Doing

The Homeless Library: 28th April, The Booth Centre

Our first session at The Booth Centre is a great blast of energy, noise, humour, confusion, fun and creativity. We've met so many people that my head is still spinning, as I write about it now.

Book folding. The Booth Centre, Manchester April 2015

Lois and I brought along the technique for folding and recycling to make artist books, a technique shown to us by Jeni McConnell at The Wellspring in Stockport. Some tables had been pulled together for us in the middle of the big dining area downstairs. It was a big echoey space filled with loud voices, laughter, the occasional squabble... and so our first move was to do something that relied not on conversation, but physical activity. The book folding was ideal for that.

'Sounds Stupid but..' Detail of folded book, The Booth Centre, Manchester 2015

Because we're already familiar with the book folding, it's getting easier to encourage people to take their folding a little further, to be a bit more daring. The results were loose and lovely, some with wild bends and folds like gentle book explosions, others quieter, more restrained. One book was even folded in on itself, as if everything it contained was a secret not to be shared.

Once the room quietened, we were ready for the next stage, which was a conversation-based writing exercise, one of our old favourites. We used sweets as prompts and discussed the associations that came with them, including childhood.

'Millions' (sweets) detail of Nicola's recycled book, The Booth Centre, April 2015

Out of this general chat, people's more personal stories began to emerge and we encouraged them to write, draw, make their mark on and in their folded books. It's a wonderful moment when people take an idea and make it their own - and that's what started to happen today. The books themselves became instruments of storytelling, inscribed with a multiplicity of words and images, hidden or open. They became the possessions of the people who made them. As I watched, I felt an amazing pride, for these brave, defiant gestures. Beautiful stories, ugly stories, but all in their own way a truth.

'Walking past Strangeways' detail of folded book. The Booth Centre, April 2015

Later as I type this, I'm in a cafe in Manchester. There's a tap on the window and I see R outside, I mouth "come in" and he comes over and sits with me awhile, in a break from selling the magazine. He's wearing a Big Issue bib and he's looking thinner than before, but it's good to see him, it's been months. We catch up with one another's news and I tell him about The Homeless Library. He was the first homeless person I ever discussed the project with, and he is keen to come along. I tell him that sessions are at The Booth Centre and R nods, "Yeah it's a good place, they get on and do things there."

The Homeless Library is a project devised by arthur+martha to document the heritage of homelessness using interviews, artworks, poetry. It is supported by the Heritage Lottery Fund.

back in the circle

We've been working with a group of carers at Warrington Museum, trying out ideas for re-labelling museum objects, using emotional connections with the artefacts rather than historical ones. This week we focussed on writing. Participants were interviewed about their lives as carers. They then inter-cut lines from these interviews with descriptions of objects that attracted them around the museum...

Carol with Finger and Toe rings from West Africa, Warrington Museum  & Art Gallery

rings


in rings – how you feel while caring

it's reminiscent of a wheel, you never get off

a sign of devotion, trust and

symbol of love

all the things you would do for a child

rather than being back in the pram they're in

a wheelchair, return to childhood

back in the circle

difficult to accept care – irritation

because it means you can't cope and that's a failure

finding a few moments to get your head together

no end to the task, no breaks

care is frustraton.



Carol

16 July




Interview  

It's reminiscent of a wheel, being a carer. You never get off. When you're not with the person you care for, you're thinking of them – are they getting properly looked after? Your brain is only intent on that one thing.

Finding a few moments to get your head together.

Care is frustration. I didn't give as much as I wanted, didn't get him what he really needed, couldn't keep him at home eventually. Frustration when people don't give you the right information or do the job they're supposed to and you do a lot of work for nothing. You make a complaint and they never get back to you, or fob you off. Ring so an so, then ring so and so. Phone call after phone call in amongst everything else you've got to do.

You don't think of it as how you show care, you do it automatically. You do a million things. All the things you would do for a child, all the things you would do for an adult. Provide food and warmth, making sure they're eating healthily, changing them, putting food in their mouths. And of course rather than being in a pram the person is in a wheelchair and you're pushing them around as you would a child. So again it's a circle, you're back in the circle.

It's difficult to accept care, irritating. Cos it means you can't cope and that's a failure. People ask are you alright and you always say 'Yeah'. It's a difficult thing to accept care when you've cared for someone.

Carol, interviewed 16 July

Touch

17 October, The Grange, Oldham

Philip writes:

We're working on developing reminiscence boxes, for use in care venues for older people. The objects in these boxes can spur very powerful remembering in people, even those who have memory problems.

We're trying various techniques, many of them light and playful, to add different facets to the reminiscence experience. Today, we put the objects into a bag - participants had to identify them by touch, reaching into the bag, exploring them by touch rather than by sight. The results caused great hilarity and gave the session a different focus than usual, stimulating much speculation and concentration. Smell is famously a trigger for memory, but touch is less used.

I'd brought various relics from my own childhood to the session, amongst them some toy soldiers. Here is the section from my field notes when the soldiers made their appearance:

Walter is completely transfixed when he encounters the toy soldiers in the bag. He gasps with recognition and a look of joy lifts his features. His delight is so big that it communicates itself to everyone in the group. His train of thought is fascinating, from childhood play to military service. 'It's going back for me. The subject isn't nice BUT the memories it evokes, they are nice. Cast them in lead a long time ago. (Dips into the bag and holds up one of the toy soldiers.) You can tell he's old, his rifle is drooping. I knew a lot of lads in Germany who were injured, became friends. Politicians have got a lot to answer for, people are the same everywhere, it's what they're directed to do by politicians is the problem.'

The reminiscences were cut up into lines and also put in a bag. People 'lucky-dipped' the lines, which were used to make a poem - a composition technique famously invented by the surrealists in the early 20th century, going under the title Exquisite Corpse. Dipping for objects and for poem lines brings an element of play into remembering and takes away from the fears that can accompany dementia.

I wonder what the 10 year old me would have thought of this game?

I've had 4 cuddles

Last Thursday we spent the day in Swinton, gathering the groups thoughts on friendship and the value of the 'Buddy Cafe' for people with dementia and their carers. 

In the morning the men and women separate themselves into two locations. The men spend their time talking whilst drinking tea, eating toast, playing cards, pool and one of their favourites dominos. As with the previous experiments I wanted to play with these familiar objects, re-making and re-seeing them with words and phrases from the group itself. Dave and I sat and selected from the notes Phil and I made in the morning, then Dave re-wrote them on the domino backs.

Dave editing poems

The pieces reflect the many states of emotion, and can be endlessly re-worked and re-edited. Next session, we will have a 'proper' game of dominos with them.

You can view more photos at http://www.flickr.com/

What's in the box?

There are lots of different ways of creating memory boxes, as part of my project ‘working memories’ I am undertaking some research into different approaches.

Memory boxes generally contain a selection of social history objects, photographs and other resources that can be used as memory prompts.

For older people, particularly those with dementia, using memory boxes can bring pleasure, trigger warm memories, stimulate and use of them has the potential to lift depression and improve communication.

A clear guide to memory boxes can be found at http://www.gem.org.uk

A different more creative approach comes from ‘Making Memories Matter’, from The European Reminiscence Network, started in 2004 “has involved artists from 7 countries working with individual older people to create ‘Life Portraits’ or ‘Memory Boxes’ around their life experience. Over 100 boxes have been created, recycling ammunition cases and giving them a peaceful and creative use. Each box has an accompanying text explaining the contents, putting the display in the wider context of the older participants life and giving the artist’s perspective.” Some revealing ‘Making Memories Matter’ videos can be found on YouTube http://www.youtube.com And http://www.youtube.com 

General information about Making Memories Matter is found at http://www.age-exchange.org.uk/

My plan is an Artist Residency spread over 6 months in Day Care Centres and a hospital for older people including those diagnosed with dementia, in rural Peak District. During my residency I will create illustrated reminiscence boxes for use in the host venues, and digital versions for care settings throughout the region. I aim to sit and draw the memories of older people directly as they speak them, forming a unique collaboration. It can be a interesting experience for someone watching an artist drawing/creating artwork- breaking down the boundaries between the artist and the audience, demystifying the process of making art.

Lois

A roll of the dice

'Not only does God play dice, but... he sometimes throws them where they cannot be seen' Stephen Hawkins'

Last Thursday at the Buddy Cafe in Salford, (working with people diagnosed with dementia and their carers) I brought in a set of blank dice to use as art materials. The idea was on the surface a straight forward one, for people in the group to write their date of birth on a side of the dice, in this way they would mark their existence, and simply make a record of who is in the group. As we are discussing dementia in this project, you can also read the idea as the condition of our health being a 'roll of the dice'.

Some of the participants had instant and easy recall of their D.O.B for others it was a real struggle, with care and humour we would find the year of birth, or an approximate year.  It felt like some of the participants where recalling the numbers by rote, a test like asking someone their mobile phone number, 7 times table, or postcode. 

I discussed the issue with Dr Caroline Swarbrick, who had been with us during the session. She explained: "you can't validate dates, if they get it wrong that's their reality. People often remember their D.O.B easier than their age, the short term memory goes first. Life events, years mean something. Alice, if she forgets something halfway through- for example her address, she will have to start again from the beginning, then she will get it. Memories are programmed in." 

As miniature works of art, I am very pleased with them, there is a beauty in the shakiness of writing, some letters are un-readable, for me there is great poignancy in the attempts at recalling and forming these numbers, something most of us take for granted.

Early onset dementia: a carers view

arthur+martha is working at a 'Buddy Cafe' for people diagnosed with dementia - and their carers - in Salford. We're bringing together the stories of the many people involved. Some of these pieces will be interviews, others creative work. We're trying to trace paths through the jargon and confusion, towards understanding. This project is in partnership with Age Concern Salford and Salford PCT.

In this interview (part 1 of 2) Becky who cares for her dad (diagnosed with Early Onset Dementia) describes the impact that caring has on her life and place in the world. 

I went to a carers course the other day, I felt a bit out of place- being the youngest. Everyone else had a bit more life experience.

I was thrown into caring and didn’t really want to do it. Mum used to be dads carer, but she passed away nearly two years ago, so I do most of me dads care.

I’ve been fascinated by watching the whole group this morning (at the Buddies Café) its been an eye opener- there are people here further along the scale of dementia than my dad. To be honest I felt a bit scared seeing this, if this is where we’re going in a couple of years I’ll go crazy.

Tower of cards, with poetic texts describing life with dementia

I’m 24 and been caring for my dad for two years. You can gradually see it getting worse. He was first diagnosed when I was coming out of University. I had just graduated as a teacher. My mum struggled, so I had to get a job as a nursery nurse to fit around it and help out.

I found out about the services available to people with dementia after me dad came to this group. I had no idea of the services at the beginning, I didn’t know anything, didn’t know who to contact or even what dementia was. I had to go to the library; I had no idea of what I was dealing with.

It took months and months to get a diagnosis (and that was on top of a stressful 3^rd year at University) and then another year before we got a proper diagnosis. When we got it my Aunt Vera helped me mum to find the proper services. When we contacted them they were really helpful, but we didn’t really know they existed before.

Over 1000 people in Salford are diagnosed with Dementia, I was absolutely shocked when I heard that.

Considering how good the services are, they aren’t signposted. The GPs didn’t really help. Once you know the services are there, they help and they point you in another direction when you need it. At the time I didn’t consider Age Concern. A 54 year old man, I didn’t expect Age Concern would be appropriate.

I get a lot of comfort from my Church, they all know dad’s not quite right, they say if he says something odd, to ignore it. I don’t feel judged by them, they sit and listen.

It’s just life now. I can see why someone new to it might find it taboo, but to me its just life.


Becky

Bingo! Art and social change! Limericks!

Mary writing her Limerick, a young lady from Haydock..

'Eyes down!'

I'm sitting next to Mary (she says she has her wicked head on) and Les is calling out the bingo numbers at the Monday night session. It's been a flurry of people today in Four Acre: our biggest group in the library ('All the 2s, quack quack') a gaggle of talking and ideas and friendships. Poems are emerging and the group embroidery on the tablecloth is slowly but sure gathering colours, images, stories – becoming a tapestry of memory and community. There is great affection for the shared past in the arthur+martha sessions here - we meet humorous acceptance of memory and age, mixed with nostalgic pleasure and some rage – and joy.

We checked in with Owen today on progress, who told us we've worked with over 80 people in St Helens. Gradually, a regular band of people are coming to the library sessions and the work that's emerge has become deeper and more heartfelt, yet paradoxically more celebratory and lighter as we've explored.

'Legs 11!'

Mary nudges me because I'm not concentrating hard enough on the numbers in front of me. Scattered around the bingo tables this time are some of the 'saucy' seaside postcards that are also becoming layered with strands of story, reminiscence, jokes, limericks.

Teresa writing about melon eating...

Pat and one of her Limericks...

There is shared struggle in many people's lifestories here – through wars, poverty, relationship breakdowns and disappointments – but there is also a huge sense of fun and of shared history. We're trying to combine the playfulness and the seriousness we encounter in the work that's produced.

The bingo session tonight is a great moment for daftness, but we've also met other sides of these folk. To see these lives being relived through conversation, to witness drawing, poetry, stitching, joking, has been a passport to another world, one that's now in the past but is in some ways an explanation of now.

The greatest resource of any society is the people in it. Sometimes in 'problem communities' there's a tendency to think that people = problems. That what is DONE TO people is the important thing, the magic cure be it social work or art or medicine. This is a profound misunderstanding. The value is in the people themselves and the richness of their experience. Communicating the texture of that experience is a complex, often contradictory, project, but that is the job of artwork. If it manages to pass on a fraction of that complexity, it will be valued and it will do good. Because in passing on experience in all its forms, you pass on the big lessons in being human.

'5 Oh, 5 Oh, it's off to work we go...'

Used to say I’m running away but I never actually got round to it

Ryan's seated self portrait

The installation of the Bubble Project pieces was both a change up in gear and a race towards the final conclusion of the work. Installation is always a process in which the artist has one eye on the clock and this was no exception. We had only two hours with the group to decide where the pieces would work best in our chosen location the indoor market. Lois, Derek and I then had a further four hours to wallpaper the life-size pieces in position, fine-tune the placement of the training shoes and postcards and find a home for the bottled poems.

The rush is sometimes a valuable one because it cuts out dithering and requires intense focus. Our group all rose to the occasion, scouting out the best sites for their work, helping to blutac them on the walls, shuffling pieces around several locations until the best height and angle was found. Finding the right space, the right moment for a piece is as fine a craft as the making and can transform work utterly, for good or ill.

Ryan's action man' self portrait

Ryan was as ever afire with ideas and enthusiasm – he steered the placing of several pieces, cackling gleefully as he did so. 

Luke's Fireheart

Luke dived deep into the whole process, working with Derek to build up bits of bric-a-brac around his ‘portrait’, choreographing the space to great effect. 

Lauren's Egyptian self

Lauren was decisive and direct, as she is. 

Len's jumping self portrait

Len found an excellent point for his basketballing self to leap into space. Finally, Kitty positioned her pair of contrasting ‘selves’ so that they linked but weren’t visible at the same time – one introvert, one extrovert. She also tried out arrangements of the training shoe text piece and the star poems. The works became powerful in the environment, it was a living frame for them. As we glued and cut and pinned, the excitement ran between us.

Kitty's Rabbit brain

The fact that the market is a hangout for local teenagers put the group on their mettle – they seemed determined to make the best of their pieces, especially when being judged by their (possibly unforgiving) peers.  The acid test of public reaction can sting, but it also brings insight – the perspective of others. As it happened, all of the teenagers we spoke to were enthusiastic about the work (‘Good things aren’t they?’). The pieces ask questions about how we care for each other as humans – and if the cost of caring is the freedom to be yourself. And freedom is a favourite subject for all adolescents everywhere.

Lauren and Lauren's falling figure

A particular hit with the audience were the training shoes – half-drawn, half-written customised trainers. On one set of training shoes is written the title of the show, a passing comment made by one of the young carers -  ‘Used to say I’m running away but I never actually got round to it.’ I’m so glad that the group stayed the distance with us to make this work. I felt burstingly proud of them. When we said our farewells, it seemed impossible to me to explain how far I thought they’d travelled on this creative adventure with us – and how much inventiveness, humour, courage and sweetness they’ve shared.  

used to say I'm running away but I never actually got round to it

More photos at http://www.flickr.com

peacemaker

The Bubble Project: working with Young Carers in Warrington.

On Saturday, Phil and I started the first of 5 workshops for The Bubble Project, at Warrington Art Gallery and Museum. We had a small but perfectly formed group of young people join us for an assortment of art and writing activities around the theme of Street Art and the current exhibition in the Art Gallery. After a facilitating guided tour of Elbow Toe's exhibition from Derek Dick, everyone had an opportunity to try out a variety of activities including poetry writing, trainer customising, making collage materials, contributing to a record breaking long poem and drawing, and life size portraits. The surprise hit of the day was using the spray diffusers with the brusho ink. There was something so transfixing about watching the inks moving across the page and the colours mixing and blending in unexpected ways. There's something freeing about covering a page with colour and shape without using a paint brush or pencil, it takes the fear out of the blank white page.

The size of the group allowed us to get to know each other faster, and for the quieter, shyer children to have space to come out of their shell in a way that may not have happened so easily if they had been lost in a larger group. There wasn't much talk about their roles as carers, it seemed more natural to simply enjoy the time, space and freedom to get on with something creative, to forget any troubles at home, to enjoy exploring materials, colour and words as any other child might.

I'm really looking forward to next week, they are a wonderful group to work with. Next week we develop the life size portraits further, and introduce the technique of collage.

A big thanks to all our helpers, Ann who has had the role of a carer herself and in turn been cared for, enthusiastically cheered on the children and enjoying having a go herself. Louise quietly got on with activities and encouraged others to do the same. Jamie from the Youth Federation came in and combined a burst of energy with working sensitively with the children. Melanie freely shared many creative ideas and helped to make the children feel relaxed and welcomed. And a thanks to the parents and staff at Hayfield Primary, who have been collecting un-wanted trainers for customising.

peacemaker

everyone has different foundations
of love and hate
family traditions
my grandma’s cup of tea
Quality Street from my mum
dad the cornerstone
it’s different the ways you grow
tho when you’re going through you don’t understand
experience is difference
eating hot choc fudge cake is different to
Pringles sour cream and onion
or stopping a punch
just like every family is different to every

and every everyone has different
traditions
love and hate come one+two together
when you’re a carer
you’ve got to grow tall quicker
build your own confidence
get all your homework done
get injured, lose trust, lose your pet rabbit
go to a concert and be a rock n roll star
drink from the well of rage
go exploring
the tranquillity of solitude
go and look at the biggest trees
you’ve ever seen

each has different foundations.

(group poem)

Private view/punch up

Two students - Shu Jing and Yuan chao - have volunteered to help install the exhibition in Jiao Tong teahouse. At 10 am we meet in the studio, collect the long list of 12 or so pieces that I've selected from the original 50, plus string (always essential), pegs, nails, extension leads, lights, pencils. We set up camp on one of the trestle tables in the teahouse.

Hanging work is in itself one of the arts - to speak to the surrounds and yet have the works in dialogue with one another, to choreograph still space, to state simply, but keep ambiguity. My works spark alive when there is sunlight pouring through them and the world's colours. The teahouse is a dark space and the pieces look alright only in the windows and near light sources, which are dim. We set up some discreet lamps and peg the pieces into position so that they frame the fanatic card players but don't bug people.



Wang Jun's piece is an installation of overpainted magazines - it's a work that I've loved since he first took me round his studio and it' a pleasure to see it here, abutting onto the real. He lights the shelves he's used with bright fluorescents so that they glow like a shrine in a cliche. The mugs of the regulars here in the teahouse feature as part of the work, anchoring it in Jiao Tong.

Yao Bo meanwhile has placed pots on nine tables on the raised area in the middle of the space. Underneath each is a piece of off white paper with a black rectangle screenprinted onto it. From inside two of the pots can be heard her voice, reading aloud from her response to Beckett. The tiny electric voices crackle and whisper; people put their ears to the lips of the pots to hear. It's a show-stealer.

By 2 o'clock Wang Jun has installed his piece and lit it, Yao Bo is still tweaking her lights. Mine hang in the wondows opposite the entrance with card players sitting under them. One man loses his cash and holds his head in his hands. Julia snaps a portrait. Behind him, the poem says: Protect Me.

The guys who frequent the teashop stroll between the pieces and we chat it through. Someone offers to do some calligraphy for me - showing me the steadiness of his hands.

A journalist asks me why I bother putting my peculiar poems in places where no one will understand them. I take a deep breath at all the suppositions in that statement. I explain that if the work is placed among the world's bustle, it has the chance to be more alive than in the pages of a book. The room suddenly is unusually noisy. Yan Yan taps me on the shoulder: "For example, look over there. Real life."
There is a punch up taking place between two card players and people join the scrum. Yan Yan glances at me and grins: "It's real," he says again.

Private Views are posh showbiz and this one's no different. After the fighting has died away and the sore heads have been rubbed better, the art people arrive. The official opening is at 7pm, although the teahouse remains open all day for usual business. Julia and I are invited to join a long table of the local great and good, sipping flower tea. I end up swapping lines of poems with a DJ who wants to showboat her English and quotes lines of John Donne. In reply, I try her with a line from Tony Trehy. We struggle with the translation and she passes the line "Never to have compromised with transcendence" over to Yan Yan who shoots me a pained look.

Stampos

Yan Yan casually suggests that I make some "stampos" for the poster poems.

“How?” I ask with a smallscale panic already building. These are the red identifying stamps that authenticate traditional Chinese artworks. They are complex little monograms, with many layers of meaning. Usually they are a reworking of the artist’s name in zhuan seal writing, or another archaic script, bonded together into a circular or rectangular design. They are dense, beautiful handcarved stamps (rather like our old fashioned seals) and require enormous skill to produce.

I've already introduced the idea into the poems - handstencilling red circles into the compositions and using them to add extra lines.

“Yao Bo will help, of course,” he shrugs as if to say: why don’t you think of these things Davenport? So Yao Bo is consulted and she agrees to oversee my attempts to model stamps in clay. I’m turning into a technician, but one without training or indeed much idea of what’s going on.
“OK,” I say, reluctantly.
“You will learn much about the Chinese way,” concludes Yan Yan, pleased at my impending betterment.

Yao Bo’s studio/apartment is next to Yan Yan’s in 501. She’s a petite woman, but suffused with energy, making ceramics, painting, writing – and she loves dancing. She swirls in and out of her connections with people in a pair of bright yellow boots. Her daily companion from upstairs is lonesome for her boyfriend and so she has breakfast with Yao Bo – lotus root and cigarettes – and hangs out.

The pair of them patiently shepherd me through the process of making a clay mould. Yao Bo shows me her own stamp and collapses with mirth when she hears that I’m trying to make one like it. We decide that I can try for something more like an official rubber stamp; that way I might be spared humiliation.

A brain of a dream of a dog

Our first workshop in Warrington with young carers and children from Women’s Aid, mostly pre-teens, took place last Friday. An ice-breaker for all of us, we let the participants steer much of the session, building trust and emphasising playfulness. By getting a sense of the group when they were relaxed, we were able to gauge how they might be able to explore more deeply.

concrete poem on a plaster

The art-room in Warrington Peace Centre was set up with separate spaces for five different exercises, plus extra materials from Derek (Warrington Museum and Art Gallery) who had commissioned this initial workshop and came to lend his support. We would try overwriting, fold-in and some variants on concrete poetry and collage, using pens, postcards and stencils. 

The Dead

The intention was to build on this session in order to run further workshops focussed on text/art self-portraits. It was also a chance for Derek to see us in action and decide if our approach fitted the group. Because the first session was on the doorstep of Halloween, the young carers arrived in their finest, witchiest costumes and face-paint. We decided to busk along this theme, using the excuse of spookiness to explain the weird effect of some of the pieces.

Spooky World

Overwriting (a la Bob Grenier) combined with ‘wrong hand’ writing, was used to create badges with a 50s horror movie flavour. We hope to come back to this ‘wrong hand’ technique again, with the group exploring the push/pull between positive and negative self-image. Badges are a form of self-labelling; these ones were essentially fancy dress, the equivalent of a ghost mask, but the same method can be used to go deeper under the surface. For this day, the big success was the enthusiasm which met these little bits of mini-writing. An industrious girl made six badges and clinked as she walked away at the end of the afternoon.

Stencil Face

The concrete poem faces were very simple, game-like. Again, this was an easy way into a technique that is extraordinarily expressive; we will return to it. One of the delights was that a young girl F who had literacy problems was able to make a witty poetic piece, completely unhampered by (and unaware of) her spelling.

F also contributed beautifully to the largest piece of the day, a cross-section of a brain that people wrote dream fragments into (this was the fold-in writing). F wrote a short sentence, needing letter-by-letter guidance. “What else can I do?” she asked.

“Can you draw?” I enquired.

A Brain of a Dream of a Dog

Not only could she draw, but was bursting to do so. She was joined by Kitty, whose specialty was drawing dogs. And so the brain became a figment of a dreaming dog’s imagining, filled with further dreaming dogs, dream bones, cats up trees, a cat and crossbones, and a doggy spiel written by the irrepressible Billy. A brain of a dream of a dog was a piece of splendid whimsy, co-drawn-and-written by roughly ten of the group. Co-operative pieces like this tend to be unwieldy, but are great to get a group working as a team and also quieten criticism.

The collage-making produced some of the most subtle pieces of the day, recycling postcards into little dioramas with intriguing perspective shifts and lush textures. The makers of these pieces also seemed to be the most introspective, moving quietly into the imagined space of their postcard worlds.

The workshop was a very joyful day of silliness and messing, with a serious undercurrent. We were very aware of the backgrounds of the young people and the thin ice that some of them walk across day-to-day. The question is: how to develop the exercises, to reflect this experience without intruding?

For more images please visit http://www.flickr.com

We will run number of one day workshops, relating carers' experiences and emotions in a creative manner. This will link this to the exhibition at Warrington Museum and Art Gallery by American street artist Elbow-Toe who creates collages and prints depicting the emotions of the inner person. We will use portraiture combined with poetry; work will be displayed in the town centre and/or gallery.

As with our hospital work, the pace of exploration will be determined by the participants themselves - it’s their choice. Enthusiasm is a key in all this and so we will revisit the things that elicited the best responses to see where they lead. The badges are a particularly popular activity and can open out into various kinds of writing and self-portraiture, including photography, so they will feature. The group piece was a gand way to gather all the ages and abilities into one space and we will experiment with this further, with a tighter brief. We hope to visit the Elbow-Toe exhibition with the groups, to focus our work and move it into an introspective mode.