Once upon a time, round about the 1850s, gasholders started to become a part of the urban ladscape, storing gas which was then sent on to bring light and warmth to local homes. Their distinctive presence came to be loved and loathed in equal measure by those who lived within sight of them. Many have now been destroyed, but some have been repurposed and redeveloped as up-market housing: as here , near Kings Cross in London. These are a couple of people enjoying a quiet moment in one of the urban gardens here, protected from the rigours of English weather. I rather like the slightly hard-to-read nature of these images, where shadows battle with columns to confuse the eye.
This week is perhaps the first one in which winter trees came into their own here in North Yorkshire. Recent high winds have snatched the very last scraggy leaves from their boughs, and now their austere skeletons are revealed in all their – often handsome – characterfulness. Here’s a small selection for Leanne’s Monochrome Madness. The header image, taken in Horniman Gardens, Forest Hill is not a true monochrome, but I’ve left it just as it is, to remind us that winter days – in London especially – can be black and white indeed. It’s the only image here not from North Yorkshire, or as we might call it today, The Frozen North.
On my way to and from London, we often pass through the Victorian Gothic masterpiece which is St. Pancras Station. The featured photo shows the sight that greets us as we emerge into the open from the adjacent and much less interesting Kings Cross Station.
This time, we had a little time to mooch round St. Pancras, and I’ll share some photos another time. But today, for Patti’s Lens-Artists Challenge, I’m going to focus on the statue that I love to hate, and that greets us as we enter the station. It’s Paul Day’s The Meeting Place , and it’s been here since 2007. The design brief at the time asked for a statue that would ‘capture the spirit of romance once associated with train travel‘ and ‘be iconic like the Statue of Liberty‘. Two young lovers, one a soldier, exchange a farewell embrace. I find it cloying and sentimental: something to do with the monumental size of this essentally private moment offends me. And as for being iconic. Imagine replacing, for example, Michelangelo’s David, or indeed the Statue of Liberty with this statue. I think not. I know this is a minority opinion, so I was delighted to find this article from the Guardian, published in November 2007.
Patti wants us to home in once – twice – and focus on the details of our chosen object. So here are the faces of this young couple.
Personally, I’d sooner glimpse down to their legs and look at the architecture beyond.
The plinth beneath was added slightly later, and is a collection of rather sombre scenes about which I have managed to find out little. In particular, the subject matter of the two scenes I show here eludes me. Perhaps the second one shows the evacuation of the underground after the terror attacks on the tube on July 5th 2005. But the first?
I never expected I would ever give this couple star billing. But sometimes, when you give your focus to something you haven’t appreciated, you discover what it is that other people have enjoyed, and that you have missed. It hasn’t worked for me with this one. Ah well.
PS. WP is having a moment again. Despite repeated attempts both yesterday and just now, it won’t allow me to add tags to this post. Anybody else?
Monochrome Madness this week asks us to feature statues. I could show you Michelangelo’s David. I could feature statues of The Great and The Good, as featured in all big cities everywhere. Or Nymphs and Greek Gods from set-piece fountains everywhere. But I’ve decided to go low-brow and show you pieces destined to appeal to children, or adults in search of their inner child.
Then we’ll stay local and inspect the Alice in Wonderland characters you’ll find in Ripon Spa Gardens. Lewis Carroll spent part of his childhood in Ripon, because his father was a canon at the cathedral here.
I hope you recognise the Mad Hatter, the Cheshire Cat and the Queen of Hearts.
Then there’s this fellow, part of a sculpture trail promoted recently in London by the children’s charity Whizz Kidz.
Here are some gargoyles, not necessarily designed for children, but certainly appealing to them: from the Hospital de Sant Pau, Barcelona, and the Església de Sant Julià in Argentona.
Monks and the Christian faithful – or certainly the masons working for them – generally weren’t above fashioning satisfyingly scary pieces. Here are two battered relics: one from Rievaulx Abbey, and the other from Rheims Cathedral.
My last image isn’t of a statue designed to be amusing. But Neptune at Studley Royal always makes me and any children I happen to be with laugh when the poor fellow is sporting a seagull headpiece.
And my feature photo? Are they even statues? Well, I don’t know what else to call these two. They’re from Valencia’s annual Fallas Festival, where humorous figures, originally made of wood, are toted round town in March each year to celebrate the arrival of spring.
Here’s a challenge and a half. Take five words, chosen monthly by Paula of Lost in Translation, and illustrate them. Here are the words: MONASTIC; ABANDONED; CRYSTAL; ECHOING; AFFABLE.
Monastic was easy. Of course I chose Fountains Abbey, a religious community from 1132 until Henry VIII caused it to be surrendered to the crown in 1539, under the Dissolution of the Monasteries. It’s where I have the privilege of volunteering, so it’s almost become my back yard. Here, in my featured photo, is the Abbey in autumn.
Abandoned? So much choice. I’ve picked a rather wrecked house in Seville.
Crystal was trickier. I don’t move in the right circles. But here is a crazed plate glass window on a ferry bound for Spain which has a slightly crystal-ish look.
You may not think my next photo illustrates ‘echoing‘. But trust me – it does. I was among the first passengers to arrive at London Bridge Underground Station just after 5.00 a.m one morning recently. There was not another soul on my platform. Only me. It echoed.
And we’ll stay in London for my last image, a cheery one. This affable chappie was snapped on a day out with Sarah of Travel with Me fame. He was part of a fun sculpture trail for children’s wheelchair charity Whizz Kidz.
So there you have it. Following the links to Paula’s and Sarah’s posts will show you very different interpretations, and perhaps you’ve seen others in blogs you follow too.
For this week’s Lens-Artists Challenge, Egidio asks us to consider compositions relying on two rectangles for their success. So I thought I’d offer a featured photo with lots of rectangles: the basic two, with sky at the top and earth at the bottom, and then, confusingly, a town square entirely tricked out in … squares. Emily and her Catalan family are looking out to sea.
I thought I’d include a couple more using this simplest of devices. The first from my beloved l’Albufera, which I’ve written about before – here (among several others).
And here’s another, from Lake Prespa in Greece, where the water reflects the sky above: the lower rectangle a pleasing echo of the upper.
And here’s one closer to home, in Whitby, a cormorant posing at the end of the pier.
A cormorant on railings at the end of the pier, Whitby, North Yorkshire.
Let’s stay beside the water: one a ferry across to Spain, spying on my fellow-passengers. At the Baltic Gateshead, spying on my fellow River Tyne enthusiasts, and in London, over looking the South Bank.
And finally we’ll whizz over to Barcelona, and wander round El Clot, and then Gràcia, where this view has two rectangles and includes any number of smaller ones, and the daily washing line.
Out and about in Brick Lane London, with Sarah of Travel with Me fame, we spotted what seemed to be a film-in-the-making. The actors were moving forward for sure, but for the camera man, it was a different story.
For Becky’s #SquaresRenew Challenge, she’s inviting us to post square – only square – photos on the themes of Burgeoning; Moving Forward; Reconstruction; or Renewal
You want water in motion, Sofia, for your Lens-Artist Challenge? You’ve come to the right place. We speak of little else in England this year. Look at this.
A dismal moment sheltering by the River Skell in Ripon.
Or this, taken through the windows of Christ the King Cathedral, Liverpool.
A (typical?) view of Liverpool.
But without this rain, we wouldn’t have those glorious tumbling riverside views: these are both from Yorkshire: I’m focussing on England for this post – it seems appropriate.
The River Wharfe at Grassington
The River Ure at Redmire Force.
Water’s playful too: especially in the hands of a sculptor. Here’s Atlas with his sea gods at Castle Howard, Yorkshire. A fuller image is shown as the featured photo.
Atlas , Castle Howard
And a child in Granary Square, London is certainly having fun.
Fountain, Granary Square, Kings Cross London.
But we’ll conclude with a more typical London view, overlooking the River Thames.
When Patti proposed, for this week’s Lens-Artist Challenge, that we focus on cities, I wondered where to start. Busan? Barcelona? Bamberg? Instead, I’ve decided to return to the city where I lived between the ages of five and sixteen, and to which I often return because my son and family live there: London.
We’re going to journey up the Thames, from Woolwich where the imposing flood defences of the Thames Barrier are sited through the city as far as Tower Bridge and Saint Paul’s Cathedral. We’ll travel, as so many tourists and even daily commuters do by Thames Clipper, the city’s very own London bus of the waterways.
Here’s the Thames Barrier, its metal hoods stretched assertively across the river, protecting it from the ravages of high tides and storm. You can read all about it in another post of mine, here.
The Thames Barrier on a grey day.
As our Thames Clipper passes through Greenwich, there’s the Old Royal Naval College, and the famous 19th century tea clipper, the Cutty Sark.
To the left, the Old Royal Naval College. To the right, the Cutty Sark.
Passing through the Docklands, we’re reminded of the city’s industrial past, when this was the area for receiving and despatching goods from all over the world.
Once a busy wharfside storehouse, now elegant apartments
These wharves are now repurposed as sought after apartments. But even with the modern Canary Wharf behind, we shouldn’t forget the Dirty British Barges (sorry, John Masefield) that continue their work of haulage up and down this busy river.
And maintenance works goes on …
Then it’s Westminster. Here’s Westminster Abbey and The Houses of Parliament, but what a shame that my most recent photo has Big Ben bundled up in tarpaulin.
Westminster Abbey, the Houses of Parliament AKA The Palace of Westminster, and a wrapped-up Big Ben
Then it’s the former County Hall, with the London Eye in front.
And on to the beating heart of the city: Tower Bridge, which I have never seen raised, though it still happens often enough. And here too is HMS Belfast, which saw 25 years of service during and after WWII. This most ancient part of London, site of Roman walls, and the Tower of London, is also where London’s most modern high-rises are found.
Are you getting a bit windswept and weather beaten here at Blackfriars Bridge?
It’s raining as we look through the arches of Blackfriars Bridge.
You are? Well, we’ll finish with a miscellany of photos. Enjoy the rest of your day – but just enjoy the view from the Millennium Bridge across to Saint Paul’s Cathedral first.
From the Millennium Bridge to Saint Paul’s on a rainy day.
If London -and the quirkier aspects of its history – interests you, I recommend hopping over to Steve’s blog: A London Miscellany. He’s a mine of useful, and useless-but-fascinating information.
From Pyrenees to Pennines 
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