A simple way to create a smooth B&W image

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A quick tutorial on taking a fairly flat image and creating a smooth black and white from it using masks and gradients.

Dorset Day 2 - Hide & seek in the New Forest

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Woke up to the noise of rain sousing the window and I knew immediately, I was not going to get a sunrise shot. So after a leisurely breakfast we decided to take a trip to the New Forest, thinking either the weather might be slightly better inland, or perhaps the trees might offer us some flimsy protection from the deluge.

On the way there we stopped at Kingston Lacy, the two and a half mile avenue of grand beech trees that forms part of the National Trust’s Kingston Lacy Estate. It was planted in 1835 as a gift to his mother Frances by William John Bankes and was the main driveway to their house at Kingston Lacy. The avenue is now reaching the end of its natural life, as beeches only last around 200 years, plus these have had to contend with pollution from traffic on this busy road, so a number of mature trees are being felled each year for safety reasons.

The traffic was pretty much non-stop, so I used it to my advantage and tried to get some traffic trails going,
plus the light was very glum, which didn't show off the trees to their best advantage.

Dorset Day 1 - Shameful behaviour under grey skies

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Last week I took a quick sojourn down to Dorset, I hadn’t been there for quite a while so I was looking forward to getting some, hopefully, decent coastal shots. I was meeting my occasional photo chum, Sarah, down there for a couple of days of photography, before I returned home and she began one of her workshops. I drove down Wednesday evening without incident, save for an unfortunate happening in a car park in Poole.

I had stopped to answer the call of nature, well it was more of an uproar than a call, I had seriously misjudged my coffee intake vs journey time to a wild extent, so my concept of driving through in one go was tragically misguided. Anyway, after I’d made use of the facilities I was walking back towards the car, and noticed a big ol’ 4x4 (the type for chauffeuring sprogs about rather than off-roading) reversing out of its space not far away.

I walked behind it to get to my car, and as I was unlocking the door I noticed that it was getting closer and closer. Thinking that it was about to stop any moment, I got in, but as I was about to turn on the ignition it suddenly dawned on me that it was not about to stop at any moment at all, on the contrary, it was going to carry on at will.

Batsford Arboretum - A Potted History

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Last weekend I took a trip to Batsford Arboretum to see what autumn colours were on display in this Cotswold cornucopia of flora. As it happens, not a great deal, autumn is running pretty late this year, but there were very strong winds predicted for the next couple of days, so I wanted to catch what there was before it all blew away.

It’s the first time I’d been to the arboretum at Batsford, despite it being no more than a 40 minute drive away, I’d always opted to go to slightly further afield to Westonbirt, its bigger, grander cousin. But despite Batsford’s modest 56 acres, it’s still one of the largest private tree collections in the country, and boasts quite an array of species, including the national collection of Japanese Flowering Cherry.

The place has quite an interesting history, as the site not only contains the arboretum but also includes Batsford House, a huge pile of Cotswold stone that is still in private ownership, namely to the 3rd Baron Dulverton, so unfortunately is out of bounds for visitors.

Batsford House

Lake District Day 2 - Holes in the ground

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Up for sunrise once more, and I elected to go back to the same spot I had occupied the morning before, to see if the colours were more to my liking. So yet again, as I strode through the gloom, I thought how a torch would have been handy, and yet again, once I had reached Friars Crag, I made my way down the perilous embankment to the shoreline. But here’s the crucial difference, I made it down without banging, cutting, grazing or gouging a single part of my delicate person.

Job well done I mused, but then an alarming thought appeared unbidden, if I didn’t injure myself now then it was bound to happen later on in the day. So with that unpleasant logic beginning to smoulder in my brain pit, I thought it best to get it over with, at which point I promptly picked up a wellington boot someone had discarded on the shore and began bashing myself over the head with it.

So it was I found myself stood on the gentle, silent shoreline, as the dark of the night gave way to the soft, cool tones of dawns first light, repeatedly hitting myself over the head with a soaking wet item of rubber footwear.

Life is a strange old fruit sometimes.

Of course I didn’t do any such thing, it wouldn’t have worked anyway. Believe me, if I thought there was even a glimmer of hope along that particular avenue. I would have brought my own wellington boot along with me for the occasion.

I was soon setting up the tripod in anticipation of the morning light, and thankfully it didn’t disappoint. It was soon putting on a grand display of pinks and yellows over the distant fells. Alas it didn’t last long, and although I waited around for another half hour or so, it just became rather grey and ashen as the early morning progressed.

This was the last of the sun I would see all day unfortunately