Coffee shops down the years

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In the UK in the late 1950s and early 1960s coffee bars became popular as places where you could get a non-alcoholic drink (coffee, tea, etc) and light refreshments. They didn't last very long as specialist retail outlets, often changing into general purpose cafes that sold a wider range of beverages and food. To those who remember such places it has come as something of a surprise to see the return of the coffee shop in the past ten to fifteen years or so. I imagine if one were to look at the growth of retail premises during that period, coffee shops would top the list in terms of the number of new outlets. Chains such as Costa, Cafe Nero, Starbucks and the rest have been joined by independents, all vying for the business of the coffee drinker.

It's interesting to note, however, that the surge in popularity of such establishments during the twentieth and twenty-first centuries was not the only time coffee shops have been popular. They first sprang to prominence in England in the seventeenth century, with the first coffeehouse opening in Oxford in 1650. By 1675 it is estimated that there were over 3,000 such establishments. Thereafter numbers declined but they continued to be found in cities and larger towns. In the nineteenth century the number of coffeehouses increased once again, this time at the instigation of the Temperance movement. The widespread concern  at the amount of drunkenness among the poor saw well-heeled and social connected people attempting to woo people away from gin and beer by promoting the virtues of coffee.

Today's photograph shows the Ossington Coffee Palace at Newark, Nottinghamshire. This striking building, a far cry from today's corporate creations, is described on a plaque attached to its walls as "a perfect copy of a seventeenth century hostelry", and is the work of the architects Ernest George and Peto. It was erected in 1882, funded by Viscountess Ossington who presented it to the town, and was intended to be a Temperance hotel. One of its aims was to lure farmers from the town's inns. Its accommodation was extensive and included an assembly room, a reading room, a library, a club room for Masonic meetings and other societies, a billiard room and bedrooms for travellers. The carriage arch on the right of the facade led to stabling for forty horses, a cart shed, tea garden and bowling alley. Everything, in fact, to distract people from the demon drink. Today it is occupied by a restaurant.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 10.4mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/200 sec
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Ballflower ornament

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Symbolism has always interested me. That must account - in part - for my fascination with the history of ecclesiastical architecture. Churches are packed with symbolism and it is sometimes a real pleasure to wander around one of these old buildings decoding the fittings, furnishings and architecture, seeing how artists and craftspeople used ornament to illustrate their faith.

In Christian churches the Trinity is especially subject to symbolic representation: how else can you depict God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Ghost as a single entity? In 2010 I photographed and wrote about a building that is almost entirely dedicated to the symbolic representation and celebration of the Trinity - Rushton Triangular Lodge. However, every church, somewhere or other builds in references to the number three because of its special significance. Three steps often lead up to the altar. The baptismal font is frequently at the top of three steps too. Windows are often split into three "lights", triangular shapes frequently feature in ornament, three-leaved foliage abounds, tracery has trefoils; I've even seen in a very modern church three vertical lines moulded into the concrete above an altar, rather like cricket wickets with the bails missing. Mind you, minimalism of that kind wasn't unknown in the eighteenth century, as this small spire at Little Gidding church in Cambridgeshire shows - notice the three rectangular holes piercing it, surely another representation of the Trinity.

In the period around 1300 to 1325 a particular form of ornament came into being that represents the Trinity. The ballflower is a three petalled flower that encloses a ball: three and one if not quite 3 in one. You can see them in their dozens edging the tracery of this chapel window (above) of the church at Ledbury, Herefordshire. Its a small thing, but heavily repeated so that cumulatively it can't be ignored. I've always been in two minds about its effectiveness as ornament because it turns elegant, smooth, curving stone into stone with an encrusted, almost organic quality. Over the years I've decided that in small doses I like it, but I'm glad it quite quickly went out of fashion.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 34.9mm (94mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/100
ISO: 400
Exposure Compensation:  -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Making the best of time

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"Which of us is not saying to himself -- which of us has not been saying to himself all his life: "I shall alter that when I have a little more time"? We never shall have any more time. We have, and we have always had, all the time there is."
from "How to Live on 24 Hours a Day" by Arnold Bennett (1867-1931), English novelist and writer

In 1910, Arnold Bennett, an English novelist best known for his novels such as "Anna of the Five Towns" and "Clayhanger", wrote a short, improving text called "How to Live on 24 Hours a Day"(Project Gutenberg download here). It wasn't the first such piece to come from his pen. Only the previous year he had written, "Literary Taste: How to Form It", in 1903 "How to become and Author", and  in 1898 "Journalism for Women". There were other such texts too, pieces that contemporary writers saw as "Victorian", old fashioned, not "modern". Bennett freely acknowledged that he wrote profusely and with an income in mind, and yet as more recent critics have come to acknowledge, that motivation didn't prevent him writing works that bear reading today.

In the essay quoted at the head of this piece Bennett sought to show how, though incomes varied, with some amassing much and many accumulating little, rich and poor alike share exactly the same number of hours every day. He lamented the kind of tedious work that many engaged in and tried to show how people could make better use of their time away from paid work, looking at how, for example, the journey to work could be made more productive, or how the time after the evening meal could be better utilised. Put in those terms the tract sounds mundane, and coming from someone who had made himself very comfortable through his writing, more than a little patronising. Yet, as I discovered a few years ago, taken in its entirety this piece repays reading even today.

On a recent visit to Barton upon Humber I saw the scene I captured in today's photograph and pondered the great value that can attach to unplanned conversation, wherever it takes place. As I've grown older and the pressures of work are now less, self-imposed rather than employment-imposed, I've stopped seeing this kind of socialising as something of a waste of time and started to value it as an activity that can be life-enhancing. The other, quite unrelated, thought that came to mind as I framed this scene was the patched up wall behind the sheltered seating. Graffiti had been roughly painted over and the broken render filled but not painted. The latter, when I first looked at it, appeared to be a cloud trying to put a symbolic damper on the meeting of the people below. On reviewing it on my computer it took more of the form of a heavily perspiring horse! Ah, as W.H. Davies wrote in his poem, Leisure, "What is this life if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare?"


photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 19.5mm (53mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/200 sec
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Fifteenth century modular architecture

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When we think of modular architecture we think of the buildings of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. Of glass curtain walls with standard sized windows, steel-framed structures with the same posts and beams repeated throughout the building or the same pre-cast concrete block stacked across walls. But modularity has always been a feature of architecture. From the sun-dried bricks of ancient Sumeria to the poles of the North American teepee, peoples across the world have appreciated the value and economy of building with multiples of a single form.

Standing in the market square at Newark, Nottinghamshire, the other day I saw another example of ancient modular building in the facade of the old White Hart Inn. What is now a branch of the Nottingham Building Society was once part of this old hostelry that still exists through the adjoining carriage arch. Dendrochronology shows the earliest parts of this timber-framed building to date from c.1312. However, it was added to and modified later that century, then again in the 1400s, a further extension was built around 1526, glazing dates from the mid seventeenth century, alterations were made around 1870 and restorations took place in 1983 and 1990.

The main photograph shows the close-studded, three-storey, jettied south range with wooden window bands, the head of each windows having tracery. Bressumers mark the floor level of the first and second storeys. These are decorated with billet moulding and above are canopies attached to each stud with a plaster figures in each one. The interesting feature here, as far as modularity goes is that there are only two models for the figures - one with a book and one with a palm - probably representing saints. Every other feature of the facade is also a single form multiplied many times. Replace plaster, wood and glass with concrete, steel and glass and you can see that the same motivations that lead today's architects to value modular building also appealed to those working 500, 600, even 700 years ago.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 25.6mm (69mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1 Shutter Speed: 1/80 sec
ISO:160
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Portrait photography assignment

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In this blog I've always stressed my enjoyment of the fact that I can photograph what I want, when I want and how I want. In other words, that I am an enthusiast and not a professional photographer. However, I am not blind to the fact that the imperative of getting a good shot because you must, can be a strong driver in achieving high standards.

The other day, as I picked up my DSLR and lenses and set off on a portraiture assignment, I had an inkling (though only a tiny one) of what it might be like to work as a pro. I was on my way to secure some images to accompany a magazine article. What made this assignation somewhat different from that of the average professional was that it was for a small, not-for-profit, community magazine. Moreover, the subjects, despite their rather glamorous sounding names of Miss Hunny, Miss Nimbus and Miss Lemon, weren't models, starlets, celebrities or even, thank heavens, civic worthies; they were three hens. Rather fetching hens with striking plumage, but hens nonetheless. My task was to photograph each of the "ladies" so that their portraits could accompany a magazine article by their owner. It was entitled, "Tales from Cluckingham Palace", this being the very grand and delightfully silly name of their hen house.

There are predictable problems when it comes to photographing hens. The first is that they don't respond well to instruction; in fact, they don't respond at all. Then there's the heads that rarely stop jerking backwards and forwards. In fact, even when the body is still the head moves! And finally there is their size - small - and the type of abode in which they live - muddy - with "deposits" liberally scattered about in the environment in which you have to crouch with your camera. However, like a true pro I went about my task determinedly, fired off a dozen or so shots, and was pleased that I was using a relatively high megapixel count camera so that I could crop out the intruding tail feathers, wire netting, wooden ramp etc. I went away confident that I'd got what I needed for the article. Miss Nimbus is for me, the best of this avian bunch photographically speaking, so I'll only inflict her on you as evidence of my travails and my success.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon 5DMk2
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 282mm
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/320
ISO: 800
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Dipping into the "maybes"

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Every now and again I come to the end of my backlog of "postable" photographs. That is to say, those images that I consider good enough to feature in the blog and which I prepare in advance, often well in advance, of the day on which they appear. One of the problems with my self-imposed task of posting on alternate days is that I need to collect, process and prepare, a steady supply of photographs that I deem "good enough" for public display: an activity that I sometimes refer to as "feeding the blog."

But, my well has run dry and so for today's offering I've pulled out a shot that I took on 8th December on my last visit to London. I'd prepared it for posting, but then, as is sometimes the case, decided that it wasn't quite up to par, and put it in my folder that I've titled "Maybes". Well, today a "maybe" has become a "postable". What I liked about this photograph is the viewpoint that embraces the Thames Clipper jetty with a catamaran waiting for its load of passengers before it turns up-river to the City, the O2 Arena (formerly the Millennium Dome), the neighbouring and distinctive Ravensbourne College and the office towers of Canary Wharf beyond the curve in the river. Oh, and the wonderful sky and the late afternoon light coming in from the left. What I wasn't so keen on, and what led to its eventual rejection is the darkness of the foreground relative to the background. Had some direct sunlight got through to the jetty or boat I'd have been much happier, but having the bottom half of the frame darker than the top half doesn't work as well as I'd like. However, needs must, and unless I break my schedule then this shot or one of my other "maybes" has to appear.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 10.4mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/125 sec
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Market Hall, Newark

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Multi-use buildings constructed in the eighteenth century are quite common if we include those that feature living accommodation in addition to their primary purpose. If you were a baker, blacksmith, weaver, or any other tradesman or craftsman you invariably lived on the job. It was convenient for dealing with your customers and you were in a position to ensure the security of your stock and tools. However, the sort of structure that we see today, where offices, shops, hotels, even train stations or museums can find their home in a large, subdivided building, were quite unusual in the 1700s.

The grand, classically-styled town hall of Newark, Nottinghamshire, a building of 1774-6 built by the architect, John Carr of York, is an exception to this general rule. Because, at ground level, underneath the ballroom, civic rooms, robing room, offices and everything else that was required by the leaders of the community, is a market hall. For centuries market halls had been common structures in towns. In the Midlands and South they were often timber-framed, a room above and open at the bottom, the sheltered space supported by heavy wooden posts, and in the North they were frequently made of stone, sometimes with split stone tiles as a roof. The Newark example is altogether grander, featuring a space eight bays long and three bays wide with stone Doric arcades and a coffered roof. The floor is made of heavy stone "flags", and the whole gives the appearance of something made to withstand the knock-about of market life, a cool dark place suitable for displaying food, somewhere that will last.

And last it has. It is still used as a place where stalls are set up and goods sold. On the day of our visit there was only one proprietor at work. Was that a sign of people spending less or is it used more on some days than others, much like the market square outside? Whatever the reason it made taking a photograph that shows the architecture an easier task for me than it has been in the past.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 10.4mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1 Shutter
Speed: 1/30 sec
ISO:3200
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Enduring Newark shops

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It's not unusual to find old shops that are retail premises no longer, perhaps having once been converted into housing, only the large window revealing their original purpose. And it's also quite common to find buildings that were once houses that are now shops, their location on a street frontage proving less of an advantage nowadays for genteel living but very suitable for catching the passing trade. Then there are those premises that were shops a hundred or two hundred years ago and are still used for that purpose

The other day we were shopping in the town of Newark in Nottinghamshire, an ancient settlement on the River Trent. As we walked round the fine old market square I looked at the timber-framed inns of the 1500s and the grander stone and brick examples of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Interspersed among these I could see town houses of the 1700s, the imposing town hall of the same period and some early and later nineteenth century retail shops. There was even a fine Moderne building from the 1930s, it's jazzed-up stripped classical styling trying to complement the earlier authentic examples but failing, though not without bringing its own welcome contribution to the streetscape.

However, it wasn't these grand or prominent buildings, often Listed for their historic or architectural importance, that caught my photographer's eye on this occasion. Rather, it was a couple of nineteenth century shops that were still, today, selling their wares to the people of the town. One, the taller of the pair, was largely as completed a hundred and fifty or so years ago, an illiterate mixture of Gothic and Classical decorative elements all infused with a hint of polychrome Venetian Gothic. Its verticality seemed to be a testament to the value of its small site which could only be maximised by building upwards. The ground floor was the most changed level, with the large window and glazed door obviously not the originals. However, the wooden surround was still there and I have no doubt that the box above the window still held an awning and a metal mechanism for deploying it. What a pity, I thought, that the proprietor had succumbed to paint of the fashionable "heritage" green. The adjoining building had been worked over very comprehensively, a veneer of modernity completely obscuring any traces of the original building. And yet it sat reasonably well next to its lanky neighbour, its name and the chosen font being the most jarring elements.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 22.7mm (61mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/640 sec
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The blame game and rain drops

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Am I cynical in thinking that our prime minister's exhortation to stop playing the "blame game" concerning the responsibility for, and handling of, the current flooding in England, is simply to prevent people examining the degree to which his government's policies are responsible for the extent of the flooding and the poverty of the response to it? Has he really forgotten that he was only recently blaming the flooding on the previous government's deficiencies. Moreover, I seem to recall him telling us, when he was first elected, that his would be a government that eschewed "Punch and Judy politics", that abandoned the usual name-calling and knock about; that he would usher in a new, responsible approach that raised the standard of political discourse. How soon all that was forgotten. How quickly did business as usual assert itself as U-turns, ministerial resignations, botched policies, missed targets and political embarrassments mounted. Unattributed briefings, back-biting, smears, statistical manipulation - the whole range of dark political arts - was deployed in double quick time, and very soon we were exactly where we have always been, with the public rating politicians among the lowest of the low, somewhere alongside journalists. Now, having said that he has no choice but to make deep cuts in public spending, exhorting us to tighten our belts and chopping services with a relish that borders on the fanatical, he suddenly announces "money is no object" in dealing with the flooding. Worse yet, instead of letting the responsible minister and the professionals who know how to deal with flooding get on with their jobs he announces that he is taking charge. I don't know whether to feel blessed that we are led by this Renaissance man or to despair that we (though not me!) have elected someone so prone to knee-jerk reactions, someone whose every action seems driven by whether or not it plays well in the media and to voters.

That despairing note was prompted by the confluence of the political news and the continuing rain, some of which I noticed on a window as the light started to fail. With my naked eye I could just make out colours in some of the drops on the glass. So, with the aim of revealing it, I mounted my 100mm macro lens on the camera and took this angled shot. I made sure the point of focus was off the left edge of the frame so that all the reflected highlights were out of focus to a greater or lesser degree. Recently I was speaking of how the camera often sees what the eye doesn't. That's especially true when you use a macro lens as some of the patterns in the highlights above show.

* The piece above was written on 11 February 2014
From The New Statesman, 12 February 2014: "After the session (Prime Minister's Questions) had ended, No. 10 briefed that there would be no new money made available and that any extra funding would come from contigency budgets, a clear reversal of Cameron's pledge yesterday."

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon 5DMk2
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 100mm Macro
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/125
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Photography, rejection and composition

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A large part of photography involves rejection. I'm not thinking of the way your output may be received by others, though rejection by an audience figures with photographs just as much as it does in any artistic or craft undertaking. No, in this instance I'm thinking of the rejection of that which is not needed to tell the picture's story.

When I come to compose a photograph I find that my mind either concentrates on including the parts that I want, or, more frequently, focuses on eliminating those aspects that are not required so that I am left with only the desired elements. Rejection, it has always seemed to me is more important in photography than addition. In painting it is the other way round: the blank canvas is built into the final work by addition after addition.

However, there are times when, even though you've included all you want and rejected all that you don't want, there is a case for refining down further still. That's because, sometimes, a part is more expressive of the whole than is the whole itself.

It was that thought that came to mind when I was photographing Church Lane in Ledbury, Herefordshire, the other day. This narrow, medieval and later street, with the old church at the end, is a fine photographic subject. However, each time I looked at my shot of the cobbled alley, the timber-framed buildings and the stone tower and spire on the camera screen I was less than satisfied with the outcome. After pondering the matter for a while I decided that this was because the essence of what makes the view interesting wasn't coming through in the image. So, as I passed by the location the next day, I switched the focal length from 28mm to 100mm, walked well into the lane, and concentrated my attention on the upper part of some near buildings and just part of the culminating tower and spire. The outcome is more agreeable to me than the wider (though still narrow) vista, though I'm sure there will be those who don't agree with that judgement.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 37.1mm (100mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/400 sec
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Attracted to the insignificant

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It's happened to me more times than I care to remember. I'm out photographing something large and eye-catching when my attention is drawn to something small and relatively insignificant, something that I hadn't noticed until I got into position for the sought after shot. And that relatively insignificant subject produces a photograph that I like much more than the one I originally had my eye on.

My previous post, of Tattershall Castle, is a fairly routine piece of photographic reportage. The light is OK, the composition works, the content is reasonably interesting, and the shot is different from many of this subject because it's taken in winter when the building is out of use, rather than in summer. But it's not the sort of photograph that I'll look back at, ponder or seek to repeat and improve upon. However, when I was standing on the outer wall of the moat I noticed below me the skeletal remains of plants that had grown up through the water. Initially I thought they were umbellifers of one kind or another, but I now think they must be something else. What attracted me was their pale, winter-blasted stalks and seed heads against the deep, shadowy blue of the water. Then I noticed that the plants were throwing reflections on the surface that were dark doppelgangers. Looking through the viewfinder I liked the sharp, scratchy lines against the dark background and I ended up taken rather more shots of this unimportant subject than of the historic and significant pile only a hundred yards away. Which, I suppose, takes us back once more to the Aaron Rose quotation I mentioned last month.

Reviewing the photograph on my computer I was reminded of a photograph I posted in April 2012, one that was languishing in the vaults, that I plucked out and used. It shows willow branches and twigs over water. Its a shot that sits quite nicely alongside today's, and would look even better with a third to make a short series or triptych. I must look out for something suitable.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 37.1mm (100mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/125 sec
ISO:400
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Lincolnshire castles

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Lincolnshire, though a large county, has relatively few castles, and even fewer if we only include those that today look like the castles of our imagining. Lincoln Castle is the most complete with extensive Norman walls, a keep, part of a tower, a thirteenth century tower and the exterior of a gateway of fourteenth century date. At Old Bolingbroke, once a large castle, only the mound, ditches and some low walling remains. Grimsthorpe Castle is a country house but one built around earlier remains of which only King John's Tower still stands. The often overlooked Somerton Castle near Boothby Graffoe has vaulted rooms in round angle towers. There are quite a few Norman motte and baileys, but most, such as those at Castle Bytham and Sleaford, remain only as grassy mounds, though Stamford does rather better with some walling still standing. Elsewhere a few towers and fortified houses can still be found, such as those at South Kyme, and Boston (the Hussey Tower and the Rochford Tower).

That short list sums up the major fortified remains of Lincolnshire. So, you may be thinking, why hasn't Tattershall Castle (above) been included. Well, as I noted in my earlier post about this brick-built castle, it was never built as a mainly defensive structure in the way that most other castles were. It has the form of a castle - a tall, embattled keep with machicolations, a moated bailey with a defensible bridging point, etc - but it was made of brick at a time (1434-1450) when canons were capable of reducing it to rubble in quite short order. It could not have lasted long as a stronghold against even a moderately large, well-equipped attacking force. The raison d'etre for Tattershall seems to have been impressing the locals and building up the standing of its owner, Ralph Cromwell, Lord High Treasurer of England under Henry VI.

The castle is in the care the National Trust and closed for the winter until March. So, on the day when we went to see the nearby church I was restricted in the locations from which I could photograph the adjoining castle tower. This shot was taken from the outer wall of the moat.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 10.4mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/200 sec
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Cloud clipped yews

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I've posted photographs in the past showing yew trees, often grown as hedges, that are clipped into massive, irregular mounds. It is a style popular in the gardens of English country houses. Audley End has a remarkable example, and I've photographed a fine one at Melbourne, Derbyshire. I've also posted an earlier photograph of those at Ayscoughfee Hall, Spalding, that are shown above, though it wasn't as well lit as when I took this shot. What I didn't have when I took those photographs was a name to attach to this particular type of topiary. But now I do.

Looking up some details about what is surely the biggest such hedge in Britain, the example at Montacute House, Somerset, I found a few references describing it as "cloud clipped" and some others that said it was an example of "cloud pruning". Those are both terms with which I am familiar. However, I assumed they applied to yews (and other conifers) where the branches were clipped so that each had a ball or disc of foliage and the whole tree had several irregular balls - like this or this. But apparently it has a wider application. However, I'm not sure it is the best term to describe this "lumpy" kind of topiary. Though many such hedges could be said to resemble banks of cumulonimbus, they don't resemble clouds as well as the cumulus-like examples that I used to think of as cloud-clipped. But, you live and learn!

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 16mm (43mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/60 sec
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The camera and the eye

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Something that I like about photography is that the camera often sees what the eye doesn't, and sometimes it sees what the eye can't. Take this photograph. Had I been walking by the River Slea in Sleaford without my camera, and with my mind on anything but photography, I wouldn't have noticed this semi-abstract composition. I wouldn't have seen the line of three posts in the water supporting the boarding that stabilises the river bank. Nor would I have seen the way they make a lower left to upper right diagonal across which the branches of a nearby tree makes wavy diagonals at right angles to them. More than that, without a camera I wouldn't have seen the extent to which the shifting surface of the water was making a scribble of lines out of those branches. I know the latter to be the case because my eye noticed a lot less movement than was recorded by the camera, and before I pressed the shutter I wondered if the composition would have enough interest.

It is said that the camera never lies, but, as I've said elsewhere in this blog, it's truer to say that the camera always lies, in one way or another. Sometimes the lies matter little, as when the perspective is altered by the focal length or the dynamic range is less than our eye can see. At other times it matters more, for example when colours are noticeably shifted, or what appears sharp to the eye is blurred, or a scene that looks deserted is only empty of people because you waited for a rare moment when no one was in the field of view. In fact, the camera induced effects that impinge on some photographs can make a shot what it is and sometimes it's worth deliberately trying to generate them: or at least be welcoming of them when they unexpectedly appear. Here are a few examples -silhouettes of ducks under an overhanging tree, the sun deliberately included in the frame, a sepia effect resulting from contre jour lighting and laser pen light and distorted colour (that radiator is white!) from a long exposure.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 27.9mm (75mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f4
Shutter Speed: 1/80 sec
ISO:400
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Dogs and me

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

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

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

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

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

Rain over the Humber Bridge

click photo to enlarge
How long does it take to judge the quality of a photograph? I'm thinking more about the "keepers", not the ones I cull immediately. How long is it before I consider them to be one of my better efforts or one of the much larger, "O.K" group? You might think that an odd question since quality must always shine through. However, I think that most people can more quickly judge quality in other photographers' images than their own. Photographs that you and I make carry more information and have more invested in them by us, than do those made by strangers. We know the circumstances in which we make our own photographs, where the image stands alongside other versions of the same shot, any difficulties overcome in securing it, etc. In other words we don't always judge it solely on its photographic merit, whereas that is something we can much more easily do with the work of a stranger.

So, how long does it take to judge the quality of a photograph? For me, I know that if I live with it for a couple of weeks I've usually come to a settled opinion as to its worth. That is the point at which I confirm a judgement made earlier, whether good or bad, or more often, slightly shift one way or the other from my initial thoughts, making a promotion or demotion if you will. Of course, when you run a blog that has the self-imposed task of showing a new photograph every other day, then sometimes you run low on images, and the luxury of considering one for a fortnight becomes impossible. Today's photograph is a case in point. It was taken on Sunday, was one of only three shots taken on the day (yesterday's post shows another), and I haven't really made my mind up about it. One thing I do like, that probably tipped me into using it before some other, older photographs, is the way it conveys a certain type of wet, English winter day, with its leaden sky and reduced visibility. The other thing that appealed to me was the contrast of the brown and greens of the grass and reeds with the monochrome sky, river, bridge and trees.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 18.2mm (49mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/250 sec
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Rainy days

click photo to enlarge
There are a number of reasons why I moved to eastern England. One of them is to experience the drier weather. I was born and raised in north-west England, a part of the country known for its regular and relatively high rainfall. I lived in Hull for a number of years and experienced there something of the drier weather that side of the country offers. But then I moved back to west Lancashire for about twenty years, once again subjecting myself to the wetness of the west. Now, however, living in Lincolnshire, I find that my love of the great outdoors is more easily sated and need not incur the drenchings that accompanied more than a few forays in the west. Moreover, I can usually plan to do something outdoors without needing to calculate whether or not it will be rained off - because it usually isn't.

Consequently, the recent days, most of which seem to have included a spell of rain at some point or another, have been something of a let-down. I've come to expect better! Or at least, different. It even poured down for much of our regular monthly trip north, over the Humber Bridge, into Yorkshire. So, with the expectation that I couldn't insert any photography based detours into our itinerary, we decided to do the weekly shopping a little earlier than was required, thereby making the most of the day that way instead. Today's photograph was taken after we'd parked in the supermarket car park, just before we scurried into the dry in search of groceries. The darkness of the afternoon, the rain-spattered windscreen,the glistening cars and tarmac, and the early lights necessitated by the murk of the day, offered one of only three photographs I took on the whole outing. Not my greatest shot, but not without some interest I think.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 15.3mm (41mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/50 sec
ISO:800
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Art Deco and the Adelphi

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Between the years of 1768 and 1772 the architect brothers, Robert and James Adam, built a group of Thames-side streets and grand terraces called the Adelphi. The name is very appropriate, coming from the Greek, "adelphoi", meaning brothers. The project was on a grand scale. It involved embanking the river, demolishing and removing the remains of Durham House, then building their new scheme using large amounts of their own money. The undertaking nearly bankrupted them and a lottery was needed to get them out of their financial predicament. The most striking part of the Adelphi was the riverside terrace. It stood on arched vaults and was composed in what was by then a common style - with emphasised centre and "pavilion" ends - making the whole appear rather like one majestic building or a transplanted country house. However, unlike most examples the centre and terrace ends barely projected, very shallow pilasters doing the job instead. It was rather like the Adam brothers had transplanted their interior decoration to the main elevation.

The Adelphi was demolished in the 1930s to make way for the enormous Art Deco buildings that now stand on the site of the brothers' imaginative scheme. Today's photograph shows the main pair - the Adelphi Building and Shell Mex House. Despite the great numbers of Art Deco (formerly more commonly known as Moderne) buildings that were constructed the history of twentieth century architecture sees the style as something of a disappointing dead-end. It doesn't fit neatly into the line that stretches from Gropius, through Mies and Le Corbusier, to Philip Johnson, S.O.M., Foster, Stirling, Rogers and the rest. Rather than the break with the past that these architects represent, Art Deco is seen as a continuation of classicism, an updating of it certainly, but tradition dressed in modified clothing nonetheless.

There is some truth in that point of view, but it shouldn't blind us to the decorative style and exuberance that Art Deco often displays, or to the monumentality that sometimes sits quite well alongside older buildings in a city. When I stood on the South Bank to take this photograph across the Thames I reflected that the simple, gigantic clock on Shell Mex House could belong to no other time than the 1930s, and the uplighting of both buildings seemed to work so well with their windows and their stepped back floors.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 28.2mm (76mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/80 sec
ISO:800
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Industrial semi-abstract with reflections

click photo to enlarge
The word "industrial" in the title of today's blog post is something of a  misnomer. The fact is that Lincolnshire, with a few exceptions doesn't feature much of what is usually called industry. It is a predominantly rural and coastal county with no large cities, and few areas of heavy industry - steel making at Scunthorpe and petro-chemical processing near Grimsby is about it. However, it is an agricultural county with a greater proportion of the workforce engaged in growing, processing or packing produce of one sort or another than is to be found in most counties. Consequently there are quite a few sites in the countryside or adjoining villages and towns, that have some of the characteristics of industrial buildings. Large, anonymous steel sheds are commonplace, as are strong perimeter fences.

The other day we walked past such a place, one that from the signs on the building appears to be engaged in distributing flowers. The heavy rain of morning had been followed by afternoon sunshine and its car park was awash with large puddles reflecting the "palisade" security fencing with its viciously pointed tops. The colours, lines, irregular patches of water and tarmac, and the reflected building and sky made an interesting abstract composition. I homed in on a section that seemed to offer something of interest across the viewfinder and took this shot. I used to do more semi-abstract compositions when I lived in a more urban area. I think it's something that I'll have to get back into.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 37.1mm (100mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/200 sec
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

A touch of strong colour

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Ever since mankind has created pictures colour has been a key element of the armoury of the artist. Colour is powerful, seductive, noticeable and descriptive. But, as photographers who favour black and white often claim, it can overwhelm an image, introduce a note or mood the artist doesn't require, or detract from the essence of what is offered. Consequently, artists have often sought to use colour sparingly, recognising as cooks do with their herbs and spices, that a little can go a long way. Since the rise of colour photography that has been one of the approaches that photographers have adopted too.

Several years ago, when I was more involved than I am today with the wider photographic community, I acquired a reputation for photographs that included a strong but small note of vivid colour (often red) in an otherwise relatively muted colour palette. In fact, my second post on PhotoReflect, way back on 24th December 2005, "The Power of Colour" both exemplifies and discusses that approach to composition. I continue to periodically produce photographs with that characteristic, such as this photograph of a ladybird or this one of a snagged red net bag by the sea.

One recent morning, on a shopping trip to Sleaford, Lincolnshire, I had the opportunity to add another such image to my collection. By a small pond, at the end of a wooden walkway that stretched from the path to a small fishing jetty, was a bright orange life belt. The overnight frost had laid a veneer of white over timber and vegetation, reducing the impact of these colours and emphasising the vivid orange circle. Holding my camera above my head to make more of the timber path and rails as a line into the composition I took the photograph that I offer today.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 10.4mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/40 sec
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On