches enabled wider spans in churches.  Consequently Norman parish churches churches tend to be darker than their Gothic counterparts. Here the church is well-lit because the day was very bright. The barn-like roof, incidentally, dates from the 1500s.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: Font and Nave, Melbourne church, Derbyshire
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 9mm (18mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f4
Shutter Speed: 1/50 sec
ISO:6400
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Repton's Saxon crypt

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The main building material of the Anglo-Saxons was wood, mud and turf. Consequently few of their buildings have survived. However, important buildings, particularly those associated with the church, were built in stone. These often copied, in a debased, rather crude way, the Byzantine influenced buildings of Southern Europe, sometimes with details that echoed in stone the decorative forms that they incorporated in their timber structures. Whole Anglo-Saxon churches are rare in Britain but churches with parts that date from this period are relatively easy to find. Often its a tower that survives, or perhaps a doorway or window, sometimes it is part of a lower wall. Sculpture and crosses are not uncommon.

We recently visited the church of St Wystan at Repton in Derbyshire. Here the chancel, part of a transept and some walling around the crossing survive from the Anglo-Saxon period. However, the most remarkable and interesting survival is the crypt. Repton is today a small settlement but in the eighth and ninth centuries it had a double monastery and was sufficiently important to be the burial place of three Mercian kings.There is some argument over the age of the crypt but it may well date from that period i.e.the 700s or 800s AD.

The four columns and pilasters that support the domical vaulting show crude bases and capitals with spiral and other decoration copied from classical and Byzantine precedents. The builders may have seen continental European examples or travelled in the Mediterranean region. On the other hand they may have based their work on drawings they had seen. Interestingly, for centuries the crypt was unknown. It was rediscovered in 1779 when a workman who was digging a hole for a grave in the chancel floor broke through into the space below! Today it is open to the public and to descend the stairs into the columned space makes for an evocative experience.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 12mm (24mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.8
Shutter Speed: 1/15 sec
ISO:6400
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Tewkesbury Abbey stylistic juxtapositions

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I've heard it argued that Gothic architecture i.e. the medieval style that features pointed arches, was the first stone-built style of Northern Europe. During the so-called "Battle of the Styles" in the nineteenth century, when the design of large public buildings in Britain was often decided in competition, Gothic was frequently chosen because it was seen as a native style in contrast to the Classical style which was deemed, rightly, to be Mediterranean in origin.

The Romanesque style with its rounded arches, that preceded Gothic, can be viewed as a debased version of classical architecture, though that is not the whole story by any means; the timber building traditions of the Anglo-Saxons and the decorative sculpture of the Norse peoples are two stylistic threads that are also very evident. Something that I always found interesting was that the Romanesque style merged into Gothic rather than becoming a purer version of the styles of Ancient Greece and Rome. That had to to wait until the Renaissance.

Today's photograph shows part of the nave and more distant crossing and chancel at Tewkesbury Abbey in Gloucestershire. What always strikes me when I enter this building is the contrast between the plain, solid columns and rounded arches of Romanesque period, surmounted by the lighter, ornate vaulting of the later Gothic period. It is not uncommon in many English cathedrals, but at Tewkesbury the dissonance the pairing produces seems more pronounced than elsewhere.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 18mm (27mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/30 sec
ISO:2000
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Market Hall, Newark

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Multi-use buildings constructed in the eighteenth century are quite common if we include those that feature living accommodation in addition to their primary purpose. If you were a baker, blacksmith, weaver, or any other tradesman or craftsman you invariably lived on the job. It was convenient for dealing with your customers and you were in a position to ensure the security of your stock and tools. However, the sort of structure that we see today, where offices, shops, hotels, even train stations or museums can find their home in a large, subdivided building, were quite unusual in the 1700s.

The grand, classically-styled town hall of Newark, Nottinghamshire, a building of 1774-6 built by the architect, John Carr of York, is an exception to this general rule. Because, at ground level, underneath the ballroom, civic rooms, robing room, offices and everything else that was required by the leaders of the community, is a market hall. For centuries market halls had been common structures in towns. In the Midlands and South they were often timber-framed, a room above and open at the bottom, the sheltered space supported by heavy wooden posts, and in the North they were frequently made of stone, sometimes with split stone tiles as a roof. The Newark example is altogether grander, featuring a space eight bays long and three bays wide with stone Doric arcades and a coffered roof. The floor is made of heavy stone "flags", and the whole gives the appearance of something made to withstand the knock-about of market life, a cool dark place suitable for displaying food, somewhere that will last.

And last it has. It is still used as a place where stalls are set up and goods sold. On the day of our visit there was only one proprietor at work. Was that a sign of people spending less or is it used more on some days than others, much like the market square outside? Whatever the reason it made taking a photograph that shows the architecture an easier task for me than it has been in the past.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 10.4mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1 Shutter
Speed: 1/30 sec
ISO:3200
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Arches, columns and colours

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Most of the interior wall surfaces of England's medieval churches and cathedrals are unadorned stone. Where this isn't the case they are generally painted with a light coloured wash, plastered, or decorated with painted patterns or pictures. In this country we've grown accustomed to the austere looking walls of stone, enlivened only by the occasional memorial tablet, hatchment, British Legion flag or Mothers' Union embroidery. But it wasn't always like this.

England's churches used to be as colourful as any to be found in Spain, Italy or France. In fact these countries were often the model for the painted patterns, figures and architecture that covered many walls. Figures such as St Christopher, Mary, King David with his harp, Adam and Eve; subjects such as the Last Judgement or the symbols of the Four Evangelists, and scenes from the morality tales provided instruction and illustration for the illiterate and decorative surroundings for all. Most of this painting was banished by the Protestant reformation, either physically removed or buried under limewash. Today some relics of these grand schemes can still be seen, examples that have been revealed by the painstaking removal of the covering paint. And, if you look carefully in the carved details of the sculpted figures and plants on column capitals or blind arcades you can often see traces of the original red ochre or blue paint that was quickly applied after the sculptors had finished their work.

We were in Ely Cathedral, Cambridgeshire recently, a building that has fragmentary examples of medieval painting still to be seen. However, as I walked down the south aisle of the nave it was a different kind of colour that was enlivening the unpainted stone of the twelfth century Norman columns and cushion capitals below the groined vaulting. The low November sun was shining through the Victorian stained glass, projecting its colours onto the stonework, temporarily returning long lost colours, but with hues and an intensity that the medieval artists could never match. It was a fine sight, and one that demanded a photograph.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 84mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/800
ISO: 1600
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The Artist and photography

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On a misty, dull day we headed off for Spalding's civic building called the South Holland Centre. It houses, among other things, an auditorium where live performances and a cinema programme take place. The object of our visit was to see "The Artist", the recent film that is notable for being "silent" and shot in black and white. The fact that it has been garlanded with awards, particularly Oscars, would ordinarily be a reason for either avoiding a film or being wary of it: such things (especially Oscars) are too often conferred on routine rubbish, works that after a few years are forgotten or, at best, become noteworthy for the incredulity that they provoke when it is pointed out they were winners of the coveted award.

"The Artist" is, happily, an exception that proves the rule. In fact, it is a wonderful film, and my thought as I left the cinema was, "I'd like to see that again". Excellent acting, a more complex plot than we'd anticipated, great music, humour, and wonderful photography make it a memorable film. A while ago I wrote a blog piece about how one might convince a doubter of the value of black and white photography. In it I said my first argument would not be the recognised still practitioners but rather the 1946 movie of Charles Dickens' "Great Expectations", a work that won two Oscars for best Art Direction and Best Cinematography. To that I now have to add, "The Artist". Any still photographer looking for great black and white work need look no further than some of the many set-piece shots in this film. I'll mention only one that appealed to me that features the main character drinking too much. We see him and his reflection in the table top, slowly rotating due to camera movement. On to the mirror-like surface he pours the contents of his glass. It is a simple but stunning conception, beautifully executed. If you haven't seen the film, or doubt whether you'd like it, go and see it. I think you'll be glad you did.

I took today's semi-abstract photograph in the cafe as we had a bite to eat before the film. It shows the room's painted concrete columns and concrete ceiling with its decorative circles, coffering and lights. Black and white suits the shot better than colour (as I'm sure is the case with "The Artist"). I also softened the image a little. Looking at my photograph on the computer it brought to mind another film that also won an Oscar for Best Cinematography - "Close Encounters of the Third Kind"!

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2
Shutter Speed: 1/100
ISO:80
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Romanesque and Gothic at Tewkesbury

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Today's photograph shows the interior of the nave of Tewkesbury Abbey, Gloucestershire. A Saxon abbey founded c.715AD was the first building on this site, but nothing of it remains today. The present church is a Norman foundation of the eleventh century with most of the structure dating from the 1100s, a little from the 1200s, the ambulatory chapels and vaulting the 1300s, and small areas elsewhere of more recent dates.

Looking at the photograph we can see that the drum piers (columns), the rounded arches and the triforium (dark passage with light shining from it) are of the Norman (or Romanesque) period. They were complete by the time of the abbey's consecration in the 1120s and are characteristically heavy compared with the lighter appearance of the later Gothic style. For the student of architectural history there are two particular points of interest in this photograph. Firstly, the piers are relatively tall and plain, a regional characteristic of the Norman style whilst the triforium is quite small, almost insignificant compared with most similar buildings of the period (compare with this example at Peterborough Cathedral). The second thing to note is that the vaulting of both the aisles and the nave dates from 1330-1350, what is stylistically called the Decorated period of Gothic architecture.

The rounded arches of the Norman period were poor at spanning spaces as wide as a nave and consequently most Norman naves had flat timber ceilings, rather than stone vaulting. However, the narrower aisles were often covered with tunnel or groin vaulting. Here at Tewkesbury the Norman nave had no clerestory so the present one was inserted in the fourteenth century when the lierne vaulting of the nave and the quadripartite with ridge ribs vaulting of the aisles was built. To anyone who visits large churches regularly the Gothic vaulting on Romanesque piers looks odd. It also accounts for the half-hidden and relatively ineffectiveness of the clerestory which was squeezed in and then partly obscured by the springing of the vaulting. However, in the middle ages, as today, architects were keen to build in a contemporary way, and the idea of building vaulting or a clerestory in 1340 in a style from over one hundred years earlier was thought ridiculous, just as building today in the manner of the late Victorians would be. It would, wouldn't it?

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 24mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/20
ISO: 2500
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Classic historic Ionic

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The three original Greek orders of architecture have always seemed to me the perfect example of mankind's ability to conceive something of beauty, develop it and sustain it for the pleasure and edification of all. It's surmised that the Doric order arose from the woooden architecture that pre-dated the stone buildings that we can still see today. The sturdy, base-less columns and the entablature decorated with triglyphs and metopes, are thought to derive from the posts ( tree trunks?), and carpentry joints of the earlier structures. The Ionic and then Corinthian styles are seen as developments that increased the beauty and elegance of the orders. Subsequent ages and peoples developed the Tuscan and Composite orders from the Greek originals. This system of architecture, that originated before 600BC, has given people pleasure for over 2,000 years.

Today's photograph shows part of an Ionic column at the British Museum in London. It was once exposed to the elements, but is now protected by the glass roof that created the Great Court in 2000. This particular example is part of the museum built in the 1840s in the Greek Revival style by Sir Robert Smirke, and is very closely based on ancient Greek examples. Thus, the decorative features include the characteristic large volutes (scrolls), leaf and dart below the entablature, egg and dart (symbolising life and death) lower down, and bead and reel below that. The proportions of Greek columns are very carefully managed: the height of an Ionic example is usually about nine times the diameter. As with Doric and Corinthian, a slight swelling around the middle (entasis) counteracts an optical illusion that the column narrows at that point. The fluting (vertical grooves) of the Ionic column always number 24. In 1537 Sebastiano Serlio published Regole generali d'architettura ("General Rules of Architecture"). In this and other volumes he set out, in great detail, the proportions and style of the orders drawing on ancient and contemporary examples. Later architects leaned heavily on his research when they designed in the classical manner.

Rather than simply show the lovely detail and symmetry of the top of this column I went for an asymmetrical composition that included just over half of the capital - you can fill in the rest yourself! However, I did look for some "balance" in the layout. The filtered light falling on the subject has given it a certain flatness, and something of the character of a pen and ink-wash drawing of the type that an architect might have produced for a client, or perhaps a student's exercise completed as part of his or her studies. It's a quality that appealed to me.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 40mm (80mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/100 seconds
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The oldest parts of a church

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Over the years, knowing my interest in ecclesiastical architecture, many people have asked me which part of a church is usually the oldest. It's a question with several answers. In most instances it's the chancel, the nave arcades, the font, the tower or fragments of sculpture that provide the most ancient material. But there are always (and many) exceptions.

The chancel is often the oldest part because that is where the builders of a church often started - with the place that holds the high altar. However, most of England's churches were enlarged as the country's population grew. So, chancels were sometimes renewed, aisles added, and the height of the nave increased. When this happened the nave arcades of the earlier building were often kept and the extensions were built around them. In some parts of England, particularly the north-west, where a lack of wealth had meant medieval parish churches were often small and poorly constructed, the tower is often the oldest remaining part. This is because when the Industrial Revolution that flourished there in the nineteenth century produced its enormous riches, wealthy individuals and congregations frequently replaced all except the tower with new work. Very often the church font carried on being used through all these upheavals, and in many buildings it is the oldest part. Sometimes, however, it was replaced and the original became a receptacle for flowers in someone's garden! In the village where I live fragments of Saxon carving, presumably from the building that pre-dates the present Norman structure are the oldest evidence to be seen. So, the answer the question has a number of answers.

Today's photograph shows the interior of the church of St John the Baptist at Barnack, Cambridgeshire. Beyond the pierced wooden screen is the chancel that was built around 1300, replacing the original Saxon structure. The columns of the nave arcade on the left have capitals with crockets and volutes of the late 1100s, whilst those on the right are in the fully-fledged stiff-leaf style of twenty or thirty years later. The fine font also looks thirteenth century, though some have suggested the deep bowl may be earlier. However these are not the oldest parts in this building: the strong Saxon tower dates from about 1020, and a sculpture and pieces of carved stone may be of a similar age. So, Barnack church fits the pattern I outlined above, with the oldest elements being those that are usually the oldest in most churches. The one idiosyncracy here is the unique south porch with its steeply pitched stone roof that dates from about 1200. Frequently these porches are later medieval, Georgian or even Victorian additions.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 11mm (22mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/5
ISO: 200
Exposure Compensation: -1.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: Off (Tripod used)

The Octagon

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The classic English cathedral differs from its continental counterparts in a number of ways. Firstly, it usually has a square east end rather than an apse with chapels. Secondly, in profile, seen from a distance, there is less emphasis on verticality and more on horizontality. Thirdly, inside the nave and chancel the upward thrust of columns, arches and vaulting is more heavily broken by horizontal features. And fourthly, the buildings, by and large, have two west towers and a larger crossing tower. So, typical English cathedrals look like York, Durham, Lincoln or Lichfield, though some dispense with west towers entirely, and a few, like Westminster Abbey, have a very French look. However, one English cathedral doesn't fit into any of these descriptions very well at all - in fact it's a real oddity - and that is Ely.

Like some German cathedrals, Ely has a single west tower, but without the expected spire. Instead it has a castle-like top of embattled turrets. A heavy stone crossing tower is absent, and is replaced by an octagonal structure with a wooden corona (the Octagon) of the oddest profile, that appears to strive for width rather than height. The building's profile from some angles is quite military, and from others, veritably craggy. That Ely was largely complete by 1350 makes all this even odder. In fact it's hard to describe the exterior of Ely as beautiful, though it is undeniably interesting. However, the interior is absolutely wonderful - featuring a massive Norman nave and the underside of that corona.

My photograph was taken during a family visit in winter. I had no tripod, only one lens, and less time than usual to compose my image. So, I was glad for the in-body Image Stabilisation of the camera. That innovation, combined with my body braced against a wall, high ISO, and a wide aperture, allowed me to get this fairly sharp shot of the underside of the Octagon.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 11mm (22mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.8
Shutter Speed: 1/6
ISO: 800
Exposure Compensation: -1.3EV
Image Stabilisation: On