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Author Archives: Sarah Butler
Outbreaks of Rain is a TippingPoint commission, which came out of Weatherfronts: Climate change and the stories we tell – a conference organised by TippingPoint in collaboration with FreeWord and Spread The Word. Continue reading
Where the Heart is Exhibition – Beyond art therapy: encounters between artists and people in the care system.
From April to December 2013 I had the privilege of being writer-in-residence at Withy Trees Day Centre and CSV Learning North West, as part of the artist residency programme, Where The Heart Is. The residency looked to explore ideas of home and care in two very different settings: a day centre used by people living with dementia, and an alternative education provider for 14-24 year olds. Continue reading
The scaffolding escaped – out the back, through the gaps between the burnt wood, onto this white beach with its strewn rocks and forgotten trees. It was done with the building site – concrete blocks, fluorescent clothes, each kick tipped with steel; dreamt instead of long lunches, meandering conversation, a table on a beach by a street in a city. Continue reading
Inspired by Exyzt’s The Feasting Mouth, a communal oven and dining table, I will be in residence at Skirt of the Black Mouth, Southern Landscape Tate Modern, Sumner Street: 15-17 July & 11-15 August 2014. Continue reading
I’m really pleased to have an essay (about Dartmouth Park Hill and the idea of being half way up, half way down an urban hill) included in Mount London: Ascents in the Vertical City, published by the brilliant Penned In the Margins.
Project Name: Digital Affective Histories
Dates: Summer 2014
Partners: The Centre For New Writing
Walking between the buildings was like entering a cave: the wind and the day’s noises dampened by stone and brick. Nothing but the hack of crows from the rooftops, the soft cooing of pigeons, the slap of wings as one took off, and the click click of Karen’s heels on the tarmac. Continue reading
Tomorrow, Friday 1st November, I’m taking part in The Live Writing Series.
Brainchild of writers Gemma Seltzer and David Varela, The Live Writing Series invites 7 writers over 7 weeks to react, compose and immerse themselves in a public place, bringing it alive with the real-time broadcast of their work for all to see.
You can catch every keystroke, dramatic pause and perfectly crafted sentence as it happens online. You’ll also have the chance to make requests and suggest ideas that may become part of the live piece.
I will be at Woolfson and Tay Bookshop (39 Bear St, London, SE1 OUH) weaving together audience suggestions and ideas from the bookshop and its environs into my narrative. If you’re in the area, do drop in between 11.30 and 6.30 (I’ll be having a break from 3-4) and get involved (plus there are books to buy and coffee to drink and cakes to eat), or visit www.livewritingseries.com to watch the stories unfold online.
Alongside fabulous writers Aoife Mannix, Yemisi Blake and Joseph Coelho, I will be reflecting on All Change’s In Between project 2009-2012– an innovative programme, which aimed to deliver high quality community-based writing residencies in North London – with young people, street-traders at Whitecross Street Market, and a Turkish-speaking women’s group – and to critically evaluate their impact. We will be reading from 4 unique publications and discussing the project at Fix Coffee, 161 Whitecross Street, Shoreditch, London, Monday 13 May 2014, 6-8pm.
[Scene: Withy Tree Day Centre, I sit next to Brenda at the table]
Brenda: ‘I’ve seen you before.’
Me: Yes, we’ve met, here.
Brenda: Weren’t you with that police man?
Brenda (holds her hand over my forehead): Yes it was you, with that policeman.
Care-worker: There was a woman, who came in with a police officer. You maybe look a bit like her.
Brenda: Is it hard to be in the police?
Me: I’m not in the police.
Brenda: I’ve seen you before.
Me: Well maybe I look like her, that woman. I was on the bus with you a few weeks ago.
Brenda: Yes, you were placing things around the edge, that’s right. I thought so.