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.
