Nearly all our journeys in England begin in Harwich, and more often than not, they conclude with a nice lunch in Colchester. It was there, in 2017, that I turned a corner onto the High Street and found myself face to face with a woman cast in bronze — tall, black, and walking with quiet determination.
The sculpture is called Walking Woman, the work of British sculptor Sean Henry. She wears a black turtleneck and trousers, her gaze fixed forward, her stride purposeful — as though she belongs to another rhythm entirely, one just out of reach of the world around her.
I was struck by her presence — not only by the realism of her figure, but by the enigma she seemed to carry. Fascinated, I set out to learn more about her, and about the hands that had shaped her. What I discovered was that she is not alone. She walks, in fact, in more than one place.
In London, she first appeared back in 2008, quietly taking her place among the glass and stone of the financial district. Then, in 2013, she surfaced again — this time in Germany, at the Blickachsen sculpture exhibition in Bad Homburg. After the show, she remained, purchased and given a permanent home on the square outside the town’s railway station.
That same year, another version of Walking Woman joined the permanent collection of Ekebergparken, a sculpture garden in Oslo, where she walks still — perhaps through mist or snow — among the trees and figures of other imagined lives.
Then, in 2017, she arrived in Colchester. And later that year, she appeared once more, striding along Commercial Road in Woking.
She is many women, in many places — yet always the same: alone, walking, forward.
