After visiting a photo exhibition at Weston Park Museum a few weeks ago, I took a circuitous route back to my car, snapping pictures of this-and-that (including the shot of the cobbled alley I showed on the blog yesterday). The route took me through the botanical gardens and I made the three pictures published here today.
I’ve not visited the botanical gardens that many times despite the duration of my abode in the city – I recall my nan talking about taking me when I was a small child, but I can’t remember anything about the visit beyond the feintest gossamer thin memory of the event. It’s somewhere I tend to forget is there, but I might try and explore it a little more next time I visit – there’s the remains of an old bear-pit in a part of the park I’ve not explored, and the glasshouse (while being closed to the public during the Covid-19 lockdowns) is another place where a nice photo or two might be had.
Giant emerald fronds Take abode in the glasshouse Heady, tropic scent
Sheffield was heavily damaged by bombing during WWII which resulted in the loss of many of it’s historic buildings. As with many towns and cities that were affected similarly, the destroyed buildings were replaced by new structures during post-war re-building. Thoughts on the aesthetic qualities of these replacements – often angular concrete and glass edifices – varies, but in general tends towards the negative in comparison with the older buildings.
It’s quite easy to think that the entire city is full of structures built after the war while missing the multitude of older buildings still present. Similarly, it’s also easy to imagine that the streets of the city are paved in modern materials and that all the history has disappeared, but the truth is that you generally don’t have to walk very far to find evidence of the past. Sometimes this is peeking out from behind the curtain of modernity, but it can also be found largely untouched, such as this cobbled alleyway not far from one of the city’s hospitals. Yes, there are signs of change in the shape of the lamppost and the somewhat ugly patch of tarmac, but mostly this still remains as I imagine it would have looked a considerable time ago.
Beneath the modern A strata of history Still waits to be found
I’ve titled this post “Car-park abstract”, but is it really abstract, or just a photograph of a car-park. Moments after entering the title I decided to search online for abstract photography and, if I’m honest, judging by the results it’s perhaps on the very edge of what might be classed abstract.
A lot of the results were either close-ups of objects that are still easily recognisable, close-ups that require a little more thought in a “can you tell what it is?” type fashion, identifiable objects placed or lit in an unusual way, objects reduced to collections of primary colours, shades, or shapes by composition, or just images of random patterns.
I guess my car-park photo probably needs a bit more work to truly fit into the abstract realm but, hey, it got me a blog post when five minutes ago I had no idea what I was going to write.
I’m losing focus Drifting into the abstract I paraphrase NIN
I took this photograph looking down onto the beach from the promenade at Bridlington. I wasn’t quite quick enough to keep the woman at the top of the picture within the frame. At first I was disappointed that I’d not taken the shot quicker but, on reflection, I think the way it’s framed with her partially exiting the top of the shot is more interesting. It’s added a small sense of mystery to the image I think.
On the beach they wait A sandcastle mystery Unfolds before us
Out at sea a lone pirate vessel heads south along the shoreline. Crewed by a motley band of brigands, ne’er-do-wells, and, well, anyone who bought a ticket for the pirate boat trip from the hut at the harbour really.
No press-gangs required For a trip to sea on this Small pirate vessel
The photograph today shows the view looking north from Bridlington harbour, with the beach stretching on towards the village of Sewerby with its well-tended bungalows and from there, where the beach falls back into the cliffs, the spit of land that curves around to Flamborough Head.
Flamborough is a place on my list of locations to visit this summer, although I’m not sure if I’ll get there or not yet. I stayed in a cottage there once when I was young on a trip with my grandparents and cousins. Flamborough is a small place and is the location of a lighthouse and a number of scenic coves which, at low tide, allow exploration of the cliff-foot and sea caves.
Flamborough lighthouse It’s glow to be seen afar From land and from sea
After yesterdays photo of a coiled heap of rope on a harbour wall, today there’s a picture of two fellas on a harbour wall (albeit a different section). This trip to Bridlington has, so far, been my only visit to the coast since last autumn. I’ll hopefully get at least a couple more visits before the summer comes to an end though. Because I don’t go too often it always has a charm, and there are always things to photograph.
The British seaside The beach, the sea, the sunshine And some fish and chips
The clunky coin-operated telescope – a staple of the seaside resort in the UK (and probably all over the world – there were loads of them dotted around when I visited New York for instance, although were fancy binocular variants). They always seem awkward to use. Big heavy lumps of metal and glass on stiff supports with a limited range of movement. The optics are often full of debris, giving a nostalgic, cataract-ridden view of whatever you manage to point them towards. They probably promise more than they tend to deliver, but I’m happy they’re there, especially when they look beautiful against the blue summer sky as this one does.
Say what can you see? Out on the beach and the seas And up in the skies