Delusions from on high

click photo to enlarge
When it was suggested that Tony Blair should have a prime ministerial jet for international travel - popularly dubbed at the time "Blairforce One" - his chancellor, Gordon Brown, wisely scotched the idea. He judged, quite correctly, that it wouldn't play well with the British people. George Osborne, quite typically, doesn't appear to be showing the same good judgement, and I read that an RAF Airbus is to be converted for travel by senior ministers. The justification for the expenditure is that it will cost less than chartering aircraft or using scheduled flights, which is, again, quite typical of a government that knows the price of everything but the value of nothing.

It seems to me that it is salutary for a government composed largely of millionaires from wealthy families, who are privately educated and do not have to use many of the public services that those they govern must use, to use a more humble form of air travel, to know something of what the electorate experiences. However, I've come to expect double standards from people who can agree to their their own public sector salaries increasing by 10% while holding down those of lesser mortals in the the public sector to 1%. I'm sure that as they jet off on important business, by-passing the herds of plebeians shuffling through security checks and squeezing into their economy class seats, ministers will delude themselves that their luxury in saving the country money is the only motivation for their cossetted travel. And I'm sure we'll all agree that it is. Not.

Today's photograph shows a view of the Bay of Biscay from 37,000 feet. It includes four ships, the largest of which, a container vessel, is near the bottom right of the frame.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 12.2mm (33mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f3.5
Shutter Speed: 1/1000
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation:  0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Windless turbines

click photo to enlarge
As the rise and transformation of personal computing in recent decades demonstrates, specific technologies come and go. What I find interesting in this regard is how a continent such as Africa largely missed the desktop computer and laptop and went straight to the computer that is the smartphone. Clearly, the step-by-step evolution in computer technology that the industrialised nations have experienced is not the only way forward: it's possible to miss out a stage or two.

Here's an example of technology arising and then vanishing. A couple of centuries ago the area that is now Greater London was home to about three hundred windmills. There were several thousand elsewhere across the country. These were not the generators of electricity seen in today's photograph, but machine/buildings for milling grain and other products. Today there is but a handful of working mills, none of them commercial. With that in mind I wonder how long wind turbines will be generating a portion of our electricity requirement. I've read that the life-span of a turbine is about twenty five years on land and I imagine it must be less than that at sea. But, quite a bit of energy infrastructure is used beyond its sell-by date so it's likely they'll be around for a little longer than that. However, the fact is that it might be a new technology - one currently in development, or one yet to be imagined - that makes wind turbines redundant. When that day comes the wind "farms" that have sprung up on land and sea will be no more.

I have mixed views about wind turbines. I wish our politicians and energy companies would favour green power generation that is less visually intrusive, or even - heretical thought! - work seriously at reducing consumption. Yet, if they did, I'd lose a photographic subject that is undoubtedly interesting. I've taken quite a few shots of these tall structures at various Lincolnshire locations, including those offshore at Skegness. I took several more on a recent visit to that seaside resort. We arrived at the coast when the wind was barely perceptible, the sea was still, a light mist was clearing, and the sun was illuminating the stationary turbines. This particular image presents the white monsters looking benign and beautiful.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 112mm (168mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/500 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Dogs and me

click photo to enlarge

Many years ago, when my children were young we were on a beach in Lancashire when a large dog came racing towards us, ignoring the shouted commands of its owner. It jumped up at my sons, towering over them, frightening them, almost knocking them down. That was one of the few occasions in my life I've come up with a retort that I couldn't improve on after the event. I said to the dog owner, as she ran up assuring us that it "only wanted to play", "There's nothing like a well-trained dog, and that's nothing like a well-trained dog." My observation-cum-complaint didn't go down well with the owner, but then that was my intention. I must surely have heard those words somewhere before, I can't imagine I thought them up myself. But they came out with perfect timing as though they were all mine.

I have nothing against dogs. We had them when I was a child and I enjoyed them. I've known and liked many dogs that are good-tempered and well-trained. But I've also come across plenty that are none of these things due to the improper care they receive, or the way they are used to protect property, especially if it's a farm through which a public footpath runs. For many years I thought I'd have a dog when I retired, but I've reached the conclusion that a dog would restrict what we do far too much, so I'm very likely to remain dogless.

The other week, when were on Skegness beach, that episode with my children and the dog came to mind once more. It often does when we see dog walkers on a beach. I well understand the desire of owners to let their dogs run free in the wide open space because the animals visibly enjoy the experience. I just wish those who have no control over their dogs wouldn't do so. However, I'm pleased to say that those providing the human and doggy interest in today's photograph were impeccably behaved.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 31.8mm (86mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/800 sec
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Rhythm and hues

click photo to enlarge
Of the three major pairings of complementary colours my favourite by a large margin is blue/orange.  Red/green I can appreciate with flowers, leaves and grass - in fact, we have red geraniums (pelargoniums) every year because of the big return you get from their petal colour next to their leaves. Purple/yellow, leaves me cold though; too garish by far. However, I enjoy that delicious blue/orange mix so much that sometimes I barely realise I'm using it, though usually it's a very deliberate choice. Examples in the blog include these trees and buildings, these flowers and their deliberately chosen background, this Euphorbia, ladybird and background, and these spring maple leaves against a blue sky.

What artists have realised down the centuries and what photographers learnt from artists is that some of the qualities of "pure" complementaries extend to "near" complementaries. If, for example, you put brown (rather than orange) next to blue the pairing offers attractive qualities that derive from the fact that, as a colour, brown is close to orange. I'm sure it's this that explains why my preferred combination for split toning is blue/sepia. I've tried other pairings such as cyan/green, magenta/orange and red/sepia, but have always gravitated towards my favoured colours (see this building interior and this sea-front promenade).

Perhaps similar reasoning can be adduced for my liking of the colour pairings in today's photograph. It shows tongues of rippled sandy Lincolnshire beach at low tide. I liked the repetitive rhythm of these small spits and I isolated sections of them with a long lens. The title of today's blog is a blatant steal and amendment of an off-licence I saw in Barton upon Humber, one of a chain apparently, called Rhythm and Booze, which is itself a play on the name of the style of music of almost that name.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 120mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/250
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Photography, fishing boats and the sea

click photo to enlarge

I've lived near the coast and spent quite a bit of my time photographing it for a fair chunk of my life. That's not unusual, of course, when you live on a relatively small island. However, one of the characteristics of the British Isles, England in particular, is that it is densely populated and and its landscape can change quite markedly over short distances. A consequence of this is that some people don't visit the coast much because it requires a journey on heavily used roads or public transport. Others forsake regular visits because there are competing attractions in the form of mountains, lakes, moors, woodland etc.

I've always enjoyed the coast, not least because of the sense of space that you find there and the quality of the light that positively invites photography. Then there's the distinctive sights that are also manna to the photographer. Whether it is shingle or sand, salt marsh or sea cliffs, harbours, bays, promenades or whatever, the coast is a great place for photography. It's also, I find, a location that encourages you to slow down and contemplate as you gaze out over the flickering water. Small wonder that people often retire to a seaside location.

One of the things I often reflect upon by the coast is the fishermen that I see in small, inshore boats. Their life is, I know, dangerous and not without its travails, both physical and financial. And yet, on a sunny, summer day with the wind a benign zephyr and the water quiescent it appears to have its attractions. Perhaps without such days people wouldn't continue in the occupation: stormy weather and the icy blasts of winter must have their compensations. My photograph shows an Aldeburgh fisherman attending to his catch accompanied by gulls feeding on his scraps. His was the sole craft on the sparkling water that morning, an image of easy tranquillity as the tide reached its maximum height. For my shot I positioned the boat off centre and used the coiled rope on the beach as a visual counterweight. Black and white seemed to suit this fairly minimalist composition better than the original colour.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 47mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/500 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Southwold and the weather

click photo to enlarge

"The English winter - ending in July, to recommence in August"
Lord Byron (1788-1824), English poet

Given that he devoted so much of his life to his poetry, his love affairs, travel in the Mediterranean region and revolutionary activities, it's a wonder that Byron noticed the English weather. Perhaps the poet in him drew his attention to it and his experience of hot, sunny climes caused him to lament its relative coolness. As a summary of England's weather, however, he was woefully inaccurate, though today's photograph might seem to suggest otherwise.

It shows the Suffolk coastal town of Southwold, renowned as a watering hole of the English middle classes. I took the shot on August 2nd on a day that was dull, cool, windy, showery, warm (in spells) and sunny. English days often involve multiple kinds of weather and this early August day was one such. What it wasn't was wintry. In fact, I don't imagine that Byron's words were meant to be taken literally. Rather, the intention would have been humorous, making a joke of England's weather as so many do. It reminds me of the remark by Michael Flanders, the late English actor and singer: "It's spring in England. I missed it last year. I was in the bathroom."Many have seen the weather as an influence on the character of the English. The Victorian writer, Charles Kingsley, said in his poem "Ode to the North-East Wind" (1858), " 'Tis the hard grey weather breeds hard English men." Whether that be true or not, shortly after I'd taken this photograph I noted several men and women swimming in the dark grey sea, to be joined by quite a few more as the clouds were whisked away on the wind to be be replaced by more prolonged sun.

I took my shot from Southwold's pier. This is one of the few around our coast that are not Victorian or Edwardian constructions. Consequently it has less of the ornate, decorative metal work characteristic of the older structures, little by way of brash colour, and is altogether a more tasteful, sedate sort of pier, eminently suitable for its location. Some of the town's beach huts can be seen lining the promenade. The uniformly white and blue row to the right are available for hire: The multicoloured collection nearer the centre are some of the many privately owned examples, each loudly (though sometimes subtly) asserting its individuality

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 100mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/1000 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Bridlington harbour, Britain and the sea

click photo to enlarge

According to the Ordnance Survey the farthest point from the sea in Great Britain is near the farm of Church Flatts outside the village of Coton in the Elms in Derbyshire. From that location to the nearest sea - at Fosdyke Wash, south of Boston in Lincolnshire - is 70 miles (113 km). That information tells you that for the people of our island a trip to the coast is a relatively easy proposition. Nonetheless, people being people, quite a few go there rarely, if at all.

I grew up in the Yorkshire Dales, an area of valleys, hills and mountains. The nearest sea to me at that time was about 30 miles distant, and I loved to go there. I liked the sea so much that later in life I spent fifteen years living by a tidal estuary with the North Sea only 16 miles away and twenty years living a mile from another tidal estuary a mere two miles from the Irish Sea. During those decades I spent a lot of time by the sea, enjoying the light, the open space, the air, the sights of the coast and offshore, and revelled in its ever changing quality. Today a trip to the nearest sea is about 11 miles. However, that location is the saltmarsh edge of The Wash, and whilst this is fine for bird watching and has potential for photography, it isn't the kind of coast I've known and came to enjoy. I once again have to travel about 30 miles for that experience. Consequently, when I recently went to Sewerby in East Yorkshire I took the opportunity to spend an hour or two in nearby Bridlington with its working harbour.

Boats attract photographers like ripe fruit attracts flies, and I wasn't the only person that day pointing their camera at the many and varied boats tied up there. The foreground of today's shot shows a few small, probably pleasure or hobby boats tied up on the landward side of the harbour. The centre now has pontoon jetties for yachts and launches, but the seaward side of the harbour, in the lee of the curving harbour wall, the inshore fishing vessels and landing facilities can still be found, looking much as I first saw them forty or so years ago.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 17mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/500
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Time of the signs

click photo to enlarge

Near my house, at the entry to a short, scenic lane, with old houses, fine gardens, sturdy trees and a stream alongside it, there is a sign on a pole. It says "Unsuitable for heavy vehicles". Despite the fact that any driver of such a vehicle would have to have the visual acuity of a mole in sunglasses and the intelligence of a dead ant NOT to notice that the lane was unsuitable for his lorry, someone, somewhere, felt it needed spelling out in the form of a permanent sign that disfigures the locality.

The modern world seems obsessed with signs, particularly those designed to be read by drivers. We must have long passed the point where it is impossible for even the most diligent and alert person behind the wheel of a vehicle to take note of every piece of information that highway engineers have put before them. Indeed, there must be an increasing number of locations where to attempt to do so must surely impair your ability to drive safely. In other words they risk becoming counter-productive, encouraging that which they are designed to prevent. When the present government came to power one of the minor policies it gave voice to (and one of the few that I had any agreement with) was the desire for a reduction in the number of signs along our roads. But, they seem to have failed to achieve this goal just as they they are failing with many others. I recall a survey a few years ago suggesting that a large percentage of motorists had forgotten what a significant percentage of the road signs mean, so anyone thinking that a reduction in signage would be detrimental to road safety needs to factor that into their calculations too.

Today's photograph, taken on the beach at Wells-next-the-Sea, Norfolk, has two signs, and I'm not ashamed to say that I don't know what they mean. If I were a sailor then I would make sure I did know. However, I have no interest in boats small or large, so I endanger no one with my ignorance. The fact that they are two different colours means, I suppose, that they must do more than simply mark the position of the groynes. From what little knowledge I have I think the green sign may be one of a pair (with a red one) marking the deep water channel. However, the purpose of the yellow one eludes me. By analogy with road signs they are probably warning markers because they are triangular. But I could be wrong, and beyond that, and despite a search I made, I'm clueless.

Of course, it was those green and yellow triangles, stridently coloured to make them noticeable, set against the blue of sea and sky that prompted my photograph, illustrating once again that the nature of something doesn't necessarily preclude it from being the subject of a photograph.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 105mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/1000 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On