Discorder Magazine
April-May 2021
TINY TRICYCLE POETS A
lthough the media has tried (and failed) to put a finger on exactly what Tiny Tricycle Poets is – using phrases like “fringe artists,” “scientists,” and “gay and mentally ill,” – the group wonderfully eludes a single definition. They are poets, they are clowns, they are performers, they are a “very exclusive” artists collective — only three spots open. Tiny Tricycle Poets (TTP) describes a friendship as much as it words by KATHERINE GEAR CHAMBERS does an art. illustrations by SUNNY NESTLER photography and layout by PHOEBE TELFAR
T
he poetry trio Tiny Tricycle Poets is aptly named; each poet carries an individual voice, but together the trio is moving in one direction, each one propelled by the other. The three wheels of the tricycle are Angelic Proof (he/they), Emma Field (she/they) and Andrew Warner (she/he/they). Angelic is a poet and a clown, Emma is a microbiologist, and Andy, whose “poetry and artwork is meant for the uncomfortable,” loves to let audiences know “you’re weirder than you think.” Angelic, Emma and Andy each began their poetry careers with Slam Poetry, but have since moved on to challenge the conventions of the genre. “What if we were funny at the sad time?” Emma asks, “And what if we dropped this little easter egg here, and what if we confuse people, and what if we disgust people, and what if we arouse people?” TTP enjoys “having the freedom to make a mishmash, to make a mess, and be playful.” In the hands of TTP, spoken word poetry is a blend of performance,
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poetry, and clowning. Performances lift a poem off the page and infuse it with meaning. Andy reflects on a particularly meaningful staging arrangement that occurred when the trio was performing “That’s What She Said” at the Vogue theatre. “There’s a moment where I don’t even speak but [the poem reads] ‘she is in the centre of the room now,’ and we’re kind of using the theatrics of performance poetry to guide people’s eyes towards me. At the time I had more masculine features [that would leave the audience] questioning, and starting to have these conversations within themselves. That’s where I feel like written poetry just can’t compare. Performance poetry saves space for that beautiful magic.” Although TTP perform together, they write poetry individually. As they recite poems in one voice, TTP are holding each other’s words, and allowing their own experiences to be held and carried by their friends. Their work is anchored in their care and attention to each other. In this community, compassion and solidarity is so much a part of what brings their three voices into one. Andy describes the process as partly “healing together” and “understanding each other and walking in each other’s shoes.” Emma remembers feeling uncertain
“Tiny Tricycle Poets”
when they first joined in Angelic’s performance of “Fuck Boy,” but eventually realized that she shared Angelic’s feelings: “I didn’t put my head down and write that, but it gave me access to those feelings, to those energies, to that pain even, and to the healing of that poem, that I didn’t construct but I got to experience with Angelic and Andrew.”
F
or TTP, poetry is alive and is constantly transforming. Although some of their poems are recorded in videos, the group agrees that those recordings are like a time capsule. Only a brief moment in the lifespan of the poem. Meaning shifts depending on the performer or the audience. Even poems written for, or about, an individual may change over time, perhaps to be about someone else, or to focus instead on the intense emotion behind the words. TTP’s performances powerfully blend the vulnerability of self-discovery with the freedom of storytelling. “I have heard that I share quite a bit in my poetry,” Andy says. “Mental illnesses, for example, are big for me. I talk about having OCD, panic, anxiety, the whole gambit. That’s what the expression is,” they add, “I don’t know where the gambit is, but I’ll find it one day.”
