An Encounter with a Stranger - Documentation

An Encounter with a Stranger

The tour began, and we wended our way across the campus and into unfamiliar territory. A narrow concrete path made its way across a busy road. It felt peaceful and quiet as we turned onto a smaller path, branches encroached onto the trail before us. We walked steadily through and entered a realm of shiny metallics. The sun shone and reflected brightly off the newly buffed chrome. Abruptly halted, one by one we were thrown into our first encounter.

I was escorted into a densely wooded grove, ducking beneath stray branches and crunching fallen leaves under my feet. I sat; headphones thrust into my hands and forced to listen. The roar of the sounds echoed through my mind, accompanied by the visuals of swaying trees, heavily laden with berries. The music stopped and the sounds fell silent. Replaced by new subtler tones; rustling, tweeting birds. A crunch of twigs behind unnerved me, as time fell away.

The white painted chair gleamed brightly against the green grass which surrounded the lake. I was asked to sit. To my left two men idled away their time, waiting for a sign. One turned adding bait to a silver hook. I felt invisible as I looked over the water. Although they were present, no conversation was struck. As I stood to leave I noticed a sign – No Fishing.

Mixed sizes of stones lay on the concrete surface. The purple tones contrast against the wet ground. Other words became clearer now created from twigs, leaves and found objects. The tone was sentimental.” Happy you and happy me”.

“Take this cloth and I will photograph you”.  Without hesitation I was thrust into an autumnal glen. Mounds of leaves piled highly around me. The faint clicking sound was uncomfortable at first. I was being documented, every move, every step. I began to relax. The cloth became a tool, dragging behind me to create a new path. The atmosphere was broken, the call of “Next”.

The sound of distant drums grew louder as I approached. The sounds seemed to bounce off the trees, creating echoes along the tree line. The pattern steadily built up and then dispersed. Then it began the cycle again. This time the noise came more readily. I eagerly anticipated the beats.

 A Camera, and a slideshow. To my left a hooded figure slowly climbed the metal staircase. The figure paused as my attention was drawn back to the row of screens. Climbing higher, more franticly, the figure reached its destination. From its hand gently fell a pink slip of paper. The screens ceased. The document was examined. A passport photograph. Her blonde hair stood out from the pink background.

The line was crossed and the encounter began. Leaves became words directing me forward onto the path. Corners were turned, a wooden arrow spurring me on. A blue chair faced me. Underneath lay a silver key.  The clockwork motion began to turn. A chick hopped its way forward into a new encounter.