Lythe
Chris and I spent a good 90 minutes ambling through and around St. Oswald's church at Lythe. I decided to see if I could get a goodly number of shots to tell a visual story of our experience of the place. Proper photogrpahers of course do loads of research and bring all the right kit to get that 'knockout image', probably arriving at some ungodly hour to boot. But I prefer to just turn up at a place, without preconception or grand notion, and to try to capture my response to it; making the best of what I see and the kit that I have, rather than trying to make 'the best image'.
A kind of exercise in seeing, or being. An immersive, rather than objective, experience. Which for me is the point of photography, a reason for seeing in detail.
So I came away with 16 shots in a rough sequence (not the sequence I took them) none of which are in themselves any great shakes. Certainly not ground-breaking must-see images. But I think they give a strong sense of place for those who can't, haven't, or won't get the chance to visit this suprisingly significant, seemingly inconsequential little church.
To be honest, the story I have come away with is certainly incomplete, from the perspective of this 1,000 year old edifice. There is some incredible history here, beautifully presented, which is somewhat missing from my sequence - but I'm okay with that. I think there are many stories that could be told here, and perhaps my best contribution is just to say "look at this place, it's so worth a visit".
We first saw the church on a taxi ride taking us along the coast road through Sandsend to Whitby and we both immediately thought (perhaps even said) 'Ooo, we must swing by and have a proper gander sometime'. Well it's just down the road from us so of course, it took us just 4 years to get round to it.
About these images
Even with but a brief glimpse, St Oswald's stands out as something just a bit unusual.
I think I was told in school that Saxon churches had square flat-top towers, whereas the Normans brought us spires and stuff. So what the heck were we looking at? It is of course way more complex than that - according to the National Churches Trust there are 5 main styles (although they don't talk about the Decorated style, c1290-1350, for some reason...) - I guess St Oswald's is a mix of them all, and then some.
Despite using a fairly wide optic (35mm) the proportions in the first shot are quite 'natural' as I'm shooting from some distance away (far end of the adjoining field, about 100m). I've muted the overall vibrancy of the shot in order to better emphasise detail over tone and colour. In fact I initially made this image in B&W, but on putting the sequence together decided something more natural made sense to open with. So I settled on a muted colour rendition. This makes the shot less striking in and of itself, but more appropriate to introduce the sequence.
I've used a similar colour treatment for the second shot, to maintain visual cohesion in the sequence, but this time used a longer optic (105mm) from the far side of the church. This has significantly compressed the perspective, making the tower look somewhat squat. In fact from this direction one looks up at the church (the ground falls quite steeply) which adds to the foreshortening. Both images end up feeling quite 'natural' in their perspectives, but the church itself presents an entirely different character.
Since I had my long lens with me I thought I'd capture the top of the steeple and the weather vane (440mm, about 100m), which was part of the 1911 restoration. I've again used the same tone and colour treatment as the first shots, but the tight field of view has selected a subject that is almost monochromatic - which I think helps in unifying the sequence...
...especially as the next shot (entrance) is a black and white conversion, which is a treatment I return to at the end of the sequence. Whilst I want 'visual cohesion across the sequence' I also need movement in the treatment to develop and present a 'narrative arc'.
photo: Christine Adams
Next we moved inside and got delighted and lost in the Stones of St Oswald collection. I tried to get a close-up of the hogback gingerbread man (maybe a scene of Odin being devoured by wolves at Ragnarok) but ultimately failed to nail the focus. Shooting for 1/30th,s handheld from 1m away at f/8 on my 105mm macro I had 5cm on the depth of field and ought to have landed the shot. But I didn't. In fact Chris got better shots with her phone - so I've included one of those here instead of my own clumsy efforts to at least help fill our story out!
And I'm fine with that. Not only is it lovely to have an excuse to showcase Chris's image, but it means I got to learn something as a result of this little expedition. My fundamental approach to photography is all about details. Get closer. Then get closer still. But sometimes that doesn't work. I realise I often have trouble capturing what I'm seeing when I look at heavilly eroded masonry. The truth is these stones image better in the whole than in the detail and I needed to step back. Thanks Lythe (and Chris) for showing me that.
So my next shot in the sequence became "To the glory of God" - the stained glass window just beyond the stones collection. I used a very unusual treatment (for me) on this one and I'm quite pleased with the result. Ordinarilly, when shooting stained glass, I would let the interior go almost black, or else I might crop to the window frame itself. But I wanted to create more of a sense of what it's like to see the window in-situ, rather than isolate it as an interesting detail. So I have used very muted, but certainly discernable, almost monochromatic tones for the interior with the bright and colourful window inset. The muted interior tones echo the treatment of the proceeding exterior shots. The bright window prescients the upcoming interior shots.
I wanted to create a very lush and warm sense to the interior versus the muted exterior story; a feeling of stepping into a world within a world - which I guess is how it felt.
All of the interior shots exhibit vibrancy with a warm glow. They present a step-by-step journey down the central nave - which was a straightforward linear plotline for the sequence. I didn't exactly have that as the plan in my head, but it does well represent how the building received us and presented itself to us.
Then returning outside I reverted to a colder, more muted expression, ultimately devolving into monohrome - and even views in negative. I think the interior/exterior contrast lies at the heart of the story telling here. Contrasts of any kind always help in story telling.
In the first shot of the graveyard I wanted to create the strongest contrast possible between the headstones and the long grass. I used a simple colour mixer to boost vibrancy in the blue channel. The second graveyard shot is kind of a classic, softly diffused, graveyard image. I was pleased to get it because finding and isolating a scene like that (with one cross headstone surronded by other non-cross stones) does take some presence aforethought. These are the kind of shots I always want to get in a graveyard - but actually few graveyards have quite this ambience. It's a real treat, at least for the living. I suspect it owes a lot to a very sensible approach to cultivation, letting these old bones rest both in and of the earth (nb. the newer graves are less overgrown but the lands around the church must be quite an ecological haven in the main).
I felt the monumental monument gave me the opportunity to jump fully into a gothic otherworldliness, it has such a strong and well defined presence that it carries the image with it, and carries us to the final act of the story. From where I present St Oswald himself, looking down on the domain from 'the otherside' (thus the negative treatment).
We then depart, still in this other world, with one last view of the church. Headstones resembling rank and file devotees in cloaks or cowls amassed patiently around the edifice - this time presented with an exagerated perspective as though tunneling between worlds to transport us back and forth...