A 154 Collaboration Begins: Pictures and Words

Myself and Dan Mallaghan have just begun work on a new 154 Collective Collaborative Project: Pictures and Words. This collaboration is based on the sharing and creative responses to each others work - writing and photography. Our first piece is titled: Through a Window and began by Dan sending me an amazing piece of writing which I then had to respond to through photography. I have loved working on this piece although I found it extremely challenging. Follow 154 Collective's Blog to find out what else we are working on. Here is mine and Dan's first collaboration:

Through a window.

You don’t need to see the weather today to know what it’s like you just need to see the people; the hardy ones; the ones that pass the window.  The shapes of their bodies tell you all you need to know.

A couple pass, their bodies contorted, lean heavily ahead of their feet as though they are slowly making their way up a mountain.  The woman, identified only by the heels she is wearing with her black suit trousers, is almost entirely smothered in an enormous silver coat. Insulation rings her body like Michelin tyres from her shoulders to her knees; disguising any body shape that may lie beneath.  Her hood, complete with brown faux fur lining, is pulled tightly over her head; her left hand gripping it across her face so that her eyes alone are revealed to the outside world.  From her right shoulder hangs a brown handbag tucked securely beneath her elbow and held firmly in place by the vice like grip of her blue tinged fingers.

And then there’s her partner. 

Perhaps only her partner for this walk; they seem so different in every way except the direction of their journeys.

He seems more defiant to the conditions, or perhaps, upon closer inspection of his grimace, more defenceless.  Scuffed trainers pound the pavement, a slight bend at the knee with each leaden step hints at the increasing weight of his sodden blue jeans.  He looks as though he’s been walking for weeks.  His hands are stuffed tightly into the pockets of what can only be described as a green summer jacket (though shirt with pockets would also do). Dark patches around his shoulders and arms confirm the inability of this flimsy jacket to repel any water.  His shoulders are hunched, leading the rest of his body; head down, tight lipped, eyes fixed firmly on his feet. Brown messy hair holds glimmering spots that gently slide down curling pathways before freeing themselves a drop at a time around his ears.

And he seems cold, much colder than the woman is in her storm shelter of a coat. He is rigid with cold.

They pass the window one step at a time, leaning into their path as though pulling trains behind them.

You don’t need to see the weather today to know what it’s like.  You just need to see the people.