Blue Rope

Magog Down, Cambridge, March 2024

First blue rope post for a long time – seen when walking on Magog Down 12th March 2024.

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Shutter Hub Open 23/24

Shutter Hub has released the following on the recent open exhibition (see blog 12th December 2023).

‘The Shutter Hub OPEN 23/24  ran from 27 November 2023 – 16 February 2024 at the ARB Building at Cambridge University, bringing together over 130 international photographers and promoting the future of photography through diverse and creative imagery.

Ken Rutherford, Soho Girl

We were delighted with the positive reaction to the exhibition – a reaction so positive in fact that the exhibition was extended! Originally due to close on the 02 February 2024, it’s run was extended by two weeks and the exhibition ended on 16 February 2024. It saw visitors from around the world and we had educational visits from colleges and universities, including a group from Anglia Ruskin University studying curational practice.

 Our Best in Show award was created as a fun and engaging way to involve more people in responding to photography, it’s very much about audience participation and connecting people through images.

The votes have been counted, and we’re pleased to announce that the Shutter Hub OPEN 23/24 Best in Show accolade goes to Ken Rutherford, for his image Soho Girl (shown above). Congratulations Ken!’

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Alternative Photography

Spent a bit of time yesterday experimenting with Lensball and Bug Eye gadgets in preparation for next week’s U3A Photography Forum.

Bug Eye 1
Lensball 1
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U3AC Photo Forum 2023-24 – Week 19 Members’ Travel Photographs

Graham Wickens presented travel photographs by members of the Forum.  Ten people submitted around 40 pictures – mainly in colour, just a couple in black and white.

Destinations ranged from the Hebrides and Felixstowe to Nagasaki and Chatsworth and from Hanoi and the Vatican to the Panama Canal and the Okavango Delta.  Subjects included people, architecture, mountains, beaches, statues, planes and the sea.

I submitted photographs taken in London walking from King’s Cross to the Royal Academy on 22nd February – a dreadful wet grey on grey day, but I tried to make the best of like an unlucky tourist. Walking down Shaftesbury Avenue, I was drawn to red lanterns at the end of Gerrard Place and followed them down to Newport Place, called Al Fresco Square on the Chinatown map.  On to Piccadilly Circus – full of real tourists under umbrellas – gloominess added drama to illuminations and wet the pavement became a bonus.  At the Royal Academy I photographed a section of The First Supper (Galaxy Black) by Tavares Strachan, part of ‘Entangled Pasts’ exhibition – it shows Haile Selassie (1892-1975) flanked by Zumbi dos Palmares (1655-1695) and Mary Seacole (1805-1881).  Photos below.

Brian Human 1, Newport Place, London, February 2024
Brian Human 2, Piccadilly Circus, London, February 2024
Brian Human 3, The First Supper, Royal; Academy, London, February 2024
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Mercury and Psyche

Mercury and Psyche, Adriaen de Vries, 1593, V and A Museum

Mercury and Psyche, Adriaen de Vries, 1593 (V&A Museum).  The winged messenger of the gods, Mercury, carries Psyche to be reunited with her lover, Cupid.  The entwined figures create a sense of movement and demonstrate De Vries’s compositional skill.  The Museum acquired the cast in 1865, indicating a Victorian taste for the style known as Mannerism.

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St Davids

Mining the Diaries 96: Wales

Arosfa, Goat Street, St Davids, 12th July 2021

A grey morning; some promising breaks in the sky. 

We walked down to the chapel at St Nons (it had become something of a pilgrimage) and lit candles.  Swallows flitted in and out over our heads and perched twittering quietly on the rafters by empty nests.

The clouds were breaking up; the sun turned the calm sea to silver and beyond St Non’s Well a field of barley invaded by corn marigolds shimmered in the breeze. Groups of young people in tight black wetsuits made their way west along the coastal path for a strenuous day of coasteering.

Whitesands Bay, Penbrokeshire, July 2021

We spent the afternoon at Whitesands Bay.  It was busy – families had set up camps on the beach and swimmers and surfers revelled in the unusually blue sea white-lined by a procession small breaking waves.  We walked to the south end and sat on the sand silently absorbed by the sea and mentally measuring a slowly rising tide.  Gulls soared overhead like visiting spirits.  We swam briefly, invigorated by the cold, the salt, the waves, a full sensory experience.  I love the waves breaking over me.  I love that sense of warmth when I’m out, dried and dressed.  I love the salt and sand on my skin.

Archaeologists were excavating St Patrick’s Chapel near the car park.  Little is known about its history – the earliest written record is from 1603, though it is clearly much older.  It is threatened by coastal erosion and excavations since 2019 have revealed over 100 burials to date; radiocarbon dating has shown that the cemetery was in use from the 6th century to the 11th century.  A volunteer was working on a skeleton buried in the sand, literally digging with a teaspoon.

Late that evening in the silent house I sat in my room looking out across the cathedral under a soft hued sky of greys, yellows and blues.  Carn Llidi was capped by cloud; gulls headed silently and purposefully south.  Suddenly a flock of rooks and jackdaws exploded clamourously from the trees.  They settled and a last scream of swifts played chase round the cathedral.

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Covehithe

Mining the Diaries 95: England

Weavers Cottage, Spinners Lane, Southwold, 20th May 2021

The weather continued to be grim for May: wind, rain and cold under leaden skies.  It didn’t keep us in and bracing walks were rewarded by the sense of overcoming adversity, still, going out was as much a duty as a pleasure, (not that we would be lying about sun bathing if we were having balmy days).

In that spirit we drove up to Covehithe.  The by-road road down to it from the B1127 was delightful – overhanging oaks and birch and banks of green and cream cow parsley and alexanders (horse parsley!).  We parked outside the hamlet, a couple of hundred yards short of the church.  A footpath led south from there, past fields of waving barley and paddocks with scores of pigs truffling in the mud; Covehithe Broad, a pewter expanse of water and soft reeds spread towards Easton Wood.  The path left the fields and ran parallel with the cliff edge, through a tunnel of blackthorn and umbellifers, to emerge through dunes onto the wide sandy beach studded with stones.  The dunes rose slowly to the north to form the cliffs of around 15-20 metres at Covehithe.  The low cliffs, 2-3 metres high, were pocked with sand martin nest holes – a few solitary birds skittered by, usually one could expect to see them busily going in and out of the holes.

Covehithe, May 2021

We walked north benefiting from a back wind, which sent small waves rolling up the beach.  The cliffs stepped up slowly, friable umber coloured sandstone with horizontal bands of flints.  They erode easily through high tides and water running off the fields – Covehithe may disappear completely in 100 years, some say much sooner. We picked up pebbles in an endless variety of shapes and colours and kept a few.  Previous walkers had decorated a large rock with delicately balanced stone sculptures.

Back at the hamlet we explored St Andrews Church, a curious arrangement in which a thatched brick building of 1672 sits within the ruins of its very grand 14th century predecessor.  We decided it was too cold to picnic outside among the broken pillars and ate our sandwiches in the car under a proud oak.

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St Davids

Mining the Diaries 94: wales

Arosfa, Goat Street, St Davids, 7th July 2020

I found a copy of an 1880 edition of Gilbert White’s The Natural History of Selborne among the neglected books lined up along either side of the fireplace yesterday.  The morning was grey and wet and after a late breakfast I settled down to see what the 18th century cleric had to say about swifts, birds that are so much a feature of summer here as they swirl around the Cathedral.  He notes their arrival in May, describes their life on the wing, observes their nesting ‘in crannies of castles, and towers, and steeples’ and is intrigued by ‘something new and peculiar with respect to them, and different from all other birds … that swifts propagate on the wing’.  He records their departure in August, but doesn’t know where they go (to Africa).  To White, ‘Swifts are anomalous in many particulars’.

The weather showed little sign of improving, so we set out for a late morning walk to St Non’s Bay.  A herd of immaculate black and white Friesian cows stood patiently in a field just beyond Warpool Court – the only sounds were of the cows grazing and water dripping from the trees.  The Chapel was open for prayer and contemplation; swallows skimmed in and out; and a soft-spoken Irish women from the Retreat came in and lit candles.  Stained glass showed Saint Bride with fishes and St Brynach with a cuckoo – legend has it that the first cuckoo of the year in west Wales calls from the top of the saint’s cross in Nevern churchyard.

We walked south to Pen y Cyfrwy overlooking the bight of Caerfai Bay.  Down below gulls uttered mournful cries as they floated over the gently surging sea; nearby a stonechat and a wren gave warning calls from gorse perches.

Carn Llidi from Arosfa, St Davids, July 2020

After lunch we did a circuit round the silent and deserted cathedral precincts in light rain with water dripping from the ashes and sycamores.  We felt like characters in one of those science fiction films, who wake to find themselves in a deserted place with nobody about, the whole population spirited away, or shut indoors afraid to come out because of some unnameable threat. 

Back to a warm house and Gilbert White.

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Fen Landscape: Wicken 2

Wicken 2, March 2024
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U3AC Photo Forum 2023-24 – Week 18 Still Life 2

This week members introduced their own work following Jitka’s talk in class 13.  We reviewed 40 pictures from 12 people.  The topic was interpreted very broadly.  Subjects included, flowers, crockery, sculptures, tools, a lensball, electronic circuits, architectural details, bric a brac, plastic models, fruit and veg and wine glasses and bottles.  Most people had paid careful attention to composition and lighting aiming for precision and clarity.  Approaches varied from old master-like effects to product advertising and self-conscious humour to simple formal clarity.  Optical phenomena and post processing were called on to achieve the desired results.  Overall the work showed how difficult it is to do still life well.

I submitted three pictures from my project Journey Round My Room (see post 5th November 2023).  Unlike most of the other work presented, these were found still lives and not artificial set ups, which I suppose sets them at odds with the historical nature of still lifes.  They stood out from the other work because of the very limited colour pallet and the softness of natural light.

Brian Human, Around My Room #2, 2024
Brian Human, Around My Room #1, 2024
Brian Human, Around My Room #3, 2024
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Fen Landscape – Wicken

Wicken 1, March 2024

Near Wicken returning from Fordham yesterday.

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Lindisfarne, Holy Island

Mining the Diaries 93: England

Marram Cottage, Beadnell, Northumberland, 11th September 2019

We decided to go to Lindisfarne today, checked the times for access across the causeway (5.30 mam – 12.30pm) and set off promptly after breakfast, driving through Seahouses, Bamburgh and Belford then on to Beal. Suddenly we swapped the trees and hedges of green countryside for the Holy Island Sands – a humbling open vista of sand and salt marsh backed by dunes where the bubbling call of curlew carried on the wind.

We left the car in the nearly empty car park and walked up towards Lindisfarne Castle in dazzling sun. A stiff breeze whipped up white horses in the harbour.  At the turn of the 20th Century the castle was no more than the ruins of a 16th century fort with gun emplacements perched high on a crag.  Edward Hudson, owner of Country Life bought it in 1902 and commissioned Sir Edwin Lutyens to turn it into the romantic, idealized castle of today.  To the north of it, across rough pasture, the Gertrude Jekyll Garden sheltered in a small stone enclosure.  Once a vegetable plot for soldiers stationed there, it was turned into a formal garden when Lutyens converted the castle – Lutyens and Jekyll were regular collaborators.  The main colour palette of the garden was yellow, with a glowing bed of red sedum at its heart; it smelt faintly of roses and sweet peas. 

Lindisfarne, boat hut and castle, September 2019

We continued down towards the shore and looped round towards the castle, past a stream of figures trudging up the track from the village (it’s a National Trust property).  Near the harbour the upturned hulls of old herring boats were used by fishermen as sheds for their nets and tools; unwilling to send their old boats to the breakers, they made clever use of the materials they had to hand.  We headed into the village following the aroma of roasting coffee to the Pilgrim’s Café.    

The village was charming and appeared quite unspoilt.  The Priory Church was a glorious ruin in dark red weathered stone.  As we stood outside admiring the chevron arches as a proud father was photographing his daughter by the door; we stepped aside, he said, ‘Thank you.  We’ve just walked from Melrose’ (around 50 miles).  We sat in the nearby late 13th Century church of St Mary, at first gloomy with its widely spaced lancet windows, but revealing itself as eyes became accustomed to the dark.  The lines of old arches and roofs showed how it has been changed over the years from its 12th century origins.  A modern window depicted eider, puffin, seals, the causeway and the upturned boats.  Nearby stood the rugged Journey, a wooden sculpture, carved from seven elm trees, by Fenwick Lawson in 1999.  It depicted the monks of Holy Island carrying the coffin of St. Cuthbert to safety and eventual rest in Durham Cathedral, when Viking raiders threatened the island around 875 AD. 

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Acropolis, Athens

Mining the Diaries 92: Italy

Acropolis Ami Hotel, Athens, 8th June 2019

The Acropolis, Athens, June 2019

After an early breakfast we set out to try to beat the crowds visiting the Acropolis; we joined the small queue that had already formed at eight-thirty.  Even at that hour it was a hot climb up to the entrance; it was already busy and we were soon enveloped in the sense of being over crowded, first with individuals and then with the influx of tour groups.  People endlessly posed and took pictures; a TUI tour group peered down at their tablet screens edged with by little blue logoed sun shades.  A Japanese camera crew filmed a presenter in a long scarlet dress doing a piece to camera against the backdrop of the Parthenon Temple of Athena.  Does it need the publicity?  It was hot, dusty and noisy; the guardians blew whistles at transgressors getting too intimate with the stones.  Why do people bringing small children and bored teenagers here?  How many are here because it’s a traveller’s box to be ticked?    

It was impossible to appreciate the genuine grandeur, beauty and importance of the buildings, the symbols of the glory that was Greek culture and learning.  We struggled back through the crowds.

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St Davids

Mining the Diaries 91: wales

Arosfa, Goat Street, St Davids, 21st May 2019

Out bright and early – the fresh, sunny morning was too good to miss.  We drove east from St Davids, turned off at Nine Wells and parked in dappled sunlight under trees ringing with birdsong.  Following the path down towards Porty y Rhaw, we crossed a stream, where wagtails hunted for insects among the stones, and climbed up on to the cliff top, walking towards Solva, past what is claimed to be the remains of a fort – it needed an archaeologist’s eye and a poet’s imagination to bring it into being.  We lay on the grass watching jets heading west, invading the clear blue sky with chalky contrails – some short, some long, some fat, some thin, some persisting, some transient.  What determines their form and duration?  Height?  Speed? Type of aircraft?

We retraced our steps and clambered down over the rocks onto the pebbly beach at Porth y Rhaw.  Off shore a gentle surf created a soothing susurrus; no waves reached the beach and the tide ebbed slowly back across the stones with the sound of the sea breathing.    

Caerfai, St Davids, May 2019

Returning to St Davids, we took a picnic lunch to Caerfai Bay.  A steep, paved, descent led to the shore; the tide was out leaving a wide sandy beach enclosed by grey and red cliffs with green patches of tumbling vegetation.  We padded across the damp sand to wade knee deep in the coldness of the millpond-calm sea, humbled by one very hardy swimmer.  Dogs raced along the water’s edge with unbounded canine joy.  We ate sandwiches as strange looping contrails swept arabesques over the sky and the sun shining through the haze created a surreal inverted rainbow.

I strolled down to the Cathedral before supper at The Bishops.  Lady Maidstone on her tomb in the Chapel of St Edward had a superior, haughty profile.  She converted to Catholicism, but wanted to be buried in the Cathedral, so paid for the then roofless Chapel to be restored.  The alabaster tomb was carved in Italy – it is said that she was a very difficult client and the masons took revenge by putting her face on the carving of her pet dog on which her feet rest.  She predeceased the dog and when it died it was cremated and the ashes placed in a small urn in the corner of the Chapel – the lid is surmounted by a small dog.

After supper we drove down to Whitesands Bay to watch the sunset.  No contrails then, just columns of barbecue smoke drifting up into the still air.

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Eve

Eve Listening to the Voice of Adam, John Hedges Baily, 1842, V and A Museum

Eve Listening to the Voice of Adam, John Hedges Baily, 1842 (V&A Museum).  ‘This sculpture illustrates a scene from John Milton’s poem “Paradise Lost”.  Turning to Adam to describe “a shape within the watery gleam”, Eve is told it is her own reflection.  Critics admired her parted lips and raised eyes “as if every sense were occupied in the work of listening”.’

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