Wisbech port colours

click photo to enlarge
There has been a port at Wisbech since the medieval period. Of course, inland ports (Wisbech is over 10 miles from the sea) made a lot of sense when land transport was so limited by the size of carts and the speed at which they could travel. The town originally stood on the River Ouse but when the mouth of this river silted up and it was diverted to King's Lynn, the River Nene was made to serve the town.

The port became prosperous in the 19th century following the drainage of the Fens.  The area was noted for the  largest grain market outside London. Ships from Wisbech sailed down the Nene to The Wash, and from there took agricultural produce up and down the eastern coast of Britain and across the North Sea. Returning ships imported a variety of goods but notably coal and timber, the latter from the Baltic region. Trade with the Baltic continues today as does the import of timber, some of which can be seen in the photograph. A fortnightly service runs from Wisbech to Riga in Latvia.

As we walked past the docks the other day the bright blue of the sky was set against the red of a crane and the yellow warning triangles on the flood defence gates. This conjunction of primary colours seemed a good subject for a photograph.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: Primary Colours, Port of Wisbech, Cambridgeshire
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 14mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/1250 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Chairs, posteriors and primary colours

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What are the chances that anyone who buys and sets up cafe chairs that are red, blue and yellow will choose a centre-piece for each table that isn't green? Very slim I'd say because those four colours (sometimes its three of them) are presented to us as a group so often they seem to be a natural combination. I've done no research on this matter, but it seems to me that this wasn't the case until the revolution in art, printing and design of the early twentieth century. Before that time colours were often more subdued, or where bright were used sparingly as highlights, or were more subtle. Today the colours are almost mandatory in children's toys and are frequently seen in graphic design, architecture, packaging, even beach huts - and much else.

Consequently it came as no surprise to find a cafe in Old Spitalfields Market in London where the owner had chosen red, blue and yellow chairs, or that the table decoration was a pot of green leaves. Nor was it surprising that the designer of the chairs had taken little account of the human form in his choice of shape and materials. However, none of that dissuaded me from thinking that the scene might produce an interesting photograph.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: Market Cafe Chairs, London
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 47mm (94mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/100 sec
ISO:1250
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Death, dignity and helium

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The popularity of releasing helium filled balloons and watching them float away into the wild blue yonder shows no signs of abating. It's now reasonably widely known that the earth's supply of helium is finite and dwindling (despite it being the universe's second most common element), and that more pressing uses for the gas exist e.g. in medical MRI scanners, welding and industrial leak detection. And yet, every year races involving hundreds of helium balloons are organised, often to support a charity, and millions of party balloons are inflated with the gas. It may be that mankind, one day, finds a substitute for helium, but until then many scientists advocate a more responsible husbanding of this important resource.

A while ago I came upon a shiny, red helium balloon that had attached itself to the metal fence that surrounds an electricity substation. It had clearly been snagged for some time because it was abraded and beginning to fade, the metallic coating showing grey beneath the paint. On the side facing me (upside down) I could read the word "dignity". Behind the balloon was a yellow warning sign, one of the many placed on the fence at regular intervals, warning of "Danger of Death": not unreasonable considering the high voltage apparatus inside. As I gazed on the fluttering balloon it occurred to me that this happenstance juxtaposition had put "death" with "dignity" in close proximity and that the three primary colours - red, blue and yellow - were also part of the photographic composition that was forming in my mind. So, reflecting that a "death with dignity" is something we all wish for when the end finally comes, I took my shot and continued on my way.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 20.9mm (56mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/800 sec
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 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

King's Lynn buoys

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Earth colours and subtle, matching hues are all very well, but sometimes, for a photographer, there's nothing better, than to happen upon some good, strong primary colours. I did just that the other day when I visited King's Lynn in Norfolk. I'd been to the particular location before, and knew that it was the place where buoys used in the River Great Ouse and The Wash are renovated and re-painted (see previous photographs here and here). However, nothing prepared me for the brilliance of the colour I encountered. Perhaps it was the deep blue of the sky, itself accentuated by the soft, white clouds, that gave the yellows and reds of the buoys their extra "punch". Or maybe it was the newly painted examples sitting on the boat, ready to be taken to their turbulent moorings. The fresh green and the battered green added to the effect, giving me the opportunity to take a photograph that was as much about the colour as it was about the subjects depicted.

Over the years I've often found myself, toward the end of a cold, dark winter, craving the colour that a sun higher in the sky, and the season of spring itself, promises. My bee-line to the first flowers in the garden usually beats the real bees, and the flowers that my wife buys to arrange in our vases during this period are also a draw. This year, in mid-February, I found myself manufacturing the effect of sun shining through the petals of a flower. I even stole the title and sentiments of George Harrison's "Here Comes The Sun" as a hook for the "reflection" as well as for the title of the post. However, in mid-August, after a summer that has had as much, and possibly more, sun as the average English summer, what excuse can I profer for gleefully photographing some brightly painted buoys. I can only plead a surfeit of rural vegetative greens and browns. It's true that Lincolnshire's landscape is punctuated by roofs of orange pantiles, and the over-arching sky is often of the deepest blue, but my photographic diet in recent weeks (quick trips to bustling Lincoln and the glitz of Skegness notwithstanding) has been pretty much one featuring rural "earth colours". So, like a schoolboy whose sweets have been confiscated, I was craving the sugar of primary colours, and I took the opportunity to get my fill in King's Lynn.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 11mm (22mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/1250
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On