In response to the Covid-19 pandemic, lockdown in the UK began in the spring of 2020. These photographs were taken during the first weeks and months, when time made a nonsense of the order of the days. Routines slid. Night and day rolled together.

A huge beast had flung itself against our walls. Words and pictures caught inside us were retrieved to heave up to our conversations. This is how we feel. This is how we understand.
Verges were left wild and undisturbed.
New paths in the grass sliced diagonals and subdivisions of avoidance.
We heard the songs the birds were singing.
The snap and rustle in the shadows sounded out how we circled each other.
Dens were made with branches and sticks—these communities of spines and ribs fell down, to be reassembled.
Looking down towards the sea, our-city-not-our-city almost seemed the same. The horizon was still the horizon. It was a temporary quiet—ending when the traffic returned to the roads.

Extracts from ‘A Temporary Quiet’, by Vicky Waters, first published by Ellipsis Zine 15/08/2020

Vicky Waters is interested in boundaries—between garden walls and the woods, predictability and the sea. Walking during the lockdown of Spring/Summer 2020 heightened her interest in green spaces. She photographed the uses those spaces were put to; the proliferation of desire lines and the chalking of names on trees and pavements. She found particularly compelling the green places temporarily left to themselves—observing the changes they underwent. Vicky mostly takes photographs of her neighbourhood. This has included bowling clubs, festivals, artists and performers. She is interested in ‘domestic landmarks’—the landmarks made by communities.