At the Canadian Cybernetic Cultural Research Unit, this poetry workshop felt more like a lab experiment. Participants learned how to throw out the rules, and speak from the gut.
The night was cybernetic because time accelerates into the future. The world was poetic because poetry is magic.
Participants prepared by creating aluminum headgear, to protect their minds from nonsense. Through mindful facilitation, they emptied their brains of BLAH, produced their own word collection, engaged in the ancient art of ‘snap-chi’, and developed poetry. Participants reported feeling a sense of community, invigorated creativity, and a mind-bending snap back into reality.
The CCCRU studio was elastic with magical properties that night. Everyone left with more questions than answers.
This project explores workshop facilitation as performance art. Hosted at the Canadian Cybernetic Cultural Research Unit (Toronto), I guided studio members through a unique workshop experience. Alongside poetry writing, the workshop incorporated therapeutic activities like controlled breathing, synchronized movement, and group discussions.
Performance art
One hour before the workshop, I sat on a cushion and meditated in front of a video projection. Participants who arrived early may have expected to interact with the host, but were instead invited to observe my meditation from a distance.
The video montage was designed to provoke thoughts on the absurdity of late-stage capitalist reality. The visuals included clips of simulation games, advanced robotics, Temu ads, and animals performing human activities.
Snap-Chi
This is a martial art I invented, entirely based on the act of snapping. Inspired by the cultural behavior of snapping instead of clapping at poetry open mics, I guided participants through integrated breathing and snapping movements. My theory is that engaging in creative and unfamiliar motions transitions our minds out of their default states and into creative awareness.
Poetry
At the end of the workshop, participants had the opportunity to share their poetry.
A turtle once told me
The Dope Chief
It is unlike trees that I am To grow up tall, straight up and then bend. To stay in one place and face harsh conditions. To grow in only one environment with narrow vision.
It is very much like trees that I am not. To dream of being tall but not move from one spot. To reach for the sky with only one perspective. To have fear of change but also expect it.
It is very much like a tree I cannot be. To wonder if I fall would others see? Would they know that I’m drowning in a whole wood sea?
Like a tree? could not be me. I need to move even when slowly. Even if days pass and I’ve only moved one step. Even if I take naps and the path I forget.
I cannot be like tall trees. To see my dreams fall to the earth like dead leaves To wonder why the birds flee, when snow blows and rivers freeze.
I want to see the glow of different night skies, I’m much more like the stars that fly! To be a pine, would not be fine, Hell is the thought of being still for all-of-time.
Why stand tall and not move at all? Why grow roots so you never fall? I cannot stop I’d rather crawl! That’s called growth, that’s what its called.
To be an oak? What a joke! The turtle chuckled when he spoke. and as I stood in place and awe I will not soon forget what I saw.
A turtle who would go so far. who was unlike a tree but more like a shooting star.
Men (excerpt)
By Theresa Hopkins
What I love about men is their huge hands. What I hate about men is everything else.
Originality
By Alannah Astorquiza
Originality is hard. Originality is hard. Was told at a young age that I’d be great. But now I guess it’s too fcking late. We are spin-offs of influence so don’t take offense, remember that originality is hard. Don’t be sad, don’t you cry. In the end, we will all fcking die. Accept your attempt, to not is to fail We are all just stories, our own little tales.
The sweetest pie
By Corlil
no big emotions no enemies yet not one real friend always pleasing always smiling on knows everybody known by no one fits all the molds the people pleaser