Stone, cast iron and slate

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In the main the builders of Britain's medieval parish churches used local stone. Sometimes this was very well suited to the purpose - it withstood the weather well, held sharp moulding and carving for centuries, and the Victorian restorers left most of it in place. The Oolitic limestone of Barnack and Ancaster are two good examples of such stone. Elsewhere, however, the stone left much to be desired but was used nonetheless because to bring better material from afar was simply too expensive. Much of the greenstone used in churches of the Lincolnshire Wolds, though striking in terms of colour, has decayed down the centuries, flaking off the surface, leaving walls pock marked and shabby, requiring heavy restoration. The builders must have known that it wasn't the best building stone, but they used it for convenience, cost, colour and out of a sense of local pride. I'm glad they did. The medieval tower of Horncastle church is positively rainbow-coloured with old and new local stone, as is that of Great Malvern Priory in Worcestershire.

On a recent visit to Derbyshire I came upon this stonework (above) at the church of St Giles, Calke. The building was erected in 1826-8 as a private church on the estate of Calke Abbey. I imagine the beautiful and subtly coloured stone is local, and it immediately caught my eye. What I also noticed was the tracery of the windows and I went to touch them to see if my suspicions were accurate. They were. The reticulated tracery of these two-light windows is made of cast iron. A little research  showed that they were made at a foundry in Derby. I've come across late Georgian and Victorian cast iron church windows before. They are not common, but can be found in cities and parts of the country adjacent to iron-producing areas. Here the colour they have been painted, does I think, go well with the stone and even with the dark slate gravestones rising up through the long churchyard grass.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 39mm (78mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/100 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: 0
Image Stabilisation: On

Art Deco shops

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I've written elsewhere in this blog about how, in Britain, the architecture of the 1920s and 1930s was very conservative, noting but not, in the main embracing, the forward-looking developments of Europe and the United States.

This often manifested itself in a style that is sometimes called "stripped classical" with recognisably Greek,  Roman or Renaissance-derived columns, entablatures etc pared down to plainer, un-archaeological forms; a reluctant nod to Modernism. The style known as Art Deco and its synonyms or variants, Moderne and Jazz Moderne and Streamline Modern, also used classical forms in this way, but more enthusiastically and with the introduction of newer and different elements. British cinemas of the 1930s frequently adopted this style, as did quite a few factories and even power stations. On the high street Marks and Spencer's architects used white stone with classical, streamline and even Central American motifs in an attempt to show their modernity. The men's clothing store that was found in most large towns and cities - Burton - also adopted this approach.

On our recent visit to Hull I photographed the main windows of the curved facade of the Burton store at the top of Whitefriargate. This building dates from 1935 and is the work of the store's architect, Harry Wilson. It is faced in a veneer of black marble slabs with tall, narrow window bands featuring attenuated glazing bars. The central windows are given a "classical" emphasis with a pair of pilasters. However, the capitals are, if we are to compare them with anything, stripped down Egyptian! The balconies have iron-work featuring curved bars, not unlike those on the step ventilators of the Art Deco doorway of Hull railway station's hotel. The colour of the paintwork is gold, making the building stand out even more from its much more staid neighbours.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 23mm (46mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6 Shutter Speed: 1/500 sec
ISO:200
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

Tessellation

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Language is full of connections, which, if you make them, increases your understanding and use of language, but also expands your enjoyment of it too. Many years ago, when I was studying an aspect of mathematics, I was introduced to the word "tessellation" and the essential concepts that underpin it. At a basic level this involves the tiling of a flat surface with a finite number of geometric shapes such that there are no gaps or overlapping. The square tiles of a bathroom wall tessellate; so too do the hexagonal cells of honeycomb. However, as a branch of mathematics tessellation goes far beyond such simple examples. So too does tessellation in art. The Sumerians tessellated their clay tiles, as did the Islamic architects of the Alhambra in Spain; both used many different tessellating shapes. The Dutch graphic artist, M.C. Escher (1898-1972) famously created pictures with tessellating birds, dogs, lizards and all manner of other things.

When my lecturer used the word "tessellation" it immediately occurred to me that I'd already come across "tessellated" in school geography in connection with a feature in sedimentary rock known as a tessellated pavement, whereby erosion produces the effect of a layer of interlocking tiles. The word "tessera" also popped into my mind. This is the name for the individual pieces of a mosaic such as the Romans used for villa floors or the Byzantines used in their wall mosaics of religious and other subjects. It hadn't occurred to me before, but tessera means tile, more specifically, a 4-sided shape, and its meaning had been extended to describe all close-fit tiling of whatever shape.

On our most recent visit to London we came across a relatively new building near the Thames Cable Car. Ravensbourne College is the work of the Foreign Office Architects and, unusually in a modern British building, it has exterior walls that are tessellated with pentagons and triangles. Interestingly that's not necessarily what the first-time viewer notices because its other distinguishing feature is that every window above the ground floor level is circular! The building is certainly eye-catching. It is located next to the enormous and distinctive O2 (formerly known as the Millennium Dome) so one can understand the architects wanting it to claim its space.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 37.1mm (100mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/200 sec
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Posing, fashion and photography

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Fashion photography  too often isn't. By that I mean it is photography, but it isn't about fashion. This branch of photography seem to attract those who see it as an opportunity to create "art", and so they produce images that do everything except show off the clothing that is being promoted. Thus, models adopt contorted poses, or are photographed in harsh or dim light, or are placed in locations that overwhelm or hide the main subject, or - well I think you'll have seen what I mean.

And even when a straight forward shot of a model is taken from face-on the photographers seem to crave an awkward element such as the feet in a strange position, the eyes deliberately closed, the hand raised to shield the face etc. Or the model is asked to adopt what I think of as the "gormless pose". I think you'll have seen this one too. It involves the model standing upright,  staring straight at the camera, mouth dropped open, no hint of emotion evident, arms hanging limply with the back of the hands turned forwards. I suppose it's a reaction against the poses of the middle of the twentieth century where models sat in the sunlight, relaxed, on scooters, on garden seats, or leaning nonchalantly against a tree, all the while beaming their best smile. On balance I think I prefer the latter! There was a time when fashion photographers managed to create art (of a sort) that also showed off the fashions being sold - Norman Parkinson frequently managed it producing wonderful images. These days many aim for one or other of these goals but few achieve both.

Today's photograph shows a wall of windows at the London Tower Bridge Hilton next to More London. It's an interesting wall  for the way colour is used. Standing on a thick wooden trunk nearby is a wooden sculpture of a woman (there's also a man nearby, out of shot). She is one of the "Couple", a commissioned work by the German artist, Stephan Balkenhol, completed in 2003. It was only after I'd seen the woman a couple of times that I realised her "wooden" pose reminded me of the "gormless" poses favoured by some fashion photographers. Now, it has to be said that this lady really can't help but look wooden: even if she was contorted like an Olympic gymnast she'd still be completely wooden. But why do we have to suffer it in the living models in the Sunday supplements? Incidentally, on past experience you may have expected me to say something about the quality of the sculpture. I see them as WYSIATI (what you see is all there is) pieces, so there's not much to add, and I certain won't be describing them as totemic or poles.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 85mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/100
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The appeal of Regency buildings

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I like Georgian buildings. In Lincolnshire they are relatively common and their good sense, fine proportions, and the way they fit comfortably into a streetscape or the countryside is always a pleasure to behold. I'm more choosy about Victorian buildings. The innovation for innovation's sake is sometimes fun but other times wearisome. The heaviness of a lot of the buildings and details can jar. As can the machine-like details of stonework, terracotta etc. However, when a Victorian architect is on song the muscular vigour of a building can be very winning.

In English architectural history there is a short period between the Georgian and Victorian ages, the Regency, that is longer than the period from 1811-1820 when the Prince Regent ruled in place of his unfit father, George III. In terms of building style it is usually thought of as spanning the years from about 1800 until around 1830. The characteristics of the fashionable buildings of those years owes more to Georgian architecture than the Victorian that followed but clearly differs and is very easily spotted once your eye has learnt what to look for.

"Elegant" is the word that, for me, best describes Regency buildings, especially town houses. They have a spare, stripped, light look where fine details contrast with smooth, blank (often light coloured) areas. Doors and windows that are round-topped are common, and often these are set into a larger, recessed round-topped blank arch. Shutters were fashionable and still remain on many buildings. Balconies with delicate iron-work railings can often be seen at first-floor windows. The Georgian tradition of the size of window indicating the importance of the rooms behind continues, and the top of the buildings are usually "closed" with smaller windows. Flat columnar pilasters frequently divide or frame building facades, though the simplified "capitals" that surmount them would be as foreign to a Georgian architect as they would be to one from ancient Greece or Rome. Tall, shallow, bow-fronted bays are a fairly sure sign of a Regency building, as are strongly projecting eaves on long brackets. There is a great emphasis on the main facade at the expense of the back of the building, though that is a feature of most Georgian and Victorian town houses too.

Many of these characteristics can be seen in Rutland Terrace in Stamford, Lincolnshire (above and yesterday's post), and those that don't can be found in the buildings of this period elsewhere in the town. My criticisms in the previous post of the builders' changes across the whole facade during the years in which they built the terrace notwithstanding, I do like much that is on offer here. There are certainly many worse solutions to relatively high density urban living.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 120mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/125 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Cleaning the Shard's windows

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"A window cleaner you would be,
If you can see what I can see,
When I'm cleanin' windows."
from the song, "When I'm Cleaning Windows sung by George Formby (1904-1961), British songwriter, comedian and actor

When I lived in Lancashire I could look out of my upstairs windows and, across the fields, see a house that once belonged to George Formby. It was called the Illawalla. Formby did a lot of work in the Blackpool area so I suppose a rural retreat a few miles inland was a good base for him.

It was his best-known song, "When I'm Cleaning Windows" that came to mind when I saw these workmen doing just that hundreds of feet above me on the Shard. Not that the subjects mentioned in his ribald lyrics would be likely to be seen at this location. However, the London sights they do see from their various vantage points around the building must be amazing. It takes a particular kind of person to do the kind of work seen in today's photograph, and I can say that it most definitely wouldn't suit me.

If you look carefully at yesterday's photograph with the closer view of the Shard you can just make out the crane, cradle and the bright orange jackets seen in the picture above.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 300mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/320
ISO: 320
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Getting the best photograph

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One of the joys of digital photography is the ease and lack of extra expense involved in taking multiple shots of the same subject with the intention of securing the best possible image. Today's photograph, like yesterday's, is one of six that I took the other day of clouds reflected in the glass curtain wall of some London offices.

Here are the main advantages that I see in taking more than one shot of your subject. Firstly, if conditions dictate a low shutter speed that is hand-held, multiple exposures increase the chance of you getting a shot that is sharp. Secondly, you can experiment with the composition by either zooming, changing your position, adjusting the elements that you include in the frame, changing the depth of field etc. Thirdly, you can adjust your camera settings to, for example, control highlights or modify colour saturation. Fourthly, through taking more than one exposure of a subject you inevitably think more about it and that often results in a better outcome. There is a downside with multiple exposures (and indeed the general ease of digital) and that is the amount of storage space required for images if you don't ruthlessly cull the "duds". But, that notwithstanding, multiple exposures make a lot of sense.

However, here's the paradox. When I take multiple shots of the same subject I usually find - about nine times out of ten - that my first shot is the best! Is this because I'm an instinctive or intuitive photographer rather than one who thinks long and hard about each shot? Perhaps. And if that's the case why do I still take multiple shots? Well the answer lies in those approximate statistics: every now and again the first shot isn't the one I prefer, or something went wrong with it, and then I'm very grateful for the "duplicates".

From the above you'll gather that I like yesterday's shot over this one. But, I've been taking photographs long enough to know that many people will prefer the one above.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 12.8mm (60mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.8
Shutter Speed: 1/125
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Curtain walls and coincidences

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It would be great to believe that the modern world had done with the concept of "good luck", that the superstitious attitude that leads people to waste money on lotteries and other gambling would have gone the way of belief in fairies and the efficacy of a daily dose of castor oil. But no, people queue up to give away money they can often ill afford to lose in the hope - sometimes expectation - of becoming a millionaire.

But the fact is, despite the Enlightenment, despite the rise of modern mathematics and science and despite universal education, many people have only a hazy grasp of concepts such as chance, probablity and coincidence, and frequently fall back on the superstitious beliefs of centuries ago. If only I stick with the same set of numbers, some say, I'm bound to win the lottery one day, while another group are equally convinced of their belief that changing the numbers is a better way to beat the odds. A much smaller group realise that the odds are the same each time you play your numbers, whatever the numbers are. Similarly, many people will accept that the probability of two people sharing the same birthday is 100% when there are 366 people in a room (excluding February 29th birthdays), but will dispute the fact that there is a 99% probablity when there are only 57 people. (For further information on this probability theory paradox see here).

My most recent blog post was about my liking for using glass curtain wall grids in photographs. What a strange coincidence then, that on my next photographic outing (that happened to be in London), I should return with just such an image, a semi-abstract example taken around sunset. Not really. I like the subject, I'd been thinking about it recently, and I was in a city with a multitude of glass boxes, so the fact that I should take such a shot is not at all unlikely: it's simply the sort of coincidence that occurs regularly throughout our lives.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 10.2mm (48mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.6
Shutter Speed: 1/80
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On