He trawls through the city, as often as he is able.  He carries the camera, although he hasn’t used it in months.  It is a prop, camouflage.  He lifts it to his face and, pressing his eye to the viewfinder, he gazes off to the side or up above.

He points the camera at the ground, focusing on a patch where the paving slabs are scratched and stained, resembling a map of something or somewhere.  Or perhaps it is a river with many tributaries or the roots of a tree delving deep beneath the earth.

It is raining and, crouching in an abandoned doorway, he watches the passers-by, their feet pounding against the rain lashed pavement. Tilting the camera upwards, they appear as a series of frames, a film running on fast forward.  And suddenly he realises that he is too close and if he were to lean forward or reach out, just a little, he could touch it.

He stands and, stumbling, he drops the camera.  It clatters at his feet and he wonders if it will bounce back up or make a hole.



Mark Renney survives in the UK.  He has had works published in STILL, RAW NerVZ and The Interpreters House.  He also contributes to the Art Blog Collective Hijacked Amygdala.

© Mark Renney


9 thoughts on “LOOKING DOWN

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