Mass Observation 2015: Dreamcatchers and Old Haircuts

Nothing

There is nothing sexier than an Irish accent. So when not one, but three álainn lasses crossed my path, my heart flipped. One of the ladies noticed me admiring them and glanced a little smile at me. Well, I just smiled back and carried on walking. I should have said something, but now it’s too late… Shit.

 

Joseph Seals-Law

 

Mass Observations

He shuffles between the lines of chairs and tables; his shoes scraping across the floor with every lazy step he takes. Phone in hand and earphones in he seems oblivious to the world.

To his right a tall boy with an old haircut sits and waits in a suit and Chelsea boots. Anxiously looking from side to side and scanning the mass of people in front of him. He is greeted by a brown haired woman who gently shakes his hand and leads him away into the crowd.

An older man replaces him, in one fluid motion he takes up the space the tall boy had left behind. He clutches onto his plate which holds the feast of the morning and tucks in almost immediately.

Around the corner, a boy sits nervously chewing on his bottom lip. His hand is a blur as his scribbles ferociously, desperately trying to empty his thought onto the crisp, white paper. Occasionally he looks up for a brief glance around before returning to his mission.

In front of him stands an important looking man with a stern looking face. He paces up and down with a notebook tucked under his arm and with his phone held to his ear he talks seemingly into his hand. He ends the call and shakes his head, his face a deeper shade of red than just moments before.

Lauren Robinson

 

The Man from the Arts Centre and other observed events

 

10.45 am

The leaves tumble down the path in a rush of yellow and orange as a man wearing green glasses navigates a yellow lawn mower along the grassy bank.

10.47 am

Dotted along the path to the Arts Centre are varying green bushes, brightened by bursts of purple and red flowers. The sharp red lines of the building emerges, shadowed slightly by the heavy cloud coverage above. The sun strains to break through, several rays spreading across the stone steps next to the entrance.

10.52 am

Inside the Arts Centre building, a wooden figurine of a wrinkled old man narrows his eyes, his body barely covered by brown rags. Next to him sits two faceless dolls, sprawled across a wicker chair, their feet emerged in sparkly pink trainers. Abstract art dominates the rest of the room, given in all forms and sizes; spiked statues and a red dress made of plastic party cups.

10.59 am

A large man in black bursts through the doors, his quick strides accompanied by a sharp jingling sound as his keys bounce against his leg. He disappears from view around a corner but the distinct sound of metal scraping against metal can still be heard.

Amy Smith

 

Edge Hill Observations                                                                                   

25.09.15 10.44am - Waters Edge Cafe

 Inside a man and a woman are having a conversation.  The reflection of the bushes seem like they hidden amongst the foliage.  The woman writes in a notebook while the man tries to look interested.

 

25.09.15 10.46am - The Lake

 A lonely student wanders towards class, a black man bag slung over his shoulder.  He is dressed all in white and looks like an eighties cricketer.

 

25.09.15 10.48am - Waters Edge Cafe

 A girl gestures in an animated fashion to her colleagues as she holds onto a banana, the skin peeled down, ready to eat.  Her friends, all male, with beards and wearing spectacles, drink coffee and look engrossed in her tale.

 

25.09.15 10.50am - The bridge over the lake

A group of students pass me, totally absorbed in their conversation.  The waterfall that feeds the lake bubbles as it flows beneath us.

 

25.09.15 10.55am - The LINC

Two well dressed students walk towards the building, having a discussion about ex girlfriends loudly.  One of them mentions a police investigation.  He has a Scottish accent and seems upset.

 

25.09.15 11.00am - The LINC

 A middle aged woman smokes a cigarette and patrols a small area of ground around her.  She seems glad that she’s smoking, looking visibly less stressed with each drag she takes.  Her chiffon scarf flaps in the breeze.

 

25.09.15 11.02am - The LINC

 The trees rustle in the wind and sound like the sea as a construction vehicle rumbles in the distance.  The air is cold and smells like autumn.

25.09.15 11.05am - The Business School

 Students busy themselves moving from one direction to another.  One student calls out directions very loudly to the people walking right beside him.

 

25.09.15 11.06am - The Business School

 

A student walks past with a cast on her foot, clutching a single piece of A4.  She has no crutches and seems to be able to walk fine, despite the cast.  She heads in the direction of the Hub with a determined stride.

 

25.09.15 11.10am - The Hub

A woman moves with a trolley towards the entrance.  She smiles at me as she sees me watching, I smile back.  She heads inside as the smile fades from her face.

 

25.09.15 11.17am - Wilson Centre

 A red haired girl asks me for directions to the bus stop and where I bought my lanyard.  I direct her as best I can.  She seems unaware that I'm as new here as she is.  She heads off in (hopefully) the right direction.

 

25.09.15 11.19am - Wilson Centre

One of the student dorms has a dream catcher hung in the window.  The blue curtains behind it are closed.

 

25.09.15 11.20am - Wilson Centre

 

A girl with a heavy Lancashire accent talks on the phone to a male friend who is on speaker phone.  They are discussing her finances and at one point she raises her voice sharply.  She seems worried.

 

25.09.15 11.25am - The Hub

 

A man and a woman sit on the stools near Starbucks.  They are discussing some research the man is involved in.  On the floor beside them, resting happily on its side is a seeing eye dog.  It doesn't appear that either of these people are blind.

 

25.09.15 11.26am - The Hub

 

Another Creative Writing student has her head down across the room, she pauses for a moment, pondering.  She raises her head every now and again and looks around the room.  I meet her eyes and smile at her, she begins to write again.

25.09.15 11.29am - The Hub

 A student and her parents get advice from the women on the Student Services desk.  They nod in understanding as one of the women explain something to them.  They walk off, still looking unsure.

 

25.09.15 11.32am - The Hub

 A pretty, dark haired girl sits at the table beside me.  I smile as she arrives, but she doesn’t return the smile.  She sits and seems momentarily absorbed in her mobile phone before looking up and around the Hub.  She sniffs a few times, seems to be starting with a cold.

 

25.09.15 11.35am - The Hub

Another dark haired girl sits on a table further away, eating a packet of crisps and looking around the Hub.  She has no notebook, but seems to be doing some observing of her own.

 

25.09.15 11.36am - The Hub

The pretty dark haired girl’s friend turns up.  She stands and they hug before sitting back down and starting a conversation.  Their body language is very open, but the conversation seems to be one of introduction.

 

25.09.15 11.38am - The Hub

 A group of sports students get up from a table, they are all dressed in shorts and trainers and wear those little trainer socks.  They talk to each other in a very curt, efficient manner which does not seem very friendly.

 

25.09.15 11.40am - The Hub

 A couple of girls walk past talking excitedly with scouse accents.  They both wear jeggings, have dark hair and fake tans.  One of them wears a hooded top with the phrase ‘I Heart London’ written on it.

Steven Kenny

 

Mass Observation

 

A pretty woman, small with a small chest and brown eyes, smiles as she passes me outside Clough. She wears jogging gear; grey bottoms and a tee with the beginnings of sweat. I think, perhaps, I will see her again and in the future we’ll get married. I know, as I walk the short way to the Hub, that I will never see her again and that smile, which meant so much a moment ago, was simply a reflex.

            Two women in blue enter. They swiftly exit through the other side, still absorbed in chat. Again, two people enter and walk and talk. The taller, his head aging more considerably than his arms, his muscles, pushes a red contraption, designed to lift boxes, I think, a machine I will never be able to name with confidence.

            I desperately want to speak to the girl sitting quite close to me. I know I can’t. I may do later; if it turns out she’s Single Honours. That way, we’ll have something to talk about. I wonder what she’s written, whether she writes about boys or girls.

Keiran Wyatt  

 

Witness

A cold wind strikes violently, blowing up the dry leaves, lifting them a few inches from the floor and twirling them around a pair of long skinny legs. The man slowly made his way towards the lawnmower; his thin limbs hanging stiffly on his sides and his hollowed-cheeks give him a cadaverous look. With difficulty handling his long legs, he manages to get on the lawn tractor seat and turn the engine on. He starts driving through the wet gravel path staring at the road ahead. A group of pigeons stand in the middle of the road, they notice the monstrous sound of the mower and fly away, desperately slapping their wings against each other trying to save themselves; all but one of them. The man approaches with the tractor concentrated on his path, but for a moment, his sight turns to one side distracted by my stare. His wide blue eyes fixate on me, while I stare at the single pigeon, unaware, still looking for food in the middle of the road ahead.

Isabella Castañeda

Entries

 

Entry 1:

 

She wandered lonely as a cloud, a bag of Walkers and a bottle of Disarrano in either hand. Her golden hair was hidden beneath her hood as her leopard print body skipped along the riverside, a gleeful glint in her eye as she ran ahead to jump onto her mates back.

Entry 2:

The wind blew her auburn hair into disarray but it was clear she did not care for she was too busy screaming into her mobile. She screamed and screamed, her free hand flailing around in angry bursts of movement as she yelled at a man called James for something or other. All those around her attempted a discreet get-a-way, all of them with a look in their eyes that said Christ, glad I'm not that guy.