Christmas postage stamps

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I remember doing a quiz many years ago in which one of the questions was, "Which is the only country not to feature its name on its postage stamps?". The answer, of course, was the United Kingdom, the country that introduced the adhesive postage stamp, the "Penny Black", following the ideas of Rowland Hill. This method of paying for postal deliveries was adopted across the world. Designers and artists were tasked with devising designs for the stamps, and unwittingly their endeavours set in motion a hobby - stamp collecting (or philately) - that was eagerly pursued by children and adults.

I collected stamps as a young boy and was particularly pleased when the UK's Post Office started to produce a wider range of stamps than those featuring just the head of the reigning monarch. Many interesting and often beautiful designs in a variety of sizes have been produced down the decades. Moreover, each Christmas a distinctive and seasonal set of stamps is issued and reported on in the press. Perhaps its my age, perhaps its designers exhausting the possibilities, but I feel that stamp designs are less inventive than formerly. Today's photograph shows part of a sheet of stamps featuring this years Christmas design for the 2nd Class (i.e. slower and cheaper) postage. The paper cut snowman and surround are fine but lack the bold, jewel-like qualities that I remember from my youth.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: UK 2nd Class Postage Christmas Stamp 2016
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 60mm macro (120mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.8
Shutter Speed: 1/320 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Skegness lights

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Items of street furniture - seats, bollards, planters, bus shelters, lights etc - go through design phases reflecting the era in which they are constructed and installed. A few local authorities, in the interests of harmony, heritage or conservation, install copies of existing items but, in the main, such items are of their time.

During my lifetime it has been interesting to watch the evolution of the street light. My first conscious memory of the design of this common piece of street furniture involves reflecting on the need for a short arm that projected on one at a point below the light itself. As children we knew it was great for climbing up to, and for swinging on. But, even at that early age, I knew it hadn't been designed with my fun in mind. Only later, when I saw a ladder leaning on it as a workmen effected repairs, did its real purpose become apparent. Ever since that time I've taken an interest in the straight, curved, steel, concrete, fussy, spare, "antique", "modern", rectangular, globular etc shapes and materials that designers have employed in making street lights. And yes, periodically they have been the focus of my camera.

Today's examples were photographed during a brief visit to Skegness, a place where I've photographed lights of one kind or another before. As the autumn afternoon daylight began to fail the sensors had activated the bulbs on these promenade lights and their orange glow amplified the yellow of the deliberately "ornate modern" hood of these fairly recent lights. As ever with seaside lights a gull found one to be a welcome perch.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: Promenade Lights, Skegness, Lincolnshire
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 75mm (150mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/200 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Tables and chairs

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Of all the objects that man designs possibly the most frequently attempted by people who are not trained designers are tables and chairs. These staples of the interior seem to attract the home DIYer, architects, artists and others as well as those qualified in design. Frequently, as I have mentioned elsewhere in this blog, the motivation is appearance rather than utility because tables and chairs make such a strong impact on interior design. And all too often the pieces that look the best perform the worst when it comes to using them for their intended purpose. Tables and chairs that combine great appearance with excellent functional attributes are the mark of a good designer, whether amateur or professional.

Today's photograph shows some tables and chairs that I saw outside a restaurant/cafe near King's Cross and St Pancras railway stations in London the other day. Looking down the line of white table tops I was reminded of the circular ripples that appear on still water when you skim a flat stone across it. The other thing I noticed was that, apart from the colour white, the tables and chairs had no obvious connection: they don't appear to be designed to go with each other. In fact they didn't look too bad together, and even the brown leather seat pads weren't too dissonant, offering a warmer note to the black and white. In fact, the contrasty aesthetic was a factor that prompted me to take the shot, and I knew as I pressed the shutter that I would be converting it to black and white.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: Cafe Tables and Chairs, King's Cross, London
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 15mm (30mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.2
Shutter Speed: 1/250 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Old cinema architecture

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The design of the first railway carriages were closely modelled on that of the horse-drawn carriage. This seemed entirely right at the time. After all, wasn't there a similarity of function between a carriage pulled by an engine and one pulled by a horse?

When architects and builders began to erect the first purpose-built cinemas a similar mind-set seems to have taken hold. Cinemas were places of mass entertainment that held a large audience of people who all looked at the same spectacle in front of them. This was very much like the music-halls, theatres and concert halls of the time. Consequently it seemed entirely reasonable to draw upon their designs and decoration when building the new venues of mass-entertainment. To look at the music-hall architecture of someone like Frank Matcham and then at the cinemas of the first two decades of the twentieth century is to see many similarities. It is true that the sum spent on the average cinema's architecture was often less than on a music hall. However, the same debased classical features and the borrowings from exotic architectural styles (Moorish and Oriental were popular) pervade most such buildings.

The other day I stood in front of the former Tower Cinema in Hull. This was built by a Hull architect, H. Percival Binks, in 1914. The overall style is classical with domes, obelisk pinnacles, pediments, pilasters, rustication, swags, even a pseudo Diocletian window and an allegorical figure. However, it is faced in the then fashionable green and cream faience and has debased Art Nouveau touches - see particularly the stained glass lettering and its surrounding low arch. When built it must have seemed very up-to-date and quite different from the staid stone and brick of the Victorian buildings of the city; in fact, perfectly in keeping with the technological marvel of the moving pictures on display inside. Today it is no longer a cinema but some sort of night club. Mercifully, with the exception of a band of grey paint over the lower level tiles, little has been changed on the facade and so it remains an interesting building that speaks of its time of construction.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 18mm (27mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/200 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Beautiful and odd aircraft and Buccaneers

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On a recent visit to the Imperial War Museum (IWM) site at Duxford, a location that specialises in military and civil aircraft (though there is a tank museum too), I began reflecting on British aircraft design. Looking at the exhibits on display it occurred to me that a number of British  designs count among the most beautiful aircraft to fly.

In this group is, obviously, the Supermarine Spitfire, but also the Hawker Hunter, the Avro Vulcan, Concorde (honours shared with France), the Vickers VC10, the BAe Hawk and quite a few others, including, I think, the subject of yesterday's post, the De Havilland Dragon Rapide. But our country's designers were equally capable of producing inelegant designs, aircraft that look like they are made for an environment other than the sky. I'd put the Handley Page Heyford, the Fairey Gannet, the Blackburn Beverley and the Britten-Norman Trislander in that group. Then there are what I call the interesting oddities - aircraft that are not out and out beautiful but equally, are not without a certain charm. The English Electric Lightning and the Blackburn Buccaneer (above) definitely fall into that category for me.

I came upon this Buccaneer, an example of the aircraft that has been dubbed "Britain's last bomber" (purpose-built bomber that is) in a hangar at Duxford. Its wings were folded, showing its origins as a carrier aircraft with the Royal Navy. However, all the Buccaneers were eventually transferred to the RAF and this example is in the colours of 208 Squadron. The Buccaneer's oddness is seen in the air-brake that protrudes at the back of the body, the "hump" below where the fin starts, and the nose which is hinged to make the body shorter to fit on an aircraft carrier elevator. The saving grace - the beautiful bit if you will - is the elegant curve of the fin with its "T" tailplane. The arrangement of the aircraft and adjacent exhibits stopped me getting a good photograph of this feature but I liked the head-on view and so took that one instead.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 52mm (78mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/80 sec
ISO:900
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Public benches once more

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Shopping in Spalding, Lincolnshire, the other day we passed several benches that had recently been painted. They were the sort of bench that public and private authorities buy with everything in mind except people sitting on them in comfort. They looked relatively inexpensive, vandal-proof, low maintenance and were clearly made with an eye to how they looked rather than how they performed as a resting place for the human posterior in all its manifold forms. Comfort had been given no consideration whatsoever - they wouldn't have chosen hard, cold steel if it had. Nor had lumbar support ever entered the mind of either the designer or the purchasing officer. But, they looked sleek, modern and eye-catching, particularly with their new coat of paint, and so those responsible could rest easy, knowing that the public would see that they had been discharging their duties with the required diligence. That is, if they ignored the fact that not a single person was sitting on them.

I've lamented elsewhere in this blog - several times, and at length - the fact that public benches frequently look great but are absolutely useless as a place to sit, rest and reflect upon the world. It seems that today, as these examples testified, benches can have every ancillary attribute but never the main quality required to warrant their name. In such designs form is a stranger to function.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 31.8mm (86mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f4.5
Shutter Speed: 1/100 sec
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Domestic semi-abstract

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During my recent hiatus from posting I took this photograph as we sat in the sun enjoying a cup of tea with friends. It shows part of a striped plastic tray and part of the base of this stainless steel teapot. As teapots go this is a good one, but as trays go this example is hopeless. That's not to say that the tray doesnt have virtues: it's easy to clean, colourful and long-lasting. However, if you put any pottery, china or stainless steel on it, and then carry it, the contents slide about like skaters on a frozen pond. I'd get rid of it, but I hate waste more than I value an effective tray.

© Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon 5DMk2
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 100mm macro
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/800 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Design, phones and fishing boats

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There's a widely held belief that the design of objects improves with each passing year. That certainly seems to be the case with, for example, cars. Today's models are more comfortable, safer, more fuel efficient, and more rust-free than ever. But there are many objects where design doesn't follow that upward curve of improvement.

I've mentioned before the new teapots that can't pour without dripping despite the fact that the solution to this failing was discovered centuries ago. Then there are shower controls. You'd think that the means of regulating the flow and heat of potentially scalding water would be either standardised - like headlight switches on cars - or at least made blindingly obvious to the first-time user of the shower. But no, it seems that every time I step into an unfamiliar shower I have to try to work out how the controls operate and then risk being burned by hot water. This appears to be because shower designers are more interested in the appearance of the controls than in safety of the user.

I recently bought a pair of new cordless phones from a reputable manufacturer. However, after a couple of weeks I discovered that there was a fault that necessitated me returning them. But, I'd have returned them anyway because the clarity of the voices I heard through the earpiece was simply not good enough. When I, temporarily, plugged in a corded phone - a low-cost model from a no-name manufacturer - voices could be heard as clearly as anyone could wish. Of course, the old-style phone didn't have a light-up display, a choice of ring-tones or a built-in directory. Nor did it show me the name of the caller and the time etc, etc ad nauseam. No, it simply fulfilled its primary function of letting me hear my callers clearly, something that many modern cordless phones seemed to have relegated to a secondary concern behind a cluster of inessential gimmicks. I bought a replacement pair of cordless phones from a less well-known manufacturer, not quite as feature-laden, but which made a selling point of audibility. They work fine.

I was reflecting on progress (or lack of it) in design when I was looking at inshore fishing boats recently in Boston and King's Lynn. Among the steel hulled craft were a few, older timber-built boats dating from the the 1960s (according to the searchable database of UK Fishing Boats LN95 in the smaller photograph was built in 1969). Were the newer vessels, I wondered, better designs than the older boats? Would they last as long and give as good service? I don't know the answer to those questions but I do know that it isn't a given that they will be better in every respect.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 18mm (49mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/500
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation:  -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Obsolescence, repairs and tractors

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My web browser bookmarks include a folder marked DIY. It lists sites and web pages that I've found useful when it comes to fixing things or undertaking jobs around the house.With a bit of internet help I've managed to repair the cooker, heating radiators, the car, computers, plumbing, a camera and much more. To be able to do such things gives one a sense of satisfaction, saves money and does something for the environment by extending the life of objects.

However, during my lifetime the number things that are repairable has seemed to become ever fewer. Obsolescence appears to be built into more and more products. Items are made difficult or impossible to open without breaking something, spare parts are unavailable or deliberately expensive, non-standard screws or worse still, glue, are used to fix components together, and records show that often the same component lasts the same limited life-span in a particular product - usually a month or two after the expiry of the warranty! It really looks like some manufacturers construct products to fail after a relatively short time, and make them irreparable by the user or even a technician, in the expectation that it will result in another sale. This marketing ploy is additional to the regular "product-upgrade" cycles whereby the latest and greatest additional features are drip-fed into new models on an annual (or more frequent) basis.

A website I sometimes use for repair advice is iFixit. It ranges fairly widely in its coverage, but is particularly useful for electronics. The staff frequently do what are called "teardowns", i.e. the opening up of new products to see how they are made. Then they pass judgement on their potential for repair. Recently the website published a list of ten electronic devices that are almost impossible to repair. A model of the Apple MacBook Laptop with Retina Display was judged worst in this regard. There were five other Apple product in the list (and two Nikon DSLR cameras). Interestingly their ten easiest to repair electronic devices, published earlier, also included an Apple product.

The sight of this old Fordson Major tractor triggered this line of thought. It's a model from when? The 1960s? I don't know exactly, but it's a good few decades old and still giving service in the harshest of environments: sand and salt water are a recipe for mechanical problems. It is used to haul a crab boat into and out of the sea and its basic, rugged construction, the availability of parts, and the opportunity to improvise or make them where they are unavailable (check out the seat and radiator grille!) means it still works after all these years. I like products that are user-serviceable and user-repairable: they are good for the individual and good for wider society. It would be great if more manufacturers took this into account when they designed their products.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 24mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/320 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Kitchens old and new

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I don't keep abreast of fashion in interior design: it changes too often for the flimsiest of reasons for my liking. However, interior design - in fact design of all kinds - and the way it has changed down the centuries and decades is something that does interest me. I have the feeling, from my admittedly limited experience, that the aesthetic inspiration for many of today's cutting edge kitchens is the mortuary or perhaps the operating theatre. All those easy-clean surfaces of black and white tiles and stainless steel put one in mind of places where flesh is opened and saw meets bone. There was a time in the Victorian period when a similar approach was taken to kitchen design. In large country houses they were often laid out with ergonomics, industrial scale food preparation and easy maintenance in mind. Rows of Belfast sinks, scrubbable hardwood surfaces, serried ranks of utensils, heavily tiled floors and walls and enormous cooking ranges all suggest a similar kind of utilitarian rationale underlying their construction.

I was in one such kitchen recently. It is at Audley End, a large country house of the Elizabethan period and later, near Saffron Walden in Essex. The building is owned by English Heritage, is open to the public, and often offers activities in the Victorian-period service wing. This group of rooms features a kitchen, pastry larder, cook's room, servants' hall (now the restaurant), meat safe, game larder, coal shed, scullery, dry larder, wet laundry, dry laundry, dairy maid's sitting room, dairy and dairy scullery. In the house's heyday these would be filled with servants of many ranks and job descriptions producing all the food, washing and other services that were needed to keep the owners of the house, their family and their guests in the comfort and style that they felt they deserved. Today English Heritage stages reconstructions of some of these activities with, for example, staff in period costume making bread or other food using the implements available in the kitchen.

Today's smaller photograph shows one of these re-enactments. In the main photograph you can see all the shelves that can be glimpsed on the left of the smaller image. The rows of gleaming copper pans, shiny silver serving dish covers and the  contrast of the white of the pottery on the plain wooden shelves made an interesting composition for a photograph.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 11.8mm (32mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f4
Shutter Speed: 1/40
ISO: 500
Exposure Compensation:  -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Syrup, treacle and memories

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Recently, when rummaging about in my garage, I came across two empty tins that for several years served as pen and pencil pots on the desk in my study. They had moved house with us and eventually fallen out of use after I divided up a drawer to make a more convenient way of keep my writing implements organised. They are, of course, no ordinary pen and pencil pots but the empty tins in which we had bought black treacle and golden syrup for baking. The sugar refining company of Abram Lyle who manufactured them have stuck with, essentially, the same design for the tins since they first produced them in 1885, even surviving the merger with Tate in 1921 when Tate & Lyle came into being. The wonderful, ornate designs using green, gold, black and white for the syrup and red, gold, black and white for the treacle, are thought to be Britain's oldest unchanged brands. Metric weights have replaced the imperial pounds and ounces and a bar code label now features on the back, but in most respects the tins are the same as they always were and exactly as I remember them from my childhood.

In fact, the design of these tins was first drawn to my attention by a primary school teacher who was telling us the story of Samson from the Old Testament of the Bible. To enliven the story and give it greater relevance to our lives she asked us to look at one of tins and find out what it had to do with the biblical tale. We discovered that the illustration of the dead lion with a swarm of bees around it and the quotation, "out of the strong came forth sweetness", were derived from a riddle that Samson told and which can be read in the Book of Judges, Chapter 14.

Seeing the tins glowing in the dim light of my garage I thought that they might photograph well so I set them up with a black background and strongly directional natural light amd took this shot.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 100mm macro
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/4 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: Off

Reflections on the Millennium Footbridge, London

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The brouhaha that accompanied the opening of London's Millennium Footbridge - it was immediately closed for over a year to correct a wobble induced by large numbers of pedestrians - overshadowed the ambitious nature of the design. Now that it has been in daily use for over a decade the daring of its designer, Norman Foster (assisted by Arup Associates and the sculptor Sir Anthony Caro) is somewhat taken for granted. Consequently I'd like to review just what makes it such an ambitious conception.

The Millennium Footbridge was the first new Thames crossing since the construction of Tower Bridge, and the first ever designed solely for pedestrians. Its novel shape arises from the designers' intention that the views from the bridge of the river and the city should be as clear and as uninterrupted as possible. River traffic and the desire to thrill produced a central span of 320 metres. Only two supports are placed in the water, quite close to the banks. These are elegant "Y" shapes. Looking at the structure it's not immediately apparent that it is, essentially, a suspension bridge. The cables are not slung in the usual manner and closely follow the contour of the deck, never rising more than 7 feet 6 inches (2.3 metres) above it.

The bridge looks slight but strong. It is highly popular with people and makes the journey from St Paul's Cathedral to Tate Modern and the South Bank (and vice versa) a dramatic and exciting walk. My main photograph is taken from the point where a slope up from the south bank riverside walk splits and then rejoins and the footbridge arcs up and over the Thames. I've photographed the bridge before, including from that same viewpoint - see here and here.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen


Photo 1
Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 18.5mm (50mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation:  -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Lincolnshire barns

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I recently put variations around the words "Lincolnshire barns" into the Google search box and was disappointed to be swamped with results concerning the hire of converted barns for holidays: it has always seemed to me one of life's mysteries why people want to holiday in a converted barn. In fact, I was looking for information about the different designs that I see as I travel about. Growing up in the Yorkshire Dales I became familiar with that region's variations in barn design and I was keen to increase my knowledge of Lincolnshire's barns.

I didn't find anything of interest - perhaps the subject isn't very widely studied or reported - but I did come across a few companies advertising new barns. These are big portal structures based on steel frames with uninterrupted space below the large, spreading roof. Coated steel, brick, concrete block and timber seem to be the favoured materials for walls. Most of the old barns in Lincolnshire, those dating from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, are constructed of brick. Probably the most interesting are found on the "model" farms of the nineteenth century; buildings with well-made brick arches, steel columns, sometimes the owner's coat of arms, all topped with locally made pantiles. I've seen a few of these badly converted into holiday accommodation, though many have escaped that fate due to being Listed for their historical and architectural interest.

However it was the barns of the twentieth century that I was particularly wanting information about: barns such as the big one in today's photograph. It is characteristic of the middle of that century with its asbestos roof, brick side walls, corrugated steel gable wall and its wooden sliding doors. A feature often seen in this part of the world is also present in the barn, namely the gabled "turret" that projects upwards from the main roof. This appears to have a ventilation function though that's just my guess. Until I find the source of information about Lincolnshire barns that I sought but couldn't find it remains only a working hypothesis.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 45mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/640 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Ce ne sont pas les urinoirs

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Anyone familiar with the Modernist work of R.Mutt aka Marcel Duchamp and the Belgian Surrealist, René Magritte, will understand the allusion in today's blog post title. It was the combination of the former's "fountain", that is to say a porcelain urinal signed "R. Mutt", combined with the title of the latter's painting of a pipe, that came to mind when I walked into this red and white men's toilet in a Lincolnshire building.As my eyes took in the cool, pristine white shapes, the astonishing red, and the way they worked together, it became obvious this was intended to be a room that offered an aesthetic experience as well as one that efficiently catered for the bodily needs of its visitors.

As I reflected further it struck me that the sanitaryware manufacturer, Armitage Shanks, had designed the white porcelain urinals (the "Aridian" waterless model no less ) and the intervening modesty screens to be sculptural objects. Not quite art, but craft with pretensions to art, the sort of minimalist work that would complement an avowedly modern building (of the sort in which these were located). One could almost see a collection of these on a black plinth lit by highly directional spotlights in a London gallery. The architect must have had thoughts along these lines because he (or she) had clearly chosen the grid of blood-red wall panels, cubicle dividers and doors to accentuate the stylish shapes. No, I thought, reflecting one more on Duchamp, these were definitely not just utilitarian, bog standard (pun intended) objects; they aspired to be something greater.

By the way, I apologise to any French speaking readers, or anyone who speaks French better than I do - that's most people - if my title mangles the language. It's a combination of my rudimentary skill and Google Translate.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 28mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/30
ISO: 3200
Exposure Compensation:  0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On 

"Good bad" books and styling

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In his "Tribune" essay of 1945, "Good Bad Books", George Orwell argued for the existence of a type of book "that has no literary pretensions but which remains readable when more serious productions have perished." He borrowed the idea and title from G. K. Chesterton and applied it to authors that today are all but forgotten, people such as Leonard Merrick, Ernest Raymond and May Sinclair, but also to some who are still read and more widely recognised: E. Nesbit, Conan Doyle, Rider Haggard and others. His essential point was that "good bad books" are works that don't aim high but do score in terms of entertainment, effective and affective writing, and incidental insight. Moreover, he opined, they would be read long after the likes of Wyndham Lewis were forgotten, and cites in support of his case the enduring appeal of the less serious Anthony Trollope, over the more weighty but unreadable Thomas Carlyle.

The notion that something "bad" can be "good" has been applied in areas beyond books. For example, early British Pop Art practitioners such as Richard Hamilton and Peter Blake drew inspiration from the vigour and vitality of commercial graphics, posters, the circus and other "low" art, seeing in them qualities that they admired. In mainstream popular music there are a small number of artistes who rise above their medium and are liked, within their limitations, by people who generally wouldn't give the genre the time of day. I wouldn't dare to suggest examples!

I've often felt that manufacturers sometimes produce examples of car styling that have this "good bad" quality. In 2006 I posted a photograph of a Cadillac's fin and tail light cluster saying, "It's the sort of styling that you think should never have happened, but part of you is glad that it did." Today's photograph shows the front of the bonnet of a 1936 Ford V8 Coupe. The radiator mascot is a greyhound in the act of leaping over an 8 nestled in a V. This chromed device must be some kind of bonnet release. When I first saw it I immediately thought of what the protrusion might do to a pedestrian unfortunate enough to be struck by it. As I considered it further the ludicrousness of this piece of bad sculpture sitting on the bonnet like a canine parody of a Cellini salt-cellar struck me. And yet, all that notwithstanding, I felt a touch of admiration for the person who had crafted his (or her) artistic vision and persuaded Ford that it should adorn hundreds of thousands of their cars. Perhaps it was the way the chrome and the black bonnet were picking up the tinted late afternoon light that filtered through the clouds. Maybe I was just feeling more charitably inclined than usual towards what I consider bad design. Whatever the reason, I took the photograph and I'm glad that I did.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 105mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/250 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On 

Avro Vulcan

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It shouldn't seem odd to me that some military aircraft achieve the affection of the public, and yet it does. After all, other manufactured objects, from cars and calculators to chairs and chessmen, win particular admiration. Moreover, military aircraft are an outstandingly good example of form resulting from function, and many objects that receive the public's acclamation display this very feature. But, what is inescapable about all of the beautiful design, engineering and construction necessary to make a military aircraft is that it serves to enable the efficient delivery of death and destruction.

In the UK the Supermarine Spitfire is undoubtedly the most admired military aircraft. Even if its important role in the Battle of Britain and WW2 generally were not so widely known and so frequently eulogised, it would still be esteemed for the elegant curves and lines of its shape. Examples of other British military aircraft that provoke a high level of affection in these islands are the Avro Lancaster bomber, the de Havilland Mosquito and the BAe Harrier. Why these three? The Lancaster was Britain's main heavy bomber of the second world war, an unusual design for the time, and an important contributor to victory. The  Mosquito has something of the grace of the Spitfire in a twin-engined design, and the Harrier was the first, successful V/STOL aircraft and consequently unique. And then there's the Avro Vulcan.

The brief for the Vulcan's designers was an aircraft to to drop bombs on Britain's enemies. More specifically, a heavy load of conventional, free-fall, high explosive bombs, free-fall nuclear bombs, or later, the "Blue Steel", multi-megaton, stand-off nuclear missile. In pursuit of that end they came up with a large, delta winged bomber with four powerful jet engines, a simple and elegant design that has had lasting aesthetic appeal for many. The aircraft was in RAF service from 1956 to 1984. It was flown as a high level strategic bomber initially, later had a low level role and in its final years some were converted for maritime reconnaissance, and others as in-flight refuelling tankers. Its swan-song came in 1982 when it was the offensive spear-head of Operation Black Buck, the extreme range missions to attack the occupying forces on the Falkland Islands during the conflict between the UK and Argentina, an undertaking that only served to increase the fascination with the aircraft.

In some respects the Avro Vulcan is like a penguin or a vulture: on the ground it doesn't show itself off to best advantage, but in its element it looks entirely different. I remember seeing Vulcans high overhead as a child, vapour trails streaming out behind a small white triangle as they patrolled the skies. When it came to photographing this example - No. XM594 at Newark Air Museum - it proved quite tricky since none of the qualities for which it is highly regarded can be seen. A video, such as this one of the last flying example, shows it to much better effect.

photographs and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 24mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/250
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Old Jags as automotive sculpture

click photo to enlarge

My interest in cars is strictly limited so I feel left out of most conversations about them. I see cars as a relatively inefficient form of transport that is very destructive of our environment: I much prefer my bicycle. For many years I tried to live without a car, using public transport, a cycle and a tandem. However, Margaret Thatcher's assault on the former and a growing family forced my hand and I got a car.

Today I choose my cars on the grounds of utility and economy. I have a small Japanese hatchback that has the virtue of almost total anonymity and the reputation of being one of the most reliable cars on the road. I bought it on the premise that it does everything I need and that a car that doesn't work is nothing more than a useless tin box. Its size (compact), speed (0 mph to well above the legal limit), acceleration (0-60 eventually), ride (whatever that means), its status, what it says about the owner to others, all these are of little consequence to me. Hence the fact that I tend to get marginalised in discussions about cars. Actually that's not strictly true: I am known to offer my views even if they're not sought. At times I see myself as something of a missionary bringing truth and light to such conversations, throwing in what are seen as contrarian views like hand grenades. On other occasions I resort to ridicule. Neither approach is one that wins friends and influences people. The trouble is that at these times I can't help myself because, of all modern conversations, those surrounding the car are one of the most in need of a strong dose of reality.

There is, however, one aspect of cars that I find interesting, which I can debate with car lovers, and that is as objects of design and styling. But here again my tastes are often conflicting because in the main I am more interested in the design of small cars and utilitarian vehicles than luxury vehicles and sports cars. I say "in the main" due to an idiosyncratic liking for some of the 1960s Jaguar designs - the 2.4, 3.8 etc. These are vehicles that I remember from my youth, often characterised then as "getaway cars" (in the bank robber rather than holiday sense) though also used, I recall, by the British police. The front ends of this range of cars have a quality that few other marques can match. Smooth, flowing, tactile, sensuous, they could be detached from the vehicle and displayed in an art gallery simply for their sculptural qualities. I photographed today's example on a visit to the recent Boston Classic Car Club annual show (that's Boston, Lincolnshire, the original Boston, not Boston, Massachusetts). An urge to photograph something bright and shiny overcame me and so I indulged myself at this festival of all things automotive. More to come over the next few days.

I suppose you may be wondering if I fancy one of these sought after old cars. Not on your life! Noisy, unreliable and uneconomic is what they are. That handsome form masks a load of trouble and expense.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 70mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/400 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On 

Moribund buildings

click photo to enlarge

During my many years working in education I was involved with a few building extensions. The process of design generally involved educational managers of one kind or another (including me) discussing the brief with the architect. Subsequently proposals would be presented for discussion and amendment, and after these had been batted back and forth a few times, the final form of the building would be agreed. In the fullness of time the extension would be built, but during construction further changes would be agreed or imposed, often for cost reasons. This was a fairly reasonable and rational way of extending an existing educational building. The aim was to provide something that would effectively and efficiently meet the current needs of the users, and, very importantly, be sufficiently flexible to accommodate future requirements.

However, much building in the past, and still sometimes today, didn't and doesn't involve consultations of this sort. Buildings as disparate as schools, town halls, railway stations, factories, houses, churches and art galleries were built based solely on the advice of an architect, the orders of the provider of the funds, or the whim of an influential individual. Such an approach sometimes resulted in a wonderful building that received the approbation of contemporaries and future generations because individual vision or genius was given free rein, and the sometimes stultifying hand of "design by committee" was avoided. But, more often I think, it resulted buildings that met the specific needs of a specific time, that didn't lend themselves to adaptation to meet future needs. Such buildings are commonplace, often neglected, frequently in terminal decline as they are passed from one temporary use to another.

This derelict farm building at Haceby, Lincolnshire, prompted these thoughts. What was its original purpose? It's small but not cheaply built, with stone walls and a good tile roof. It was obviously wanted and valued by whoever commissioned it, perhaps a hundred or more years ago. But today, despite being in a small wood next to a road, it is of no use, except as a slightly melancholic subject for this passing photographer. Saplings, ivy and moss are colonising it. The doors seem to be long gone. It is a dying building, but one that could perhaps be resuscitated. Whether it will or not depends on it finding a contemporary purpose that the builders probably never foresaw.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 30mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/25 sec
ISO: 160
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Low key teapot

click photos to enlarge

My high key photograph of hydrangea petals made me think that I should complement it with a low key photograph that consists mainly of dark tones. And, since we bought a new stainless steel teapot recently that still retains the perfect lustre of its newness, it occurred to me that would make a suitable subject. So I took it to a spot that was lit by a single window, set it up on a piece of black vinyl that I curved up the wall behind to create a shadowless background, and took a few shots. As you can see, I dialled EV -1.33 into the camera to make the dark parts of the reflected steel merge with the black background and I made the subject of the photograph the light reflections as much as the elegant shape itself.

The difficulty in photographing shiny surfaces is that the photographer and/or the camera tend to be seen in the reflections. The first shot largely overcomes that problem by having the camera above the subject, though my legs and two tripod legs can still be seen. However, you wouldn't have known that was what they were if I hadn't told you, would you?! The other photographs have several colours in the reflection that give clues to what the room contains. But the conversion to black and white masks those distractions quite well. One method of avoiding reflections of this sort is to have a large flat sheet of card, paper, plastic or some such material that you stand behind, with a hole in for the camera lens. That way the reflection is pretty much a uniform surface.

Incidentally, when we bought the teapot our main concern was that we should buy one that pours well. You'd think that after millennia of making containers designed to pour properly this was a problem that mankind had cracked. But no, as we found out with a previous teapot, what is learnt can be unlearnt and it is perfectly possible to buy a teapot that pours badly. Fortunately, this one pours perfectly.

photographs and text (c) T. Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 100mm macro
F No: f11
Shutter Speed: 2 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -1.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: Off

Shoes and fashion

click photo to enlarge

"And, after all, what is a fashion? From the artistic point of view it is usually a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every six months."
Oscar Wilde (1854-1900) Irish playwright, poet and essayist

Oscar Wilde's jaundiced observation on fashion will not find favour with those who design, sell and buy it. But, as ever with him, there are serious points within his outrageous and forceful remark. All fashion is transient and consequently, though "looks" re-appear periodically, it is concerned with changing the surface appearance of people and objects and coming up with a "new look". But, the simple fact is you can't do that for decades - centuries even - and always end up with something that is a pleasure to look at: so often fashion is most certainly "intolerable" in one way or another. Many people will object to this and say that fashion is fun, interesting, harmless. I would argue that it is wasteful of resources and, because its main purpose is to transfer money from the pocket of the consumer into those of the manufacturers and sellers, wasteful of our hard earned cash. Moreover, good design (not usually the same as fashion at all) is perfectly capable of investing products with innate (rather than superficial) qualities that will make us choose one thing over another. For more of my thoughts on fashion, style and design see this post called, appropriately enough, Fashion, Style and Design.

Today's photograph was taken near Covent Garden in London. What amazed me about this shop was the way the shoes were displayed like works of art or revered pieces in a museum. I was also intrigued by how similar most of them were. Clearly these are shoes that are designed to be looked at rather than worn in any utilitarian, work-a-day way. Wouldn't it be interesting to return to the shop in six months and test the veracity of Wilde's remark.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 205mm
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/200
ISO: 1250
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On