2 METRES was a photography and storytelling project which explored the impact of social distancing, personally and professionally. It was originally published in April 2020 in Spiked.
People danced around new invisible lines, some with humour, some with fear. We tried to envisage our two-metre boundaries and stay behind them, ‘safe’ from possible contagion or recrimination. It impacted more than how we navigated pavements, also affecting and limiting our work, leisure, romance and the fundamental human need for society and physical contact.
At the time, a lot of coverage of the lockdown was purposefully cheerful, and reflected an understandable need to make the best of a bad situation and inspire people. I could not relate to it. The media felt strange to me. Because the reality was harder.
I wanted to bring my lens to the very edge of this invisible two-metre wall, to look through my isolation into someone else’s, and ask how we had changed already in that short time. Two metres sounds like a small distance, but the consequences felt vast, and I wanted to portray the honest difficulties and losses alongside resilience and hope.
“It is Easter weekend and this is normally the second busiest time after Christmas. I have been preparing for Easter since January. The Mother of all Vigils and the Service of the Light will be observed by me on my own tonight. I will follow the full service. Sadly, we had technical difficulties and I cannot stream services to my parishioners. I hoped I could give my parishioners a pleasant surprise and email them to tell them they could watch services this weekend, but sadly we had technical difficulties. My parishioners will have to watch other church’s services, and of course they can join in the spirit of prayer.
“It is strange to hold a service on my own in the church, but I am not distracted by the empty church, I am connected to God in prayer and connected to my congregation in spirit. I concentrate on the mysteries that are being celebrated and I carry my congregation with me in my heart.
“Although there are no public services or masses, and the church is closed, from time to time people come to the door. I can’t shake their hands or hug them now. To start with we stopped services but left the church open for people to come and pray, but the government has instructed us to close. The other day I found a young lady praying on her knees literally outside the church doors.
“It is difficult as a priest to have no physical contact. I have quite a young congregation and normally the children jump on me! It was the children who taught me the elbow touch before lockdown.
“Some of my parishioners have contacted me to say they feel very odd not to be able to come to church, and anxious about what life will be like when this is over. It will be painful if they turn to see someone in the pew they would normally see and they are not there.
“Faith helps me. At this time I reflect on the suffering, death and misery of Jesus, and from that the salvation and life. God makes a statement to humanity at this time that we are loved. After the Crucifixion comes the Resurrection.
“When this is all over I hope that there will be positive lessons that help the community of faith to grow. There has been a lot of human goodness, helping others and not just focusing on themselves. I look forward to the church opening. I look forward to the children jumping on me again.”
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Author Laura Dodsworth
