The sunset cliché

click photo to enlarge
The biggest clichés in photography are generally thought to be the sunset and the sunrise. With the possible exception of babies and, perhaps, cats and dogs, (and not forgetting, in recent years, food on plates!) these two subjects must account for more photographs than any other. If you want to stake a claim to photographic credibility make sure you steer clear of sunsets and sunrises!

Why this should be I don't know. Each is a splendid phenomenon, and each is unique -  no two sunsets or sunrises are the same. Fine artists down the centuries have thought them to be just as worthy of depiction as any other subject, and inventiveness has been given full rein in conjuring up a different take on this familiar composition. This blog has several examples, all different, and to the photographer, all worthy of recording. I make no great claim for them though some are better than others as photographs, but I also make no apology for photographing them either.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: Fenland Sunset with Pylons and Wind Turbines
Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 37.1mm (100mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f4.9
Shutter Speed: 1/800 sec
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: -0.7EV

Pylons and the big picture

click photo to enlarge
We are often urged to make sense of the world by looking at "the big picture"; by weaving our way through and past the trivia and minutiae of everyday existence and surveying our existence from on high, from the uplands, from a place where the important things stand out and are not drowned in the inconsequential details of life. The problem is that if (or when) you achieve that exalted position you are just as likely to become very aware of your own inconsequentiality among the multitude and complexity that is life, and the big picture remains just as fragmentary as ever it was.

Perhaps that's why many people specialize or bury themselves in one or two interests. Engaging in activities where you can understand a large part of all there is to know about the subject, or with people who can supply all the answers, clearly has its attractions if you want to avoid the chaos of life. It isn't for me but I can understand why it is for many individuals. Having said that, I still remain baffled at why anyone would choose electricity pylons as their focus! I've mentioned the existence of the Pylon Appreciation Society before. However, now I discover there is also a Pylon of the Month website. I'm not averse to taking a photograph or two of pylons where they present some photographic interest. But in general I look forward to the day (it won't be in my lifetime unfortunately) when the need for such monstrosities no longer exists and mankind finds a less intrusive way of distributing power.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 95mm (142mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/800 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Pylons, form and function

click photo to enlarge
It's usually the case that when the form of an object is based closely on its function the result is pleasing to the eye, but when styling, fashion and decoration become the dominant reason for a shape then too often the result is unsatisfactory. Bridges are structures where the functional imperative is invariably uppermost and the result is usually satisfying. So too is the case with most hand tools such as hammers or saws, and there are many other examples that can be used to illustrate the point. However, there is one structure where form follows function quite perfectly but the result is always awful - the electricity pylon.

Whenever I see pylons marching across the countryside like a line of giant people holding up a long skipping rope I do my best to mentally obliterate them. Try as I might I cannot appreciate the form that the designers came up with to carry the wires from power station to homes. I can admire it in an intellectual way, marvelling at the economy of means, the way the multitude of short pieces of angle iron are bolted together to form legs, bodies and arms, how lighter lengths are inserted for bracing and plates are used at important intersections, but I cannot see the pylon as a thing of beauty. Even were it not an alien interloper into fields, fens, estuary, moorland and mountain, but an object assembled and displayed for our delight, an aesthetic experience, I cannot love a pylon. At least not the current crop of them.

I have seen proposals for more "elegant"designs featuring tubes and curves, some with a touch of art nouveau about them, but I've never seen them in use anywhere. Perhaps one day. And perhaps then they will be held up as an example of the fact that styling can occasionally, very occasionally, trump function when it comes to producing a satisfying shape.

Today's pylon is a bit of an oddity. It is the last one in a long line that is configured to take the cables down to a substation. Consequently it is not quite as symmetrical as the usual 400kV pylon, a characteristic I have accentuated by photographing it off-centre.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 10.4mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/800
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Energy policy and visual blight

click photo to enlarge

In recent times a disfiguring tide of supposedly environmentally beneficial technology has swept across the country, inflicting high-tech litter wherever it has flowed. The gaze of every passer-by notices the interlopers, and the eye-sores themselves will undoubtedly become semi-permanent fixtures across rural and urban landscapes. I refer, of course, to... roof-mounted solar panels!

Given that much UK housing is mediocre in both style and substance the affixing of these panels to roofs makes buildings look abysmal. They are always a negative visual contribution. The environmental blight that they are responsible for is, to my mind, worse than that caused by wind turbines. That they make some sort of green contribution to the generation of electricity is, no doubt, true. But what is also true is that it comes at a very high price. And what I find truly remarkable is that I have heard not a single voice raised against them. Perhaps that's, in part, because the people who have fitted them have been bought off with the profit to be made from the feed-in tariff and their eyes have been blinded by the glitter of the promised piles of money.

In my part of the world I see these glossy abominations fitted to roofs new and old, to slates, concrete tiles and pantiles, their sleek, black rectangles like alien sores, destroying any architectural integrity that a building may once have had. It seems strange to me that a proposed wind farm stirs up oppositions whenever and wherever it is mooted but these accretions are meekly accepted. Could it be that the small scale, virus-like spread of roof-mounted solar panels will mean that people will wake up to the environmental damage they cause only when it's far too late? I can't help feeling that a programme of retro-fitted house insulation of a magnitude greater than the current weak efforts would have achieved greater results at less monetary and environmental cost.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 238mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/640 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Alien invaders and birds of prey

click photo to enlarge

I didn't realise, until the other day, that of all the alien wildlife invaders in the UK the worst of the worst was the so-called "killer shrimp" (Dikerogammerus villosus), a native of the Ponto-Caspian region of Europe, that is killing off our native shrimps and small fish. The BBC website carried a report by the UK's Environment Agency that listed (in the way that people do today) the "top ten" alien invaders. The list reads (starting with the worst) "killler shrimp", water primrose, floating pennywort, American signal crayfish, topmouth gudgeon, giant hogweed, Japanese knotweed, Himalayan balsam, and parrot's feather. What this list said to me is what a good medium water is when it comes to the spread of exotic plants and animals. The murky depths make it so much more difficult to detect the arrival and initial spread of an introduced species, to the point that when it does become apparent to scientists and lay people who spend time in and on water, it has reached a situation where containment or eradication is difficult, if  not impossible.

But, native wildlife has a remarkable propensity for holding on even under the strongest pressure as our red squirrels have shown in their fight against the onslaught of the introducd grey variety. Our birds of prey have been among the most oppressed species. Here it has been man that has caused their decline as landowners tried to rear ever larger numbers of gamebirds and farmers tried to kill off insects and plants that harmed their crops. But, with wider public pressure and awareness, legislation and scientific management, what appeared to be a hopeless situation has been turned around. Not for all species, of course - hen harriers are still being persecuted and numbers have fallen again after something of an increase - but for many. I read a while ago that the common buzzard has usurped the kestrel as the most numerous British bird of prey. They're certainly fairly frequent sightings in most parts of the country where formerly they were unusual.

One evening when I was photographing the strongly silhouetted shapes of these electricity pylons near a Fenland substation I became aware of a softer, "natural" shape among the sharp angles of the metalwork. Binoculars reveealed it to be a Common Buzzard (Buteo buteo) surveying the island of waste land below the steel "trees". Even in this instensively cultivated part of England the buzzard flourishes. Can you spot this one?

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 300mm
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/500
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Perceptions

click photo to enlarge

Sometimes things aren't what they seem, our perceptions are distorted, and a changing viewpoint or a close inspection is required to reveal the underlying reality. Take UK politics and government. Most British people grow up thinking they live in a parliamentary democracy run by politicians who, to a greater or lesser extent, subscribe to a political agenda that is distinct from that of the other politicians who form an opposition. However, the current coalition government has disabused a lot of people of this rather naive idea, supplying a different perspective that has provoked this insight. Seeing politicians of different parties working together has hardened the cynicism of many and made them realise that a lot of those who seek public office are simply chancers looking to enrich themselves and their social group at the expense of the rest of the populace. Our prime minister and deputy prime minister come across as a pair of "Blair wannabes", both distinctly "Blair-lite", frantically adopting the former Labour PM's earnest, direct, "personal" approach to winning the electorate's support, both spouting drivel about us all being "in this together" whilst carrying out the same old "bash and demonise the poor" and "favour the rich" policies of old. Whether enough of the electorate see through this to make a difference when it comes to the next election (or when the coalition crumbles) is open to doubt. But, the sight of politicians grubbily ditching their principles in order to grab power must surely cause many voters to think more deeply about what they themselves believe in, and to try and cast their ballot accordingly.

And the connection with today's photograph of wind turbines and electricity pylons? Wind farms have a way of seeming to be both relatively small and quite big. From several miles away the towers can seem enormous. Get a bit closer and the huge towers tend to shrink. Get very close and they appear both big and not so big at one and the same time. I still haven't worked out why my perceptions change in this way. A few days ago, however, I took this photograph which, to my mind, does say something about their size. I came upon this, for me, different view as I scanned them with my lens. I liked the way the very big pylon (about as big as they get in the UK) is dwarfed by the pair of turbines that sandwich it.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 119mm (238mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/1000
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The camera always lies

click photo to enlarge
"The camera never lies" is a saying that I remember hearing as a child, long before I owned a camera. To my young, growing mind it seemed like a perfectly reasonable statement. After all, cameras were unthinking machines that simply recorded that which the user pointed them at, unlike painting which was always an interpretation of what the artist saw. I think this is a view still held by many - both young and old - though the advent of digital photography and software like Photoshop has certainly raised doubts in the minds of a few more about whether a photograph can be believed. Ironically it's the more obvious manipulations such as the smoothing out of wrinkles around Twiggy's eyes, the removal of a film star's paunch, or the trimming of a starlet's waist that have prompted such thoughts.

It was only after I'd engaged in photography for a number of years that I began to question the wisdom of the statement that "the camera never lies." But by then, the more I thought about it, the more I came to understand that this saying was, in fact, the opposite of the truth: the camera always lies in one way or another. It lies by being more selective than the eye about what it sees, it lies by giving emphasis to things that the brain doesn't, the colours it shows are never accurate, the relative positions of objects are usually not as we see them, and the meaning that we take from a photograph is usually more to do with how we see the subject in the image than the reality that the photographer saw.

Today's photograph is just the sort of image that an opponent of a proposed wind farm or line of pylons might want to use. "Look", they would say, "these monstrosities turn the countryside into an industrial landscape!" But that's not true. At least it's not true as far as these pylons and these wind turbines go. By using a lens that is the 35mm equivalent of 300mm I've foreshortened and compressed this group of pylons and turbines into what looks like a small space, and I've magnified their apparent size. Anyone walking by this scene, or anyone living near it, would not recognise the photograph as the place they knew. It's just me making the camera tell lies for dramatic effect.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 150mm (300mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.
Shutter Speed: 1/1250
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Thinking about composition

click photo to enlarge
"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."
John Ruskin (1819-1900) English art critic, social critic, artist, etc

There is much truth in what Ruskin said because for many the art of composition is intuitive, something done without reference to direct learning. For such people the component parts of a painting or photograph are arranged "just so", and are just right. But for others composition is difficult, not at all obvious, and guidance is appreciated. There is no shortage of people willing to give instruction and many who seek to make it a mystery. The danger of following guidance in how to compose is that photographs become formulaic. Photography "experts" frequently come up with a set of "rules" to guide the amateur and when they do you can guarantee that they always mentions the wretched rule of thirds: this then seems to become the only thing anyone remembers. The best advice I can give is to study paintings and art criticism, not photography. However, that's not advice that I expect many to follow!

That said, I do know of one succinct piece of writing by a photographer that is brief and reasonably helpful. In eight pages of his book, Photography, Eric de Mare focuses on five aspects of composition (he calls them canons) as a starting point from which to move on to a wider understanding.
CONTRAST , he says, is necessary for variety and interest. Rough/smooth, vertical/horizontal, straight/curved, near/far, dark/light, big/small, plain/decorative, sharp/blurred, etc are examples of devices that can be used as the basis of a composition.
REPETITION makes for harmony through rhythm, though it can become monotonous unless broken in some way.
CLIMAX is the principal area of interest, the subject. Lines will often lead to it, it will usually be near to an edge of the frame, or at an intersection of thirds.
BALANCE is placing values in the image in equilibrium about an imaginary centre line. This is the hardest aspect for the beginner to achieve, because a small object of, say, strong colour can easily balance a much larger, but more subdued mass. Tones, forms and points of interest have to be weighed and carefully disposed. People are particularly "heavy", and when placed to one side can balance whole buildings on the other.
COHESION is about order and continuity, so that each part relates to the whole, and contributes to the story that the image is telling. A complex image, if it is cohesive, will have an overall simplicty and force.

The author of this sage advice adds that "composing can be reduced to fourteen words by quoting Pope's couplet on the landscaping of Windsor Park:
Where order in variety we see
And where, though all things differ, all agree."

Today's photograph breaks the advice that most photographic writers give, namely to seek the power and interest of balanced asymmetry in your compositions. This view, from below an electricity pylon towards sunset, is fairly symmetrical; but symmetry has its place too (rules are made to be broken!), as long as it's not the only compositional device a photographer uses.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 12mm (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/1250 seconds
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Pylons, wind turbines and subscriptions

click photo to enlarge
Is the internet about to move from a situation where most web content is free to the user, to a position where a significant portion is charged, whether through subscription fees, micro-payments, or some other mechanism? A number of newspapers are considering following the example of the online versions of the Wall Street Journal and the Financial Times (the latter has 110,000 subscribers), not least because the ability to make any money through print newspapers is rapidly disappearing. Rupert Murdoch has made noises in this direction recently, so perhaps he'll be the one to precipitate any changes. But first he'll have to do something about the BBC. In the UK, and elsewhere across the world, this broadcaster's website, funded by the annual licence fee necessary for TV ownership in these islands, is many people's first port of call for news and other topics. Consequently it would be the likely destination of those who refused to pay if online news websites started to charge. That being the case it would seem that anyone who doesn't want to see the demise of free online newspapers, and the probable consequent increase in charging for internet content, should make sure that the BBC remains licence-funded and in the public domain.

My mind turned to this topic when I was trying to identify the type of pylon in today's photograph. I don't have a particular interest in pylons (in fact I don't like them much), but I do like to know a little about most things that are part of my everyday experience. So, with that in mind I turned to the "Pylon Appreciation Society" website. I've used it once before for this purpose, and was amused to find that such an organisation existed. However, when I turned to it this time I found that the "Field Guide" was in a section for members only. Lifetime membership has been set at £15, not a massive sum for someone smitten by these metal monsters, but too much for someone wanting to use it for only the second time, and then briefly. A few hobbyist websites charge for their content - some genealogy and photography sites have done so for years - but this is the first new example I've come across in recent months. A "one off" or part of a trend?

I took this photograph of a Lincolnshire wind farm, looking for a different approach to the subject, and decided that standing under the wires of an electricity pylon might offer something of interest. The black and white conversion has had the digital equivalent of an orange filter added to increase the contrast.

Oh, the pylon! I think it may be an L6D. Or is it an L8 variant? Who knows? I don't.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 13mm (26mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/640 seconds
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Using the sky

click photo to enlarge
The other week I gave a talk about garden and flower photography to the local garden club. During the course of the presentation I talked about whether or not to include sky in shots of gardens. My view was that, in general, better photographs of gardens result from compositions that exclude the sky unless including it adds something positive to the image. So, I said, I favoured a blue sky broken by clouds, or a sky with interesting clouds, but I would strive to eliminate from my photographs, or at least minimise, flat, grey stratus, or a boring, clear blue sky.

In a country that is known for its clouds, where the changeable weather is a favourite topic of conversation, and where many choose their holidays on the basis of how clear and blue the sky is, that last phrase bit to be a little controversial, and so it proved. So I was careful to make it clear that I was only disparaging flawless azure in photographic terms - for other purposes I recognised that it had its uses.

Much the same might be said of whether or not to include the sky in a landscape photograph. I think it's true that for the landscape photographer an interesting arrangement of clouds can be the difference between an average image and a good one. In fact, it's no exaggeration to say that a beautiful sky can be the star of a landscape photograph, and what appears below can be merely the supporting cast. An image like today's illustrates that point quite well. It isn't a wonderful shot, but what good qualities it does possess rely heavily on the colours, patterns and tones of the sky: the silhouettes of the wind turbines, the electricity pylons and wires are the nominal (and necessary) subjects, but are secondary to what is happening above.

Regular visitors to the blog will note another image where the sun has been deliberately included (see here).

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 14mm (28mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/2000
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Sunset transformations

click photo to enlarge

Here's a question for your consideration. How repugnant does a scene have to be before a sunset is unable to transform it into something beautiful? Leaving aside scenes of human suffering, what would be so awful that the descending orb and its associated colours, shades and silhouettes couldn't elevate it to something worth contemplating, something that lifted the spirits? The municipal tip? The local sewage plant? A petro-chemical works? How about a shopping mall with its acres of parked cars?

I really don't think that I can come up with anything that a sunset cannot improve to the point where we say, "that looks wonderful." Over the years I've taken my share of sunset photographs. Some have featured in this blog including a bicycle, roof tops and gulls, the River Thames in London, a Fleetwood lighthouse, a pier, a view under a pier, another view under a pier (!), people on the remains of a pier (!!). In fact, I've had something of a moratorium on sunset photographs in recent months because the last thing most people with an interest in photography need to see is another wretched sunset picture!

But, today the moratorium has been lifted. Today's post shows (I hope) the transformation that a sunset can work on that abomination, the electricity pylon. Now I know that some people like these structures. You don't believe me? Well have a look at The Pylon Appreciation Society's website! For me, however, these structures are far worse than wind farms for the effect that they have on the landscape, and though I have, on one occasion, produced an image in which they were the main subject, and another where they shared that billing, usually they are unwelcome interlopers into my photographs. Nevertheless, I put aside my feelings the other evening when I saw this line of them above the trees with the sun going down. The silhouettes that they made against the orange and gold sky, and the compositional balance they gave to the sun's disc made me see them, literally and figuratively, in a better light, so I framed them and pressed the shutter.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 150mm (300mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -2.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On