Recurring photographic subjects

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As the years go by and the photographs accumulate I have become aware that my opus features a number of photographic themes that make regular appearances. There are broad themes such as contre jour shots, boldly asymmetry, deliberate blur and silhouettes. And there are subject themes, for example chairs, church vaulting, flowers and architectural details. Then there are the street lights.

Even before my post of a few days ago of the gull on one of several slender lights at Skegness I was aware that I had a penchant for street lights new and old. As I've been processing the shots from a visit to Seville this predilection has become obvious, and I've already posted two photographs that feature them. Well, here's a shot that features not only street lights but also silhouettes - two recurring themes in one photograph! It was taken on a misty morning as the sun was beginning to burn its way through to yet another deep blue sky. The sun's disc as it briefly revealed itself attracted my attention and I dialled in a little underexposure to emphasise the silhouettes of the ornate street lights, the bell tower, cypress tree and roof top aerials.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: Silhouettes - Street Lights etc - Seville
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 39mm (78mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/1250 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

La Giralda

click photo to enlarge
The tower of Seville Cathedral, La Giralda, is with the Patio de los Naranjos (a cathedral quadrangle with orange trees), the principal remains of the Moorish mosque that was built in the late 1100s. From the early 700s to the early 1200s the southern and central Iberian peninsula were controlled by the Moors. Most was reconquered at the end of that period though Granada remained Moorish until 1492.

The tower of La Giralda was built in the 1190s as a minaret. The tower with its Moorish arches and latticework decoration that stretches from ground level to the bell stage is all of this period. It originally was topped by a recessed domed tower. In 1401 much of the mosque was demolished and the building of the cathedral commenced. Various different tower tops were tried but in 1568 the present classical arrangement was chosen. Classical balusters were also installed to embellish the Moorish openings lower down the tower. Interestingly when you climb La Giralda it is not up steps. Instead ramp after ramp takes you to the level of the bells where fine views over the city can be enjoyed.

Seville is a city with many fine, ornate street lights, particularly in the old town. For my photograph of La Giralda I stood near one of these and composed a shot that included the pair. The different temperature and technology of the lighting in tower and lights produces different colours on the stonework. The smaller photograph shows the cathedral tower framed by one of the old town's narrow streets, Calle Mateos Gago. As ever photographs at night always seem to work better if a little of the day's light remains in the sky. Incidentally, what looks like water on the cobbles of the street is in fact nothing more than the shine produced by the feet and wheels of countless people and vehicles.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: La Giralda, Seville
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 25mm (50mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.8
Shutter Speed: 1/60 sec
ISO:800
Exposure Compensation: 0EV

Castor's church tower

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Castor is a village that has moved about a bit. Not in the physical sense, but rather in terms of the local authority of which it is a part. It was originally in the Soke (or Liberty) of Peterborough, a historic anomaly associated with the city and diocese. Then it became part of Northamptonshire for a while and finally it was subsumed in Cambridgeshire (along with Peterborough). Older citizens of the village can be forgiven for not remembering where they live.

That is not the only interesting feature of the village however. It also has, buried beneath the ground, the remains of a palatial group of Roman buildings. Its church has a dedication unique in England, to St Kyneburgha, the daughter of Penda, King of Mercia (d.664). She is alleged to have built a monastery at Castor. Then there is the church itself, or more specifically its tower. There are many churches of cathedral rank that can boast a tower of the Norman period that is ornately decorated. However, there can be no parish church with a tower so richly embellished. The chevrons, billet, lozenge and fish-scale diaper, corbel table, windows, bell openings and blank arcading all make for a richness that captivates the eye and makes one think anew about the supposedly crude work of the builders and masons of the 1100s.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title:Church Tower, Castor, Cambridgeshire
Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 21.8mm (59mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f4
Shutter Speed: 1/1600 sec
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

St Mary, Whaplode, Lincolnshire

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It is customary for English churches to have a bell tower that rises above the top of the nave and chancel roofs. In England it is most commonly found at the west end of the building and connects with the nave, as in this example at Aswarby in Lincolnshire. If it isn't at the west then it is likely to be a crossing tower situated between the chancel and the nave, and often featuring transepts, giving the plan of the church the shape of a Christian cross. A few, often Victorian churches have a bell tower at the east of the building. Where there is no bell tower a low bellcote is usually found on the west end of the nave roof (as at Gosberton Clough, Lincolnshire). This is a short, open tower, only a little bigger than the one or two bells that it shelters under its pitched roof.

However, there is another position for English church towers - detached, or almost detached. Where a tower is completely detached, as at Fleet in Lincolnshire (see small photo) English usage is to refer to it as a campanile. This takes the Italian name for all bell towers and applies it in this particular circumstance. Sometimes the tower is attached by a short corridor, a porch, or some other extension that links it with the main body of the church. That is the case above, in the medieval church at Whaplode in Lincolnshire. Was it once completely detached but subsequently joined to the main building? We don't know, though that is likely to have happened with some "semi-detached" towers.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: St Mary, Whaplode, Lincolnshire
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 9mm (18mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/2500 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Photographing spires

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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

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

Not so anonymous buildings

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Presented with today's photograph I imagine many people would comment on the beehive-like arrangement of the identical windows, or think of faceless corporations hidden behind the glass and steel. Perhaps their mind would reflect on the anonymity and soullessness of modern life. Certainly the image would, in the main, prompt negatives rather than positives. And yet, this particular building doesn't, I think, deserve that kind of negativity. Of all the tall towers built in Britain in the last 50 years this is one of the better examples, a structure that has worn well, one that is distinctive due to its shape, location and size, and which, due to its excellent detailing, still looks good from close-by.

From 1990 until 2010 Cesar Pelli's tower at 1 Canada Square in Canary Wharf, London, was Britain's tallest building. The Shard overtook it during the course of construction and its 1,004 feet (306 metres) far surpasses the Canary Wharf tower's 770 feet (235 metres). However, the distinctive pyramidal cap, its extra height among the surrounding towers, and its location away from the City make it both distinctive and distinguished both during the day, whatever the weather, and at night. When I'm driving on the M11 into London it's the first building I notice as we crest the low hills to the north of the city.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 48mm (72mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/800 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Where do all the straw bales go?

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There was a time, not so many decades ago, when some English farmers burned the straw on the fields after getting in the cereal crop. This environmentally damaging solution to what to do with the left-overs from harvest has long since been banished to history. The fact that it caused dangerous driving conditions on nearby roads was at least as strong an argument as that concerning greenhouse gases. The loss of nutrients provided by the burnt straw notwithstanding, few lament the demise of burning in the fields.

And yet, burning does actually remain one of the ways that straw is used. Over the past couple of years a straw-burning power station has been built and opened near Sleaford, Lincolnshire. There the bales are converted into electricity with considerably fewer environmental consequences than direct burning (though inevitably with some repercussions), and local farmers have an outlet for their "waste". I'd be interested to know the ranges of use to which straw is put today. Animal bedding remains, of course, and some houses (very few actually) have been built using the rectangular bales as wall insulation. A couple of years ago I spoke to a farmer who was selling bales to the Ministry of Defence to use for demolishing some disused fortified buildings by fire! Straw board is still made and used and a proportion of straw is ploughed back into the soil. However, I see veritable mountains of bales dotted around Lincolnshire of which very few look older than a year. One of my tasks this autumn must be to answer this question - "Where do all the straw bales go?"

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 45mm (67mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/800 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Is grey the new magnolia?

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I ask the question posed in the title not because I'm some sort of fashion sage or guru, or an arbiter of taste, or an expert on interior or urban design. No, what prompts my question is an article that I read in The Guardian entitled, "From Apple products to DIY and fashion: how grey became the colour of the decade."The author of the piece describes the colour as embodying "the spirit of the post-boom era", hard-wearing and practical. She goes on to note its presence, even ascendance, in clothing fashions, interior walls and on doors, in upholstery, sports wear, nail varnish, office and domestic equipment and much else. It is seen to be smart, elegant, neutral and a good complement to other colours.

I have noticed a slight resurgence in the use of grey but not the all-conquering shift suggested in the article. Perhap I'm not persuaded by her argument, in part, because we used it on some internal wall in the mid-1970s, and I've noticed it being used reasonably regularly since that time. But, I have seen the "tide of green paint" (particularly the sage variety) that I blogged about a while ago watered down by shades of grey that are used in similar circumstances by the same demographic. And I've seen and enjoyed its use in architecture, particularly on facades (see above). But, as for choosing grey because it fits the "spirit of the post-boom era": well, that's a stretch too far for me. It makes as much sense to suggest that it's part of the search for the new magnolia, a need for a change in the backdrop of living rooms, a colour against which other points of colour display well. Black, white, cream and grey serve this purpose especially well. This well-known among the photographic fraternity. Card mounts around photographs often feature one of these colours. Photographers who use Photoshop or one of its equivalents also appreciate the value of a mid to dark grey background against which to display digital images. In fact, why do you think I chose the colours I did for this blog!?

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 28.5mm (77mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/1250 sec
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Photographing St Botolph

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A shopping expedition to Boston, Lincolnshire, when the day's appearance said spring, but the air temperature and wind said the end of winter, found me, not for the first time, pointing my compact camera at the tower of the medieval parish church of St Botolph. And what a tower it is. Many towns and cities are defined and remembered by a noteworthy building and as far as Boston goes this is the one. As I've mentioned elsewhere it is also known by the nickname, "The Stump". Its tower is an oddity of Gothic architecture. The medieval masons started building upwards and just kept on going. When you look at the layers that are piled one on the other it appears that a spire may have been contemplated at one point but then they rejected that conventional topping to the tower. Up and up it went until finally they decided to top it with a pierced, octagonal lantern.

Since that time "The Stump"
has been synonymous with the town, a beacon for ships approaching the port and a marker for weary travellers crossing the flat Fenland hinterland. When you walk around the town the tower rises above the roof tops allowing you to orientate yourself. Only when you go into the market place or nearby across the River Witham do the nave and chancel, themselves almost of cathedral scale but small relative to the tower, make an appearance. The classic photograph of St Botolph is from the town bridge. The appearance of a new "bow-string" design footbridge has changed that view somewhat and on my recent visit to the town I took a shot of the bridge and the tower, though not from the town bridge. Another photograph that suggested itself to me was the tower rising from the blossom of a cherry tree that grows in the lawned precinct immediately adjoining the church. However, the shot I took on Church Street, a location where I've photographed before, is the one I like best. It has the name of a pub - The Britannia - and a couple of promotional union flags, in the foreground, with the tower beyond. I liked the contrast of the bright red with the distant stonework.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen






Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 28.5mm (77mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/1250 sec
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Saxon architecture

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There are 238 churches in England with traces or substantial parts that are of Anglo-Saxon, that is to say pre-Conquest, origin. The Saxons were fine sculptors and illustrators who gave primacy to the line above all else. They were a people who built mainly in wood and for this reason none of their houses have survived. Many of their churches were made of wood too, and of these only one example remains, at Greensted, near Ongar, in Essex. However, they did build churches in stone. Some, such as that at Bradford-on-Avon, Wiltshire, is as it was first built. Most of the others have been enlarged during the Norman or the Gothic periods.

The church at Barton upon Humber, Lincolnshire, was originally a small Saxon building of the late 900s. It consisted of three parts: a western porticus/baptistery, a 22 feet by 22feet (exterior measurements) tower that served as a nave, and a chancel 15 feet long. This was extended in the mid-eleventh century and the twelfth century, but this later work was taken down when a larger extension was built in the thirteenth, mid-fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. What is surprising, but not unique, is the fact that the original Saxon work was allowed to remain. Perhaps it was because the tower continued to serve its purpose and the cost and difficulty of replacing it couldn't be countenanced.

A visitor to the church today is struck by the bright, airy space of the Gothic nave, aisles and chancel compared with the diminutive, badly lit spaces of the Saxon structure. The quality of workmanship and the contrast between the amount and style of decoration is also marked: the Saxon looks positively crude next to the Gothic. And yet, this crudity has an elemental sturdiness that is quite appealing. Capitals are not elaborately carved and decorated with faces and leaves as in the Gothic nave, rather they are simple, heavy blocks. The arches - above we see the one linking the tower with the porticus/baptistery - are narrow due to the semi-circular head and the understandable caution the Saxon builders exercised when spanning spaces in this way. But decoration of a sort there is. Those outer strips that frame the arch using alternating long and short strips of stone (often called, appropriately enough, "long and short work") are decorative with no structural purpose. It has been conjectured that these strips (they are visible on the outside of the tower too) hark back to the Saxons' wooden constructions.

This building is now in the care of English Heritage and it is their lighting that drew me into taking the photograph. Its brightness is necessary to allow visitors to safely negotiate the dimly lit spaces. However, it is sufficiently subdued that it both gives something of the effect there must have been when the Saxon church was lit by candles or tallow lamps, and also offers the photographer an attractive, contrasty, atmospheric composition.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 12.5mm (34mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.8
Shutter Speed: 1/30
ISO: 800
Exposure Compensation:  0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Out with the LX3, in with the RX100

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Perhaps I was tempting fate posting a piece entitled "In praise of things compact" because shortly after I'd done so my LX3 compact camera began, first to play up and then to enter a process of serious decline. Whether the fault is mechanical or electrical I don't know, but the symptoms involve me pressing the shutter, the camera appearing to go through the appropriate motions, and nothing being recorded. Or the display doesn't work. Or an error message appears asking me to re-insert the memory card. I tried a different card and cleaned the battery terminals and card connectors but to no avail. At the point where the camera was sometimes working but usually failing to do so I decided enough was enough and bought a Sony RX100.

I like to use a compact camera, and despite having an initial aversion to those cameras that didn't have viewfinders I've grown to like composing on a large screen. The Sony's is supposed to be fairly acceptable in bright summer sunshine. We shall see! The RX100 will become my "carry everywhere when I'm not carrying the DSLR" camera. It is eminently suited to that role being slightly smaller and lighter than the LX3. It will also be the camera of choice when I'm photographing in the street because it is much less intrusive and intimidating than a big DSLR.

So far I'm very pleased with the RX100. I'm especially enjoying the two axis electronic level - great for architecture and it reduces post processing time. I also like the facility to take a single shot that combines three versions to reduce noise and improve quality: that's very useful inside poorly lit churches. Most of all, I've been impressed by the quality of jpeg and RAW images: that one inch sensor does better than I imagined it would. Not for nothing is it only one of two fixed lens compact cameras that Alamy has on its recommended camera list (the other being the Leica X1). I gave the camera a workout recently, testing its iAuto modes, and as part of it I visited the medieval church of St Mary at Pinchbeck. Here are two of the shots I took that I've converted to black and white.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 10.4mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation:  0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Boston's Stump

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The recent collision in London between a helicopter and a construction crane at the top of a new tower block raised questions in the press about the wisdom and reasons for erecting such tall buildings. It seems to me that you can argue the wisdom of it long into the night, but the reasons are three-fold and what they have always been: facilitating a technology (such as telecoms), maximising the value of land, and prestige.

Today's photographs show the 272 feet tall tower of the medieval church of St Botolph in Boston, Lincolnshire, a late example of the Gothic builders' art, made of Barnack stone. Its absolute height, its relative height (the length of the church is only ten feet more) and its appearance when seen from afar quickly earned it the name of "The Stump" (though the name may be an example of the English love of irony).

The tower was begun in 1425-30 and completed in 1510-20. It is likely that a spire was to have begun at the level of the parapet above the pair of tall windows (which were probably intended to be the belfry stage). This would have been the conventional finish to a large Lincolnshire church. However, the church authorities had different ideas and they simply kept building upwards, adding a single, transomed window for the belfry, then topping it all off with pinnacles and a large, open lantern supported by flying buttresses. Why was it built so high? I can only think that prestige and the desire to make a big, bold statement lay behind the decision. It could, I suppose, be argued that having the belfry higher gave the sound of the bells greater reach. Such height was certainly a risk because the deep soils of the Fens yield no bedrock to the builder and smaller, nearby towers such as Pinchbeck and Surfleet testify to how they can quickly acquire a disconcerting tilt. The tower is undoubtedly impressive, and parts of it, particularly the lantern are beautiful. In total, however, it doesn't work: the height is too great, the stages don't complement each other and it is not visually integrated with the nave and chancel. But, as a beacon for sailors on the storm-tossed sea of The Wash, searching for the mouth of the River Witham and safe haven, it must have been a godsend!

The smaller photograph, taken from the town bridge, is the classic view of the tower. My shots were taken when hoar frost cloaked the trees, ice was just beginning to form on the River Witham, and shopping was the main thing on our minds. A bright, clear January day is not to be spurned, however, and my compact camera proved its worth once more.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 9.3mm (44mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/800
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On 

London and the Walkie Talkie

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A new building is appearing in the City of London at 20 Fenchurch Street and already the most eye-catching feature of its design is apparent. This 525 feet (160m) tall tower by the architect, Rafael Viñoly, flares outwards as it rises upwards, an unusual characteristic that has already earned it the nickname, the "Walkie Talkie". You can see it under construction on the left of my main photograph and on the right of the smaller one. This photograph gives an idea of what it will look like when it is completed in April 2014.

I've been fairly supportive of many of the new towers that have appeared in the City of London over the past twenty years or so. However, this building is one that I dislike for its shape and for the way it will intrude upon and overwhelm a location that has many fine and important buildings, including Tower Bridge. The developers must be aware of the disapprobation that the building has engendered because they plan to incorporate a three-level "sky garden" at the top with free access for the public. That has the potential to be visually interesting and very popular, but will do little to mitigate the intrusion of the massive building that will not only tower over its surroundings but will lean and loom over them too.

In some respects the idea of designing a building that offers more space than its footprint would usually allow is a clever and understandable one in an area where the price per square foot of property is so high. But it's not a new idea. The timber-framed "jettied" buildings of the Tudor period sought the same advantage. Moreover, though they didn't go anywhere near as high as the "Walkie Talkie" they did create dark, narrow streets and a sense of enclosure. This is already evident in parts of the City where tall, vertical buildings are adjacent to each other. It would only get worse if the idea encapsulated in this new building became a trend.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 183mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/250
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -1.00 EV
Image Stabilisation: On 

The Shard, viewed and eclipsed

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If I take my camera with the 70-300mm lens mounted on it, lean out from the balcony in Rotherhithe where I often stay, brace myself against the metal work and point it upstream towards the centre of London, I can take this photograph of The Shard. I've taken quite a few shots in this way during the construction of the building, some of which I've posted on the blog.

As well as showing the glass spike itself this view also features Guy's and St Thomas' Hospital - the tall building on the left. This utilitarian, concrete structure has sprouted what looks like scaffolding, an indication, perhaps, that it is being spruced up to be a more presentable neighbour for the new tower. A segment of the big wheel that is called the London Eye can be seen immediately to the right of The Shard. To the right of that is one of the pointed roofs of Tower Bridge visible between the two cranes. The buildings in the lower half of the photograph are the converted warehouses and new-build riverside flats along the Thames. The river itself is in the foreground.

The Shard's moment of fame as Europe's tallest building was brief. Apparently its height of 1,016 feet (310 metres) was recently eclipsed by Mercury City Tower in Moscow. It is though, by a big margin, the tallest building in the United Kingdom, though not the tallest structure. That honour belongs to the Emley Moor transmitting station, a telecommunications mast at 1,084 feet (330 metres) that was built in 1969-71 in Yorkshire. I mentioned in a recent post that I must buy a ticket to access the viewing gallery near the top of The Shard and in writing this piece I came across the fact that tickets are already on sale for the opening in February. I think I'll wait for the rush to die down before I buy one. If, that is, it does ever die down.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 228mm
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/60
ISO: 3200
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Shard March update

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A couple of days in a cloudy, rain-swept London allowed me to have two walks into and through the city and the opportunity to gather a clutch of photographs including today's showing the current progress of The Shard. In December this building passed the height of 1 Canada Square in Canary Wharf, becoming the tallest in the UK and the European Union, and the second tallest free-standing structure in the UK (after the Emley Moor TV transmitter). It is currently near its projected maximum height of 1,012 feet (308.5 metres). Superlatives in the world of tall buildings are, of course, transitory, and The Shard will doubtless soon be removed from its current pinnacle.

Speaking of pinnacles, he said, segueing into the next topic like a radio DJ on autopilot, the next tall London tower to reach for the skies has made a strong appearance since I was last there in November. Bishopsgate Tower in Leadenhall, now to be called The Pinnacle, was to have been about the same height as the Shard, but after concerns from the Civil Aviation Authority it is losing just under twenty metres. This is another deliberately "different" shape for a city tower, resembling to my eye, a loosely coiled tube of paper. The very ugly concrete service core is already quite high, and when it gets its curved glass curtain walls that sweep up to its summit it will be another distinctive addition to the London skyline. At the moment I'm holding my judgement on whether the quality of being distinctive will be paired with being distinguished. It's certainly no Shard, but perhaps I'll warm to the real thing more than I do to the architect's illustration. Incidentally, it will be interesting to see if the more populist, "The Pinnacle", is adopted by Londoners or whether, as is their habit, they confer a more appropriate and less respectful soubriquet. Indeed, I wonder whether the new name was a calculated attempt to forestall such an eventuality!

Today's photograph, like a couple of others I've posted of The Shard, was taken by resting my camera on a balcony rail by the Thames in Rotherhithe, downstream from the City.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 168mm
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/20 sec
ISO: 3200
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Shard October update

click photo to enlarge

Perhaps the above encounter between a barge, a Port of London Authority launch, a Fire Rescue boat and a Police launch (departing background right) wasn't an incident as such, more a planned coming together of vessels. However, the flashing blue lights on the Police launch and the speed at which it arrived on the scene suggested otherwise and drew the attention of this passing photographer as he trudged towards the centre of London under a leaden sky hoping for a shot or two to present themselves.

My most recent photographs of the construction of the Shard were posted on 29th and 30th August. I post today's images as my latest update on the progress of this tall and very visible building. Flipping back and forth between the two river views I can see that the glass reaches somewhat higher than it did in August. The concrete core has now reached its final height. There has always been a crane at the tallest point during construction. However, the crane that is now at the top of the Shard, which was put up on September 24th, is the tallest ever erected in Britain. It will be used to complete the "spire" that forms the uppermost part of the building.

The projected completion date for the Shard is May 2012.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Main Photo
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 95mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/100
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Shard update

click photos to enlarge

On my recent visit to London I took a few more shots of The Shard, the tall, tapering, glass splinter-like tower that is rising above London on the south bank of the Thames. I usually manage to get photographs of the building from my Rotherhithe balcony and from the More London district of the South Bank, and I did so again. However, during our visit we also needed to visit the hospitals next door to The Shard and so I was able to get a shot looking up at the rapidly growing structure.

Two red lifts were scuttling up and down their ladder-like track that is fixed to the side of the building, transporting men and materials to wherever they were needed. As I gazed up at the gleaming building it struck me that a tapering tower not only is lighter in terms of mass than the usual cuboid, it looks much lighter and doesn't dominate the area as a more conventional shape would.

The observant visitor will notice, in the bottom right of the frame of the main image, the wire mesh cladding of the combined heat and power unit that is the subject of yesterday's blog post, and above it the grim, stained concrete of the hospital tower. Incidentally, the photograph of The Shard taken from Rotherhithe dates from the same evening as the wonderful sunset photograph that I posted a couple of days ago. And, further to that marvellous sight, the Daily Telegraph newspaper noted the sunset as one of the best in London in recent years and featured a photograph of it on their website.

photographs and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 24mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/500
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Blue glass and anonymity

click photo to enlarge

There's quite a lot to dislike about the building in today's photograph. It is faceless, it tells us nothing about those who inhabit it, and it allows them to look at us but not us at them. It is the sort of building that might feature in George Orwell's 1984 or Fritz Lang's Metropolis, a place of secret policemen, anonymous bureaucrats or super-rich tycoons. In fact, according to my researches, it is the offices of a company that owns a chunk of the British media including the Daily Express, the Daily Star, and Channel 5 TV - the populist end of the market, and in terms of the newspapers, the conservative end.

But, having said that, buildings are inanimate objects, and though they can influence society and contribute to our quality of life, they are not "political" in the sense that we usually understand the term. I seem to recall that before the building was acquired by its present owners HSBC had offices here. And, whilst I can see things I don't like about the building, there are a couple of things that I do like. The first is the colour. Towers with curtain walls of blue glass are commonplace - More London, near the Assembly building, is a nearby example. This glass, however, is darker than usual, and that gives the building a weight and solidity that lighter coloured glass cannot offer. Moreover, with those qualities comes a greater emphasis on the surface and the blocks that comprise its overall shape. I like the way the architect has put these together, and the way the reflections in the glass repeat the blocky projections adding to the apparent complexity of the structure.

This building stands next to the Thames, and today's photograph was taken from the riverside path that runs past both it and its next door neighbour, Old Billingsgate Market. When you look at it from across the river it stands out from the buildings around it on colour alone. It also offers a fine grid of distorted reflections, and when lit by yellow internal lights at night looks quite stunning. On the day I took this photograph I could see only two lights on in the building. In my photograph they look like the sort under which someone - an overworked editor perhaps! - is getting the "third degree" treatment.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 28mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/30
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The relocated tower of Kirton church

click photo to enlarge

The church of St Peter and St Paul at Kirton-in-Holland, Lincolnshire, is a typical, big medieval town church. It has a large nave with buttressed aisles, a fine clerestory with pinnacles above, a lower chancel with big Perpendicular-style windows, a south porch, parapets that are embattled and richly decorated, and at the west end a tall, imposing tower. When lit by a raking sun its details are thrown into sharp relief and it makes a noble sight. But, all is not as it seems with this building.

Firstly, Kirton (as it is usually known) is no longer a market town, but a large village, and the church though of a size found in many villages in South Lincolnshire, is much bigger than is is usual in a settlement of this size elsewhere in the country. Then there's that west tower. Anyone surveying the building today who had seen it in the period between, say, 1500 and 1800, would be puzzled by it. Why? Because during those years it had a crossing tower (i.e. it was in the centre of the church), from the four sides of which stretched the nave, chancel and transepts. Today there are no transepts and the tower is at the west end of the building. What happened to effect this change? How did the tower get from the middle to the end of the church?

In 1804-5 the transepts were removed and the crossing tower taken down. Then, re-using some of this stonework, the west tower was built and all evidence of the crossing removed. The architect of this unusual transformation was William Hayward of Lincoln. Given the date of his work - before the 1840s when Pugin promoted the cause of historical veracity - it is remarkable that not only the untrained eye, but also the trained one, sees little evidence of the re-modelling unless it is pointed out to them. Perhaps a subsequent restoration by C.H. Fowler in 1897-1900 tidied up the building and made it more of a whole, but whatever the case, the church now looks to all intents and purposes as if it was built this way. Why was it done at all? I don't know, but I suspect that either the tower fell, or, more likely, it became unsafe and was deliberately taken down and a decision was made to reduce the overall size of the building.

In recent years it has been difficult to photograph this church in its entirety because of the large and close trees that surround it, but the recent felling of a couple of them has opened up a good view from the ESE (top image). However, I see a tree has been planted that will, in time, spoil this prospect as well!

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 47mm
F No: 7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/200
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On