December morning light

click photo to enlarge
The flat, Fenland landscape that extends across parts of Lincolnshire, Norfolk, Cambridgeshire and Suffolk is well known for its fertile soils that comprise about half of England's Grade 1 agricultural land.What is less well-known is the wide range of light that the Fens exhibit, a feature that is particularly noticeable in autumn and winter. This is partly to do with the "big skies" that all flat areas experience, but the low-lying nature of the land and the managed drainage systems that criss-cross the area must also play their part. Mists, strong and slight, are common. Rain squalls can be seen from miles away. Cloud types proliferate. And these effects, and more, are food for the hungry photographer.

Today's photograph shows a typical Fenland scene on a cool but not cold December morning. The shadows of trees and houses behind the photographer darken the field of winter wheat that is showing through the manicured soil. Pantiles and bricks of houses at the village edge glow a deeper orange in the yellow-tinted light. A church tower peeps over the graveyard trees that surround it.Poplars and a walnut that is past its best thrust up into a blue sky that looks like a painter has wiped his white brush clean on it. And in the distance the slight mist almost, but not quite, obscures the sheep that have been tuned onto the remains of a field of cabbages. It's the kind of unremarkable scene I often see but don't often photograph.And each time I do I wonder why I don't do it more often.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: December Morning Light, Lincolnshire
Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 12.6mm (34mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.8
Shutter Speed: 1/2000 sec
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Photos from hill and dale

click photo to enlarge
Today's photograph was taken on 1st October on an unseasonally warm and bright day with scarcely a cloud to be seen. We were walking from Settle to Knight Stainforth upstream alongside the River Ribble. The water was lower than is usual for this time of year due to a dry spell and with very little by way of breeze its surface was quite mirror-like. Looking at my photograph you could almost imagine it was high summer, such is the brightness of the light and the clarity of the scene. Only the hint of the trees turning to autumnal colours reveals the later date in the year. Weather of this kind isn't what I usually look for when I'm out with my camera; I prefer more interesting skies. And yet this light on this scene was sufficiently attractive for me to take the shot.

As I reviewed the photographs taken during our time in the Settle area I realised that a couple of days before I took this photograph we had been on the limestone above the Ribble Valley near this point. A shot I'd taken of the valley side with its medieval terrace remains emphasised by the slanting light also included this stretch of river and the prominent tree (the first of a line of five or so). If you enlarge the small photograph and look near the centre you'll see the location. What I find interesting about this pair of images, from hill and dale, is how the second photograph contextualises the first and shows the topography of the setting.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 17mm (34mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/200 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: 0EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Light on the river

click photo to enlarge
I find September light very alluring. It retains (almost) the brightness of July and August, but combines it with the deeper shadows of an autmn month. In the evening it has a yellower tint than in the summer months. All this is, of course, a result of the sun being lower in the sky, and explains my preference for spring and autumn as the best months (in the UK at least) for photography.

Today's photograph illustrates the above. I took the shot from a bridge over the River Bain in the Lincolnshire town of Horncastle. It's not much of a river, neither particularly deep nor wide. However, the town is built at the confluence of two rivers and the combined flow after periods of particularly heavy rain has, in the past, resulted in quite serious flooding in the lower lying built-up areas.On the day of my photograph the flow was unremarkable. But, lit by a the golden light of September, and combined with the silhouettes of overhanging leaves, the reflection of the sky and foliage, and the ripples on its surface, it caught my eye and I took this semi-abstract photograph. I call it that because the image is as much about the colours, tones and textures as it is the nominal subject.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 150mm (300mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/1250 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.7
Image Stabilisation: On

Poppies and contre jour

click photo to enlarge
Light through petals is a beautiful sight. During the summer months I frequently make use of the low sun of morning and evening as it slants across our gardens, lighting up the petals of the flowers. A those times of day there are also pools of deep shadow and the combination of illuminated flowers and shade makes a striking contrast.

However, there is one problem with photographing contre jour flowers - the best effect is seen from behind the blooms because the flower heads are always turned to face the strongest source of light. Consequently, if you are a purist about such things (and I don't think I am) then every photograph of this kind has an unsatisfactory element to it.

Today's shot illustrates this up to a point. To achieve the striking red points that make this photograph work I had to be in a position where all the flower heads were facing away from me. In fact, it matters less in this example because the flowers are working as points of colour in a larger composition rather than being the sole subject. I took the photograph on an evening walk as we passed a field of oilseed rape.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 36mm (72mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/1250 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Nothing as a photographic subject

click photo to enlarge
During my self-imposed sabbatical from my usual photography I've had to pick up images where and when I can. The previous post of the partial eclipse is one such example and today's is another.

Over the years I've quite enjoyed seeing and photographing elements of the interiors of my own or other people's houses. These subjects are easily dismissed as shots of "nothing". However, "nothing" as a photographic subject is impossible to achieve. An electronic device that records the appearance of that to which it is exposed always records "something". And, the "somethings" that can be found in houses are often interesting, not least because the image draws our attention to an overlooked reality and invites us to see it anew or as if for the first time. In recent years this photograph of light falling on carpeted stairs is one I particularly enjoyed, as is this shot of a lamp illuminating the corner of a room.

Today's photograph shows the sunlight through the Venetian blinds of our utility room casting shadows on a central heating radiator, the wall and a laminated wood stool. I liked the colours, lines, contrast and composition of this one.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 15.1mm (41mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f4.5
Shutter Speed: 1/60
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation:  - 0.3EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The fall of the light

click photo to enlarge
I sometimes think that the way we appreciate photography, in fact any kind of art, can be reduced to two descriptors: "intellectually" or "viscerally", or a combination of the two. By viscerally I mean as near to emotionally as makes little difference. Moreover, I don't think we should give primacy to any of these modes of appreciation: the outcome is more important than the method.

There are those who feel that to say one appreciates or likes something for unexplainable reasons is to enjoy it in an inferior way. Others, of course, take the opposite view; that the emotional engagement and reaction is paramount and is deeper than words can express. Ultimately these "ways of seeing" are not mutually exclusive. Take today's photograph, a shot of sunlight falling through the turned balusters on to the red carpet of the stairs in our house. Due to the way the house is aligned this doesn't happen very often. However, when I saw it recently I was moved to photograph the event. Why? Largely because I had a visceral reaction to the sight. To put it into words, I enjoyed the rich red of the lit carpet glowing against the un-illuminated areas. I liked the way the balusters' shadows zig-zagged down the steps, and I appreciated the water-colour softness of the whole. It's a slight subject but none the worse for that. In photography sometimes the thing that converts the mundane to the transcendent is simply a matter of the fall of the light.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 10.4mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/20
ISO: 6400
Exposure Compensation:  -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Doorways and light

click photo to enlarge
On a return journey from the Yorkshire Dales we called in at Bolsover Castle, a structure of medieval foundation with much that stands dating to the seventeenth century. English castles are often quite imposing and this one is no exception. Its location, along the brow of a hill, is very impressive and both the exterior and interior of the main structure offer the photographer many interesting subjects.

However, when I review photographs that I take at such locations I often find that the "standard" shots - views, towers, battlements, doorways, interior decoration etc. leave me, photographically speaking, somewhat cold. I think that what happens is, my interest in architecture too often gets in the way of my photographer's eye. Fortunately it doesn't completely blind me and I always manage to get a few shots that are composed solely for their more photographic qualities. Invariably these are the ones I like best.

Today's photograph was taken for two main reasons: the muted colours and the way the light was falling. It shows some of the seventeenth century interior design, but in a dark setting and shadows with the doorway providing the highlight. I particularly liked the way the angles of both the room and the light related to the portrait format frame of the viewfinder.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 26mm (39mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/40 sec
ISO:3600
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Photographing the ordinary and familiar

click photo to enlarge
Every now and then I include a quotation in my blog posts. I like quotations for the way they frequently condense, pithily, an important truth in a small number of words. Several years ago, when moving house prevented me from maintaining PhotoReflect at its then current level, I created for a few months, a less labour intensive blog that I called PhotoQuoto. It gave me the opportunity to make use of some of the quotations I'd collected and savoured down the years and it was an exercise that I thoroughly enjoyed.

Recently, one of my blog posts from the first month of PhotoReflect's existence (January 18th 2006), as well as its attendant quotation, came to mind. We were doing a familiar walk past a collection of rather ordinary old barns. These seem to have grown up organically as needed, the oldest nearest the road, newer ones added on ever further away. Next to what was probably the oldest structure a relatively young ash tree stood, its "keys" still hanging in heavy bunches despite the weeks of strong winds that we experienced at the turn of the year. The buildings and tree, together with the puddles from recent rain, and the sky that looked like it might clear or could bring further precipitation, was suddenly enlivened by a fleeting glimmer of brighter light. The words that came to mind as I framed my shot were those that I'd used eight years ago, from the American director, artist and writer, Aaron Rose (1969 - ): "In the right light, at the right time, everything is extraordinary." In those few moments the familiar, mundane buildings came alive, photographically speaking, and seemed a much better prospect for a photograph than they usually do. Looking at the shot a couple of days later I still hold that opinion. However, I do wonder whether a photograph of some barns that I took last year might also have been a factor in making me look anew at this group.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 10.4mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/125 sec
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Yellow-tinged January light

click photo to enlarge
The light from the low winter sun has to travel obliquely through more of the earth's atmosphere than does the light from the higher sun of spring, summer and autumn. Consequently it is tinged with colour for the same reason that light from the rising or setting sun is coloured. In the second half of December and the first half of January the light of the middle of the day in Britain has a decided yellow cast. This colouration slowly retreats towards the beginning and end of the day as spring approaches. So, even if the appearance of the landscape doesn't betray the month the quality of the light in a photograph often shows that it was taken during that time of year when the hours of daylight are at their shortest.

We had a walk by the River Slea near South Kyme a few days ago. Here the slow flowing river meanders through flat farmland and small woods, past villages and their churches, and offers the photographer the element of water to add to the ever-present earth and sky. We've done that walk in winter a few times in recent years and I've photographed the medieval tower and church in their riverside locations before. On our recent walk I took a shot from a position where I remembered taking one previously. This time it was not only the yellow-tinged light that attracted my eye but also the dark clouds behind the sunlit river, fields and church. For the same reason I took a photograph of the nearby manor house, a building that has been added to over the centuries and is built of both stone and brick. Surrounded by its trees it makes the third of three very English buildings - a fortified tower/house, a small church fabricated from the aisle of a larger priory demolished during the Dissolution, and the manor house of the local worthy, a land and property owner who wielded power and influence in the locality. Today all the buildings are less than they were in terms of their position in their communities. The church has been in decline for a couple of hundred years, Kyme Tower fell out of use centuries ago, and manor houses and manorial rights are often not in the hands of the original family, where they exist at all.

Many enthusiast photographers reduce their picture taking in winter. Partly it's the inclement, cold, wet and windy weather that keeps them indoors. Others seem to prefer the photographic feel and appearance of the other three seasons. Then there are those who don't like the reduced light. I'm not one of those people. I've said elsewhere in this blog that I can't envisage living anywhere that doesn't have clearly differentiated seasons. Perhaps it's simply what I'm used to and I would get used used to permanent summer. However, the differences that seasons offer me as a person and a photographer are something that I would surely miss and would, perhaps, pleasantly surprise those who use their camera where the sun always shines.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 17.4mm (47mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/640 sec
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

A sign of the times 2

click photo to enlarge
Walking through London one recent evening I came upon a No Entry sign that had been "artistically augmented". To the white edged red circle with its white central bar someone had added what I took to be a traffic warden. This figure was either looking over or slumped on the central bar and two red hearts were either coming from him (or her), or were the object of his (or her) attention. Clearly the person responsible for the "artwork" was trying to say something but I couldn't for the life of me see what. As far as I was concerned the would-be artist had failed, though I did think that could have been because I wasn't part of his target demographic. Nonetheless I took a photograph of the sign, and, over the past few days, I've wondered a little more about it. But to no avail.

Then it occurred to me to turn to that modern fount of all knowledge that is the world wide web for some enlightenment. So, I typed "London no entry sign graffiti" into an image search box and came up with photographs of the same subject and different "augmentations", perhaps by the same person. They included the white bar as stocks through which a head and arms poked, the white bar as a surf board under someone's arm, a figure in the process of sawing through the white bar and the white bar as an actual bar at which people were drinking. Seeing my example alongside the others it was clear that no deep meaning lurked behind the graffiti, WYSIATI (what you see is all there is), and the highest aim of the artist was whimsy. Banksy has a lot to answer for!

Why have I given this blog post the title, "A sign of the times 2". Well, I was obliquely reminded of another sign that I blogged about in 2009, one that that was unintentionally humorous, to which I'd given the original title.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 23.6mm (63mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f3.5
Shutter Speed: 1/60 sec
ISO: 800
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

More than a lamp

click photo to enlarge
When I brought this image up on my computer it set me thinking. If I was a photographer who specialised in one or only a few fields - say motor racing, wildlife, street, portraiture or some such - would I notice the subject of today's photograph? Moreover, if I did notice it would I value it sufficiently highly to take a photograph of it?

I suspect that the answer to both of these questions is probably not. Perhaps the deciding factor would be whether the interest in photography as an art was more or less than the interest in the field that the photographer concentrated on. The fact is, a great deal of photography is undertaken in support of a pre-existing interest in something or other - for example, trains. There's nothing wrong with this; after all, photography is a broad church and welcomes a wide range of approaches. But, understandably, for such people the interest resides principally in the content of the image rather than the way that content is presented photographically. That's not to say that the wider considerations of composition, colour, mood etc are absent, merely that they are not key factors in the way they might be in other fields of photography.

As I've said elsewhere in this blog, I'm happy to be a photographic generalist. It means that I see photographic opportunities wherever I am, and that is something that I find enriches my life. It means - I think - that I see more than I would if I specialised, and that my perception of the world is enhanced by having self-consciously trained myself to try to see rather than to simply look. The distinction between seeing and looking is also a theme that I've tackled before and is perhaps key to me taking today's photograph. It helps me to enjoy how the subject is a semi-abstract geometrical composition and an essay in light and shade as well as just a simple standard lamp in the corner of a room.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 10.4mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/30
ISO: 320
Exposure Compensation:  -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Art in the south transept

click photo to enlarge

I tend to be disappointed if I turn up at a church that I want to look around and I find it being used for an exhibition by the local art group. It means that the the fabric of the structure is obscured by paintings, pottery, screens and sculpture and I don't see it in the way it appears on most days of the year - as an old building fitted out for worship and the rites of the Christian religion. It's not that I have anything against art, or the desire of people to exhibit or view the products of enthusiasts. And I do appreciate that the church often seeks to be a hub of the community in which it sits, and that such events help it to fulfil that function. Rather, it is my selfish desire to view the church as I would like to see it and my feeling of being thwarted. Of course, if it's a church that is reasonably local to me then I can easily turn up on a different day and indulge my interests. However, if it's a building that I visit on holiday or when I'm travelling, then it feels like a once in a lifetime opportunity is lost to me.

I feel the same way about churches that are full of decorated trees at Christmas but not about a building decked out for harvest festival, all wheat sheaves, marrows, tinned food, fruit and vases of chrysanthemums. Why? Well, the former feels like a modern gimmick designed to attract an audience whereas harvest festival is a centuries old religious celebration and thanksgiving that has endured. On a recent visit to Newark we came upon an exhibition of art in the south transept of the town's major church. St Mary Magdalene is a large and beautiful parish church and, fortunately, it could easily swallow up a small exhibition of this sort so my usual feelings of disappointment lay dormant. I had a look at the artwork - fabric with photographic representations of famous pieces of religious art printed on them to which had been added the artist's contribution, sometimes graphical, sometimes text. The offerings didn't appeal to me but the lighting of the location did - photographically speaking. The low sun and clear glass of the transept window made the interior space very bright; much more so than is usual. Strong shadows contrasted with glowing patches of light. It was a recipe that suggested a photograph so I took one of my wife viewing the artwork.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 13.3mm (36mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/40
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation:  -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Reflecting on lampshades

click photo to enlarge
I've never found pendant lampshades easy. Many of them seem to be good at lighting the room but look awful, while the rest of them look fine but leave the room dimly lit. I particularly dislike those that look like the shade you'd find on a standard lamp that are designed for a pendant; they look terrible from below, all wire supports and bare bulbs. Then there are the translucent glass or plastic variety, all modernistic swirls and curls that try to be "artistic" at the expense of being functional. And as for the many contemporary takes on the chandelier, well, most of those look like they need their own power station to keep them lit, such is the number and brightness of the bulbs required.

You might think, with thoughts like those, that we have naked light bulbs hanging from the ceilings in the rooms of our house. But no, fairly early in our married life we found a design of pendant lampshade that suits us just fine. It combines simple elegance with the ability to cast light effectively and is inexpensive. More than that, however, it can composted at the end of its useful life! I refer to the plain white paper and wood (or string) globes that are sold packed flat and which are opened into a sphere before being placed around the light bulb. They first came to prominence in the 1960s and 1970s and have remained on the market ever since. I know that some people think of them as hopelessly dated, but we see a minimalist beauty where others see echoes of Habitat and the 1970s.

From that you'll gather that the photograph of today's light was not taken in our house. In fact, it featured on the ceiling of somewhere that we stayed recently. It's not to my taste: far too fussy and exotic for me. But I did like the way it made light rays radiate across the ceiling, and for that it seemed worth a photograph.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 35mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/30
ISO: 500
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

A conversation with myself

click photo to enlarge
How much should a blogger reveal about themselves? The answer to that question will vary from person to person: some will be happy to be more expansive than others. I always think of myself as a private person, and though I'm fairly free with my opinions in this blog (which blogger isn't!), any details that I include about my personal life tend to be brief and fairly innocuous or non-specific. I deliberately don't speak in any depth about my immediate or extended family. Nor do I write too much about the village community of which I'm a part.

With an outlook like that I do, of course, eschew the likes of Twitter, Facebook, Google+ and all of the other social media sites that are so popular today. The idea of documenting the details of my life, important or inconsequential, minute-by-minute and day-by-day is quite alien to me for reasons of time and inclination. The plain truth is I find it difficult enough to respond to comments on this blog, so I really don't know how I'd manage communicating with pseudo-friends through Twitter!

People sometimes ask me why I blog. There are a few reasons that I've mentioned before, largely centred around the idea of a window for my photography and a means of improving it. That usually leads to the next question: "Why do you accompany your photographs with a 'reflection'"? The original thinking was to differentiate my efforts from those of others and to give me a regular intellectual challenge quite different from those I faced in my day job then (and face now in retirement). But as the years have passed I've sometimes come to think of this blog as a conversation with myself: the putting into print of the thoughts that buzz around my head, thoughts which, in the ordinary course of events, would go unheard unless I shared them with friends and family. The fact that quite a lot of people visit PhotoReflect on a daily basis to read them and look at my photographs still surprises me. The fact that relatively few comment doesn't! I appreciate that is down to me being a fairly ineffective blogger - for years I've taken none of the recommended steps to "build my readership". Moreover, I'm not the loquacious type, so the chatty conversations that some bloggers and readers value don't often occur here. But I'm O.K. with that because I'd find it hard to give the blog more attention than it currently gets.

Today's photograph is one of my rare, openly manipulated shots. I took a photograph of myself reflected in the mirror of a lift that opened alongside me when I was photographing the numbers I recently posted in the triptych. The resulting image was symmetrical with strong perspective and me just to the side of the vanishing point. I found myself wishing for a stronger convergence of lines in the photograph and so I added them in the form of "light rays".

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 7.9mm (37mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.4
Shutter Speed: 1/100
ISO: 250
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Shadows, light and a font

click photo to enlarge

As fonts go the example at Swineshead church in Lincolnshire is very plain. So plain that it is impossible to date it from any stylistic details. It has an octagonal bowl on an octagonal stem with a base the same shape, like the great majority of fonts. It is mounted on an octagonal plinth with a raised step for the vicar, again, like many others. Where it differs from most other fonts with steps is in having two rather than three. The church has always seen great significance in the number three and the three steps of a font are thought to be in recognition of the Trinity. Given that the font offers little of interest or beauty, you must be wondering why I've bothered photographing it, and if you have visited this blog for a while, why I've photographed for a second time (the first attempt is here).

The answer is - the placing of the font and the light, especially the light. Many church fonts are found by the south porch door: next to the main entry door into the church was deemed suitable for the instrument that delivered a person into the Church through baptism. Often that means the font is squeezed up against pews, or is in a corner surrounded by tables, stacks of hymn books or even fire extinguishers. At Swineshead, however, the south porch door is no longer used, entry is by a small door embedded in the west door, and consequently the font has lots of space around it. The Victorian restoration provided a wonderful tiled floor with a pattern centred on the font. Combine all that with the position of the windows, and it makes a good photographic opportunity.

In my first attempt, referenced above, I went in quite close, excluded the windows, but used the strong light and shadows from the window and its tracery as part of the composition and interest. With this shot I thought I'd include the reticulated window, give greater emphasis to the space and darkness, and make the softly illuminated font and striking tile floor the visual focus.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 21mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/20
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation:  -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Blogger image backgrounds and those rings

click photo to enlarge

Many people have increasing concerns about the power, reach and intrusiveness of Google. Blogger is owned by Google and is one of their many free offerings. From the time I started using it in 2005 there has been the facility to add advertisements to a Blogger blog and for the blogger to make money (usually very small amounts) from so doing. The Google word for this is "monetize", a horrible construction. I've never had the desire or need to do so, and this blog is advertisement-free, a situation I don't foresee changing. Of course part of this process involves Google making quite a bit of money from the advertisements, based on key-words, that are placed in the blog. Consequently I suppose that by not using advertisements I'm taking advantage of Google's benevolence. But, they don't seem to mind so neither do I.

I do wonder, however, if Google has its ear closer to the ground than even the conspiracy theorists imagine. In the Comments of a very recent post there was an exchange of views concerning the effect of the white background that accompanied the enlarged view of a photograph. On some subjects it doesn't work very well, is overpowering, and is at odds with the black background of the blog pages. Well, quite soon after that date the background to enlarged photos was changed to black. Were Google listening in, or was it one of the planned incremental changes that are regularly rolled out? Whatever the reason - and it hasn't been trumpeted anywhere by Google that I've noticed - I like it. And, at the risk of pushing my luck I'd like to suggest that it be retrospectively applied to older posts too.

All of which has nothing to do with today's photograph of abseiling workmen on Tower Bridge in London. I spotted them as we walked past the other day. They appeared to be doing something electrical, perhaps installing the enhanced lighting that will illuminate it during the Olympics. I read that, in addition, a set of large, illuminated Olympic rings will hang from the bridge during the Games. When I first heard of this proposal I tried to imagine a worse combination of the insensitive and the tawdry. But I couldn't.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 300mm (plus crop)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/250 sec
ISO: 1000
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The Artist and photography

click photo to enlarge

On a misty, dull day we headed off for Spalding's civic building called the South Holland Centre. It houses, among other things, an auditorium where live performances and a cinema programme take place. The object of our visit was to see "The Artist", the recent film that is notable for being "silent" and shot in black and white. The fact that it has been garlanded with awards, particularly Oscars, would ordinarily be a reason for either avoiding a film or being wary of it: such things (especially Oscars) are too often conferred on routine rubbish, works that after a few years are forgotten or, at best, become noteworthy for the incredulity that they provoke when it is pointed out they were winners of the coveted award.

"The Artist" is, happily, an exception that proves the rule. In fact, it is a wonderful film, and my thought as I left the cinema was, "I'd like to see that again". Excellent acting, a more complex plot than we'd anticipated, great music, humour, and wonderful photography make it a memorable film. A while ago I wrote a blog piece about how one might convince a doubter of the value of black and white photography. In it I said my first argument would not be the recognised still practitioners but rather the 1946 movie of Charles Dickens' "Great Expectations", a work that won two Oscars for best Art Direction and Best Cinematography. To that I now have to add, "The Artist". Any still photographer looking for great black and white work need look no further than some of the many set-piece shots in this film. I'll mention only one that appealed to me that features the main character drinking too much. We see him and his reflection in the table top, slowly rotating due to camera movement. On to the mirror-like surface he pours the contents of his glass. It is a simple but stunning conception, beautifully executed. If you haven't seen the film, or doubt whether you'd like it, go and see it. I think you'll be glad you did.

I took today's semi-abstract photograph in the cafe as we had a bite to eat before the film. It shows the room's painted concrete columns and concrete ceiling with its decorative circles, coffering and lights. Black and white suits the shot better than colour (as I'm sure is the case with "The Artist"). I also softened the image a little. Looking at my photograph on the computer it brought to mind another film that also won an Oscar for Best Cinematography - "Close Encounters of the Third Kind"!

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2
Shutter Speed: 1/100
ISO:80
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Early thoughts of Christmas

click photo to enlarge

The 17th December is unusually early for me to be thinking about Christmas. In fact, it's unusual for me to be thinking about Christmas at all. My modus operandi in recent years has been to do what is necessary - cards, presents, food etc - quite near to the big day, suffer the event, then forget Christmas and look forward to the new year. But it wasn't always so.

As a child I liked Christmas - most children do. As a father with young children I loved Christmas because of what it meant to them. But, since my children left the nest and embarked upon the long journey that is adulthood, Christmas hasn't been quite the same. Until this year. What is different about 2011 you may ask? The answer is the arrival of a grandchild. So, I've been buying presents with more than usual interest, and I've even bought some strings of flashing LEDs to brighten up the hall and living room. Nothing excessively festive, you'll notice, but I am definitely showing much more willing than formerly.

Mind you, the early onset of Christmas in the shops nearly plunged me into pre-Christmas depression. Today's photograph was taken on 12th November. I don't know when these giant baubles were erected in Covent Garden, or when the large tree in the piazza was erected and decorated, but by my reckoning they will be on display for two months of the year - far too long. And yet on my visit any despondency that might have settled upon me was banished by the sight of my grand-daughter gazing in fascination at the colours, lights, and moving mirror-ball reflections. So, as a record and memory of the event I took a few photographs of which this is one of the better examples.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 104mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/00
ISO: 2500
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

UFOs and flying saucers

click photo to enlarge
Last night I saw a UFO (Unidentified Flying Object). It was a glowing, yellowish white shape, roughly spherical against the darkening blue of the late evening sky, with a bright point of light at its base. Was it a helicopter? No, wrong shape and no noise. Was it an aircraft? No, too slow, wrong shape and no noise. A satellite? Too low and more than a bright dot. I reached for a pair of binoculars and the UFO immediately became an IFO (Identified Flying Object). It was a "Chinese" flying lantern, one of those paper hot air balloons with a small candle at its base providing the heat to make it rise, stay aloft and drift on the wind. Which idiot, I wondered, thought it was a good idea to launch one of these after two rainless weeks, when the grass is tinder-dry?

UFO sightings became very common in the post-WW2 world, when the expansion of Communism was much feared, new aircraft designs were rolled out on an almost weekly basis, and the cinema was full of films about aliens, space rockets and the future. It was a time when the sceptical, the mischievous and the imaginative could have fun at the expense of the fearful, the speculative and the gullible. Photographs of flying saucers were mocked up using car wheel hubs, dining crockery, balsa wood and string. These were passed to newspapers with a suitably mysterious written piece about how the photographer had seen the craft land and little green men disembarked to study earth people. The press, happy for a sensational and topical story supported by a plausible picture were only too happy to print such stuff. The revelation that many of these were spoofs did little to stem the flow of such newspaper articles.

A while ago I bought a multi-LED light for use in a cupboard to which I don't want to extend electric lighting. A couple of rechargeable batteries power the twenty three LEDs that fill the space with a very useable glow. I was looking at the light shortly after my "UFO" experience and thought how much better those mocked up 1950s images would have looked if such a thing had been available in those days. So, with that in mind I placed it on my desk, turned off the lights, switched on the LEDs and took this photograph with the LX3 set to macro. I think it's an image that wouldn't disgrace "Close Encounters of the Third Kind"!

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.2
Shutter Speed: 1/125
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -0.66 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Sunlit church interiors

click photo to enlarge
In the days when I took photographs inside churches using a 35mm camera I almost always used a tripod. The older medieval churches and many Victorian buildings, through a combination of small windows and stained glass, have low levels of light, and so a stability aid was often necessary. In churches of the fifteenth and sixteenth century, and in certain later churches, larger windows and less (or more translucent) stained glass sometimes meant that the tripod could be dispensed with. There is a big difference in all churches between a sunny summer day and an overcast winter day, but the general principles outlined above still hold.

When I transferred to digital in 2000 the situation didn't change: a tripod accompanied my church photography. Anyone who has photographed in this way knows that carrying a heavy lump of metal around, and erecting and disassembling it on a regular basis detracts from the pleasure of photography. So, when Olympus introduced in-body image stabilisation in a camera that I was prepared to pay for (the E510), then I gratefully bought one. And I've never looked back. Today I don't often use a tripod. The image above was taken with my compact camera (the LX3). This too has image stabilisation (and a fast f2 lens), so it rarely requires a tripod. The smaller sensor means that it has good depth of field, even when wide open, and its high ISO capabilities are fairly acceptable, so it manages dark interiors quite well: in some respects better than the Olympus.

If I'm photographing church interiors with the architecture in mind I much prefer a bright but sunless day. When there is sunlight throwing shafts and pools of light in a predominantly dark interior the dynamic range of the subject is enormous, and getting detail in the shadows without the sunlit patches turing to white is next to impossible. However, when I'm looking to capture the light and mood of a church interior I often welcome a beam of sunlight through a traceried or leaded window: it makes the old stonework glow, adds an interesting focal point, and sharpens the carved details. It was these qualities that prompted today's photograph of the west corner of the south aisle that holds the font in the church of St Nicholas at Walcot in Lincolnshire. For another of my blog photographs of this church interior see here, and for a full-size version, here (click the image for maximum dimensions).

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.8
Shutter Speed: 1/250
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On