Graham Diprose says: “Jeff Robins and I discovered, by chance, we both owned books with some of Henry Taunt’s pictures of the Thames and in the summer of 1998, as I took my boat up river, I began looking for the exact viewpoint of the old image.”

That exercise in curiosity eventually led to the current exhibition at The Oxfordshire Museum in Woodstock. Until March 28, you, too, can contrast and compare the images of the river taken by the prodigious Victorian photographer with the contemporary takes by Graham and Jeff. It is an exercise I can recommend.

According to Jeff and Graham: “Like Henry Taunt before us, we have used the cutting edge technology of the day to make our own images of the Thames.”

But I am sure they would be the first to admit that it was somewhat harder for Taunt, just getting there and then working with thin glass plates.

Taunt often camped overnight with one or two companions.

He was born, in 1842, in a modest house in St Ebbe’s and, aged 14, joined the staff of Edward Bracher, one of Oxford’s few photographers. By the age of 16, he was already trusted with commissions.

Christmas 1859 was to Taunt what summer 1998 was to Graham. He made a solitary trip up the flooded river to Cricklade, in an out-rigged dinghy.

This was the moment of inspiration that led to all the maps, postcards, guides and books that were to follow. The first edition of Taunt’s New Map of the River Thames, in 1872, was an immediate success. The maps in the book were hand-coloured and each tiny photograph pasted into position.

Comparing and contrasting: my first impression was that Taunt’s images are, of course, all black and white while Graham and Jeff’s are in full colour.

But manipulating images is nothing new.

Henry was pretty good at it in 1872. He used sepia toning and silver chloride.

Despite his success, Henry Taunt’s life was not easy. The verbal agreement for the renewal of the lease on his business premise, at 9-10 Broad Street, was not honoured — resulting in damage to his livelihood and the necessity to file for bankruptcy.

At that time, it must have been a humiliation for this energetic self-made man, who was, by then, elected a fellow of the Royal Geographical Society.

We have E.E. Skuce, the Oxford City Librarian in the 1920s, to thank for this show.

After Taunt’s death, in 1922, many of his glass images were smashed, while others were cleaned for use as greenhouse glass! Fortunately, Skuce wasted no time in rescuing the rest of his negatives, prints and papers for posterity.

Comparing the views within Taunt’s sight with those 125 years later, the historic river itself and the settings are often little changed.

The river edge is sometimes more manicured with fewer reeds and many of the buildings, like the hotel at Moulsford, have had expensive makeovers and pictures of Cirencester reveal contemporary tastes in municipal gardening.

But it is the atmosphere and the life lived in the settings that has changed the most.

Moustachioed Edwardian gentlemen, like Jerome K Jerome‘s three men in their boat, wearing blazers and boaters, look to be in no hurry, whereas today’s joggers, in their shorts and tracksuits, are aware of time passing.

Cherry Gray, who curated this exhibition, thinks “Taunt‘s images are more tranquil”.

I would agree.

Take his picture of The High with horse-drawn vehicles and compare it with the contemporary scene containing buses and myriad street furniture.

In the former, your eye is drawn to the architecture and the sweeping curve of the iconic street but, in the latter, you focus first on the red speeding bus.

If you regret the proliferation of fluorescent municipal signs and bollards, there is plenty of evidence here. I never understand why contemporary signs always have to be in garish colour. Would we really fail to take notice of a sign saying ‘switch off engines’, near Abingdon, if it were in brown and cream, or green?

Further evidence of the change of pace is in the two images of the Medley Boatyard. Taunt captures dinghies, their sails gently swaying, whereas Graham and Jeff’s show lines of brightly coloured motorised boats.

Beneath the photographs are contrasting images in words. One example is Taunt’s comments about Iffley Lock.

“Just below the lock is the mill, once one of the prettiest on the river, but now shorn of its appendage of grand old trees. Half a mile below comes the railway bridge, passing along a broad bit of stream, scene in 1838, 1855 and again in 1871, of sheep being roasted on the ice-covered river, we reach Rose or Kennington Island.”

Commenting on nearby Sandford Weir, Graham writes: “Sandford Weir, at 8ft 10in, has the largest fall on the Thames. In Three Men in a Boat, Jerome K Jerome added, ‘the pool under Sandford Lasher, just behind the lock is a very good place to drown yourself in’.”

I am sure you will have your own favourite places along the river and will enjoy comparing the ‘then’ and ‘now’. Don’t forget to enjoy some laughter by visiting the great automata show called ‘The Ride of Life’ in the rear gallery.

The Oxfordshire Museum is open Tuesday to Saturday 10am-5pm and Sunday 2pm-5pm.