Thursday, October 01, 2015

Mass Observations 2015: Wrinkled Ladies, Two Jessicas, Two Blonde Girls amid a Prospect of Overbalanced Dog Walkers

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

 

 

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