A sign of different times

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One of the photographic themes that has arisen down the years on this blog is public signs. I have enjoyed quite a few that I've seen as I've travelled the country, some perplexing, some intentionally humorous, some unintentionally humorous and others engagingly redolent of the age in which they were made. Today's example that I photographed in Borough Market, Southwark, London falls into the latter category.

The sign itself dates from 1908 and may be original or a copy of an original. The case that holds it is probably original. What I like about this sign is the interesting use of language and punctuation. How odd, for example, that the words "Borough Market Trust" and "Notice" have a full stop after them. This is something that is being done consciously occasionally today by companies such as EAT., but in the main those full stops would be thought superfluous now. It's interesting too that "Beadles" were employed to maintain security in the market and that the police were not deemed sufficient in this regard. I like too, "Loiterers or other suspicious characters", descriptions that we wouldn't use today. It reminds me of the "lurkers" that populate the alley ways of London in Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes stories. For more of my photographs of signs follow this link.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: Notice, Borough Market, Southwark
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 39mm (78mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/80 sec
ISO:2500
Exposure Compensation: -0.3EV

The Mudlark

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I've done my share of mudlarking as this post of 2010 explains.

The usual definition of a mudlark is someone, often a child, who in Victorian times scavenged the muddy fringes of the River Thames in London in search of anything of value that could be sold for cash. The pub sign in Southwark, London, near the river, that is the subject of today's photograph alludes to these "valuables" in the grubby hand and items shown in the bordering circle.

The Oxford English Dictionary (OED) shows that mudlark has not always carried the meaning that it usually has today. The first entry from 1785 defines the word as slang for a hog, and we can see how that might transfer to Thames-side foragers. The next entry dating from 1796-1800 describes a mudlark as someone who prowls around ships in the mud, receiving plundered goods from them which they sold. Again the connection is apparent. The 1801 definition most closely matches today's understanding of the term. However, there are others. Apparently in the nineteenth century the Royal Engineers were sometimes so called. This must have been due to their often muddy work being equated with the urchins who searched the Thames mud.

I was quite pleased to see this elaborate, original and obviously quite expensive sign advertising the pub. All too often today the traditional pub sign is being replaced by a cheaply printed glossy advert, or the old design is replaced by a "tasteful" often almost monochrome updated version.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: Pub Sign, The Mudlark, Southwark
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 150mm (300mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/320 sec
ISO:640
Exposure Compensation: -0.3EV

Axes and wood

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I'm not, in general, someone who likes familiar slang, particularly that which applies to a line of work, an interest or a hobby. Hearing someone describe a BMW as a "Beamer" irritates me in much the same way as hearing the likes of Jamie Oliver use the terms "slosh" (for pour) or "chuck" for sprinkle does. I've never liked the way some enthusiast photographers refer to lenses as "glass" (surely they are so much more than that). And as for rock musicians calling an electric guitar an "axe": well, that irks me just as much as the modern habit of calling a university a "uni". All these examples seem, to my mind to conflate a certain laziness with an overly chummy and "insider" familiarity that is often designed, in some small way, to erect fences to outsiders.

It was the term "axe", meaning an electric guitar that came to mind when I came to write this piece about a new guitar that I recently bought. I presume that "axe" derives from the shape of the guitar, or perhaps the sharp sound - who knows or cares? However, since it was the wood of this particular guitar that I was going to describe "axe" seemed to have some sort of connection. Many musical instruments have interesting and beautiful shapes that derive, in the main from the way they work - form really does, usually, follow function. However, many are enhanced during construction by the use of wood, application of paint, inlays and so on, and none more so than electric guitars. Moreover, though the sound is what you most want from such an instrument, appearance is also a factor when you come to buy one.

The example in today's photograph doesn't have the usual paint job, sunburst staining or varnished finish. Instead it has a burred (burled in US-English) poplar top that I find unusual and attractive. This is mounted on mahogany and the instrument is completed with a maple neck and a rosewood fingerboard. With a veritable forest of timber having fallen under the axe to produce it I must make sure I keep it a long time and get the most from it

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon 5D Mk2
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 105mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/13 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: Off.

Establishment graffiti

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The meaning of the word "graffito" has become modified in the past fifty or so years. During the first half of the twentieth century it had two meanings. The Oxford English Dictionary quotes this as the definitions first recorded in 1851:  "A drawing or writing scratched on a wall or other surface; a scribbling on an ancient wall, as those at Pompeii and Rome. Also, a method of decoration in which designs are produced by scratches through a superficial layer of plaster, glazing, etc., revealing a ground of different colour". The latter applied mainly to pottery.

However, the newer meaning, with a citation of use dating back to a Chicago newspaper in 1967 is: "Words or images marked (illegally) in a public place, esp. using aerosol paint." At that time the singular tended to drop out of use and the plural now tended to serve for all references. The key word in the newer definition is "illegal". From that time onwards the illegality of the growing amount of graffiti, particularly when "tagging" arose, became one of its defining features and was what turned most people against it. Graffiti became "underground" and anti-establishment.

But, the establishment has a long record of absorbing anti-establishment movements and making them mainstream. From the Beat poets to punk rock businesses have seen such trends as new ways to make money. It has happened with graffiti too. Works by graffiti artists now appear in galleries. Public spaces, such as the skate-boarders meeting place on London's South Bank, are made available and a blind eye is turned to spray painting. And, as today's photograph shows, advertising has appropriated graffiti-style illustration now that it is no longer solely associated with urban grime and illegality. This example is part of a wall in a passage in St Neots, Cambridgeshire, that leads to a printing business's establishment.

My view on graffiti has changed with the prevailing tide. I still abhor illegally daubed tags and even well-done painting if it is done without the owner's permission. But I can see interest and innovation in some of the graffiti that I come across and I have been motivated to photograph it - see here and here.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon 5DMk2
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 24mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/25
ISO: 320
Exposure Compensation:  0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Apothecaries, memorials and words

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I've long been fascinated by the way that a word can fall out of use. In a blog post of  2009 I reflected on the demise during my lifetime of "aerodrome", "palings" and "petticoat". Today I've been thinking about another word that is much less used than formerly - "apothecary".

Walk down a high street today and you are very unlikely to see a shop sign advertising the services of an apothecary. However, had you trod the same route in the 1700s or 1800s such a business could well have been present. The nearest we get today to the apothecary of those centuries is the dispensing chemist or pharmacist. The first apothecaries in Britain were grocers specialising in non-perishable commodities such as preserves, wine, spices, herbs, medicinal drugs etc. In 1617 the Worshipful Society of Apothecaries was established in London following a split from the Grocers. They established a hall in Blackfriars, and until 1922 manufactured and sold pharmaceutical products there. In 1704 the Society won an important legal decision against the Royal College of Physicians which allowed them to prescribe and dispense medicines, an action that led to apothecaries evolving into practitioners of medicine as we know them today. And yet, despite this complicated background history, today most people who know the term "apothecary" associate it with the dispensing of medicine rather than the deployment of general medical skills.

Today's photograph commemorates the death in 1780, at the young age of thirty one years, of John Rugeley, an apothecary of Folkingham, Lincolnshire. Apparently he died of "the fever" - which one I don't know. His attractive slate tablet displays the florid script, flourishes and motifs that can be seen on many such memorials in this part of the county, here the work of "Casswell, Sculpt." It can be found in the village on the wall of the south aisle of St Andrew's church.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 65mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/15
ISO: 3200
Exposure Compensation:  0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Holidays, escapes and everyday life

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Have you noticed how holidays are now frequently described as an "escape"? In some journalism and advertising the two words have become synonymous. There are travel companies that actually use the word in their company's name - "Escape Holidays", "Great Escape Holidays", "Island Escape Holidays". It makes them sound like organisations dedicated to springing prisoners from their incarceration, an image that the word "getaway" in connection with holidays only reinforces. The use of such language has troubled me for a while because of what it implies; namely that the everyday life of a person, couple or family is so damnably dreary, hard, depressing or lacking in joy, that a holiday is like a release from a living hell. Moreover, tied up with this is the idea that an effective and desirable break can only be achieved by shelling out a large amount of money, jumping on an aeroplane or boat, and fleeing to some foreign, preferably hot, land. It's an approach that I liken to the notion of going to a gym because you don't get enough exercise. It seems to me self-evident that fitness (see this post for my views on the misuse of this word!) comes from building exercise and sensible eating into your daily life, not bolting it on as an afterthought designed to compensate for what is clearly lacking. Similarly, shouldn't we be trying to organise our lives in such as way that each day offers us some pleasure, achievement, satisfaction - call it what you will - that cumulatively leads to us getting enjoyment from every single day? It's difficult if you are on the breadline, but much more realisable than might be imagined if you're not. Achieve it and the idea of catharsis through an "escape" seems ridiculous.

The misuse of that word came to mind when I was looking at my photograph of the narrow boats and cruisers tied up on the River Trent in Newark, Nottinghamshire. It's a photograph taken at a time that is described as either the end of summer or the beginning of autumn. There was a time when my wife and I idly considered the purchase of such a vessel. However, it didn't take us long to work out that, for us, being restricted to navigable waterways would be too limiting. I'm sure others think this too. I'm equally sure that many people find chugging along Britain's canals and rivers a fine way to pass the time or take a holiday. For us however, it would be too confining and we'd just have to escape!

For more thoughts touching on holidays see these posts - from 2005, and from 2009.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 161mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/200
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Stainforth Force

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When I was young and growing up in the Yorkshire Dales one of the things that I found puzzling was the use of the words "force" and "foss" to describe waterfalls. In the area where I lived and roamed the Ordnance Survey map showed Scaleber Force, Stainforth Force, Catrigg Force and Janet's Foss. However, the precise nomenclature of the the map-makers wasn't observed by the locals, and foss and force were used interchangeably when speaking of these places. It was only when I was older and had some knowledge of the etymology of these and other words associated with landscape and settlements that I realised this didn't matter, and that our imprecision came from the English developments of the root Norse word.

Both "force" and "foss" come from the word that Norse settlers brought to England in the ninth century - "foss" or "fors".  In fact, the Norsemen who settled north west England were, in the main, Norwegians who came from earlier settlements in Ireland and the Isle of Man. This contrasts with the Norse settlers of eastern England who were mainly Danes (though with some Norwegians). These geographical and cultural differences can be plotted on maps using "test words" that are held to be specifically Norwegian: for example "brekka" (now "breck" meaning hill), "gil" (now "Gill" or "Ghyll" meaning ravine), or "slakki" (now the suffix "-slack" eg. Elslack). I'm not absolutely sure, but I think "foss and "force" are also of specifically Norwegian origin.

My photograph shows the River Ribble in spate at Stainforth Force at a point where it tumbles over steps of limestone into a very deep pool. I used my photographic assistant (aka my wife) as scale, human interest, a compositional element and because her bright red hat made for a sharp point of colour in an otherwise gree/brown/white scene.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 35mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/80
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

I should coco

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There may be good reasons for calling a Mexican restaurant Coco, but none immediately spring to mind. I came across this one as I was gathering images in Peterborough. It was at the tapered end of a block of buildings with a road at each side. As I looked up at the stainless steel logo and text reflecting the sky, and took in a second reflection on some glass below, the phrase, "I should coco" came to me. And, with that thought echoing around my head I took my photograph and departed.

"I should coco" is one of those sayings that I'd occasionally heard, but didn't really understand. I recalled it being the title of a pop album, but couldn't remember by which band. I had the impression that when used in a piece of prose it meant something like, "Yeah, right!" uttered in an ironic way. So, as you do, I Googled the phrase, and came up with the name of Supergrass as the band. Then I alighted on a fascinating website called World Wide Words, and found a whole entry on the phrase. It seems that it started life in London in the 1930s, gained in popularity in the 1950s, and was originally spelled, "I should cocoa!". Its meaning is something approximating to "Not on your life!" or "No way!", though the author of the piece, Michael Quinion, suggests that it was originally rhyming slang for, "I should say so!" He further speculates that its spelling changed due to the popularity of Coco the Clown. I was glad to have stumbled upon his website and immediately bookmarked it.

Anyway, back to the photograph. I'm not a fan of brown bricks, especially when they are pointed with matching mortar, so the overall presentation of this building didn't appeal to me. However, the gleaming, stainless steel signs and glass reflecting the sky and clouds did. They made, I think, a reasonably interesting shot. Whether they would work quite as well when the blue sky was obliterated by a dense blanket of stratus is quite another matter!

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 7.4mm (35mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/800
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -0.66 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Looking down a homonym

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Did you know that innuendo is the Italian word for suppository? Or that there are some that are wise and there are others that are otherwise? And maybe you've never considered that while two wrongs don't make a right, three rights do make a left?

A significant part of English humour is based on the peculiarities of our language. I was thinking about this the other day as, with a group of friends and relations, I looked down a well (see photo). It was the fashion a while ago for young people to use the phrase "well good" to describe something they particularly liked. To my older ears this is an awkward construct, but it came to mind when I was deciding a title for this image. But then I thought, no, the photograph's OK but it's not a "well good well shot"!

Then, with the word "well" in mind I got to thinking about homonyms and the like. And, after a little research I found that my understanding of what constitutes a homonym wasn't quite right. What's worse, after a lot of research I discovered that many are similarly confused, and that the internet can't be trusted to shine a light on the matter. So, in the interests of clarity here is what I discovered, courtesy of the Oxford English Dictionary:

Homophones - different spelling, same pronunciation, different meaning (e.g. here, hear)
Homonyms - same spelling, same pronunciation, different meaning (e.g. well, well)
Heteronyms - same spelling, different pronunciation, different meaning (e.g. refuse, refuse)

Please try and remember this - there will be a written test next week :-)

photograph & text (c) Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 42mm (84mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/10
ISO: 400
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Language and confusion

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The pleasure to be found in language is limitless. You can learn history through language, conceive beauty by arranging it well in poetry and prose, better express yourself by understanding it more, create humour playing with it, and reveal your own ignorance by uttering just a few words!

In, I think, the 1970s, at the height of frosty relations between the United States and the Soviet Union, I heard a senior US politician being interviewed by the BBC. He was complaining that the Soviets weren't negotiating in good faith, and were putting obstacles in the way of reducing tension between the two super-powers. "You know", he said, embarking on what he saw as a clinching argument, "it's significant that the Russian language doesn't have a word for detente." I wanted the interviewer to point out that neither does United States English, which is why it borrowed one from the French! But he didn't, and the moment passed. But not without my concern about the safety of the world ratcheting up one more notch!

On another, more recent occasion I was talking to a young boy, newly arrived in England from Malaysia. We were talking about the differences between his country and England, and in the course of our conversation I asked if, during his weekend exploration, he'd enjoyed the pier. He paused before answering, and then politely told me that he'd enjoyed everything he'd laid eyes on, and that England was a fine country with many wonderful sights. It took me a few moments to realise that he thought I was using the word "peer", meaning "to look searchingly"- an understandable confusion by someone young whose first language wasn't English, and who clearly was doing well in it! The homophones of the English language can be decidely baffling.

Today's photograph is of the pier (as in a long structure on legs extending over water!) at St Anne's, Lancashire. I was taking a few shots of it at the end of the day, and captured this one of a figure walking in front of the ironwork. I liked the bold and delicate silhouettes making lattice-work across the orange glow of evening. My camera had a long zoom lens at 226mm (35mm equivalent), and was set to Aperture Priority (f6.3 at 1/1000 second), ISO 100, with -0.7EV.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen