Beach Hut No.33

click photo to enlarge
Prior to my recent visit to the town I had only been to Mablethorpe in Lincolnshire once. That was several years ago, on a cold, dull spring day, as we passed through on our way elsewhere. Maybe the circumstances coloured my judgement somewhat but I wasn't impressed. My second visit was on a sunny, reasonably warm day, and though I wouldn't describe myself as wildly enthusiastic about what I saw, it wasn't quite the dire place that I remembered.

Mablethorpe is a small, brash seaside town with a modest promenade, fine sandy beach and several dashes of glitz. Oh, and caravans by the acre and beach huts a-plenty. I don't mind a bit of British seaside fun, though I do tend to prefer such places in the winter. From a photographic point of view, however, they provide a welcome contrast to the rural and more sedate places where I often find myself with my camera. Bright colours, surface sheen and jollity aren't bad subjects for the wandering photographer.

The beach huts at Mablethorpe stood out on our sunny day, many of them freshly painted for the coming season. Some were clearly municipally owned and quite uniform, others were privately owned with many bearing the stamp of the owner's individuality - quirky colour schemes, slogans, odd names, cartoon characters etc. And, it must be said, quite a few of the beach huts had seen better days and really needed some TLC..

Today's photograph shows part of one of the municipally owned huts in two-tone blue. Red blue and green were the favoured colours for these huts and each sported a large identification number. In one area they stood along the sea wall like the remaining teeth in a mouth full of extractions, the concrete base of a disappeared hut marking each cavity. I liked the diagonal shape that the sun placed on the verticals and horizontals of this example and the way it turned two shades of blue into four.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 50mm (75mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/400 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Signal box levers

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There was a time, during the Renaissance, when scientists spoke of the "six simple machines". Building on ancient Greek and Roman understanding they identified these as the lever, the wheel and axle, the inclined plane, the pulley, the screw, and the wedge. Each of these uses a single force applied as work on a single load to produce mechanical advantage. All more complex (or "compound") machines, such as the wheelbarrow, windmill, trebuchet or shears, were seen as composed of multiples of the simple machines. The industrial revolution made this elegant, if somewhat basic, understanding insufficient as a way of describing machinery and forces. However, it retains a place in the teaching of physics.

These thoughts came to mind as I stood in a railway signal box at Bressingham the other day. I think it was the first time I'd been in such a building. This particular example had been moved from Raydon Wood, Suffolk, to be used with the railway exhibits at the Norfolk gardens. I was particularly taken with the levers in the lever frame that the signal man used to control points, signals, gates etc thereby facilitating the safe movement of a train through the area for which he had responsibility. I'd often seen these through the window of a signal box. However, the elevated position prevented me noticing what I could see now - they are colour coded, numbered and each has its purpose described. By manipulating single levers, or combinations of them, the signalman determined the course of the train. Today this is done electro-mechanically but for decades muscle power, augmented by the lever did all that was required.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon 5D2
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 90mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/80
ISO: 400
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

321 Triptych

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My blog post on the last day of 2009 featured three photographs presented in the form of a triptych. For anyone who doesn't know, a triptych is either a single picture divided into three parts but joined together or three different pictures joined together. In each case they are presented as a whole. I first came across the term when studying Renaissance painting. Often the reredos of an altar was in the form of a painted triptych of the Crucifixion, Nativity or Annunciation, that could be folded up when the altar wasn't in use. The Victorians made the religious triptych fashionable again, and they are still being produced today in one form or another for secular as well as church purposes.

My first triptych was intensely secular: how else can you describe photographs of the detergent and grease left on the roasting tray as I cleaned it after the Christmas meal? The same can be said of today's photograph(s) - my second foray into the world of the triptych. I'd taken a photograph of the number on a new sign that indicated the floor of a building that I was in. As I ascended the stairs in the stairwell I discovered that a different colour had been used for the walls of each floor. So, with the idea of a triptych in mind I made sure I got a shot of the numbers for the floors of the first, second and third storeys. The glass or plastic that the signs were made from reflected the windows and stairs, and I made sure to include these reflections. What appealed to me about these images was the high gloss and the sharp, clear delineation of the numbers contrasted with the out of focus softness ofthe reflections. The sequence - either ascending or descending - seemed the obvious way to sequence them.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1 (i.e. 3!)
Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 7.9mm (37mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.4
Shutter Speed: 1/50
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On 

Silver Chamomile

click photo to enlarge
Some numbers are more significant than others. For example, 1, 2, 5, 7, 10, 12 and 100 seem to be put to more uses than, say, 9, 14, 17, 34 0r 95. Out of the infinity of numbers, however, a strong case can be made that the number 3 is the most noteworthy.

It has many important numerical properties - the first odd prime number, the first unique prime, the second triangular number (and the first prime triangular). Geometrical space has 3 dimensions (length, width and depth). In Arabic numerals (and the numerals of some other cultures) 3 is one of the few numbers to be represented by a glyph-like symbol directly expressive of the quantity (1 and, sometimes, 2 are the others.) The Christian tradition uses 3 to represents the Trinity (Father, Son and Holy Ghost) and is pictorially represented in many churches. It occurs extensively elsewhere in the religion, for example in the Theological Virtues (Faith, Hope and Charity), the 3 Kings, 3 Patriarchs, Christ's rising on the third day, and Peter's triple denial. Early man, and some cultures, it is said, used the three-pattern idea of "one, two, many", with quantities equal to or greater than 3 denoted as "many". Symbolically the number has been linked to time and space - past, present and future, and beginning, middle and end. I could go on - and am frequently accused of doing so! But, you get the point - 3 is a significant number, though in retrospect probably as strong a case can be made for 10, and possibly 5.

My photograph of three Silver Chamomile (Anthemis punctata ssp. cupaniana) promped today's ramblings. The plant on which they were growing in my friends' garden had many flower heads arranged in no particular order. However, as I circled it on an overcast afternoon, trying for an interesting composition, the alignment of these three appeared in the viewfinder, so I pressed the shutter.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 35mm macro (70mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/200
ISO: 200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On