Jul 5, 2011, 14:40
(By the way, I've done this in 2 parts just to break up the 6 images, 3 in each)
The title(without the question mark) is also the name of a local magazine which is aimed towards the "upper middle" of society..or at least towards those who are pleased to see themselves as such. It is the type of magazine which has a third of its svelte and glossy pages devoted to the selling of those stone-built properties that only Londoners or bankers or both, can afford. The rest has inconsequential articles on farming shows, tweed-wearing, cream-teas, antiques and some minor royal or other.
Thus you can imagine that the type of desired images that regale these quiet and hallowed pages are those which don't rock the dream boat: local gowned and chained masonic dignitaries quaffing champagne and grinning the grins that sharks might have if they felt self-conscious; the tedious autumnal pics of Westonbirt Arboretum...regular as bowel movements and designed to bring a similar easing. There are also the cliched references that one learns to repress the urge to gag: "jewel of the Cotswold", for instance, signifies the onset of buildings made from local limestone that either now are yet another antique shop or a place to buy yet another clotted cream tea for the final blocking of those clotted arteries.
These magazines, I guess, adorn many an oak table across the region before one of the brace of springer spaniels barfs some freshly-chewed grass over it...and the ones that make it unscathed invariably end up in dentist's waiting-rooms, underneath last year's National Geographic yet on top of Reader's Digest.
And, oddly enough, it was on my visit to the dentist's last week that I duly espied a copy of Cotswold Life: it had a list of the Top Ten Trees To See in the Cotswolds. Now, this was a pulse-racing bodice-ripper in terms of breaking the mold, as it was quite interesting. And at Number Three, this is what there was:
In St Edward's churchyard, Stow On The Wold(about 30 miles away from me), there are a pair of very old yew trees that have grown into and around the medieval stonework. Now, the photo in the magazine was a bit lopsided, but potentially pleasing.....
...so, what I decided to do, was to find this place and take a decent shot of it myself....
....and, whilst the rest of Stow was suffering an infestation of creaking, polyester-clad and loud, aged American males with tee-shirts tucked in their Staypress "pants" and baseball caps(presumably to divert attention from the fact they were wearing sandals with socks...}, well, I grabbed me a man's camera and found the unvisited church.
Here's the shot: no tripod, 21mm, aperture priority, choosing f5.6 or 8:
![[Image: 78-3BWweb.jpg]](http://www.shuttertalk.com/forums/images/upload/78-3BWweb.jpg)
Well, it was late afternoon. I was going to go home but I thought that was a heck of an expensive shot, what with spending all that petrol money for one shot.
Therefore, I decided to drive up a little minor road, following signs to the oddly-named set of villages called The Slaughters.
Jolly glad I did too:
Have you noticed, in your photographic life, that very very occasionally, there are locations that are not only so picturesque as to be a Godsend...?..BUT also there is one absolute giveaway of a shot? Imagine: a perfect composition, woth all the lead lines, edges and textures, all perfectly poised on intersecting thirds...and it's as though you're the 1st person to see the fact. You're not, though, as everyone takes that shot. In fact, if you managed to find a shop that actually is both open and actually sells stuff that is NOT damson conserve or Cotswold scorpion-honey[OK, I made that up just to see if you're paying attention], you'd find that every darn postcard of THAT view is taken from the exact same spot that your Dr Scholl medical sandal is curling its besocked toe from.
OK.. you still have to choose the right lens...but unless you're a complete plonker, not even you will shag this shot up as your camera does the stuff your brain would have done 30 years ago if you hadn't been boring the pants off your missis with model trains.
Anyway: in the Slaughters, it IS quite feasible to just stop your fecking Audi on the double-yellow lines, reach for your Twatfone and commit the shot to the archive. Yet I found that if one takes the time to slow down, wait for the light, wander about a bit, resist the temptation to chuck a cigarette butt at the trout as they grind their poor knackered carcases against the flow of the 1-inch deep "river" that burbles with its dementia-chuckle, you can do amazing stuff. Like kneeling down and framing the shot. Or, sheee-it, walking back and forth because your clunky and silver-ringed lens is not like Chummy's Twatfone that has a 12-480mm zoom.
Anyway, I digress.
There is the stream, with stone bridges; there is the mill... that has been converted to an excellent museum, and which plays Glenn Miller or The Inkspots on external speakers; there are impeccably-kept terraces of Grade Two Listed dwellings....and you have the view that all this time you thought had been made up: a melange of imaginings and agglomeration of the things that invented the cliché. In fact, I merely started downstream, just past the mill, walking slowly along the shallow river the few yards to the village's main street.
Here's one of the shots from downstream: you see the mill/museum on the left of shot, with the terrace of small stone cottages beginning that run alongside the river. Outside each house gate are baskets containing lavender or herbs grown in the dwellings' garden: there is an "honesty system", whereby you are requested to put your money in a box in exchange for you serving yourself....
...and as you scratch your head, knowing that Audi Man has not even known this exists let alone could hear Moonlight Serenade wafting impassionato around the reeds...
![[Image: 97web.jpg]](http://www.shuttertalk.com/forums/images/upload/97web.jpg)
Ambling along to the right a matter of mere feet, and the reeds that line the edges of the shallow river disappear for twenty feet or so. Thus, it's possible to kneel down close to the water's edge....and aren't you glad you took the 21mm?....and frame a composition with some reflections. And here I have to confess that I went at the right time for the light, which was lower in the late afternoon and behind/above my left shoulder...but I'm sure you've worked that out!
![[Image: 02treatedWeb.jpg]](http://www.shuttertalk.com/forums/images/upload/02treatedWeb.jpg)
The final 3 will follow in the second thread...see you there...![Smile Smile](https://www.shuttertalk.com/forums/images/smilies/smile.gif)
The title(without the question mark) is also the name of a local magazine which is aimed towards the "upper middle" of society..or at least towards those who are pleased to see themselves as such. It is the type of magazine which has a third of its svelte and glossy pages devoted to the selling of those stone-built properties that only Londoners or bankers or both, can afford. The rest has inconsequential articles on farming shows, tweed-wearing, cream-teas, antiques and some minor royal or other.
Thus you can imagine that the type of desired images that regale these quiet and hallowed pages are those which don't rock the dream boat: local gowned and chained masonic dignitaries quaffing champagne and grinning the grins that sharks might have if they felt self-conscious; the tedious autumnal pics of Westonbirt Arboretum...regular as bowel movements and designed to bring a similar easing. There are also the cliched references that one learns to repress the urge to gag: "jewel of the Cotswold", for instance, signifies the onset of buildings made from local limestone that either now are yet another antique shop or a place to buy yet another clotted cream tea for the final blocking of those clotted arteries.
These magazines, I guess, adorn many an oak table across the region before one of the brace of springer spaniels barfs some freshly-chewed grass over it...and the ones that make it unscathed invariably end up in dentist's waiting-rooms, underneath last year's National Geographic yet on top of Reader's Digest.
And, oddly enough, it was on my visit to the dentist's last week that I duly espied a copy of Cotswold Life: it had a list of the Top Ten Trees To See in the Cotswolds. Now, this was a pulse-racing bodice-ripper in terms of breaking the mold, as it was quite interesting. And at Number Three, this is what there was:
In St Edward's churchyard, Stow On The Wold(about 30 miles away from me), there are a pair of very old yew trees that have grown into and around the medieval stonework. Now, the photo in the magazine was a bit lopsided, but potentially pleasing.....
...so, what I decided to do, was to find this place and take a decent shot of it myself....
....and, whilst the rest of Stow was suffering an infestation of creaking, polyester-clad and loud, aged American males with tee-shirts tucked in their Staypress "pants" and baseball caps(presumably to divert attention from the fact they were wearing sandals with socks...}, well, I grabbed me a man's camera and found the unvisited church.
Here's the shot: no tripod, 21mm, aperture priority, choosing f5.6 or 8:
![[Image: 78-3BWweb.jpg]](http://www.shuttertalk.com/forums/images/upload/78-3BWweb.jpg)
Well, it was late afternoon. I was going to go home but I thought that was a heck of an expensive shot, what with spending all that petrol money for one shot.
Therefore, I decided to drive up a little minor road, following signs to the oddly-named set of villages called The Slaughters.
Jolly glad I did too:
Have you noticed, in your photographic life, that very very occasionally, there are locations that are not only so picturesque as to be a Godsend...?..BUT also there is one absolute giveaway of a shot? Imagine: a perfect composition, woth all the lead lines, edges and textures, all perfectly poised on intersecting thirds...and it's as though you're the 1st person to see the fact. You're not, though, as everyone takes that shot. In fact, if you managed to find a shop that actually is both open and actually sells stuff that is NOT damson conserve or Cotswold scorpion-honey[OK, I made that up just to see if you're paying attention], you'd find that every darn postcard of THAT view is taken from the exact same spot that your Dr Scholl medical sandal is curling its besocked toe from.
OK.. you still have to choose the right lens...but unless you're a complete plonker, not even you will shag this shot up as your camera does the stuff your brain would have done 30 years ago if you hadn't been boring the pants off your missis with model trains.
Anyway: in the Slaughters, it IS quite feasible to just stop your fecking Audi on the double-yellow lines, reach for your Twatfone and commit the shot to the archive. Yet I found that if one takes the time to slow down, wait for the light, wander about a bit, resist the temptation to chuck a cigarette butt at the trout as they grind their poor knackered carcases against the flow of the 1-inch deep "river" that burbles with its dementia-chuckle, you can do amazing stuff. Like kneeling down and framing the shot. Or, sheee-it, walking back and forth because your clunky and silver-ringed lens is not like Chummy's Twatfone that has a 12-480mm zoom.
Anyway, I digress.
There is the stream, with stone bridges; there is the mill... that has been converted to an excellent museum, and which plays Glenn Miller or The Inkspots on external speakers; there are impeccably-kept terraces of Grade Two Listed dwellings....and you have the view that all this time you thought had been made up: a melange of imaginings and agglomeration of the things that invented the cliché. In fact, I merely started downstream, just past the mill, walking slowly along the shallow river the few yards to the village's main street.
Here's one of the shots from downstream: you see the mill/museum on the left of shot, with the terrace of small stone cottages beginning that run alongside the river. Outside each house gate are baskets containing lavender or herbs grown in the dwellings' garden: there is an "honesty system", whereby you are requested to put your money in a box in exchange for you serving yourself....
...and as you scratch your head, knowing that Audi Man has not even known this exists let alone could hear Moonlight Serenade wafting impassionato around the reeds...
![[Image: 97web.jpg]](http://www.shuttertalk.com/forums/images/upload/97web.jpg)
Ambling along to the right a matter of mere feet, and the reeds that line the edges of the shallow river disappear for twenty feet or so. Thus, it's possible to kneel down close to the water's edge....and aren't you glad you took the 21mm?....and frame a composition with some reflections. And here I have to confess that I went at the right time for the light, which was lower in the late afternoon and behind/above my left shoulder...but I'm sure you've worked that out!
![[Image: 02treatedWeb.jpg]](http://www.shuttertalk.com/forums/images/upload/02treatedWeb.jpg)
The final 3 will follow in the second thread...see you there...
![Smile Smile](https://www.shuttertalk.com/forums/images/smilies/smile.gif)