Old sheds

click photo to enlarge
On a walk taken after June rain had begun to clear we came upon these old sheds that were once an essential part of a small holding. The last time we saw them there was a "For Sale" notice on the site. Now it had the word "Sold" fixed over it. It seemed the right time to photograph these dilapidated wood and corrugated iron buildings: who knows how much longer they will be there?

© Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 18mm (27mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3 Shutter Speed: 1/500 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

New photos in old subjects

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The other morning I was cycling a route that I must have cycled and walked more than a couple of hundred times since I moved to my present house. In so doing I passed a collection of old, quite large, agricultural sheds at the edge of a smallholding. These rickety buildings, now characterised by an almost complete absence of horizontals and verticals, have been the source of a previous blog photograph and several other shots that I deemed not good enough for publication. On this occasion, as I rode by, I noticed another potential photograph out of the corner of my eye and slammed the brakes on.

What I'd seen, perhaps accentuated by the bright but overcast light, was the juxtaposition of a couple of quite nice pieces of grain in the wooden planks of the black painted wall. A thin veneer of green lichen added a touch of colour to the otherwise black and grey wood. As I dismounted and looked more closely at them they reminded me of the black and white patterns on the hind quarters of a zebra. Taking out my pocket camera from the bike's bar-bag I selected a portrait-format composition, took my shot and pedalled on my way. As I did I reflected on a photographic truism that I've come to appreciate over the years. No matter how many times you walk (or cycle) a specific route, no matter how mundane it comes to seem, and no matter how many shots you take there down the years, there are ALWAYS more photographs that will either present themselves to you, or which you can search out. The variations in light, time of day, season, weather, and in the fluctuating capabilities of your brain and eye ensure that it is so.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.8
Shutter Speed: 1/100
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Viewing distance, size and landscapes

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There are many factors that affect our appreciation of a photograph, but today's image made me think again about two that are linked, and that are crucially important: viewing distance and size.

The increasing use of notebook and tablet computers has slowed the rise in the average dimension of computer displays. Desktop systems still, generally, have the biggest displays, and often they are the best quality. As far as the appreciation of photographs on screens is concerned the increasing resolution of the newer devices' smaller displays has only partly compensated for the trend to smaller screens, but as with photographic prints, viewing at the closer distance that tablets require shows the image to better effect than the same display seen from further away. It is widely held that, in general terms, the best viewing distance for a picture (including a photograph) equates to the length of its diagonal, and people naturally gravitate to this kind of point. That being so, we scrutinize small images from nearer viewpoints than larger ones.

But what is it that determines the size we make that image? Often it's to do with where it will be displayed, sometimes impact is the governing factor, and other times the subject is crucial. As far as subject matter goes I've always found that the force of certain photographic subjects depends very much on the size at which they are displayed on a screen or seen in the form of a print. Portraits, subjects with bold contrast, and quite a lot of reportage are often fine in relatively small sizes. However, landscapes, particularly those where the mid-ground and background take up a significant area of the whole lose crucial detail when small and frequently benefit from being displayed as a big print or screen image.

I thought this when I reduced the size of today's photograph to make the 700 pixels wide web image for the blog: a lot of what I liked about it disappeared. So, rather than say any more on this subject, decide for yourself by comparing it with the 1250 pixels wide version, itself a significant reduction from the original 5616 pixels width.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 24mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/60 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Crossover craziness

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When it comes to the leading edge (or even the bleeding edge) of automotive development I'm clueless. But, I do consider myself to be observant, so if a trend develops it does eventually register on my consciousness. Which brings me to the "crossover" vehicle. For a while I've noticed cars appearing on our roads that are neither one thing or another: not a 3-box saloon, not quite a 2-box hatchback, and with elements of an urban 4X4 (a concept that still mystifies me): in fact, something of a mixture of the styling of the last two. I mean vehicles such as the Ford Kuga, Mitsubishi ASX, Peugeot 3008, Nissan Qashqai (or is it CashCow?), and the one whose advert caught my eye on the back of my morning newspaper, the second-generation Kia Sportage. The latter, by the way, describes itself as an "urban crossover" that "gives you the confidence to be a bit more adventurous". To support that statement it is shown on a traffic-free rural A-road carrying two unicycles on its roof-rack. How I laughed at the wit of the advertising agency that came up with that one.

Apparently, if my reading about this class of vehicle is correct, all crossovers are urban in essence and they may or may not have four-wheel drive suitable for "light off-road usage" (presumably parking on the pavement or cutting up the roadside verges), so quite how an urban crossover such as Kia's vehicle differs from a bog-standard crossover I can't begin to guess. But then perhaps I'm searching for a meaning and purpose that doesn't exist beyond marketing to the gullible. However, I did discover that some manufacturers prioritise "sportiness" over "ruggedness", and others do the opposite, so perhaps there's a nuance to the Sportage that escapes my untutored eye. That may also explain my puzzlement about the BMW X6, a vehicle that I described as "suffering from a personality disorder" in a 2009 blog post. Finally, I read that the "crossover" vehicle "has strong appeal to ageing baby boomers", which makes me part of the target demographic! Well, I won't be buying one because such a vehicle undermines three key design principles that I hold dear. Firstly, a product that purports to do two or more things invariably does them worse than products designed for a single purpose. Secondly, a product that relies on nonsensical advertising to find its market is likely to be nonsense, and thus to be avoided. And thirdly, I don't buy a product that is ridiculous unless ridiculousness is its intended purpose!

There is very little connection between crossover vehicles and today's photograph, but if, in the manner of a DJ segueing between tracks, I were to make one it would relate to the footwear I selected for our walk in the woods at Woodhall Spa in Lincolnshire. However, you'll be pleased to know that I'm not going to bore you further with that. Instead I'll say that the side of this corrugated metal shed appealed to me for two reasons - the pattern of shadows and the mixture of colours and textures, though I can see that, like a crossover vehicle, it won't be everyone's cup of tea.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 37mm
F No: 7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/50
ISO: 320
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Old sheds and paint jobs

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The expenses that our MPs have been claiming in order to carry out their role as elected representatives of the people continues to dumbfound the British public. How, one wonders, is an expensive repair to the clock tower of a country house eligible? How too a plasma TV, or a carpet at £70 per square yard, or a robot vacuum cleaner? And can one really stand up in the House of Commons and decry the bad system that allows such applications to be made, and to succeed, and then two days later submit a £1,081 claim for mortgage interest on a second home? Well, according to the Guardian newspaper of 11th December, the Leader of the Opposition manages to find no problem in so doing. And, if you're the Prime Minister, asking the state to fund the painting of your summer house - a small, octagonal wooden shed about eight feet across - to the tune of £500 (according to the Guardian) also seems quite reasonable. £500! To paint something that size! The fact that he thought it prudent to pay back the claim says something for his sense of what should and what shouldn't be eligible for tax payer support, but nothing about his understanding of how much a job like that should be in the real, unsubsidised world where most voters live.

I was thinking about that expensively painted shed when I took this photograph of some old Fenland sheds today. It's the second image I've taken of them. The earlier shot was taken as fog was clearing. This one was taken around mid-day with the low December sun throwing long shadows. The structures look like they've had not a single penny spent on them since the day they were erected, and as I took my shot I reflected that £500 would probably be enough for a complete refurbishment that would double their life span!

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f4
Shutter Speed: 1/640
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -0.66 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Too near the sun

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Daedalus was exiled to Crete because he gave Ariadne, the daughter of King Minos, the string that Theseus used to escape from the Labyrinth and the Minotaur. So, being a master craftsman, he came up with an escape plan that involved fashioning pairs of wings of wax and feathers for himself and his son, Icarus. However, the rashness of youth caused Icarus to spurn his father's advice and, flying too near to the sun, the wax melted causing the feathers to fall off the wings, and the rash boy to plunge to his death in the Mediterranean. In so doing he sparked a metaphor about "venturing too close to the sun" that has been pressed into service by writers down the ages.

I thought about this as I looked at my shot of some old sheds on Lincolnshire's flat Fenland landscape. An overnight frost and fog was being illuminated by the rising sun, and I tried to include some of the colours I could see being produced as the rays penetrated the cold air. However, I think I ventured too close to the sun and pink that I don't think figured in the colours of the sky, was introduced into the shot, perhaps by the light bouncing around the lens elements. However, I quite like the effect, and see it as an artifact of the photographic process akin to flare, noise or reduced dynamic range.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 40mm (80mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/200
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On