Mass
Observation: 25/09/15 – Upper Level of the Hub
A
wrinkled lady wearing a blonde bob never puts her coffee cup down, she keeps
her elbow on the table and holds it close to her lips. She breathes through her
nose.
He uses
the empty sandwich carton to brush crumbs from the table, glances left to
right, then sips his Lucozade. He fakes a stretch. Again he scans he horizon.
He rubs his right eye a few times. His blinks become slower.
A lady
in a baby blue coat that touched her knees grabs her large black bag and runs
in a tiptoe away from the wasp. She stops in her steps a few metres away. Her
wince turns into a concentrating frown as she looks down at her phone. The lad
with the headphones wafts it away with the hand he isn’t leaning on and
continues watching the news.
The
legs in the black shorts are restless, tapping away. He gently punches the
table with the side of his closed fist as he talks. The other chap rubs his
eyebrows with his thumb and index finger as he laughs a monotonic laugh,
rocking ever so slightly back and forth in the armless chair.
As his
writing hand stops and joins the other in a tight crossed arms the ripples in
the black liquid of his tall cup settle until still.
Jessica Hill
Mass Observation
10:45
Sitting outside the large red building with
silver lettering announcing it was “The Arts Centre” there was a cold wind.
When the wind wasn’t present the sun was hot against my back. There are limited
students that leave the building, but those who do pass by give curious,
suspicious looks as they hastily walk past with arms loaded with textbooks. A
group of four leave the building. Their laughter drowns out the singing sound
of the birds somewhere nestled in the bushes that have an array of colourful
flowers. This group seems oblivious to anything but their amusing conversation.
10:54
The inside of The Arts Centre is sleek and
modern; it has been painted mostly grey and maroon which gives this arty sense
to the building. Annoyingly one light of the six lights has a blue bulb making
it stand out when one glances up in passing.
There are a lot of posters on the walls by the automatic doors. One
advertises tap dances where people have left names, emails and phone numbers in
black and blue pen – it’s very trusting of them. Beside it there is a poster
for rugby lessons on Sunday 11 am to 2pm for the Edge Hill University Vikings.
From above there is a loud, crackling laughter closely followed by the sound of
a man shouting, “Stop having fun” from the floor below. This man continues to
whistle joyfully as he walks across the lobby. The lobby is mostly empty; the
odd person passes through and doesn’t stop.
Four minutes later there is a sudden rush of
activity. A large group walk through laughing loudly; their voices echoing.
Someone is stuck in the lift with a large box and in need of help from their
partner who had come down the stairs. They start talking but their pushing and
shoving of the box reminds me of a sketch from Barry and Paul. One almost makes
reference to the comedians but he can’t remember their names and quickly helps
moves the box away to help his partner from the lift.
Three minutes later it gets quiet again.
11:07
To the back of the building outside it is very
quiet…peaceful. The light is limited as the building is to the back of me, but
that is forgotten because of the scenery. There is a large lawn of bright green
grass and surrounded by flourishing trees. They seem old some of the trees. One
with white bark flakes at the touch and is rough from years of battling the
elements. It is easy to tell autumn is coming as yellow leaves litter the
neatly manicured grass. The lawn itself seems to be on a hill. There are
several mounds, one of which is occupied by a boy who is engrossed in his task of
observation. There is another boy sitting on the steps, half concealed by the
shrubs as he, too, writes with his head lowered close to his paper.
There are gardeners. One is brushing up the
falling leaves with little success as the wind causes them to fall
continuously. Another is on a yellow lawnmower wearing earmuffs and a cap. The
lawnmower is so loud that it drowns out the sound of the tweeting birds lost in
the trees. As he moves away the sound merely becomes background noise. Instead
the sound of a leaking drainpipe becomes more apparent with the drip-drip sound it makes against the
concrete floor.
Jessica White
A man walks...
A
man walks briskly along the pond side. His eyes dart nervously across the
water. His right arm swings like a broken pendulum, out of sync with his step.
The bag he carries bounces against his left calf, jolting his already
disjointed walk. He realises he is being watched, and attempts to appear
nonchalant. He looks very uncomfortable. He speeds up and disappears from view.
A
woman gazes at the waves splashing against the embankment. She sits alone, in
one hand gripping her file and mobile phone, her other lies in her lap –
occasionally rising to her brow to block the sun that rests above her. She
watches the people passing by; observing, never interacting. After some time,
he looks down at her phone, rises, and leaves.
A
man is pulled along, leaning back against the force that yanks him onwards. The
dog he walks eagerly sprints into the sand bank. He tries to wrestle the dog
back under control, talking to his companion. He suffers the same fate. The
wind buffets the already over balanced dog-walkers and they are forced to run,
pulled along by their dogs out of view.
A
woman stands, dancing from foot to foot. She nervously shifts her weight, one
hand hanging limply at her side, the other holding the phone to her cheek. She
moves her free hand across and hugs herself, while she stares at the ground.
She then rests her hand on the railing, staring at the opposite building, lost
in the conversation. She resumes her pacing, up and down along the railing. She
stays there for a long time.
Callum France
Chit Chat
Above the huddled
ducks the wispy lines of white form an enclosing dorm, trapping nature's
belongings. A subtle breeze makes the brown girl pull her leather jacket
tighter across her small chest as a nearby lake drowns the chit chat of two
blonde girls.
Anah
Sharif
