Paragon Arcade, Hull

click photo to enlarge
Whenever I express my enthusiasm for the Victorian shopping arcade I find someone voicing their agreement. There's something about the shelter, light, architecture, ornament, cosiness, and atmosphere of them that appeals to people. Not all people, however. Quite a few traders find the shop spaces too small for their needs and it's a fact that only certain kinds of businesses can flourish in these old arcades. Often it is smaller, independent, niche retailers. Clothes, musical instruments, confectionery, jewellery, books, hair-dressing and cafes are typical of the goods and services to be found in them. Of course, Victorian arcades tend to be found in the centres of cities so rents are relatively high and consequently retailers have to generate good sales to afford the small premises. Perhaps it's this that results in what appears, to my eyes at least, the higher than normal turnover of businesses in them. That's not to say that some don't flourish for decades: I can think of one arcade that has had the same joke shop and hi-fi retailer for at least the past forty years.

The Paragon Arcade in Hull city centre has a short and straight configuration - many are curved or have a right angle turn or a transeptal arrangement. It was built in 1892 by W.A. (later Sir Alfred) Gelder, a prominent Hull architect and politician who became Lord Mayor, and after whom one of the city's main streets is named. It is in the Venetian Gothic style and retains much of its original character. But, like most shops, the upper storeys are least altered and in this case the glazed roof is intact too. The glass is supported by highly ornate arches of cast iron.

The Paragon Arcade is a good, but not outstanding example of the type. It is modest, unlike the massive splendour of London's Leadenhall Market. Its ornament, though fine, cannot compete with that of The Royal Arcade, Norwich. And its glazing doesn't have the railway station scale of Southport's Leyland Arcade. But, its relatively modest scale notwithstanding, it is an ornament in the centre of the city where it stands.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 60mm (90mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/100 sec
ISO:280
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Chairs and visual connections

click photo to enlarge

As a child I used to see faces in the front of motor vehicles. The headlights were eyes, the radiator grilles were mouths and the often prominent maker's badge represented the nose. Sometimes the wing mirrors managed to suggest ears. I have the feeling that the car designs of the 1950s and 1960s prompted my imaginings in a way that the designs of today wouldn't. Or perhaps, underneath all this, is the primitive ability and necessity of quickly recognising faces because your life may depend on it. Maybe that's something that is stronger in childhood, but declines as you age. What I do know is that these sort of visual connections work at an unconscious level and come upon you when you least expect it.

The other day we passed an old watermill that also houses a cafe. Outside were tables and chairs for the use of customers who fancied their coffee and cake en plein air. Rather optimistic, I thought, given the fact that rain and unseasonally low temperatures have been an almost daily feature of recent weeks. Most of the chairs and tables were the sort of thing one can see anywhere. But the examples shown in today's photograph attracted my attention because they seemed to be the outdoor equivalent of a bar table and stools. The elongated legs of the trio made them look different and slightly odd. They also prompted one of those unconscious visual connections. As soon as I saw them I thought of Salvador Dali's elephants in "The Temptation of St Anthony"! I think it's the fact that if you cut the legs down to size they would be like any other table and chairs, just as Dali's surreal elephants would become much more "normal" with regular legs.

I took the photograph because tables and chairs often provide visual interest in the form of strong, interesting outlines and, if the sun shines, shadows that reveal more about their structure. The backdrop of old bricks, steps and railings seemed to add to the image too.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 65mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Coronation Fountain, March

click photo to enlarge
I'd never visited March in Cambridgeshire until a couple of weeks ago. I knew of its church, St Wendreda, which has the best medieval "angel roof" in Britain: that's what we'd gone to see. But, as we drove into the town, a typical, flat, Fenland settlement of interesting main streets with buildings spanning three centuries, the first thing that caught my eye was of more recent vintage, and is the subject of today's photograph.

It was a cloudless day, but even without the strong illumination this structure would have positively glowed. It must have been repainted fairly recently, and the bright, shining colours simply drew my eye. As we drove past it I took it for a Victorian edifice, but I was wrong. Inspecting it on foot I saw a panel on it that carried this inscription: "This fountain was erected by the inhabitants of March to commemorate the coronation of his majesty King George V 22nd June 1911." So it was later than I thought, originally a fountain, but was certainly commemorative. Yet, there was no doubt too that it was in the style of so many Victorian iron-work bandstands, fountains, and park "eye-catchers". It can be seen as an example of a tried and tested format continuing to be used in the provinces: had it been erected in London a more up-to-date style would have prevailed. In place of the long-gone water was a striking plant that must have made more of a statement during the summer.

As I circled the structure, taking my photographs, enjoying the filigree metal-work of the dome, smiling at the cast-iron owls inside it at the top of each column, and noting the modern LED lighting that had been woven around the structure to give it impact at night, my wife fell into conversation with a local inhabitant, a sprightly eighty three year old who told us something about the fountain and the town. I reflected that though it was interesting, and I was glad it had survived to the present day, it was a confection that couldn't really be described as a thing of beauty so much as a fascinating historical object. However, what I couldn't deny was that it made the streetscape richer, and certainly grabbed the attention of two travellers with an architectural inclination!

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Photo1 (Photo 2)
Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 11mm (22mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/400 (1/1000)
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Battered but not broken

click photo to enlarge

The climate of the British Isles is classified as "temperate". The summers don't usually get too hot, the winters are never that cold, and rain is fairly regular. Snow doesn't fall as often as children would like, and frost is a winter regular but is usually not too harsh. One of the effects of weather with these characteristics is that ancient buildings slowly crumble unless serious efforts are made to conserve them. Freeze-thaw, rain (including the acid variety), wind and general damp take their toll on mortar joints, roof coverings, bricks, stone and foundations. Metal rusts easily, and wood rots.

It's salutary to compare the Roman remains of Britain with those of the drier, warmer Mediterranean countries. Hadrian's Wall that crosses Northern England is a visible structure of clearly cut stones, but details, sculpture, lettering etc are difficult to find, and the best examples are those that received the protection of being buried for centuries. There is no remaining, standing, Roman triumphal arch in Britain, yet beautifully detailed examples can be found in Southern France, Italy and elsewhere.

The same is true of medieval work. Italian buildings of the thirteenth century look fresher, and have more detail, than those of the same date in Britain.With all this in mind, many people are surprised to find that original wood and ironwork on the exterior of medieval buildings can still be found in this islands. Today's image, the south door of c.1250AD on the church of St Andrew, Sempringham, Lincolnshire, is a subject that I've photographed and written about before here. I had the opportunity to capture it again yesterday, and this time I included the handle of the door. The thumb lever has been worn extremely thin over the centuries, yet it still, like the door itself, performs its useful task perfectly. In fairness, at the end of the Victorian period a porch was built over the south door, so for just over a century the metal and wood has been protected from the elements. However, it is a tribute to the skill of the original crafstmen and to the reverence for this aged artefact that has existed down the ages, that in Britain's climate it is still there at all!

My recent visit to see the door gleaned one fact that is at variance with my original description of its construction: apparently the wood is "fir" (yew perhaps?) and not oak.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 22mm (44mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f3.5
Shutter Speed: 1/40
ISO: 400
Exposure Compensation: -1.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Made to last

click photos to enlarge

One of the pleasures of looking at churches is that you can get an almost palpable sense of history and the continuity of life down the generations. The other day I visited a succession of churches including St Andrew at Pickworth in Lincolnshire. This is a beautiful, essentially fourteenth century building, but with two windows and a font from the twelfth century. Most people who are interested in ecclesiastical architecture know Pickworth for its wall paintings of the late 1300s. Above the chancel arch is a Doom that continues on to a nave wall. This was designed to show the congregation the fires of Hell, and it includes three figures being boiled alive in a cauldron. Other paintings illustrate St Christopher, the Ascension, The Quick and The Dead, and the Weighing of Souls. These were uncovered in the nineteenth century having been painted over in earlier centuries when such things were frowned upon.

Fascinating though the painting are, the thing that caught my eye was the door inside the south porch. It was made and placed in its doorway in the early 1300s, and has remained there ever since, opening and closing as successive generations of villagers have entered and left the church. It bears the marks of centuries of nails and tacks where priests and parish clerks have fixed notices to its thick oak planks. The "C" shaped hinges and the decorative iron lobes and tendrils are rusted, with parts missing, but they still hold it together as they did on the day it was first fixed in place. I find it remarkable, and quite humbling, to see an artefact such as this, the subject of care and sensitive restoration for the past 700 years, still in situ and still giving good service. As I studied this venerable object I became aware of carved graffiti on the inner walls of the porch on each side of the door. The oldest date I could find was evidently made by "WS" in 1614. There were many dates from the 1700s, and the latest appeared to be from the 1970s. Later, as I looked at the eighteenth century slate and stone gravestones in the churchyard I wondered if any of these departed, eulogised by those who erected their memorials, were those who had left evidence of their youthful indiscretions carved inside the porch!

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

(Doorway)
Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 12mm macro (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/60
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On