Creativity

Connection

Community

Creativity • Connection • Community •

The ECCP Arty Party series provides space for people to connect through creativity.

The first Arty Party was held on Tuesday, 25 February 2025, and was attended by artists (and art lovers!) from Burundi, Canada, Chile, Ireland, Kenya, Mali, the Philippines, Rwanda, Switzerland, the United Kingdom, the United States, and more. Together, they laughed, cried, sang, and danced, celebrating the power of art to address environmental inequities and build our collective resilience. Below are a few of the projects and pieces they shared.


Jesse Matas, a musician and writer living in Canada, shared a song reflecting on corporate environmental extraction and community protest. A few of the lyrics to“What Belongs to All”:

How can you own what belongs to all?
Do you hear that?
Do you hear stones singing?

I walk within what’s left of our healing
to a space between my heart and a feeling


trans*languaging

Inspired partly by their work with Nature Footprints, Montreal Benesch co-curated trans*languaging to problematize the idea of neat boundaries between languages. The virtual gallery features 13 multilingual transgender artists exploring pasts and imagining futures.

In Montreal’s words: “Borders of language (much like borders of gender, countries, etc.) are more social construct than linguistic (biological, political, etc.) fact. Translanguaging sheds light on the parallels between the relationships multilingual trans people have with gender and with language; the ways we live on, travel between, play with, and exceed both of these borders.”

featured image: Using tattoo ink on citrus peels, “the skins we shed” by Zephyr Kim & Theo Moon explores how imprints of communications and interactions change, evolve, and live on over time.


Singer-songwriter Austin Willacy performed his original single “Better Days Are Gonna Come”, a song about finding and holding onto hope in difficult moments.

I’ve been livin’ in a world of hurt
Got to remember beauty blooms from the dirt

I know that better days, better days are gonna come

I know the light at the end of the tunnel gonna shine on me


Salem in Snow

Though she used to create quite a bit of visual art, monitoring & evaluation expert Amanda Woomer has been struggling to connect with her creativity over the past few years - in large part because it’s felt a bit pointless. (There’s already so much content in the world; why add more?)

But a rare snowfall in the American state of Georgia inspired Amanda to pick up her camera for the first time in a long while. She’s been taking pictures of her sheep in the snow, and having a load of fun with it. (And isn’t that the point? The process of joy-making matters at least as much as the end product!)

featured image: Here’s Salem!


Los Conversos

Sol Santos shared her experience of creativity as a tool for connection and carceral justice.

A project in Rosario, Santa Fe, Argentina, brought community members into a male prison to explore identity and shared humanity. Theater, poetry, and photography were just a few of the mediums used as a bridge.


Fig and Ishka are two friends trying to show up to the world’s current ecological and social crises without jumping ship to complacency, cynicism, or despair. Irish artist Lynn Finnegan shared how much she’s been enjoying the process of blending science, activism, and art through this project. Her substack subscribers get a new illustrated story every week - check it out!

Fig & Ishka by Lynn Finnegan


Becca Farnum shared a 2020 poem written in response to a dance protest held in Florence, Alabama

  • Do you know the way to the revolution?

    Excuse me, I’m looking for the revolution.

    Do you know the way?

  • I trained all my life, eager to
    vanquish foes
    defeat evil
    fight injustice.

  • When I was fifteen,
    a cousin invited me to a poetry slam
    sharing the story of their pain.
    “No,
    I can’t go to that.
    I’m training for the revolution.
    Do you know the way?”

  • When I was twenty,
    a friend invited me to a concert
    singing the song of their hope.
    “No,
    I can’t go to that.
    I’m training for the revolution.
    Do you know the way?”

  • When I was thirty,
    a colleague invited me to a play
    telling the tale of their history.
    “No,
    I can’t go to that.
    I’m training for the revolution.
    Do you know the way?”

  • “Do you know the way to the revolution?”

    I asked this
    of everyone I met.

  • Then one night, a man
    overheard my question
    Called over to me
    “Yes!
    I know the way to the revolution.
    Follow me.”

  • Excited,
    I went with the man
    Finally,
    I would join the revolution

  • He led me down a road
    toward noisy clamour
    and loud footfall

    My heart raced

    A door opened.

  • I rushed my way in
    Sword drawn,
    ready to take on all comers.

    Came to an abrupt halt. Confused.

  • The clamour was joyful music
    and the footfall was
    not made by soldiers at war.

  • I looked around
    suddenly realising
    I spent my life
    training to fight
    when what was asked of me


    was to dance.

  • The poetry slam.
    The concert.
    The play.


    Time and time again,
    I had been invited to the revolution.
    Ignored it.


    Too caught up
    in my own fantasy
    of what the revolution
    should look like.

  • I stood frozen
    terrified
    ashamed
    No idea what to do next

  • A woman walked up to me
    smiled
    held out her hand
    “Want to dance?”

    “I…
    I don’t know the steps.”

  • “That’s okay. I do. Follow me.”

  • Excuse me, I’m looking for the revolution.

    Do you know the way?

    I trained all my life, eager to
    vanquish foes
    defeat evil
    fight injustice.

    When I was fifteen,
    a cousin invited me to a poetry slam
    sharing the story of their pain.
    “No,
    I can’t go to that.
    I’m training for the revolution.
    Do you know the way?”

    When I was twenty,
    a friend invited me to a concert
    singing the song of their hope.
    “No,
    I can’t go to that.
    I’m training for the revolution.
    Do you know the way?”

    When I was thirty,
    a colleague invited me to a play
    telling the tale of their history.
    “No,
    I can’t go to that.
    I’m training for the revolution.
    Do you know the way?”

    “Do you know the way to the revolution?”
    I asked this
    of everyone I met.

    Then one night, a man
    overheard my question
    Called over to me
    “Yes!
    I know the way to the revolution.
    Follow me.”

    Excited,
    I went with the man
    Finally,
    I would join the revolution

    He led me down a road
    toward noisy clamour
    and loud footfall

    My heart raced

    A door opened.

    I rushed my way in
    Sword drawn,
    ready to take on all comers.

    Came to an abrupt halt. Confused.

    The clamour was joyful music
    and the footfall was
    not made by soldiers at war.

    I looked around
    suddenly realising
    I spent my life
    training to fight
    when what was asked of me
    was to dance.

    The poetry slam.
    The concert.
    The play.
    Time and time again,
    I had been invited to the revolution.
    Ignored it.
    Too caught up
    in my own fantasy
    of what the revolution
    should look like.

    I stood frozen
    terrified
    ashamed
    No idea what to do next.

    A woman walked up to me
    smiled
    held out her hand
    “Want to dance?”

    “I…
    I don’t know the steps.”

    “That’s okay.
    I do.
    Follow me.”