Right then, that painting, you know the one, Lowry’s ‘Going to the Match’. Always stuck with me, that image. All those little figures heading towards the ground, the chimneys puffing away in the back. Felt like something real, something gritty. So, I got this idea buzzing around in my head – why not try and capture a bit of that feeling myself? Not painting, mind you, just going out and seeing if that sort of atmosphere still exists.
First thing was figuring out where to go. Didn’t fancy one of those massive, shiny new stadiums. Nah, needed something a bit older, maybe a bit rough around the edges, something that felt like it had been there a while, you know? Remembered an old ground not too far off, squeezed in between terraced houses and old factories, proper old school. Seemed like the right sort of place. Checked when the next home game was – a Saturday afternoon, perfect.
So, Saturday rolls around. Weather wasn’t exactly brilliant, bit grey, bit damp. Actually felt quite fitting, thinking about Lowry’s paintings. Set off mid-morning. Didn’t drive, took the train and then walked the last bit. That walk was interesting. You start seeing the colours, scarves and hats, little groups heading the same way. It wasn’t a massive flood of people like in the painting, not yet anyway, more like little streams joining a bigger river.
As I got closer, the streets got narrower. Could hear the faint noise from the ground already, a sort of low hum. Passed a few pubs, already busy, spilling out onto the pavement. Saw plenty of people, all shapes and sizes, old blokes who’d clearly been coming for decades, kids buzzing with excitement. You definitely got that sense of community, everyone drawn to the same spot. Looked around for those tall chimneys Lowry always painted. Saw a few old industrial buildings nearby, not quite the same, but you got the idea. The backdrop wasn’t pristine parks, it was bricks and mortar.
Didn’t actually go inside for the match itself. Wasn’t really the point for me this time. I just hung about outside for a bit, near the turnstiles, watching people stream in. It got much busier then, closer to the painting. Lots of movement, lots of chatter. You don’t really see individual faces from a distance, just shapes moving together. That’s what Lowry got spot on, didn’t he? That feeling of a crowd, loads of individuals but somehow anonymous all at once. Like ants, almost, but with a purpose.
Stood there for maybe half an hour, just soaking it in. The smell of fried onions from a burger van, the sound of the crowd roaring inside when the first goal went in, the bloke next to me muttering about the team selection. It felt… real. Grounded. Not glamorous, but proper.
So, did I find Lowry’s ‘Going to the Match’? Well, yes and no. The world’s changed, obviously. Fewer chimneys, different clothes. But that feeling of anticipation, the pull of the game drawing people together from the surrounding streets, the slightly grim industrial backdrop… bits of it were definitely still there. It wasn’t exactly like stepping into the painting, but you could see where he was coming from. It made me appreciate that painting even more, actually. He didn’t just paint a scene; he captured a feeling, a slice of life. Glad I went. Just a simple walk, really, but it felt like I’d connected with something.
