Lighting the diagrid roof

click photo to enlarge
One the many areas in which architecture progressed in the twentieth century, and continues to do so in the twenty-first, is lighting. Architects have always built with an eye to light - either the sun to model the building and its details, or artificial light from flame or electricity to illuminate and give atmosphere in the darkness. New technology such as neon, fluorescent tubes, lasers, LEDs etc have widened the role of lighting and today it fulfils all its original roles and some newer ones too. Here are two examples of cinemas using lighting, one in a  traditional way, the other in a much more modern manner.

Today's photograph of the evening lighting of the interior of King's Cross railway station's diagrid roof (see the previous post) is nothing too innovative, but is very effective.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: Lighting of Diagrid Roof, King's Cross, London
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 42mm (84mm - 35mm equiv.) crop
F No: f5.4
Shutter Speed: 1/100 sec
ISO:640
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Diagrid roof, King's Cross, London

click photo to enlarge
The new Western Concourse at King's Cross railway station in London has a striking diagrid roof.It was designed by the architects, John McAsland and Partners in association with the engineers, Arup. The word diagrid comes from "diagonal grid" and describes a construction method that uses diagonal components very efficiently and economically - steel wall supports and roofs can be constructed that use twenty per cent less materials than would a more conventional steel frame.

The Russian engineer/designer/architect, Vladimir Shukhov (1853-1939, who built in the Constructivist style, is credited with the invention of this method of building. Examples can be seen in most major cities today. In London the "Gherkin" (30 St Mary Axe) and the Queen Elizabeth II Great Court at the British Museum feature the system.

Today's photograph was taken in an attempt to improve on an earlier photograph that I took of the King's Cross roof. On this occasion I used a wide angle lens rather than a fish-eye, but stayed with black and white rather than colour.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: Diagrid Roof, King's Cross, London
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 12mm (24mm - 35mm equiv.) crop
F No: f2.8
Shutter Speed: 1/160 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

New among the old, Lisbon

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Looking out recently across the rooftops of an old part of Lisbon, from a vantage on the Castelo de Sao Jorge, I reflected on the old, the new "old" and the new that was laid out before me. The tightly packed streets were hundreds of years old as were many of the houses that were still inhabited. Stone, render and tiles (called in England "Roman" style) were the main materials on display. A lot of money and effort had gone into keeping the buildings in good repair, and the owners, like owners across Europe, had adopted one of three approaches to their restoration work.

Some had used old materials (where possible) and kept the building looking as it had done for a long time i.e. they ensured it was and looked old. Others had used obviously new materials but the extensions and refurbishments were in the style of the old buildings of the locality: they were new "old". But one owner had decided that a new style would be used for a new extension and had built something determinedly modern. When I saw it I thought, "Well done!". I have no objection to conserving old areas, but I think there are places where a sympathetic new building can complement old buildings and offer insight and interest. I also think there is sometimes a place for a new building among old buildings, one that loudly proclaims itself and fits in with its surroundings in ways that are not always obvious.

The modest blue, yellow and red building does, I think, do the latter. Its colour and materials make it appear radically different from its surroundings, but everything else makes it sympathetic to the location - its size, openings, roof lines, even angles; as well as the fact that it is unseen to all except the immediate neighbours and viewers on the castle ramparts!

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 18mm (52mm - 104mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/500 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Concrete pantiles

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The first flat clay tiles (plain tiles) in England were probably those introduced by the Romans. They manufactured them here too and examples can still be found in the cities, towns and villas that were built during their time in these islands. Medieval masons found them and incorporated some in their walling, though they increasingly manufactured their own plain tiles as a fire-proof replacement for thatch.The pantile with its "S" shaped curve was introduced into England from the Low Countries in the seventeenth century. Its name derives from the old Dutch "dakpan" (roof pan) and the German "pfannenziegel" (pantile). They quickly became popular in the eastern counties of our country where thatch predominated and roofing stone was scarce. In these areas, by the eighteenth century, pantiles were the roof covering of choice for anyone with a reasonable amount of money. Today they are still manufactured, still used for roofs and there are still examples from the earliest times to be seen on roofs, continuing to protect the buildings that often date from centuries ago.

Twentieth century manufacturers of concrete tiles weren't slow to realise the beauty of pantiles and the ease with which they are laid, overlapping each other and hooked over wooden battens. My garage, a modern structure, is roofed with a variant of this design and the tiles have weathered to a quite pleasing dark, mottled hue that in every aspect, except south-facing, grows a patina of moss and lichen. In spring and summer the low parts of the undulating roof surface are favourite spots for house sparrows to sun themselves. When the snows arrive the tiles are quickly covered. However, I always look forward to the thaw because pleasing patterns are made by the retreating snow. Squally March snow showers have afflicted us recently and today's photograph shows the roof after a spell of sunshine had begun to do its work.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 37.1mm (100mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/2000
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation:  0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Crude but effective

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In my very first paid job I worked with a man who often described makeshift engineering work as "crude but effective". It's his phrase that always comes to mind when I gaze upon the nave roof timbers of the church of St Mary at Swineshead, Lincolnshire. The roofs of English medieval churches are well known for their structural timbers. Often these are ingenious, functional, elaborate, inventive and ornate. The angel roofs of St Wendreda at March, Cambridgeshire, and All Hallows, Dean in Bedfordshire, both exemplify the latter quality in particular. Victorian timber roofs are often well made too, and the work that the restorers of the nineteenth century did on older roofs is frequently very sensitive, retaining the essentials of the medieval carpenter's craft whilst replacing wood that has succumbed to death watch beetle and rot, and adding metal bracing as required.

However, sometimes I gaze upon a medieval timber roof that is severely functional and think that it has many of the qualities that might be seen in a great barn of the same age. Ornate has been eschewed in favour of utility giving a rustic feel to the whole enterprise. The roof of Swineshead church has some of those qualities. It perhaps comes from the use of timbers that retain something of the shape of the original tree trunk or limb. These irregularly shaped pieces catch the eye and suggest that either thrift or a "good enough" spirit underpinned the making of the roof. The roof was restored by Wilfred Bond in 1925.

At Swineshead the roof retains its original, steeply pitched, form (see photograph in yesterday's post). So many English church roofs were lowered to a very shallow pitch in the fifteenth century, to be hidden behind parapets, often invisible from ground level. This was done to stop the downward creep of the lead covering that became the favoured roof finish; unsurprising really in the country that was Europe's premier producer of lead. All of which makes me wonder just what is the age of the main timbers in the nave roof? Pevsner notes that the north aisle has a fifteenth century roof: are parts of the main roof earlier still?

photographs and text (c) T. Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 17mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/20
ISO: 1600
Exposure Compensation:  -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Taking the same photograph again

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The truth is you can never take the same photograph twice. Whatever steps you take to try and achieve this goal it will always end in failure. The light will be different, as will the sky, the shadows, the movement of living things, the colours - everything in some small or major way. Ah but, I hear you say, what about if you shoot an inert subject under studio conditions with a tripod-mounted camera and reproducible artificial lighting? Even in those conditions, and even if your eye can't discern a difference, a close examination of the electronic file that you produce will show it to differ from the previous one. However, I will agree that if you can't see a difference then to all intents and purposes there isn't a difference!

So, if we accept that it's extremely difficult to take the same photograph twice, why are many photographers loath to shoot the "same" shot again. Is it seen as boring or a mark of a lack of creativity? Having "done" that subject, are such people simply incapable of doing it again? It isn't all photographers - or painters for that matter. Many creative people recognise the value in studying and portraying a subject in different ways, in different light, at different times of day and year. It certainly suits me to re-visit a subject and try and improve on what I achieved earlier, or make something different of it.

Today's image is a case in point. Each time I visit the National Centre for Craft and Design (also known as The Hub) at Sleaford I walk to the top of the converted and extended warehouse building and take some photographs of the medieval church of St Denys and the surrounding roofscape. I posted such an image in February of this year, and on my afternoon visit last week I took another shot which I post today. The two shots differ principally in terms of light and field of view/aspect ratio, with the second one looking much more three-dimensional. What I did find interesting, however, is that the point at which I took the recent shot was not discernibly different from where I stood for the earlier one. It seems that, despite me knowing that I was taking a different shot, there was part of me unconsciously trying to make it the same.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 9.3mm (44mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.5
Shutter Speed: 1/640
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Folkingham church tower

click photo to enlarge
A year or so ago the tower of the church of St Andrew in the village of Folkingham, Lincolnshire, was missing some pinnacles. That was a great shame because the tower has a particularly fine set that surmount the four-stage Perpendicular period (fifteenth century) structure. It's not unusual for English church towers to have a large pinnacle at each of the four corners. Commonly these have battlements (merlons and embrasures) between them. It's less common, but not rare, for there to be subsidiary pinnacles placed mid-way between the corners. But to have smaller pinnacles set in the space between each corner and subsidiary pinnacle is much less common. St Andrew has this unusual and attractive arrangement. However, the years and the weather must have taken their toll on the stone and mortar because a strong wind dislodged a number of them, one of which fell through an aisle roof.

I visited the church shortly after this event when a tarpaulin covered the hole that the masonry had made as it crashed through the roof and rafters. You'd think that good fortune wouldn't enter into an incident such as this, but it did. The aisle into which the pinnacle fell is where the church's eighteenth century font - a fluted bowl on a baluster - stands, and mercifully it missed it! Nearby are the old stocks and whipping post that came from the House of Correction (an old prison) parts of which still stand on the edge of the village. These too escaped unscathed. On my most recent visit I took this shot of the tower with its renovated pinnacles, clearly marked by the bright newness of their stone.

The corner in which the church stands, off the Market Place, is surrounded by eighteenth century buildings with pantile roofs, and I decided to capture these in my image without including the contemporary clutter of the parked cars below.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 55mm (110mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/640
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Ludlow rooftops

click photos to enlarge
One of the best views that you can have of any old English town is from the top of its church tower. If the church is medieval or older then it is likely to be located at the heart of the settlement surrounded by the oldest buildings and the tight, narrow streets that they stand alongside.

A church tower that is open to the public - and quite a few are - not only gives a fascinating insight into a town, one that can't be had just by walking around it, but also limits the privacy of those who live in its shadow! I took quite a few shots from the top of St Laurence at Ludlow, Shropshire, that include people eating in "hidden" solitude in pub courtyards, window shopping in tight alleys, working in their enclosed gardens, or repairing windows and walls. All are seemingly unaware that their activities can be surveyed by anyone who pays the small fee to climb the spiral staircase to the summit of the 135 feet tall tower. However, today's photographs don't show these small human dramas: rather, they expose the materials, structure and layout of the closely packed roofs of the nearby streets. Plain clay tiles and slate seem to be the dominant roofing materials in Ludlow's centre. The proximity of Wales might account for the slate. Thatch would have been common in earlier centuries, but it is now mainly found in smaller settlements and country cottages and farms in Shropshire. Lead valley flashing is evident on many of the roofs, and is quite extensive between the three gables of "The Feathers." Note also, at the back of this hotel a bank of three air-conditioning units. Flat roofs are few and far between. The clay chimney pots in the usual cream or terra cotta seem, for the most part to be Victorian. What is interesting is those chimneys that have rectangular holes at the top of the brick stacks with no pot on top. The view from above gives a very real feel for the high density of building in settlements such as this.

On the first shot I deliberately kept the edge of the street market and the people at the top of the frame to give some scale to the image. The second is a companion piece to the post showing the facade of "The Feathers".

photographs & text (c) T.Boughen

Top (Bottom), where different
Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 40(80mm), 73(146mm)/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/400, (1/500) seconds
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

An angel roof

click photo to enlarge
The Gothic style of architecture that prevailed from the twelfth century until the fifteenth century was an international style in much the same way that the styles of the twentieth and twenty first century have been. It's true that it was largely confined to Europe rather than the world in general, but across England, France, Germany, Italy and many other nations the same construction methods, building forms and decorative devices were used. There were regional differences, but these were within the overall style, and made one nation's Gothic different in detail rather than substance.

English Gothic developed two main differences that made it stand out from that produced by other nations. In the fifteenth century the style turned towards what was later called "Perpendicular", a period when the ogee curves and naturalistic carving of earlier years was abandoned and replaced by repeated, flat "panel" tracery. The whole appearance of buildings was lighter due to bigger windows and larger spaces, and the refined decoration gave it a more austere look. This change was not seen in continental Europe. The other difference in English Gothic was the preference for wooden ceilings and roofs over stone vaulting. The great cathedrals and monasteries did have stone vaulting that became more intricate over time, as happened elsewhere in Europe. However, parish churches rarely used it, preferring quite sophisticated timber roofs of varying constructional types. The high-point in elaboration was undoubtedly the double hammer-beam design, a form that spanned a wide space without the need for a long tie-beam to bridge the gap from wall to wall. Other variations include the trussed rafter roof, the tie-beam design, the collar braced design, the barrel roof and the single hammer beam roof.

Today's photograph shows an example of this fine woodwork - a tie-beam nave "angel roof" with brackets resembling arch-braces - at All Hallows church (sometimes called All Saints) at Dean in Bedfordshire. The structure has been restored: some of the rafters, purlins and boarding have been replaced, but the principal members remain from the 1400s when it was first erected. Beautification was as important as utility to the people who created this roof. The decoration includes large angels that hold the Instruments of the Passion and musical instruments, infill of stylised foliage, dentil-like carving, bosses with birds, angels, rope and other devices and wall-plate friezes of leaves and angels. Such roofs were usually brightly painted and offered a glimpse of heaven to those in the congregation who turned their eyes upward. Today they continue to offer a marvellous sight to the interested visitor and photographer.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 11mm (22mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.8
Shutter Speed: 1/8
ISO: 200
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On