Men on the Margins
Men on the Margins is a celebration of men, creativity, and connection. The exhibition showcases the creative work and personal stories of men who have discovered the power of artistic expression as a pathway to wellbeing, confidence and community.
In a society where many men experience loneliness, isolation and barriers to expressing themselves, creativity offers a different route forward. Through song-writing, visual arts, poetry and other creative practices, participants have found new ways to connect with others, explore their identities, and build a sense of purpose.
This exhibition challenges stereotypes about masculinity and creativity, demonstrating that every man has the potential to create, contribute and thrive. By bringing these voices and experiences into the spotlight, Men on the Margins celebrates creativity not only as an artistic pursuit, but as a tool for personal growth, social connection and positive change.
Man About Town
The Work on Show
Man About Town
A weekly male suicide prevention group using music and performance as a tool for social connection and improved wellbeing.
West Leeds Men's Art Group
Meeting weekly the group use digital tools to create impactful, satirical and bold artwork that is a true reflection of the personalities of the men who attend group. The artwork on display has been reproduced in print and digitally on screen.
Becklin Centre Art Group
I was appointed in April 2023 with adult acute MH within LYPFT trust as an activity coordinator (relaunch from 6 years earlier).
My first 2 groups set up for patients were an art group on Tuesday afternoon and a creative writing group on Thursday afternoon.
The former created 2 art shows at hospital ( video can be shared) and the latter created 6 magazines with patients+ staff writings, which was runner up in 2025 PPMH awards in Southend on sea.
Throughout the time 3.5 years I have tried to use creative methods to allow patients to express themselves 💥 within a calm + supportive environment ( as 22 bed wards can be very hectic + loud).
Finally to be able to share thoughts, without the close observations of medical staff, recording + analysing their very interactions with others.
To conclude I work with adult males, who mostly find it difficult outside of sports, physical exercise+ cooking ( normally eating) to express themselves.
I have had very good feedback and over 90% of staff + patients attending these groups have found them beneficial and that patients have been calmer on ward afterwards.
Paul Murray
Becklin Centre Artwork Group
Artwork made available for visitors to the exhibition to take home with them.
Paul Grant
Rhythm
The ticking of a clock
The ringtone of a phone
The rhythm of the rain
Help me know I’m not alone.
The footsteps on the streets
The birdsong in the trees
The dripping of a tap
The whistling of the breeze.
The crackle of ice cubes
Waves breaking on the shore
The rustling of the leaves
The slamming of a door.
The chatter on the bus
The jingle of spare change
The laughter of children
When they find something strange.
The sizzling of a steak
That’s frying in a pan
The hiss of a ring pull
On opening a can.
The bouncing of a ball
The barking of a dog
And by the garden pond
The croaking of a frog.
All these things remind me
We should appreciate
Everything around us
Even a squeaky gate.
Anthony Rutherford
Big Man.
He was never a big man.
Short, bald with a ginger comb-over that fooled no one.
Other men with rounded out eyes and not enough brain for reading and writing and filling forms turned to him with whispers.
He didn’t drink or smoke. Well in truth he did smoke cigars. After Christmas dinner relaxing in his armchair. A second one on Boxing day at half time on the football. But he never drank.
Faith mattered, rosaries and litanies, penance and indulgence and mass.
Charity and helping the less well off. He found them.
Hope, barely. He just kept going.
Left home when he was only fourteen. Travelled to Scotland on an open deck cattle boat. Thirty six hours it took to reach Glasgow and the shipyards.
Then one day he died. He was fifty four.
And the other men came and said they loved him and didn’t know how they would Cope
