Archilense

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Last October, in a post called "WYSIATI" I described how I was underwhelmed by a series of art installations in King's Lynn, a collaboration between Amiens, France, and the Norfolk town. What I didn't mention was that the installation that sounded the most interesting hadn't been set up and so I couldn't have a look at it. That was remedied recently when we made one of our regular visits to King's Lynn.

"Archilense", an optical installation by Thibault Zambeaux, is described as "a transparent door to a new landscape". Moreover, the website says that, "To create the distortion and images each panel has magnifying glasses inlayed (sic) to build a unique pattern related to King's Lynn." From a distance the piece looked interesting due to the shapes built into the glass. Looking through it, however, proved very disappointing. The inversions and distortions were not sufficiently interesting to engage the viewer: for me the piece failed in the main task that the artist had built into the piece. While we were there I saw a few people look through it and after a few seconds move on. The longest period of attention the work received was from a black-headed gull in its winter plumage that found it to be a very convenient riverside perch. In fact, it was reluctant to leave it and allowed me to get quite close. Looking at the bird I was reminded of some Lincoln sculpture that daily provides a similar avian resting place for both gulls and pigeons.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 20.4mm (55mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f4
Shutter Speed: 1/500
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation:  - 0.3EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Glass curtain wall reflections

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It's almost become a reflex action, a tic that I can't stop. I pass a tall office block or other large building with a glass curtain wall and I begin to search its reflections. I'm looking for either an interesting mirroring of the street, people, trees and other buildings; or I'm searching for the airy, almost diaphanous lightness that often arises between the plane of the wall and the sky beyond. There's something that fascinates me about the way the regular grid of slender glazing bars seems to lay across the sky like the rectilinear web of a robotic spider, and how it abruptly ends as it wraps around the corner of the building.

I've photographed glass curtain walls many times over the years and quite a few of  the shots have made it onto the blog. Probably my favourite is one that was, like the shot above, taken in London; though this time in the early evening so featuring incandescent clouds. And though it may look like the example in todays's post features the same building, it doesn't.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 112mm (168mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/1600 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Not so anonymous buildings

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Presented with today's photograph I imagine many people would comment on the beehive-like arrangement of the identical windows, or think of faceless corporations hidden behind the glass and steel. Perhaps their mind would reflect on the anonymity and soullessness of modern life. Certainly the image would, in the main, prompt negatives rather than positives. And yet, this particular building doesn't, I think, deserve that kind of negativity. Of all the tall towers built in Britain in the last 50 years this is one of the better examples, a structure that has worn well, one that is distinctive due to its shape, location and size, and which, due to its excellent detailing, still looks good from close-by.

From 1990 until 2010 Cesar Pelli's tower at 1 Canada Square in Canary Wharf, London, was Britain's tallest building. The Shard overtook it during the course of construction and its 1,004 feet (306 metres) far surpasses the Canary Wharf tower's 770 feet (235 metres). However, the distinctive pyramidal cap, its extra height among the surrounding towers, and its location away from the City make it both distinctive and distinguished both during the day, whatever the weather, and at night. When I'm driving on the M11 into London it's the first building I notice as we crest the low hills to the north of the city.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 48mm (72mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/800 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Inequality

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Benjamin Disraeli (1804-1881), a man who was on two occasions the prime minister of Great Britain, once said, "There are three types of lies - lies, damned lies and statistics". One of the implications of his remark is that statistics are not only frequently untrue, but are often deliberately used falsely. And yet, statistics can be very revealing because they can quantify, and therefore clarify, that which may be hidden or obscured. When they do this the revelation that they uncover can be startling.

Yesterday my newspaper reported a statistic that not only brought me up short, but made me feel extremely uncomfortable: in fact, made me feel ashamed to be part of our society. The charity, Oxfam*, has calculated that the total wealth of the five richest British families exceeds that of the poorest 20% of the population. In other words this, handful of rich people have more money and assets than the least well-off 12.6 million Britons. Could the starkness of that contrast, the iniquity of that inequality, the shame that it brings to every politician and law maker, and to every individual voter, be made without the force of that statistic? I would encourage anyone who reads that statistic and is as appalled by it as I am, to at the very least, remember it when elections come along; to cast their vote for the party that pledges to reduce inequality; to vote for those who will ensure the rich pay a greater share of their wealth to achieve that goal; and only endorse those determined that the poor and less well-off will receive a larger share of the national income.

I was recently in Canary Wharf. Along with the City of London (the financial district not the greater metropolitan area) this is one of the two centres of finance in the UK. It exudes wealth. From the up-market eateries to the private security guards, manicured gardens and spotless streets it speaks of money. What better to represent today's post than the gleaming steel and glistening glass of two of the many banks to be found there.

* In January 2014 Oxfam also reported that the 85 richest people in the world had more wealth and assets than the poorest half of the world's population!

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 10.4mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/400 sec
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Autumn in London

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When I engaged in paid, daily work I always regretted that I didn't have the time to watch the seasons change in the way that I knew they did - slowly and incrementally. The transition from autumn to winter involves not only a peaks and troughs decline in the temperature, but a change in the light from blue-white to yellow tinged as the sun moves closer to the horizon. The autumnal tints of the trees and the drifts of leaves against walls and kerbs were easy to see. Less visible was the subtle colours of individual species - the red-orange of the cherries, the yellow of the limes and field maples, and the lingering green of the willow.

When I lived in a city such changes were masked by the prevalence of concrete, brick, tarmac and grass. Yes, there were trees, parks and gardens, but the daily grind meant that often you could pay little attention to seasonal metamorphosis. Before you knew it the end of August had turned to November and you had only a vague notion of how the transformation had been achieved. The pace of modern life means that we rarely have the time to stop, stand, stare and fully appreciate the beauty of the changing seasons.

The other day I took a couple of "autumn" shots in London. The first was of the tower and spire of St Mary's church at Rotherhithe. The current building, completed in 1716, replaced a church of the twelfth century. As I walked along the cobbles of the adjacent road I looked up through the yellows, browns and greens of the trees and took a photograph that, when I viewed it on the camera screen, looked like it could have been taken in a small town, a village or the open countryside almost anywhere in England. The presence of a churchyard with its old trees was enough to turn autumn in the city into a more universal view of the season. That couldn't be said of the second photograph of what looks like a red oak near the glass curtain wall of some offices near the centre of the city. Here a grid of man-made, regular, modernity contrasts strongly with the irregularity of the branches and leaves of the specimen trees tat are dotted among the gleaming towers. The contrast of of the two photographs taken only a couple of miles apart in the capital city couldn't be greater, and yet I think both say something about autumn in the city.

photographs and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 19.3mm (52mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/200 sec
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Price, value and Oscar Wilde

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"Nowadays people know the price of everything and the value of nothing." (from "The Picture of Dorian Grey")
Oscar Wilde (1854-1900), Irish writer and poet

The quotation above is delivered by Oscar Wilde's character, Lord Henry, in the course of an apology for lateness - "I went to look after a piece of old brocade in Wardour Street and had to bargain for hours for it. Nowadays people know the price of everything and the value of nothing." However, it seems to me that for many years it has accurately summarised the attitude of British politicians, both national and local. Our coalition government is cutting state spending, particularly that by local government with a barely disguised zeal. Under the pretext of "balancing the books" and "clearing up the mess left by the previous government" they are doing what their political philosophy of "shrinking the state" would have led them to do in any circumstances.

The effect of this in the wider country, particularly where the political complexion is the same as that at national level, is that services are being hacked to pieces. Lincolnshire County Council wants to reduce the spending on its library service by one third, closing many libraries, and hoping that volunteers will step in to fill the void created. In Boston the council is seeking to attract businesses to the town and at the same time is selling off public buildings in order to generate income and reduce outgoings. The glass fronted building in today's photograph used to be an art gallery and community space. For the past few years it has been empty, the only thing on display being a sign advertising its suitability for offices. There have been no takers. What the local council don't seem to realise is that companies looking to locate in an area, and attract workers to their businesses, are influenced by the cultural services available. Many new industries will only establish themselves in a place that offers their workforce theatres, galleries, public parks and facilities that give a buzz to the area. Politicians who close galleries and libraries whilst at the same time working to increase jobs in their area epitomise Wilde's quotation to perfection. It also brings to mind E. M. Forster in "Howard's End" - "Only connect!"

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 10.4mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/200
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation:  -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Mundane photographic subjects

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Some of my best photographs feature the most mundane subjects. This comes as no surprise to me because, having an interest in art and painting, I long ago observed that the same is true of many works that I like. What it does mean, however, is that it isn't especially easy to find such subjects because you don't usually plan for them in the way that you might for a landscape, portrait, architecture or other branches of photography. What often happens is that during the course of doing something entirely unrelated to photography, you notice a composition or item that looks like it might make a shot and you point your camera at it. Such an approach relies on you having a camera with you at the time and that's where a pocketable compact camera is so valuable.

Today's photograph was taken while we were gathering blackcurrants at the house of some friends. Many people in rural communities swap and share garden produce when they have a glut that is beyond their capacity to eat, store, preserve or freeze. It's a sociable and sensible thing to do. Having filled a couple of containers we were sitting at a textured glass table below a green parasol enjoying a soft drink when this composition caught my eye. Glasses and bottles have been the stock in trade of painters of still life for centuries, and the simple qualities of form, colour, shape, reflection and transparency that these objects presented to me had something of a painting about them. Perhaps it was the way the tinted, textured, opaque glass of the table top looked like it was composed of brush strokes. Or maybe it was the way the same surface turned the clouds into what looked like painted representations of clouds rather than reflections. Whatever the reason, I took my shot and I'm happy to say its modest, unaffected qualities please me more than most of the images I've posted on the blog in recent months.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 21.5mm (58mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/250
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation:  -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Fractured self-portrait

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Though I've run this blog for eight years and posted with a frequency that I never imagined I could sustain I don't think I've ever been a particularly good blogger. By that I mean I've never offered readers much in the way of information about the minutiae of my existence. A few impersonal  or semi-personal facts here and there are about as far as it goes. I've always been free and easy with my opinions but the daily details of my life, my family and my activities have been largely absent, and where mentioned at all, have invariably been very generalised. The fact is, though I'm reasonably gregarious, I'm a fairly private person. Moreover, I'm only willing to include my nearest and dearest in this blog on the same terms that I present myself. So, my wife is never (well hardly ever) photographed close-up and my offspring and their families, where they do feature, are also distant figures., included for compositional reasons only. My family snaps remain private.

That reticence to place the details of my life on the public stage in part accounts for my dislike of social media. It also explains the lamentable way (in blogging terms) in which I flip-flop between blog comments and blog silence. I recognise that the online dialogues that ensue from blogs, news reports, other websites, even social media I suppose, can have value for those who take part in them. In fact, for a few years, I was a regular contributor of images and comments to a couple of photographic forums, an activity that I both enjoyed and learnt from. However, there's also a part of me that agrees with a recent opinion I saw suggesting that online commenters include just enough of "the mad and the sad" to make the whole exercise off-putting for the average person. Any photographer who has frequented the dpreview discussion forums will recognise there is something in that notion, as will anyone who has scanned readers' comments at the end of articles in online newspapers or even on the BBC website.

It will come as something of a surprise then, at least to more recent readers of this blog, that I post self-portraits with reasonable regularity. However, like today's example, these are often obscured in some way, perhaps by reflection, distortion or using some other such contrivance. The photograph above shows me with my compact camera reflected in an artwork that comprises blocks of mirrored glass. I liked the way that it placed parts of me - head, shoes, trousers, umbrella, in unconnected places. What I wasn't so keen on is the way it revealed me indulging in two photographic fauxs pas that I have been known to bang on about in a deprecating way - photographing single-handed and not using the wrist loop of the camera!

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 10.4mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/25
ISO: 3200
Exposure Compensation:  -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Double the value

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In one of my early posts - in March 2006 as it happens - I extolled the advantages of a west-facing coast. I happened to live near the west-facing Fylde coast at the time and during my years in Lancashire I frequently photographed during the evening by the sea. Such a coast has a singular advantage at this time of day because, if the sun goes down and produces a blazing sunset, one with fiery skies of red, orange and yellow, the reflection on the sea below doubles the magical effect. I now live in Lincolnshire, a county with a coast that faces east and my nearest west facing coast is round on the other side of The Wash in Norfolk, in the area of Hunstanton. In fact, that is the only piece of coast in the east of east of England that faces west (a good quiz question there I think).

Fortunately the sea is not the only reflective surface that doubles the value of a sunset: ponds, lakes and rivers do as well. So too do the glass curtain walls of modern high-rise buildings. This particular sunset shows the same glass wall that features in today's photograph. It is in Southwark, London. On the day in question it wasn't evening as I passed but early morning and looking up I saw that the sky was being reflected in a rather fine manner. Such reflections regularly attract my eye and feature fairly strongly in this blog. I wonder if the extra value that they add to the subject they reflect appeals to my Yorkshire upbringing?

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 10.4mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/500
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation:  -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Democratic responsibilities

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Living under the benefits of a democracy confers rights as well as responsibilities. One of the duties, it seems to me, is to remain informed about politics and take part in it from a position of knowledge and principle. Sadly, our most recent county council elections demonstrate that quite a few electors show scant sign of such engagement. Moreover, these and other elections have shown that we are unable to expect it even from some of those who seek public office. As those from these islands might realise, I am thinking about the United Kingdom Independence Party (UKIP) who garnered a significant number of councillors at the expense of all of the other parties, but from the Conservatives in particular.

One only has to read what pass for the policies (main UKIP website unavailable at time of writing!) of this party to realise that its position is broadly right-wing and populist, that its underlying principles are not developed in the way that we have a right to expect from serious politicians and that its national profile rests almost exclusively on the shoulders of its leader. According to a news report some senior UKIP figures recognise that the absence of policies is a failing and have considered buying them from right-leaning think tanks!

Those who voted for UKIP seem to have done so for a variety of reasons, few of which I find defensible. Some are attracted by all or individual policies - fair enough - but many are so undeveloped as to be no more than items on a wish-list. Many say they are fed up with the indistinguishable metropolitan elite who head the other parties, an argument I have some sympathy with but one that fatally and naively concentrates on personalities rather than policies. Others say it was to send the main parties a message that they are not giving enough attention to the matters that concern them. Perhaps such people should have been assiduously lobbying their MPs and government rather than relying on a single trip to the ballot box to express their concerns. Then there are those who voted for the UKIP leader because he is "different" from the other party leaders, more "human", more forthright, not part of the establishment. Anyone holding this view simply hasn't been paying attention. I find it hard to see much difference between the backgrounds of the present prime minister and the leader of UKIP. The latter is, apparently, the son of a stockbroker, someone who attended Dulwich College, a private, fee-paying school, and who worked as a commodity broker in the City before entering politics. That is a background, it seems to me, with more than a hint of the establishment and the metropolitan elite about it. As one observer humorously and perceptively noted, the UKIP leader's appeal and approach share a lot in common with that of the current mayor of London. To my mind that is not an endorsement but an indictment.

All this has little to do with today's photograph of a part of London on the south bank, in Southwark, called English Grounds. If I were to try and establish some sort of connection I would do it by saying that this view, like the political party discussed above, isn't entirely what it seems.

photo and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 18.9mm (51mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/60
ISO: 160
Exposure Compensation:  -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Glass sculpture

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Glass has many qualities that fascinate me: its ability to reflect, to distort, to transmit light through its structure, its hardness and smoothness, even its fragility. In recent years I've realised that glass has always intrigued me. Even back in my childhood I loved to look into mirrors, glass marbles, prisms, cheap jewellery or cut glass decanters to see how they distorted reality. But it's only in the past fifteen or so years, as I've expanded the range of my photography, that I've realised the depth of my interest. Now I rarely miss an opportunity to snap a good reflection, a distortion or any other kind of interesting manifestation in glass.

When I go to the National Centre for Craft and Design in Sleaford I find that its always the glass exhibits for sale in their shop that I look at first. I can't say I've bought a lot of "art" glass, but we did buy a couple of rather fine bowls a few years ago, one of which has made an appearance on the blog. Consequently, when we recently made one of our regular trips to Sleaford to take in the current exhibition I was delighted to find that it featured the work of someone who worked in glass. Luke Jerram had pieces from three of his major series on display: Radiometer Chandeliers, Glass Microbiology and Rotated Data Sculpture. It was very refreshing to find that these titles are very clear descriptions of the work rather than the usual opaque artspeak. Of the three types of glass work it was the forms drawn from the world of viruses, bacteria and microbiology that I enjoyed most. To see structures inspired by the microscopic forms that can only be seen under powerful magnification, that are rendered large, in beautifully formed glass and lit by powerful lamps was marvellous. So much so that I took a couple of shots with my pocket camera. Today's photograph is a detail of one of the larger pieces.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: iAuto
Focal Length: 10.4mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/250
ISO: 160
Exposure Compensation:  0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Reflecting on reflections

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Today's photograph brings together two Peterborough buildings that I've featured before. One is the determinedly modern and reflective offices of a firm of solicitors (lawyers), and the other is a large, brick building, full of fine, simple details, a former teacher training college of 1856-64 by the eminent Victorian architect, Sir George Gilbert Scott.

I suppose it's quite natural for a photographer to be fascinated by reflections. After all, the art of photography is, in part, making a permanent reflection of the world using a camera. A photograph of the sort I've posted today could be seen as a reflection of a reflection. One of the reasons architects use mirror glass is to reflect the surroundings in their creation and thereby better "anchor" the structure in its setting. Sometimes it's to acknowledge or respect an adjacent building. That would seem to be the motivation behind the glass wall shown in one of my earliest blog posts. At other times the reflective glass is used to visually lighten the building, to reduce its apparent mass. And then there are times when the mirroring seeks to retain the actual light in the locality, ameliorating the shadows and gloom that a new, big building can bring to its neighbours.

The modern building is a good example of this kind of structure. Though only a modest four storeys it graces its location. I particularly like the faceted bays that reach from the ground to the top of the elevations, and the way they are turned into two storey oriels where the building fronts the major road. The paving, trees, grass and ivy ground-cover that takes up quite a lot of the site works well with the building and enhances this part of the road. My photograph shows part of the side elevation facing the side of Peterscourt, and contrasts the modern materials of the new building with the traditional bricks and tiles of its neighbour. It was good to find that the architects wrapped their reflective glazing around the building and didn't, as many still do, concentrate their spending at the front.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 45mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/100
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Getting the best photograph

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One of the joys of digital photography is the ease and lack of extra expense involved in taking multiple shots of the same subject with the intention of securing the best possible image. Today's photograph, like yesterday's, is one of six that I took the other day of clouds reflected in the glass curtain wall of some London offices.

Here are the main advantages that I see in taking more than one shot of your subject. Firstly, if conditions dictate a low shutter speed that is hand-held, multiple exposures increase the chance of you getting a shot that is sharp. Secondly, you can experiment with the composition by either zooming, changing your position, adjusting the elements that you include in the frame, changing the depth of field etc. Thirdly, you can adjust your camera settings to, for example, control highlights or modify colour saturation. Fourthly, through taking more than one exposure of a subject you inevitably think more about it and that often results in a better outcome. There is a downside with multiple exposures (and indeed the general ease of digital) and that is the amount of storage space required for images if you don't ruthlessly cull the "duds". But, that notwithstanding, multiple exposures make a lot of sense.

However, here's the paradox. When I take multiple shots of the same subject I usually find - about nine times out of ten - that my first shot is the best! Is this because I'm an instinctive or intuitive photographer rather than one who thinks long and hard about each shot? Perhaps. And if that's the case why do I still take multiple shots? Well the answer lies in those approximate statistics: every now and again the first shot isn't the one I prefer, or something went wrong with it, and then I'm very grateful for the "duplicates".

From the above you'll gather that I like yesterday's shot over this one. But, I've been taking photographs long enough to know that many people will prefer the one above.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 12.8mm (60mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.8
Shutter Speed: 1/125
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Usefulness and beauty

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"Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful."
William Morris (1834-1896), English designer, artist, writer and socialist

William Morris's dictum is one that most people find it easy to agree with, but hard to put into practice. In theory, the objects that we buy come in so many designs, styles and fashions that it shouldn't be difficult to find one that fits his criteria. However, the depths of one's pockets, the fact that products often converge towards a form that sells, and the desire on the part of the manufacturers and the public for "novelty" in design, make it much harder than it should be.

Today's photograph is of a glass jug that we bought recently. We settled on this fairly inexpensive model after rejecting more than a few. It's functional - always a good start as far as beauty in product design goes - and has no applied ornament of any description. Nor does it have the swoops and swirls of form that had been inflicted on quite a few of the jugs we considered. I took my photograph after placing it on a sheet of finely textured black vinyl in some sunlight that was streaming through a window. And, as I did so, it occured to me that there is a third consideration that I often apply to the purchase of a new object - can I get a photograph or two out of it? In fact, if you act on Morris's wise words the answer is invariably, "Yes".

Incidentally, when I was preparing this blog entry I happened to notice that it is number 1,015. I've tried to make a point of noting milestones in the progress of PhotoReflect, but I somehow missed one of the most significant. Ah well!

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 12.8mm (60mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f4
Shutter Speed: 1/640
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Jack Frost

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"Look out, look out,
Jack Frost is about,
He's after our fingers and toes,
And all through the night
The gay little sprite
Is working where nobody knows.

He’ll climb each tree,
So nimble is he,
His silvery powder he’ll shake.
To windows he’ll creep
And while we’re asleep
Such wonderful pictures he’ll make.

Across the grass
He’ll merrily pass,
And change all its greenness to white.
Then home he will go
And laugh ho, ho ho!
What fun I have had in the night."
children's poem by C. E. Pike

On more than one occasion recently, when talking to friends of my sort of age, the subject of ice on windows has cropped up. Most people who grew up in the United Kingdom in the 1950s, and even the 1960s, unless they were very well-off or raised in modern houses, remember waking up on cold winter mornings to find ice on the inside of their single-glazed bedroom windows. It's something that my children find barely credible, and yet we thought nothing of it: that's just the way it was, and we appeared to be none the worse for it. Of course, it's not something I'd like to return to, and it's a phenomenon that these days I rarely see anywhere. But I did the other morning.

As I stood at the kitchen window watching the birds eating the seed and scraps that I'd put out for them I noticed my unheated greenhouse (glasshouse) was iced up. At a distance it looked like the ice had formed the sort of feathery patterns that I remember from my childhood. So, I grabbed the LX3 and went to investigate. There were patterns, and they were best seen from inside the greenhouse. Those on the roof were the most elaborate and, remarkably, each pane of roof glass had a quite different pattern. Some were more foliage-like, in a very William Morris chintz way, others resembled feathers that were either very fluffy or quite sparse. I took a few shots then I found one feathery pane with good contrast and light that displayed the patterns in a way that the camera could better record - see above.

The other thing I remember from these cold childhood mornings is my mother reciting the first few lines of the "Jack Frost" poem (above) as she pointed out the frost patterns. I know some schools still teach these verses to young children, but do parents? Perhaps there is less cause now that central heating and cars have all but banished the "wonderful pictures" and the need to experience cold from our lives.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/500
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Enjoying confusion

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For much of my life, as an educator, my task was to make clarity out of the complexity and confusion in the minds of students. When I ascended the hierarchy of management I was expected to do the same with the staff that I deployed. It's a laudable aim in that line of work, and elsewhere in the world. Minds greater than mine are attempting to do just that with the banking system, and I hope, for all our sakes, that they succeed.

And yet, perhaps because it seems mankind's unending task to explain the world to itself, there is sometimes great pleasure to be had in contemplating confusion rather than interpreting it. Nowhere is this more evident than in the arts. Film, novels, fine art and photography revel in presenting confusion, or apparent confusion, to the viewer and reader. That confusion can be interpreted, the "meaning" extracted, and an attempt made to understand it; or it can enjoyed at a visceral, literal level, as elemental, unsettling perplexity.

Today's photograph presents confusion in visual form. I could explain what is going on in the image, how the architecture works, what is being reflected, what is inside the glass and what is outside. But I won't. When I saw this scene I enjoyed it for what it was, a puzzling, disorienting arrangement of forms, and that is how I present it.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 150mm (300mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/320
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On