Winter churchyard, Long Sutton

click photo to enlarge
Lincolnshire has many notable medieval churches, and those of the Fens are particularly remarkable. They were built with the money from wool, and as you travel from one to the other you have the feeling that the parishes of the time each sought to outdo the other in terms of size, ornament, or inventiveness. Many of the churches have a feature that distinguishes it from its neighbours, be it the tower, the window tracery, the woodwork of nave and chancel, the carving of capitals, etc

In the case of St Mary in the large village of Long Sutton the size of the church impresses, as does the thirteenth century tower that was originally completely detached from the nave, and the Norman columns and arcades are unexpected after seeing the later exterior. However, the stand out feature of this church today is the tall lead-covered timber spire (in herringbone pattern) with its four lead-covered pinnacles, all of which are said to be the oldest in the country, dating from the early 1200s.

I took my photograph on a damp January afternoon with the remains of autumn's leaves decaying by the gravesides and the skeletal trees allowing a better view from the west than is possible when they are in leaf.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: St Mary, Long Sutton, Lincolnshire
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 17mm (34mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f4
Shutter Speed: 1/125 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Photographing spires

click photo to enlarge
Pevsner calls St Mary Magdalen, Newark, in Nottinghamshire, "among the two or three dozen grandest parish churches of England." It is quite big - 222 feet (68 metres) long, with a spire reaching 237 feet (72 metres). The tower and spire of Newark church are a particularly fine pairing and a landmark that can be seen from miles around. The tower itself is unusual in that it is "engaged" i.e. positioned flush with the west facade. This isn't common. The lower part was begun in the thirteenth century (Early English). At the level of the bell openings we have a crocketed gable indicating the fourteenth century (Decorated). The spire above was completed during the same architectural period.

Newark's church is surrounded by a group of narrow streets and a fine, open market place. None of the surrounding buildings are particularly tall and so the view of the tower and spire are uninterrupted. This makes photography difficult in so far as a lot of sky is inevitable if you wish to include the complete spire. One answer to this problem is to tilt the camera and use trees, lamps and buildings to fill the area that would otherwise be clouds or sky.

Today's photograph was taken in just that way from a nearby footpath called Church Walk. The verticals were corrected in post processing. A November sky is, to my mind, one of the best for church tower photography. There is usually some interest in the clouds, which when combined with the shadows of autumn and any glint of sun make for an atmospheric feel.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 16mm (32mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/400 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: 0EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Repairing Grantham church's spire

click photo to enlarge
On a recent visit to Grantham we went to see the parish church of St Wulfram where renovation work is being undertaken on its marvellous spire that sits on top of its beautiful tower. It is 282 feet from the ground to the tip of the octagonal stone needle, not the tallest such structure in the land, but by common consent, one of the best.When the finest parish church spires are being considered the Lincolnshire trio of Louth, Grantham and Brant Broughton are rarely absent, along with Nottinghamshire's Newark.

This spire dates from the medieval period. However, like most spires, it has undergone repairs on a number of occasions since it was first built. The inescapable fact is that every church spire is open to the full force of the weather. Wind, cold, heat and rain all take their toll of the stonework. In the case of St Wulfram's major rebuilding and restoration occurred in 1664, 1797, 1883 and 1945-7. It is now happening again. I read that the use of cast iron in the repairs of 1797 is one of the reasons that work needs doing now. Iron rusts and where it isn't separated from the stone by molten lead it can easily damage the stonework. £600,000 is being spent to take off the top 40 feet of the tower and repair it. That isn't going to be a quick job.

On our visit I looked up at the steel scaffolding on the west face of the tower and encasing the spire, at the nylon ropes, clamps, wooden planks and steel cables, aluminium ladders and reflected for a few moments. I'd recently read Ken Follett's "World Without End", a story about the fictitious town of Kingsbridge during the period of the Black Death. One of the main characters is engaged in building a tower and spire on a priory church, and the description of his labours on this task came back to me. As I looked at the scaffolding above I imagined all the metal replaced by wood, the nylon by hemp and further reflected that the means of working on such a structure today isn't too far removed from the methods of six or seven hundred years ago.

Incidentally, if you enlarge and look at the smaller photograph you'll see, on the left, the Beehive pub. In the tree nearby you'll also see the working beehive that makes this pub much visited by pub enthusiasts and unique among British public houses.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 140mm (210mm - 35mm equiv.) - cropped
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/250 sec
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Churches and bowling greens

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Speaking of English scenes and John Constable (see yesterday's post), I've often felt that the view in today's photograph represents a certain kind of England. The manicured lawn (itself an English obsession), is actually a bowling green. Now bowls is another English obsession; just about every village has a green, and certainly every town and city has multiple greens. Beyond the example in the photograph are large deciduous trees and hedges that mrk the border between the recreational space of the green and the sacred space of both the churchyard and the medieval church of St Mary and St Nicolas. What makes it even more representative is the fact that the bowling green is part of Ayscoughfee Gardens that surround Ayscoughfee Hall. These are now a museum and park having formerly been the residence of one of the richest and most influential men of the town.

The conversion of the houses of the rich gentry into either public or semi-public spaces is a theme that is commonly found in England, and frequently such buildings and grounds are next to the Anglican church. The twin powers of the local clergy and the state's local representative in the form of the lord of the manor often sat shoulder to shoulder in this way, each buttressing the position and influence of the other and hence the dominance of both. None of this, of course, influenced my decision to take this photograph. Here I was motivated by the lovely late afternoon light, the contrast of the church's stonework against the dark sky, and the long shadows falling across the perfection of the grass.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 15.1mm (41mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/250
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Beauty and Heckington church

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The church of St Andrew at Heckington is essentially a creation of the fourteenth century. It exemplifies a style that English architectural historians call Decorated. Anyone choosing Lincolnshire's best dozen churches would be likely to include Heckington. It is a large, town-size church - 164 feet long and 185 feet tall to the top of its spire - constructed of Ancaster stone located in a big village.

What makes Heckington church a beautiful and outstanding example of medieval church architecture? The exterior of the building is well-proportioned, though it could be argued that the spire is too short for its tower (or the tower too tall for its spire). However, it is the quantity and quality of the external decoration that sets it apart. Fine pinnacles and niched buttresses abound as do statues (38). Finials, crockets and gargoyles are abundant and elaborate. So too is the tracery of the windows with its trefoils, quatrefoils, mouchettes, daggers, ogees: those of the south transept (above) and east chancel window are classic, much quoted examples of the period. After an exterior of such quality the interior comes as something of a disappointment. However, it compensates by having a small collection of features - the font, a tomb recess, Easter sepulchre, piscina and sedilia, that transcend the ordinary and in some cases are of national significance.

Being a big church in a small churchyard, surrounded by quite close housing, Heckington is not easy to photograph in its entirety. The churchyard planting, though very good, adds to the difficulty. Consequently I was reduced to photographing a part rather than the whole, the tower, south porch and south transept, glimpsed between a couple of conifers.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 18mm (27mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/250 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Same lane, different lighting

click photo to enlarge
One of my regular visits to Lebury in Herefordshire coincided with a bout of minor illness and so my photographic foraging in the area wasn't as productive as it sometimes can be. However, my morning walk to collect my newspaper took me, as it always does, past the entry to Church Lane. So, when I'd collected my "Guardian" I went the few yards back on my route to take some photographs.

Anyone remembering my photographs of this narrow, pedestrians-only, lane that I took in February of this year might wonder what else there is to glean from the location. However, I've always believed that light, time of day, season and weather can make sufficient difference for anywhere to be worth photographing on several occasions. Here, I first took a shot that was compositionally as close as I could get it to the main photograph from my earlier attempt. Then I went back down to the entrance to the lane and took the view from the bollards up to the distant church spire. Late April's early morning light, combined with the position of the sun just to the right of straight ahead, made all the difference. So too did the dynamic range of the Nikon which I'm finding to be pretty good.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 27mm (40mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/200 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Fleet church and the via mirabilis

click photo to enlarge
A recent unusual and unwelcome bout of illness saw me more house-bound than usual, taking no photographs, and consequently using up my reserve of shots of postable quality. So, I've done what I usually do when my well of current images runs dry; I've looked through those that I previously classified as "possibles" and have selected a few of those for posting.

Today's offering shows the fourteenth century church of St Mary Magdalen at Fleet, a church in the Decorated style, a building of great grandeur, with a detached tower and spire. The A17 road from Sleaford to King's Lynn has  been described as "the via mirabilis...the finest procession of churches in England." A list of all the medieval buildings worthy of a visit on or near this highway is very long but highlights would include Ewerby, Asgarby, Heckington, Helpringham, Swineshead, Sutterton, Algarkirk, Holbeach, Fleet, Gedney, Long Sutton, Terrington St Clements and Tilney All Saints. Indeed, the start of that route is so rich in churches that the old Murray's "Handbook" for Lincolnshire records that, "from almost any church tower near Sleaford fifteen or twenty spires can be counted."

I took this photograph of Fleet church at the end of a winter's day, after the sun had slid below the horizon, before any stars could be discerned, and as the chill of oncoming night signalled an end to photography. I liked the way the man-made, disciplined silhouette of the church contrasted with the waywardness of the skeletal trees. From the position that I took the photograph it looks as if Fleet church has a traditional west tower. However, the smaller shot, taken a few years ago, shows that this is not the case and reveals the campanile to be one of the few medieval examples in Lincolnshire that is completely detached from the rest of the building.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 75mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/80
ISO: 1250
Exposure Compensation:  -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Louth steeple

click photo to enlarge

"That Louth parish church is one of the most majestic of English parish churches need hardly be said. It is what it is thanks to its steeple, which has good claims to be considered the most perfect of Perp (Perpendicular period) steeples." Nikolaus Pevsner (1902-1983) German-born British historian of art and architecture

The spired steeples of Lincolnshire's medieval churches individually and collectively surpass those of the churches of any other English county. From the austere beauty of the early broach spires of Sleaford and Frampton, to the fifteenth century magnificence of Grantham and Louth, with a host of others between, they are without parallel. Only a very few, such as Newark in Nottinghamshire, come close to matching the splendours on display in Lincolnshire.

When one considers this subject from the perspective of architectural history, and one looks at proportion, innovation in design and decoration, and the relationship between the rest of the church and the spired steeple then, despite Pevsner's praise of Louth, I think it's quite a close call between that church and Grantham. However, a spired steeple is more than a piece of architecture. It is also a major vertical accent in a town, and the way in which it contributes to views and vistas from near and far needs to be considered too. An example of a spired steeple that makes much less impact on its surroundings than might be imagined is that of Norwich Cathedral. When one considers Louth and Grantham, both in towns with hills, both without any real competition as far as tall buildings go, then it is Louth that clearly makes the greater impact.

Today's photographs were taken on the same, very changeable day. The darker shot is a view from Bridge Street, the sunlit one shows the church seen from Westgate, a fine street of distinguished, mainly Georgian, buildings. Both try to show something of the way this tower and spire are often framed by the surrounding buildings. This is something that happens very little at Grantham. Nor does Grantham's fine church advertise its presence from miles away over rolling hills as does that at Louth. Perhaps that's the next photograph of this building that I'll try to take.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 48mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/500 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Shots I've missed No. 172

click photos to enlarge
About a week ago as I was driving along the main road through Gosberton, Lincolnshire, I glanced across at the 160 feet tall spire of the medieval church of St Peter & St Paul. Fortunately the road was quite clear because I took my eyes off it for longer than I anticipated as I did a "double take". I'd spotted, half-way up the spire, the outline of a man climbing a ladder that had been fixed to it. Across his back, at right angles to his body, was another ladder. The man was a steeplejack, and I immediately knew what he was doing. A few weeks previously I'd been to the flower festival at the church, and a parishioner had told me that a new weather vane was soon to be fixed to the top of the spire. This man was clearly starting the preparatory work of assembling sections of aluminium ladder that stretch from the top of the square tower, up the tapering spire to its very tip. Once that was completed a scaffold platform would be erected around the top of the spire, allowing the work to begin.

My heart sank. Why? Because I didn't have my camera with me! One of the reasons I use Olympus cameras is the relatively small size of their bodies and lenses. That makes them easier to carry, and therefore much more likely that I'll have it with me. But, here I was with a wonderful photo opportunity and no camera. I could have wept! However, my mission was the weekly shopping, so I gritted my teeth and drove on, cursing my ineptitude. Yesterday, as I drove along on this week's shopping expedition, I looked at the spire expecting to see the weather vane in place. But, work had proceeded slower than I anticipated, and the men were in the process of assembling their work platform. Determined to seize the moment this time I took a small detour and grabbed a few shots of them about their business. Compared with the workers who construct the gleaming towers of Shanghai or Dubai, these men weren't very high above the ground. But unlike their high-tech counterparts they had the major disadvantage of working on an inclined stone surface that was built 500 to 600 years ago, and which has been subject to a damp climate for all of that time. Furthermore, a fall from the top of this spire would leave you every bit as dead as a fall from the latest Middle Eastern mega-tower. It certainly isn't a job that I'd relish.

My photographs aren't much to write home about, and, at the risk of sounding like a fisherman, can in no way compare with the one I missed. However, the subject of the images will be unfamiliar to many, and you might find them of interest. The moral of this tale is, of course, always have your camera with you because you can guarantee that the best shots will present themselves the moment you leave it at home. And the title of this entry? I thought it would make a good companion piece for Photographic Tip Number 127.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Image 1 (2)
Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 40mm (142mm) (80 (284mm)mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1 (7.1)
Shutter Speed: 1/800 (1/1250) seconds
ISO: 200 (200)
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 (-0.7) EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Converging verticals

click photo to enlarge
One of the problems in photographing tall buildings is converging verticals. If you want to include most or all of a tall structure you have to point the camera upwards causing the verticals to converge on a "vanishing point". In the days of film, and still today, photographers used "tilt-shift" lenses that can be adjusted to correct this effect. However, they are prohibitively expensive for most of us, and are largely confined to professional architectural photographers. But, the advent of digital imaging allows anyone to correct verticals in software with varying degrees of success.

Today's photograph shows my attempt to secure an image of the west elevation of the the 282 feet high medieval Gothic church of St Wulfram at Grantham in Lincolnshire. A gateway into the churchyard, nearby buildings and trees prevent the photographer moving back far enough to photograph the building without tilting the camera upwards. So, I took a shot from as far back as I could, knowing that I wanted to "process" it back to vertical. Back home at the computer it was easy enough to correct the verticals, but that resulted in a very vertically compressed image in need of elongating with bicubic interpolation. The width of the church is 79 feet, so to get the proportions right I had to stretch the building until it was 3.6 times as tall as it was wide. But, because I'd tilted the camera the relative sizes of parts of the structure, particularly the spire, were wrong in the original shot, and stayed wrong in the "corrected" version: even though it was "right" it looked wrong. Consequently I compromised with this version that understates the height of the church but looks more correct. In fact, in my photograph St Wulfram's is 2.6 times as tall as it is wide, and though it makes for a reasonable picture, it is a definite failure in architectural photographic terms.

This example of the problem of "converging verticals" is quite extreme: most photographs that need correction are able to be amended without the problems encountered here. Why was I doing it? Well, many consider this spire, the third tallest on a medieval parish church after Louth and St Mary Redcliffe, Bristol, to be the finest example in Britain. Though it has much to admire I wouldn't go that far, preferring the broach spires of the fourteenth century to later examples such as this one. However, I thought that if I could see it without the distortion that you experiences during a visit as you look up, and as you see it in an uncorrected photograph, perhaps my appreciation of its architecture would change. So far it hasn't.

photograph & text (c) T.Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 11mm (22mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/250
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Navigation by tower and spire

click photo to enlarge
As I cycle across the Lincolnshire Fen landscape I feel like a mariner sailing through a familiar archipelago. The flatness of the land gives views of several miles in all directions, and standing up tall like lighthouses or rocky islands, are medieval churches, markers that allow travellers to plot and mark their course through the web of narrow lanes.

A large, distant clump of trees usually means a village. But, in this region of large churches a spire or a tower usually rises above the tallest beech or lime, and the traveller who can tell one from the other can have no doubt of their position. So, Heckington's high tower but short spire distinguishes it from nearby Helpringham's rocket-like pinnacles attached to a tall spire, and from Donington's which is set well within its tower-top perimeter. Gosberton's thin, attenuated, needle spire cannot be confused with Quadring's shorter spire and tapered tower, and Swineshead's short spire with its stone corona at the base is different again. Swaton's green roof and embattled tower is very different from nearby Bicker's lower tower that barely peeps over the nearby pines and beeches. Towards The Wash, Fosdyke's lead spire is whiter than Long Sutton's which has clasping leaded pinnacles, which is in turn completely unlike Holbeach's spire that rises from a tower.

So, a compass is an unneccesary luxury in the Fens unless, of course, a mist or fog descends. Then, especially at the end of the day, the towers and spires take on a ghostly quality, near buildings look more distant, and churches can be appreciated solely for the beauty and individuality of their outlines, as in the photograph above of Swineshead.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 150mm (300mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On