Dwell Time Central, 7-9 Market Avenue, Huddersfield, HD1 2BB
As an antidote to the times we are living in, Dwell Time are hosting a series of Bullsh*t Fridays where we invite you to pop in to our HQ, Dwell Time Central, and engage in therapeutic activities, games and conversations designed to be cathartic and possibly quite funny.
Every Bullsh*t Friday features Bullsh*t Objects where you can bring an object to exhibit that represents some bullsh*t. You can provide some contextual information about the object and we will discuss and document the object. You can leave the object as part of the exhibition or take it away with you as required.
Friday 1 October: Bullsh*t Lines Workshop. Exploring written bullsh*t using cut up poetry technique.
Friday 15 October: tbc
Friday 29 October: tbc
All events are free and open to all on a first come basis.
Interested in co-designing or running an Extra Bullsh*t activity or event? Get in touch!
Dwell Time are collating Bullsh*t Lines for National Poetry Day 2021
These are sentences that you have been sent, given or stumbled across. Perhaps you have even written or spoken them yourself. Government bullsh*t, corporate bullsh*t, customer bullsh*t, medical bullsh*t, art bullsh*t, spam bullsh*t, jargon bullsh*t, the list is endless.
No context is required but must be authentic bullsh*t. Recent bullsh*t is preferred but historic bullsh*t is also acceptable.
An example might be from a therapist: We can’t treat you in acute trauma, come back when it’s post trauma (PTSD).
Contributions do not have to be mental health related, all genres of bullsh*t are acceptable.
Email us email@example.com subject: Bullsh*t Lines (Collated contributions will be published anonymously as a collective piece)
At the beginning of covid, nobody had a clue how this was going to pan out.
When the first lock down happened, my self and others thought it would pass after a few weeks.
But the weeks turned into months…the waves kept on coming. The feeling of being trapped at home and my mental health was in tatters , it felt like drowning impossible to get through to speak to a doctor. The only way out was to paint and poor my feelings out on a canvas.
I used acrylic on canvas, starting off wet into wet then building my layers up from there, until finally I used an icing bag to pipe the raised waves onto the painting. twitter @krystyna_art
He crumbled before me No warning No signs Just a broken man Who needed fixing Who needed repairing It took time It took patience It took medication It took a range of health professionals To fix him Patch him up To monitor him To make him who he was again I know what I lost I know what I gained back.
The journey is long The risk is high The women are unprotected Unrecognised by any official data They come with children They come carrying hope As women, they tell me They sleep with one eye open Alert, aware Of dangers, of exploitation Here we trust no one Except for ourselves
Undocumented Once an identity is settled The search for a burial site begins Every aspect of the burial process is performed With respect With dignity From washing the decreased migrant’s body To wrapping them with a white shroud Finally leading to a burial plot There is a story here A person, heartbeat and hope.