Seeing Sheffield Slowly慢慢看見 Sheffield

I have lived in Sheffield for more than two years, but before taking part in Streets to Screen, I had never really looked at the city. I knew the routes that were useful to me: the quickest way to university, the supermarket, the station, and home. Most of the time, I walked with a destination in mind. I checked the time, chose the shortest route, and paid more attention to where I needed to be next than to the streets I was moving through.

This project interrupted that habit. After watching Wong Kar-wai's In the Mood for Love, I began looking for places in Sheffield that connected with particular images from the film. I was not trying to make Sheffield look like 1960s Hong Kong. What interested me was the feeling held by ordinary things: a public clock, a worn wall, a staircase, a corridor, a cup of coffee, or a street lamp in the rain. The film gave me a reason to slow down and notice how a place can shape a mood.

Walking became an important part of the process. I wandered through different areas of Sheffield, including streets and buildings I had never visited, even though some were not far from places I already knew. Because I was walking to observe rather than simply to arrive, the city felt different. I noticed the colour and age of brickwork, the way trees softened hard concrete, and the sudden views created by Sheffield's hills. I became more aware of changes in light and weather. These details had always been there. I had usually moved past them too quickly.

The railway station made this change especially clear to me. Normally, being at the station means that I am catching a train. I arrive watching the clock, checking the platform, and worrying about whether I have enough time. My attention narrows to the journey ahead. For this project, I came to the station to look rather than leave. I spent time near the clock on Platform 1B and began noticing the people around it. Some moved quickly with bags; others stood still, watched the departure boards, or waited for someone to arrive. The same clock belonged to all of us, but each person seemed to be experiencing time differently. For once, I was not rushing with them. I could stand outside that rhythm and watch it.

The stairs beside Sheffield Interchange offered a quieter but more personal discovery. I had passed them many times before. I knew where they led, but I had never walked all the way up because taking that route would make my journey home much longer. Efficiency always won. When I chose the stairs as a possible response to the repeated stairway scenes in the film, I finally followed them to the end. Nothing dramatic happened. I simply reached the top and realised that I had finally completed a route I had mentally marked as inconvenient and therefore never explored. As I climbed, the familiar area changed with each level. Railings, concrete, trees, passing traffic, and the open sky came into view differently. I realised that my idea of Sheffield had been shaped partly by all the small detours I had refused to take.

The café became another example of how the project changed a familiar place. It is a café I visit often, but I usually order a coffee and take it away. I rarely sit down, and my friend has much the same habit. We both knew the café, but mostly as somewhere to pass through. This time, I invited her to take part in the shoot. Instead of leaving with takeaway cups, we ordered hot chocolate and sat together inside. We talked while preparing and taking the photographs, with no need to finish our drinks quickly or move on to the next place. The café felt warmer and more personal when we gave ourselves time to stay. What had usually been a short stop in my routine became a small shared pause. It made me realise that exploring a city does not always mean finding somewhere new. Sometimes it means spending more time in a place I thought I already knew.

Other walks brought me to weathered walls, industrial buildings, and quieter corners near the city centre. Sometimes a location matched the film visually; sometimes the connection only appeared after I had spent time there. I learned that I did not need to force the resemblance. The project worked best when I allowed Sheffield to remain itself and paid attention to what the place made me feel. An old wall could suggest accumulated time. A street lamp could make me wait for the right weather rather than accept the first available image.

Taking part in Streets to Screen has changed my relationship with the city. I still hurry through Sheffield when I have a train to catch or somewhere I need to be. But I am more conscious now of what disappears when I only choose the fastest route. The project did more than take me to unfamiliar areas. It taught me to wander through familiar ones with more patience. Sheffield no longer feels like a background to my daily routine. It has become a place I am still learning how to see.

Biography of the author, Claire Li

I am a second-year PhD researcher in East Asian Studies at the University of Sheffield. During the summer, I joined C&G Artpartment as an intern to support the project of Streets to Screen, while also taking part as a participant and collaborator. Moving between these roles has given me the chance to contribute both behind the scenes and through my own creative work. My contribution explores how scenes from Wong Kar-wai's In the Mood for Love can be connected with everyday places and personal experiences in Sheffield.