As an avid Flickr fan, I was inspired when I read their latest blog post. Recently, two Brits took on an amazing project. I would have been THRILLED to partake in said project. Checking it out is a must.
A blurb from the post:
“two photographers · one camera · one weekend · a thousand people
Our project is a true portrait of Britain created by photographing 1,000 people. We stopped everyone who crossed our path on the streets of London, excluding nobody, asking the same question more than fifteen hundred times. In a moment where recession is the main subject of every discussion, it was striking to come across such positive attitude. This is the true face of Britain.”
My favorite people I stumbled upon:
I can imagine them as characters in a story.
Sophie, listens to the melodic happenings of her fellow British blokes, Radiohead, as she walks to the tube. She quietly hums “Exit Music” as she takes her usual post next to the grumpy, rumpled man and the busy businessman. Across She swears his blackberry must be attached to his hand, implanted into his skin perhaps. Across from her is someone new. Bright in yellow, the woman first avoided eye contact then offered a brief obligatory smile. Sophie returns the courtesy, adjusting the red scarf her gram gave her, and settles in for the commute. She mentally tabulates the tasks on her docket for the day. Wash paintbrushes. Change seating chart. Call disgruntled parents and justify quarters’ marks. Plant smiles on face. Greet grubby kids. Demonstrate self-portraits. Clean up inevitable spills. Hang amateur Picasso’s up to dry. Navigate the unsafe streets of Peckham. Get on tube. Arrive at home. Another day complete.
Charlie zips his green coat up and pulls his furry cap down. Mornings are the worse. Absolutely dreadful. He stepped on a cat’s tail. Spilled his tea down his front. And now he had to sit across from the human hummingbird again. She’s always listening to her dreadful music too loud. Tapping her foot and doodling in the margins of her morning paper. She reminded him too much of Kate. The painful thought of never seeing his daughter again squeezed his heart every time the brunette head-bobber sat down. He runs his hands over the front of his coat to make sure his essentials were still intact. Glasses – check. Chuddy – check. Pipe – check. Guess he’d survive another day. He hugged tighter on his knapsack avoiding all eye contact, wanting to get to his office in Peckham soon.
Mia, a creature of her surroundings, seemed to be magically charmed into good spirits when donning her yellow slicker. She had little to be “bright” about but chose to face the day onward and upward. Clutching her pocketbook tightly with arthritic hands, she kept to her allotted foot-and-half space in the train car. She hated public transportation – grimy, dangerous, and unreliable. She was eager to visit her younger sister, though, and gambled the risks in order to do so. She scolded her sister, Nan, for ever buying a flat in Peckham. Known for gangs, the area was unstable – socially, economically, or politically. Maybe this would be the day Nan listens.
Aye, I just can’t stop myself sometimes. Maybe I’ll continue Sophie, Charlie, and Mia’s story some day. The previous ramblings were just what I imagined when I first saw the picture. The beauty in the union of language and art.
