Ivy, like rust, never sleeps

click photo to enlarge
A few weeks ago I was well into the third day of cutting an area of rampant ivy from a vertical-lap wooden fence when, instead of hitting the chisel with my wooden mallet, I hit my hand. The pain was excruciating and I thought I'd broken my index finger. However, an hour or so later, after ice-pack treatment, I began to think that bruising was the worst of it. And, after a few days that's what transpired. This patch of ivy had expanded over the years, despite me regularly and savagely chopping it back. Of course, ivy is like rust, it never sleeps, it is always colonising fresh ground. So, having had enough of it, and in agreement with my neighbour, we decided to be rid of it. It is now gone, though I'm sure some will appear from the ground in a fresh attempt to re-assert itself when spring comes around.

I remembered my ivy (and my finger) recently when I was photographing this corner of the churchyard at Long Sutton, Lincolnshire. You might think this is a neglected acre or two of God's ground. Nothing could be further from the truth. The churchyard is well-maintained and its fine collection of seventeenth century, Georgian and later tombs are well displayed all year round. But, by way of contrast a few edges are left in a semi-wild state, and it was one of these patches that drew my photographer's eye. I liked the the contrast of the deep shade, the ivy-covered gravestones and the prominent uncovered cross, with the sunlit, orderly graveyard beyond. As we went on our way, I thought about the volunteers who must periodically control the ivy to prevent it completely smothering the trees and the gravestones, leaving them undifferentiated mounds of shiny leaves. I didn't envy them their task.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 40mm (60mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8 Shutter
Speed: 1/60 sec
ISO:1100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Mist on Giggleswick Scar

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The all-enfolding mists of autumn are viewed by many as an unwelcome intrusion after the brightness and warmth of summer. But, to poets such as Keats, and to many photographers they are a pleasing change that transforms familiar landscapes and offers a melancholy note that is rarely to be found in the warmer months.

We recently spent several days in the Yorkshire Dales, the area of my upbringing. Rain was quite frequent, as it often is in such parts, but not in quanitities or at times that prevented us having a long walk each day. One of our rambles took us on to the limestone upland known as Giggleswick Scar, an area of cliffs, scree, caves, short sheep-cropped grass, rowan trees, bracken - all the attributes of what geographers call a karst landscape. A thick mist accompanied our walk to the summit of the Scar but shortly afterwards it started to clear from the high ground leaving the grey blanket in the valleys below. Today's photograph shows rowans and hawthorns silhouetted against the mist in the Ribble valley with the summits and clouds beyond. When the mist started to dissipate it was quite difficult to distinguish between the hills and the clouds, but by the time of my photograph this was more easily done.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 95mm (142mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/400 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Motion blur river

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Elsewhere in this blog I've described myself as primarily an "incidental photographer"; that is to say I most often  take photographs when I'm out and about doing something else. I can be enjoying a walk, shopping for the week's groceries, visiting friends or relatives, enjoying my garden, taking in an exhibition at a local gallery or viewing an historic or recent building, to name but a few activities where I use my camera. And, because I prefer to travel light, I'm often without the range of accessories required to secure the photograph that I'm looking for.

Today's shot is an example of this. Ideally I'd have used a tripod and a neutral density filter. But, being in the countryside with only a dslr plus one lens, I had to do my usual work-around for a motion blur of this turbulent water i.e. Manual mode, low ISO and a very small aperture to produce the required low shutter speed for this fast moving torrent. It took a couple of shots to get the right exposure. However, eventually I got the amount of blur that I wanted in this shot of dappled light and rich colours on the River Ribble at Langcliffe, North Yorkshire, when it was in full flow after heavy rain.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Manual Priority
Focal Length: 85mm (127mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f20
Shutter Speed: 1/10 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Reflecting on walnut trees

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Over the past few weeks the same incident has replayed several times. A grey squirrel has hopped across the lawn with a large walnut in its mouth. It has stopped, dug at the grass with its front feet, decided the spot was no use, and then moved on to repeat this action until a suitable spot is found. There it buries the walnut. Do they ever find them again? I suppose so, but I never see it happen. Do we have a forest of sapling walnuts sprouting from the lawn in spring? No - so I guess they are retrieved and eaten by the squirrels at some point in the winter.

I never noticed walnut trees until I moved to Lincolnshire. They probably existed where I lived in the other parts of England, but not until I moved to this county in the East Midlands did I see them in sufficient numbers that I became aware of the trees. The village where I live has several. A couple are in a small playground/park where they provide amusement and collecting opportunities for the local children. Another one is in a field that is visible from the front of my house.

This tree is slowly succumbing to age and the weather. Last year, during particularly windy weather, a large bough fell off. This year the top branches were completely free of leaf. It can't have many more years left. The field in which it is located was once pasture and I imagine that the sheep and cattle found its shade welcome in high summer. For thirty years or more, however, it has been used for vegetable and cereal growing and as far as the farmer is concerned it has become an obstacle around which agricultural machinery and vehicles must be carefully guided. I posted a photograph of it on the blog two years ago when it was looking very fine against a dark and threatening October sky. The other day it was the tree's shape in the mist, augmented by a gathering of rooks in its topmost branches, that caught my eye.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 37.1mm (100mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/160 sec
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Autumn cherry leaves

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Apparently the intensity of colour of some autumn leaves is affected by the weather that prevails before and during the time that chlorophyl production in them begins to decline. A spell of warm, sunny weather with cool but not freezing nights results in the leaves producing sugars during the day that are retained by the closing of veins prompted by the lower temperatures.The accumulated sugar combined with the colder nights triggers the production of the anthocyanin pigments that produce the reds, oranges and purples in leaves. Yellow leaves are produced by carotenoids that are always present and not weather-dependant (which must account for why the lime trees' leaves are a fine show every year).

I've been looking at our ornamental cherry trees recently, wondering if they would produce a good show of colour, particularly some of the fiery reds and oranges that make the garden come alive. The recent weather and the information above suggests they will. However, that weather is about to change with rain, wind and storms coming in from the west. With that in mind I decided to take matters into my own hands and make the best of the leaves as they are now. The low sun enhanced the hues of several that were on the ground, allowing me to achieve my aim of a photograph of contrasts and colour.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon 5D Mk2
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 100mm macro
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/80 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: Off

Classical busts and wash drawings

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I was talking with a farmer a while ago and during the course of the conversation I observed that I knew more about medieval ploughing than I did about the modern methods. It was only when I reflected on that conversation some time later that I realised there are quite a few things from the past that I know about in some detail, but when it comes to the modern equivalent I am rather less well informed.

One such example that came to mind recently is the training of architects. It was this Georgian classical bust on the stairwell of the Maister House in Hull that prompted the thought. The work is one of two pieces on brackets that flank a large statue of "Ceres" by John Cheere. The smaller works may be his too. However, I didn't check their provenance because the lighting of this bust, when I reviewed my photograph on the camera screen, immediately made me think of the ink wash and watercolour drawings of the architectural students of the Ecole des Beaux Arts. More particularly I thought of "An Antique Relief" by Charles Rennie Mackintosh, painted c.1886 when he was a student at the Glasgow School of Art. The ability to draw well and render accurately used to be part of the training of architects. It was need not just to sketch basic ideas, to depict their vision before it was constructed, but also to communicate large and small details to the builders so they could turn ideas into reality. I imagine drawing must play a part still in architectural training but technology in the form of the computer probably figures just as large.

So, to make the bust look more like an eighteenth or nineteenth century architect's ink wash I converted my photograph to black and white and slightly increased the contrast.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 35mm (52mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f4
Shutter Speed: 1/60 sec
ISO:6400
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

WYSIATI

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I've always liked the acronym, WYSIWYG (wizeewig). It originated in web design, particularly with the kind of web editors that behave more like desktop publishing programmes as opposed to the original and more basic html editors. It describes the fact that as you build the page the appearance and position of objects appear as they will in the finished article, rather than as lines of code as is the case with non-WYSIWYG editors. Like many good linguistic ideas it has taken on a life of its own and can now be found applied in areas far beyond computing and web design.

I'd like to see WYSIATI assume a similar widespread use. This acronym is usually attributed to Daniel Kahneman, the Nobel Prize winner in Economics who uses the term in his 2011 book, "Thinking Fast and Slow". He applied it to overconfidence in understanding around the concepts of "known knowns", "known unknowns" etc. Was it used much, or at all, before then? I don't know, but I can claim to have used it on November 14th 2010 in a blog post about the artist Ai Weiwei's display of ceramic sunflower seeds at Tate Modern. It's something that comes to mind when I look at quite a lot of contemporary art because a great deal of it is so devoid of depth, meaning and resonance. With such work what you see is all there is, and what you take away from it is nothing but a lament about another wasted opportunity.

I had this feeling recently when I surveyed some of the art on display around the town of King's Lynn. It was the result of a collaboration between the Norfolk town and the Maison de la Culture d'Amiens in Northern France. I applaud such partnerships and projects: I just wish that they produced a better outcome than the offerings I saw the other day. That includes the example in today's photograph. Apparently, the piece entitled "Rock Around the Fleet" that is located in the old dock basin of the Purfleet River, "is a series of floating buoys with metal designs suggesting seabirds, which evoke a feeling of movement and animation reminiscent of the past." Yes, really!

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 18mm (27mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/125 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Rusty buoys

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I've posted a few photographs of buoys on this blog. The first, as long ago as 2006, reflected on the spelling of the word. The second, in 2008, pondered the colours of these nautical markers. In 2009 I produced a shot of buoys that I especially like for the light, with accompanying text about simplifying compositions. 2010 found me in King's Lynn, a good place for photographing buoys and waxing lyrical about bright colours. In 2011 a black and white photograph of buoys accompanied a piece about alternative voting and the folly of our electorates rejection of it. And, the same year "Foul buoys" was the title of a piece where I noted my discovery of why the word "FOUL" was written on yellow buoys.

Today's photograph is buoys once again, and from King's Lynn too, though this time only a detail. What was it about this detail that attracted me? Well, the battered yellow paint and brown rust, the result of prolonged exposure to salt water was sufficient draw. However, it was the position of the two heavy metal loops that made me take the shot. And the way the steel cable was threaded through them to keep them fixed to the quayside. It reminded me vaguely of the ying yang symbol; two similar and complementary forms interlocking, or at least related one to the other. I hoped that a tight composition would emphasise that feature and deliver enough interest to make the photograph work. I think it does.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 60mm (90mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8 Shutter
Speed: 1/100 sec
ISO:180
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Axes and wood

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I'm not, in general, someone who likes familiar slang, particularly that which applies to a line of work, an interest or a hobby. Hearing someone describe a BMW as a "Beamer" irritates me in much the same way as hearing the likes of Jamie Oliver use the terms "slosh" (for pour) or "chuck" for sprinkle does. I've never liked the way some enthusiast photographers refer to lenses as "glass" (surely they are so much more than that). And as for rock musicians calling an electric guitar an "axe": well, that irks me just as much as the modern habit of calling a university a "uni". All these examples seem, to my mind to conflate a certain laziness with an overly chummy and "insider" familiarity that is often designed, in some small way, to erect fences to outsiders.

It was the term "axe", meaning an electric guitar that came to mind when I came to write this piece about a new guitar that I recently bought. I presume that "axe" derives from the shape of the guitar, or perhaps the sharp sound - who knows or cares? However, since it was the wood of this particular guitar that I was going to describe "axe" seemed to have some sort of connection. Many musical instruments have interesting and beautiful shapes that derive, in the main from the way they work - form really does, usually, follow function. However, many are enhanced during construction by the use of wood, application of paint, inlays and so on, and none more so than electric guitars. Moreover, though the sound is what you most want from such an instrument, appearance is also a factor when you come to buy one.

The example in today's photograph doesn't have the usual paint job, sunburst staining or varnished finish. Instead it has a burred (burled in US-English) poplar top that I find unusual and attractive. This is mounted on mahogany and the instrument is completed with a maple neck and a rosewood fingerboard. With a veritable forest of timber having fallen under the axe to produce it I must make sure I keep it a long time and get the most from it

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon 5D Mk2
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 105mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/13 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: Off.

Autumn dead heads

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The pattern of life slowly emerges as you age. From early punctuations, such as birthdays, holidays and Christmas, more are added with each passing year - a new school year, new college terms, a new house, your children's birthdays followed all too rapidly it seems by their departure as adults, then, in later life, the passing, with ever greater frequency, of people that you know.

As a background to the milestones of our human lives there are the constantly changing seasons. You are taught about these as a child, and you understand them at a literal level. However, it's not until you have more than a few decades under your belt that their rhythm becomes an integral part of your life. At least that's how it's been with me. When I was a child I felt the seasons. As a youth, a young man, particularly when work became one of my main focuses, I lost that proper feeling for the different times of year. Since I stopped paid work that has returned and assumed its rightful place as one of the pleasures of my life. I've said elsewhere in this blog that I relish every season's differences and am daily thankful that I live at a geographical latitude that has clearly differentiated seasons.

I gave thanks again the other day as I went about one of my early autumn jobs - collecting in a bucket the fallen crab apples and the cast-off begonia blooms. I was drawn to the faded beauty of dead heads a couple of years ago and posted a picture then. I noticed it again when I piled so many begonia flowers on top of the crab apples that I completely hid them from view. The natural vignette provided by the shadow of the rim of the bucket made the yellows, oranges and reds radiate one final, passing glow, and I recorded it in this photograph.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 122mm (183mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6 Shutter
Speed: 1/200 sec
ISO:140
Exposure Compensation: 0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Public benches once more

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Shopping in Spalding, Lincolnshire, the other day we passed several benches that had recently been painted. They were the sort of bench that public and private authorities buy with everything in mind except people sitting on them in comfort. They looked relatively inexpensive, vandal-proof, low maintenance and were clearly made with an eye to how they looked rather than how they performed as a resting place for the human posterior in all its manifold forms. Comfort had been given no consideration whatsoever - they wouldn't have chosen hard, cold steel if it had. Nor had lumbar support ever entered the mind of either the designer or the purchasing officer. But, they looked sleek, modern and eye-catching, particularly with their new coat of paint, and so those responsible could rest easy, knowing that the public would see that they had been discharging their duties with the required diligence. That is, if they ignored the fact that not a single person was sitting on them.

I've lamented elsewhere in this blog - several times, and at length - the fact that public benches frequently look great but are absolutely useless as a place to sit, rest and reflect upon the world. It seems that today, as these examples testified, benches can have every ancillary attribute but never the main quality required to warrant their name. In such designs form is a stranger to function.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 31.8mm (86mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f4.5
Shutter Speed: 1/100 sec
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Tewkesbury Abbey choir vault

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I visit a lot of churches, both great and small. And, if the truth be known, I prefer the modest buildings to the great abbeys, minsters and cathedrals. However, if it's awe and wonder you are in search of then one of the best man-made spectacles is to be found in the large churches of the medieval and later periods. More specifically, in the elaborate, often beautiful vaulting that supports their great ceilings.

In England there are many examples that take your breath away, and some that offer a variety of examples of the mason's art. Peterborough Cathedral has fine work from the twelfth century and beautiful fan vaults of the 1400s and early 1500s while Gloucester Cathedral cloister can claim the earliest example of this peculiarly English style. Beverley Minster has vaulting to compete with any church, and Ely Cathedral's vaults in and surrounding the famous octagonal lantern are unparalleled anywhere else. Even lesser known buildings, such as Pershore Abbey, can thrill when we stop, look up and reflect on the stonework above our heads.

Today's photograph shows the lierne vaulting of the 1330s above the choir of Tewkesbury Abbey. It is pretty much as built, though in the fifteenth century the Yorkist badges of the "Sun in Splendour" were added. And, of course, the paintwork has been renewed down the centuries. The two features that make this vaulting so different from any other, and so spectacular, are the extent and colours of the paint, as well as the unusual complexity of the ribs and bosses. When I visit this abbey I never fail to stop and look up at this beautiful spider's web that keeps the roof from falling on my head.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 18mm (27mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/30 sec
ISO:1100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Reflecting on church brass

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It's customary for Anglican churches to have a raised pulpit and a separate reading lectern from which sermons and readings take place. Pulpits have an inclined shelf that traditionally holds The Bible, a prayer book or any other document that the officiating clergy wishes to use. The reading lectern is a humbler (and usually lower) affair, often a simple wooden post with feet surmounted by the inclined shelf. However, in many churches the material is brass rather than wood, and the piece often dates from the Victorian or the Edwardian period. In these cases the shelf is frequently decorated with foliate or cross patterns, and many are pierced. I've photographed such lecterns before because the reflective glow of the brass in the darkness of the church makes an attractive subject for the camera.

The other day we visited a Lincolnshire church, one very near the border with Leicestershire, a building that we'd not been in before. It had a rich and fertile interior for a passing photographer. But, despite the fine tombs, interesting woodwork, unusual font and column capitals and much else, my eye was once again drawn to a brass reading lectern. What caught my attention on this occasion was the reflection of a south aisle stained glass window in the polished surface of the brass. The shelf had a quatrefoil design, each leaf filled with a flower stem with two leaves, and in the centre, a cross. These raised brass shapes were emphasised by black paint or lacquer and the out of focus colours of the window gave the yellow brass a jewel-like glow, inviting the close-up shot that I post today.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 52mm (78mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f4.8
Shutter Speed: 1/80 sec
ISO:250
Exposure Compensation: 0. 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

Volute handrail

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This is the third photograph of a volute handrail that I've posted on the blog, and like the other two it dates from the Georgian period. On our recent visit to the city of Kingston upon Hull we coincided with the annual Heritage Open Day, a nationwide event that features public and private buildings open to the public, usually at no charge. Anyone interested in historic architecture values the opportunity to enter buildings that are closed for the other three hundred and sixty four days, and in Hull we had a look in Trinity House School chapel and Maister House on the old High Street.

The latter is a flat fronted, three-storey Georgian town house of 1744-5 built for Henry Maister, a merchant. The only exterior ornament is a stone doorcase with a pediment and surround of the Ionic order. It is, in fact a quietly unassuming building of the sort that graces many streets in England. However, once you step inside the buildings piece de resistance hits you with full force. It is an open stairwell that rises the complete height of the building and is lit by a glazed roof lantern at the top. The stairs are stone, the walls decorated with stucco panels, brackets, swags and festoons, with sculpture a fine statue and paintings on the walls. The work is attributed to Joseph Page and Lord Burlington is reputed to have been consulted.

My eye was taken, as it often is, by the handrail up the stairs, and particularly by the volute newel on the ground floor. There is something about that shape and that way of terminating the rail that I find particularly satisfying and I couldn't stop myself from taking another photograph of this subject.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 18mm (27mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/13 sec
ISO:6400
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Photographic parts and the whole

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 I favour compositions that feature the whole of something - a building a flower, a tree, etc. It may be asymmetrically placed, sometimes it's centrally located, it may be small, or it can just about fill the frame. But, nine times out of ten I include a complete and recognisable subject in my compositions. On the other occasions I deliberately don't! Moreover, when I photograph a fragment, or multiple fragments of several objects I'm fighting my natural predilection.

Take today's photograph. I took a couple of shots of all of this ornamental fountain in Queen's Gardens, Hull, with its wind-blown jets of water partly obscuring Christopher Wray's magnificent Dock Offices of 1867-71. However, the compositions didn't satisfy me; there was too much in the frame and no definite visual focus. So I tried  a composition featuring part of the fountains and just two of the three domes in a composition that has a strong diagonal element running from the top left to the bottom right. It proved much better. And, with a fairly contrasty black and white conversion that made the best of the dull day I produced a monochrome shot that pleases me more than most of my recent efforts.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 35mm (52mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/320 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Pylons and the big picture

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We are often urged to make sense of the world by looking at "the big picture"; by weaving our way through and past the trivia and minutiae of everyday existence and surveying our existence from on high, from the uplands, from a place where the important things stand out and are not drowned in the inconsequential details of life. The problem is that if (or when) you achieve that exalted position you are just as likely to become very aware of your own inconsequentiality among the multitude and complexity that is life, and the big picture remains just as fragmentary as ever it was.

Perhaps that's why many people specialize or bury themselves in one or two interests. Engaging in activities where you can understand a large part of all there is to know about the subject, or with people who can supply all the answers, clearly has its attractions if you want to avoid the chaos of life. It isn't for me but I can understand why it is for many individuals. Having said that, I still remain baffled at why anyone would choose electricity pylons as their focus! I've mentioned the existence of the Pylon Appreciation Society before. However, now I discover there is also a Pylon of the Month website. I'm not averse to taking a photograph or two of pylons where they present some photographic interest. But in general I look forward to the day (it won't be in my lifetime unfortunately) when the need for such monstrosities no longer exists and mankind finds a less intrusive way of distributing power.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 95mm (142mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/800 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Gloucester Day and the English Civil War

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On a recent afternoon in Gloucester we kept coming upon groups of re-enactors dressed and armed in the manner of the Parliamentary forces of the English Civil War. We assumed that they were taking part in a re-enactment somewhere in the locality and, apart from taking a couple of photographs of them, we thought no more about it.

Once I was back home, however, I made a point of finding out precisely what they were about and in so doing I learned about an episode of the English Civil War of which I was previously ignorant. The roving bands were in fact taking part in the Gloucester Day weekend that celebrates the city's history and culture. Gloucester Day as it is currently staged dates from 2009 but prior to that was for over two hundred years a celebration of the lifting of the Siege of Gloucester on 5th September 1643, an event in the English Civil War. Apparently the city was under siege by the Royalist army under Prince Rupert and Charles I. The besieging force was about 30,000 strong and the city's garrison of 1,500 regulars plus some militia was heavily outnumbered. But, they took every advantage of their defences and even made sallies from the fortifications to attack the surrounding troops. The siege lasted from August 10th until 5th September when a relieving force of 15,000 troops arrived. Despite the overwhelming advantage possessed by the Royalist forces they lost over 3,000 men killed and wounded compared with the approximately 50 losses on the Parliamentary side. The incident was counted a victory for the forces opposed to the king and celebrated as such.

It seems that if we stumble upon such events they are usually re-creating the Civil War - as were these re-enactors in Lincolnshire.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 140mm (210mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/250 sec
ISO:160
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Fishing with Einstein

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"Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery"
Charles Caleb Colton (1780-1832), English cleric, writer and collector

When I took today's photograph showing a fisherman on the Gloucester & Sharpness Canal with Einstein grimacing behind him, it occurred to me that I could post it accompanied by two of my favourite quotes/jokes by the U.S. comedian, Steven Wright. These are:
"There's a fine line between fishing and just standing on the shore like an idiot" and
"I heard that in relativity theory space and time are the same thing. Einstein discovered this when he kept showing up three miles late for his meetings."
However, in checking the wording of the second quote I came upon a website that suggested it wasn't by him at all, but was a "a look-alike from Alex Kirlik". The form of Steven Wright's jokes - observations that are odd, clever, weird etc - delivered in a deadpan voice, are not unique to this comedian, but a stage act based solely on this approach that brims with twisted logic, a style that I find utterly compelling, probably is: hence today's quotation that I chose for the head of this piece.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 140mm (210mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/640 sec
ISO:400
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Park life

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It was a changeable day when we spent a recent hour or two in Greenwich Park, London. The sort of day when you can't decide whether to take a jacket - so you do. Then you can't decide whether or not to wear it - so you do. And, having done so you decide it's too hot to wear it - so you take it off. Finally, the clouds thicken, the temperature drops, and you conclude that you were right to bring a jacket - so you put it on again. Only to find the clouds departing, the sun re-asserting itself, and your jacket becoming, once more, a bulky encumbrance.

Today's photograph was taken as a bank of dark, threatening clouds started to make an appearance. They brought increased wind speeds and the threat of rain. But, fortunately for the majority of people enjoying the park who had no warm or wet weather clothing, they were transitory and moved on after a quarter of an hour or so leaving us to enjoy a pleasantly warm day in one of London's most interesting public spaces, somewhere that I always enjoy taking photographs.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 18mm (27mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/640 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Lunaria annua

click photo to enlarge
I've never posted a photograph of honesty before, though I have posted one of "honestly"! That's rather surprising because dried flowers feature in our interior decor, down the years we've often grown and displayed honesty, and the seed pods of this fairly nondescript plant are unusual and make an interesting photographic subject.

Honesty is commonly seen in gardens and is also a frequently seen escapee in hedgerows, verges and wasteland. The Latin name, Lunaria annua, derives from the moon-like shape and colour of its silvery-white seed pods, particularly when the outer layer has been stripped to show them in their fragile, shiny beauty. Not all countries associate the plant with the moon however. In the United States they are sometimes called "silver dollars" or Chinese money, whilst in France it is "the pope's money" and in Dutch speaking areas "coins of Judas".

I took a straightforward photograph of the seed heads and stems in the blue and white ware vase that my wife had chosen for the arrangement. But, I thought I'd try a determinedly asymmetrical composition showing only part of the vase and seed pods too.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon 5D Mk2
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 84mm
F No: f11
Shutter Speed: 0.4 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  0 EV
Image Stabilisation: Off

The Clink

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English has several slang words for prison, terms such as "nick" and "glasshouse". Two of this list of words derive from the names of actual prisons. One such is "Bridewell". This was originally one of Henry VIII's residences that was given to the City of London becoming first, an orphanage, then a women's prison. Later it became a poorhouse and prison. The building was demolished in the 1860s but not before its name had become one of the generic terms for prison.

The other actual prison name that attained this generic status was The Clink in Southwark on London's south bank. Its origins are said to date from as early as 1151 and it continued in use until 1780 when it was burned down in the Gordon Riots. Today a visitor attraction that recreates something of this medieval prison can be found on the site of the original Clink on Clink Street near Cannon Street Railway Bridge.

On a recent visit to London we were walking on the south bank and came upon a workman busy with the lighting under one of the arches of the railway bridge that holds the riverside path. The matrix of multi-coloured LEDs works in the shadows of daylight and the darkness of night and adds colour and distinction to this ancient passage-way.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 30mm (45mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/50 sec
ISO:3600
Exposure Compensation: 0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Towers of the winds

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Many years ago I visited Athens to look at the architecture of Classical (and later) Greece. One of the many buildings that I viewed was the Tower of the Winds, a 12 metre tall octagonal structure in the Roman agora, that was built in the period between 50BC and 200BC. It features the eight deities associated with wind and has a sundial on each of its faces. It was, essentially, a clock tower.

The other day I was standing in a public space at Canary Wharf in London where there are several clocks indicating time at different locations. We were debating where to sit to eat the lunch that we were carrying. That question was important because, though the sun was shining and the temperature was generally quite pleasant, it was windy and we knew that sitting in the wind would soon result in us feeling cold and uncomfortable. However, it was difficult to find such a place because the tall towers that dominate the location cause the wind to swirl in many directions. We eventually settled on a bench in a well planted area by some water features.

As I ate my sandwich I recalled an article I read recently about a tall tower in Leeds that caused the wind to increase in speed at its base to the point where it often knocked people off their feet, and caused a death when a lorry blew onto a pedestrian. The piece described how structures were being erected at ground level as baffles to reduce the wind velocity. It occurred to me that Canary Wharf's towers were "towers of the wind" too: the gusts definitely seemed to be stronger among them that in the open space by the river. But, the people who work there seemed to know the best places to sit at lunchtime and enjoy food and a break, so I took the opportunity to photograph the be-suited people enjoying their moments of mid-day leisure.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 140mm (210mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/500 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

Old and new cultivation

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Only a few minutes before I took today's photograph we walked across a pasture that showed clear evidence of medieval cultivation. The surface of the field undulated due to centuries of ploughing using oxen and horses. Generations of ploughmen had gone up and down each selion (a strip in a furlong, which themselves were aggregated into large open fields) in the same direction each season. As a result the ploughshare had made each selion into a long, straight, low bank that curved to the left at each end where the plough was turned. Our passage across the field rose and fell as we went over each ridge and furrow.

The contrast between this traditional method of cultivation, one that prevailed for over a thousand years, with the sight that greeted us as we crossed a recently harvested wheat field, could not have been greater. A single man in a large tractor pulled a machine that was preparing the land and sowing the next crop at the same time. He would accomplish in a few hours that which formerly took many men and animals weeks to achieve. The driver gave us a wave as passed by - such work today is a solitary undertaking - and as we went on our way back to Folkingham I reflected on the way today's cultivation contrasted with not only the distant past but what happened for much of the twentieth century.

Nowadays, as I understand it, there are essentially 5 approaches to preparing a wheat field with the next crop:
1 Conventional ploughing - plough the straw in deep, cultivate the seed bed, then drill and finally spread fertiliser
2 Shallow cultivation - plough the straw in deep, drill and fertilise in one pass
3 Minimal tillage - till the straw in shallow with cultivator, drill and fertilise in one pass
4 Shallow tillage - turn straw over in the surface soil, drill and fertilise in one pass in this layer
5 Direct drilling - no soil tillage, simply drill and fertilise in one pass leaving the straw on the surface.

However, I'm no expert, so watching the man and machines at work I was unsure which method of 3-5 was being used. I think it's 3 (minimal tillage) but I'm happy to be corrected.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 105mm (157mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/400 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Land versus sky

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When I was starting out in photography over four decades ago I remember reading a number of "rules" - the dos and donts of good picture making. As I progressed and matured I came to see them as guides rather than rules and each as something that could be ignored if the circumstances warranted it. One such rule concerned the balance between land and sky. Never, it was said, have the horizon in the middle of your photograph giving equal weight to sky and land because if you do the viewer will not know where you wish to place your interest and emphasis - or words to that effect. It's not a bad piece of advice, and there is some truth in the guidance. However, there have been times when I have done just that because my compositional judgement said it was the best solution.

An extension of this rule was that you should split your composition 1/3 to 2/3. If the land was to be 2/3 then the sky would be 1/3 and vice versa. Again, it isn't a bad rule because it often looks "right". However, there are times when it looks wrong. These days I compose largely intuitively but every now and then I pause and think about the land/sky split and what the proportions should be. In the shot above the enormity and the interest of the Lincolnshire sky was accentuated by making it more than 1/3 of the composition. Moreover, the spire of Walcot church (see previous post), a structure that is big when you are nearby, is reduced to its proper insignificance when seen in the context of a broad landscape.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 38mm (57mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/1000 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Walcot church revisited

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The church of St Nicholas at Walcot, Lincolnshire, is a favourite of mine. Its exterior leaves something to be desired aesthetically - the tower and spire are too tall for the nave and chancel, the entasis on the former looks a little odd and its broaches are unusually long. But, despite these shortcomings it is interesting and it makes for a prominent landmark in the locality.

However, when it comes to the interior it is a different story. Here the restorers did what was necessary and little more with the result that the medieval work hasn't been altered too much and the Victorian additions don't overpower it. Some would say it looks a little neglected but I welcome the absence of well-meaning tidying, polishing, renovating and prettifying. I like the oddities inside too, particularly the way old capitals were reused as column bases. I don't mind the absence of elaborate memorials and paintwork. And I welcome the "knocked about a bit" look of the pews. It's a rural church serving a small collection of farms and houses, and its sparse interior reflects the small population that services it.

On a recent walk I photographed a distant view of the church among the red tiled houses and agricultural buildings. When we went in to the church I took a view of the nave and chancel. As I took both of these photographs I had in mind two previous shots I've posted of the same subjects and it was with a view to comparison that I took the second set. Different seasons, different weather and different light have produced different shots. I prefer the earlier pair I think, so next time we are passing my aim will be to take photographs that better them.

photographs and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 18mm (27mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/30 sec
ISO:1600
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Unexpected photographic subjects

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A camera of one sort or another is with me wherever I go. Too many lost shots have taught me the lesson that, when you don't have a camera a great shot will inevitably present itself. Or at least it will be great in your memory as are so many missed opportunities. Consequently, on a recent short walk around the Lincolnshire fields and lanes near where we live I carried a camera, this despite the fact that it was August, the sun was high in the sky, and the chances of a shot were slight. And, my caution paid off. I didn't get a great shot, but I got a couple that I didn't expect of a subject I had never considered.

Stacked by the edge of a field were large rolls of thermal netting, the sort that is put over young brassicas in March in order to raise the temperature two or three degrees, give the plants a quick start and the farmer an earlier crop and therefore a better price. The ends of a couple of rolls were spilling down the stack, their stains and folds making a gauze-like, diaphanous texture that I knew would be quite appealing when a section was isolated in the viewfinder frame. Mercifully the end of the rolls next to the footpath were in the shade rather than the searing sunlight so I had no hard contrast to deal with. I made a several exposures, trying to come up with a composition that offered a little interest in terms of shape, line and colour. These two are my best efforts; not great shots but images with soft, quiet interest, delicate textures and subtle colours. And all the better, from my point of view, in being an unusual subject captured on a day of low expectations.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 42mm (63mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/250 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Two Spalding warehouse conversions

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In the UK finding new uses for old industrial or commercial buildings often results in them being converted into living accommodation. From power stations to old agricultural barns, fire stations to tea warehouses, apartments of varying sizes and prices are very often the first choice for a redundant building. It's not always the case; I've seen churches that became recording studios and cafes, a police station that became a restaurant, and more than one corn exchange transformed into a theatre. However, on a relatively small island with an ever growing population, housing of one form or another will often take precedence over any other use for a surplus building.

The other day we were walking around Spalding, Lincolnshire. The weather was sunny and the light clear and sharp. It was a good opportunity to photograph buildings. When I came to review my collection of shots I was prompted to reflect on the images of two Georgian warehouses that have been re-purposed (as modern parlance has it). One is barely recognisable as a structure from the eighteenth century, so complete have been its successive makeovers. Gone are the warm bricks to be replaced by painted render that is moulded to resemble ashlar blocks. The central hatches have been converted to windows and the hoist has gone too. In 1947 a main entrance with a hint of "Moderne" about it was created. It is now, I believe,either apartments or offices, with the name, White House Chambers.

The second example was formerly a warehouse belonging to the company of F. Long, but is now multiple apartments. It is a later conversion and has retained much more of its original character. Look at this building and you can immediately see its past. The original brickwork with its imperfections has not been too heavily modified. The rows of windows remain, as do the central hatches, but they are less integrated into the facade than in my other example. No attempt has been made to disguise the anchor plates of the tie rods that brace the building against lateral bowing; in fact they have been made into features. And, the pantiles of the roof, though probably not original, are characteristic of the period of the building unlike the concrete tiles of the other warehouse.

It seems to me that the way these warehouses have been converted exemplify two of the main approaches to such a task: treat the original building as a shell to be updated and made serviceable without any particular regard for its past, or retain the character of the original while doing sufficient to achieve its new purpose. Thankfully, today, the latter approach is more usual.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 66mm (99mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/125 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: 0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The transformational power of flowers

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Every gardener knows the transformational power of flowers. Grow a clematis, a rose or a wisteria against a dull old wall and, for the duration of the flowering of the plant, the mundane becomes beautiful. When our pots of red/orange pelargoniums, that we place to the left and right of our garages and a dark green shed, burst into flower these utilitarian buildings become more interesting and more noteworthy. The Royal Horticultural Society's "Britain in Bloom" competition is all about improving the appearance of settlements large and small by the planting of flowers.

On our recent visit to Brigg, Lincolnshire, we had a welcome and enjoyable cup of coffee at a cafe. The main area of the premises was well-presented under a glazed roof with several potted plants, palms and climbers. The "overflow" or outside area had less to offer, located as it was in a wide passage-way with block paving and rendered walls. However, this somewhat dreary location was lifted and made much pleasanter by the wall-mounted planters filled with multi-coloured petunias. My photographer's eye particularly enjoyed the contrast of the bright flowers and the plain, grey background and white furniture, the near monochrome quality of the latter making the colours of the former seem more intense than nature intended.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 30mm (45mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/50 sec
ISO:110
Exposure Compensation: 0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Brigg Fair

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"It was on the fifth of August, the weather fine and fair,
Unto Brigg Fair I did repair, for love I was inclined..."
from the folk song, Brigg Fair (traditional)

One of my favourite pieces of music is Brigg Fair: An English Rhapsody by the English composer, Frederick Delius (1862-1934). It is an orchestral piece based on the Lincolnshire folk song that Percy Grainger heard (and recorded) from Joseph Taylor, a Lincolnshire singer. Grainger introduced the piece to Delius who turned it into a work that remains one of his best loved compositions.

As luck would have it we passed through Brigg yesterday, the fourth of August, and with the words of the song in mind we looked around for evidence of the fair. There was nothing that suggested it was on apart from a group of travellers with their horses and caravans. I took today's photograph of a man as he exercised his trotting horse on a street near a large car park. I guessed that this gathering might have had something to do with the fair, but since there was nothing else to indicate the it I resolved to find out more when we got home.

It seems that the fair is held on the first Saturday of August. That was the second of the month this year and so we had missed it. Apparently it is something of a social event and gathering of travellers for horse trading in much the same way that happens at Appleby in Westmorland. The fair has a long history - over 800 years - and today it is less formal and smaller than it would have been when Joseph Taylor was singing in the local musical festival. Next year, perhaps, we'll go on the right day.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 116mm (174mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f9
Shutter Speed: 1/200 sec
ISO:280
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Museum names and obfuscation

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You'd think that one of the primary aims in giving a building a name would be to supply part of a unique address, to identify it to people passing and searching for it, and to indicate its purpose. The latter is not always required but in certain instances it is. There's little point in giving a town hall any other name other than the words town hall preceded by the placename: to do anything else would cause confusion and waste people's time. Similarly with art galleries. Yet in their naming the sound principle just described in relation to town halls is often ignored. What would you expect to see at the Wallace Collection in London? A collection of what? It happens to be fine and decorative arts, but you wouldn't know that from its name.

A public building in Lincoln has a similarly confusing name. It styles itself simply, "The Collection". Perhaps those naming it were influenced by the London example I just mentioned. Yet in Lincoln The Collection is a museum. There seems to be something of an acknowledgement that people won't necessarily guess what the building is about because some of its printed literature describes it as The Collection Museum. But, of course, a museum is a collection, so this awkward construction has built in redundancy: it is somewhat tautological. It seems to me that it is a confusion that should have been seen and then avoided. What is wrong with the name, Lincoln Museum?

We're back, it seems, to yesterday's theme of daft names. And like that post we are discussing a building that is better than the average for the city of Lincoln, despite its unfortunate name. I like the way that stone (is it artificial?) has been used in strongly horizontal lines with randomly disposed holes. I enjoy too the way one enters into a relatively dark foyer then passes into a beautifully lit "Orientation Hall" before entering the main exhibition spaces. The materials of wall, roof and floor have been well chosen and well put together. The exterior is also attractive, its avowedly modern lines fitting in well with the older buildings on its hillside site.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 18mm (27mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/60 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Daft brand names

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Wagamama, the British chain of Japanese restaurants cum noodle bars, must be in the top ten daftest brand names in the country alongside the likes of Fat Face, Everything Everywhere (EE) and C'eed. I suppose whoever thought it up considered it memorable, funny, distinctive etc. For me it's the kind of name that puts me off setting foot in the place -  in the same way that the restaurant chain called EAT., a company that insists on a full stop at the end of its single-word name, always sounds to me like a barked order that I feel duty-bound to ignore.

We were in Lincoln recently. It's not far from where we live, a historic city with a fine cathedral. Yet, we go there only once a year. I'm not keen  on the place. It seems to me to have the relationship with Lincolnshire that London has with the UK - it draws far more than its fair share of investment and sucks the life out of its hinterland. Add to that the truly awful redevelopment of the area around the Brayford Pool with its execrable university buildings, toy-town hotels and throw-away flats piled on the water's edge, the fact that the cathedral charges for entry, and the paucity of good, modern architecture, and you'll perhaps understand my feeling that one visit a year is quite sufficient.

But, the Wagamama restaurant built out over the water of the Pool is better than most of the buildings in that locality. The emphasis on horizontals and shallow pitches in its design is refreshing, as is the elegant use of materials. I'm not a great fan of hardwood slats as a wall finish; they soon discolour and stain in our wet climate. However, here they work well with the steel cladding and glass. I particularly like the dash of bold colour that accompanies the blacks, greys and browns. The red painted steel panel, with its large and small holes that covers the air-conditioning units is a nice contrast against the muted colours and I made it the subject of one of the semi-abstract, detail photographs that I took of the building.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 66mm (99mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/125 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: 0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On