Issuu

BUZZ

EDITOR IN CHIEF ANNE SUEYEUN SEOL CREATIVE DIRECTOR MALVIKA GARLYAL EDITORIAL DIRECTOR ABI SIMATUPANG MEDIA DIRECTOR TANYA THIND

DESIGN TEAM ABBIE GAMBOA ARSH GEEKEE KIANA ALLAN KRISTY ZHOU KWANHEE JOSEPH KIM SHAYNE HOMMY EDITORIAL TEAM AMELIE SHYPILOVA ARUNIMA VERMA LEI SABAUPAN NAYSA PHILIP SOPHIE WANG VALERIE NI SHUN CHEN MEDIA TEAM CHARLIE SUN LANE WENG SIENA LING SOPHIA BORCHERS SOPHIA WANG COVER ART CHARLIE JONES

NOTES FROM THE

DIRECTORS I was swaying on the leftmost swing in my favourite park, probably listening to some angsty acoustic song, trying to think of an interesting enough topic for this very magazine. My mind was racing; words, sounds, colours, shapes — everything all at once. Overwhelmed, I slipped my headphones off for a moment and stood still. I let the warm summer night wrap around me. Then I heard something: a hum. Not annoying, still yet jittering with energy. It felt contradictory, but not unfamiliar. It was in the air, it was all around me. I felt a BUZZ. Sometimes BUZZ interrupts my flow. Other times, it’s a comforting constant, quiet, subtle, but still known. I wanted to know what shape this peculiar feeling took for different people. Creative directing for WOO has been such a surreal experience. Starting as a media team member almost 4 years ago feels like a fever dream, but I couldn’t be happier to be here. I want to thank my amazing directors, Anne, Abi, and Tanya, as well as the rest of the team, but especially my lovely design team, for working so hard on this issue. A special thank you to my friends who witnessed my countless crashouts and countered them with patience, Anika for mixing our CD, Sahil and Brendan for their pep talks and inspiration, and to Peter for his endless wisdom. This magazine wouldn’t be what it is without the support we received and everyone who took the time to share a piece of themselves with us. Thank you, and enjoy. ~ Malvika Garlyal Creative Director

Nothing is quiet on the sidewalks of Main Street. The car tires screech ever so slightly, and each step falls with a heavy bass. There’s always that slight ringing in your ear. No matter the rain or the sun, you’ll hear that buzz giving rhythm to your days. WOO’s BUZZ attempts to capture every moment, from small to big, in all its noisy glory. The Editorial team — Amelie Shypilova, Arunima Verma, Lei Sabaupan, Sophie Wang, Naysa Philip, and Valerie Ni Shun Chen — and I have translated the different buzzes we hear into words you can read. Pick up your headphones and hum along with us, Abi Simatupang Editorial Director BUZZ is all around us. Whether big or small, I’m always reminded that everything I’m surrounded by is alive and constantly “buzzing”— including myself. This was my first time working in the media team. From the beginning of working on WOO’s Fall 2025 issue, BUZZ felt alive to me; a pulse that connects everyone involved. I wanted to carry that same energy beyond the pages, shaping how the project moves and breathes online. I hope that others can feel and experience the unique meaning of what BUZZ is to each of us. Tanya Thind Media Director Hi World! I can’t believe BUZZ is out and it’s in your hands! Being an editor-in-chief at WOO means there’s always something exciting waiting for you, but also, always something unexpected. Definitely not an easy job, but so rewarding, as you get to meet so many amazing people and work together for the same passion. I feel so humbled, so lucky, and grateful everyday. When we first started brainstorming the theme for BUZZ, we all somehow looked toward the same direction from the beginning. We wanted to ask questions, and listen to how artists would respond. We wanted to see what that “response” looks like through their voices, their ways of expression. So, what’s your BUZZ, the sound that breaks your silence? A snap, a pebble hitting the window, a honk? I want say a special thanks to Kelly & Grass, Peter, Char, Aniks, for their huge helps, and God :) Anne SueYeun Seol Editor in Chief

01 YOU KNOW THAT BUZZ? 02 CHARLIE JONES MIXED DIGITAL MEDIA @WORKBYCHAZ 03 PHOTOMOSAIC GALAXY 04 ANITA ROGALSKY COPPER ETCHING, SCREENPRINT AND CHINE COLLÉ @GH0ST.PRINT 05 WANDER STEPHANIE AUW ETCHING @DILETTANTEA 06 SHARING WALL THALIYA COPSEY SOUND/INSTALLATION ROOMFULOFPEOPLE@GMAIL.COM 07 2.14 AM TYPING… 08 SOPHIE WANG EDITORIAL @SOPHROGIE 09 THE BARS ABUZZ 10 SARAH ANNE BISCARO FOUNTAIN PEN @FISH_ARE_FAKE

TABLE OF CONTENTS

BOJI PASS THE FLAME FOR YOU 11 PO-HSI HUANG 3D PRINTING PHUANG51506@ECUAD.CA

STARR 12

VALERIE CHEN PHOTOGRAPHY VALERIECHENPVT@GMAIL.COM

FUZZY LIGHT 13

FREYA LIU PHOTOGRAPHY HUAICHUANJIU@GMAIL.COM

THE PLACE I KNOW TOO WELL 14 RIN WANCHEN YU OIL AND ACRYLIC RINNYU.ART@GMAIL.COM

SECTION 1 PAGES 01-14

Accompanied Sound Piece on CD

get

how did we

here?

2:14 AM typing...

writhing beneath something beyond shame, half-luminated by the chromic caress of a blue screen, carving us empty from tidal waves cresting over half-fevered dreams, spilling the sickly-sweet adrenaline

a cacophony of wings beating against my sternum,

trembling

hit

send

closin g c ur

r h e arth o wrec ka g e ,

c o n s u m in g

f ro m m

ath

in g

a ll-

caugh oke ti m

delivered and read throat but e h n t i’ve been cold fo r to o lo n let g s o t' s it s p re a d u n t i l i his s tt re l i g h

e r s s i n g e d,

high like this ow a only en i kn d

s in 08

s a sig s no f vio l e nt p o ss e s sio n

it h an ha u nts

the

b eyo n d

u z

ing

of d r e

o r te n

d w a kin g

p y e d g es

vib ra t i n g inte i t y t h ns

b t il l it s h es he do ut t hy sh s/

w ng cu rta in

b ro

t h e way d ow n

sio

he kind of u n t s w it h t

se s

z so

but

insistently in the dark

oh d

in ning octor! diagnose this bur

h yc

I PAY FOR MY PLACE BY THE BEATS OF HIS BARKS

ABI SIMATUPANG EDITORIAL @ABELBERITH

18 INEXISTENT MOMENT 19 MAHSA GHAZVINIAN 20 POETRY AND PHOTOGRAPHY @MAHSASERIES_ - MAHSASERIES.COM 21

ASÍ SEA

CELESTE VILLEGAS GRAPHIC DESIGN, ILLUSTRATION AND RISOGRAPH @AZULADA 22 COUNTING SHEEP KATJA DUTCHYSHEN OIL ON CANVAS @FRIENDLY.FERNS

TABLE OF CONTENTS

I WILL SURVIVE 23

THALIYA COPSEY 24 VIDEO INSTALLATION ROOMFULOFPEOPLE@GMAIL.COM

INSANITY 25

LOK YIU JANICE LEE ACRYLIC, PENCIL AND COLOUR PENCIL @ LY_YSTUDIO

WHEN 26

ENYA HU INK ON PAPER @MAKEMEDRAWSOMETHINGFORYOU

TरING TरING TरING TरING 27

ARUNIMA VERMA 28 EDITORIAL

BODYESSY 29

SHAMSA MALEK 30 DIGITAL COLLAGE @VENEREFIORI - WWW.SHAMSA.ME

SECTION 2 PAGES 17-30

a body laid still on chipped terra tiles white, thin hair still latched on my sleeves his bowl—unwashed still—half-filled with his drink but still, i did not cry; (beep) i did not cry when my golden retriever died. dirtied by dirt, under and over (beep) yet dry, unwatered, less tears than promised (beep) they wailed, sorry for me, and hoping for flood paying their (beep) respects (beep) back but i could only muster a blank stare and they returned it with another; (beep) i did not cry when my golden retriever died. (beep) (beep) counting dots on white popcorn ceiling one-two-three, (beep) pit-tterpat-tterpitter waiting for everyone to settle their (beep) steps; 17

(beep) (beep) dog hair doesn’t bother (beep) my mind (beep) nor later, (beep) a dead man (beep) my mother once love (beep) nor later, the dead (beep) in a body i once knew; (beep) (beep) (beep) (beep) () . but once quiet, i will sit at the edge of my bed flooding the pillows, salt on land—

ii crypay for my place by the when my golden retriever die. beats of his barks

I jump through the place between the two worlds I'm living in

Do you ever get that ringing in your ear? In the middle of the night, surrounded by the comfort of anonymity, while the day is far off and your world is brim with potential? And in the middle of that sparkly sense of 3 a.m. motivation, an odd ringing in your ear. An incessant ringing came buzz that to you cannot push away? ringing came to

w m w m w m w m w m w m w m

that m that m that ringing came that to ringing me came to me that ringi was 2019 when that came to me, and it thatringingringing came toIt me came to m has not gone away since. that ringing came to me that ringing came to m that ringing came to me that ringing came to m

I grew up in Mumbai, India. ‘The City of Dreams’― that’s what they call it. Big buildings, big dreams, rich history, progressive people, and the entire Arabian sea stretched out in front of you. People from all over the country move there to make a name for themselves in the glamorous film industry and show their creativity to millions. When I recognised the buzz in my ear though, I didn’t feel like showing anyone. I wanted to bury myself in a little hole not the same I’m not and never come out. I’m not the same I’m not the same

the same I’m the same I’m not the same I’m not the same I’m not the I’m not the same I’m not the I’m not the same I’m not the same I’m not the same I’

Once I realised I wasn’t the same as my peers, things started to change. I didn’t understand it because the girls around me would discuss boys and romance and I would completely understand them. But I couldn’t differentiate because there were also girls I looked at and felt the same. My friends’ buzz was cute and innocent ― a sweet, young high. The high of toddlers holding hands and grade-school cheek kisses. My buzz though was screeching in my ear, begging for notice. I didn’t want to it. Acknowledgement would I didn’t want acknowledge to mean acceptance that I was not normal. acknowledge it. I didn’t want to acknowledge it. I I didn’t want to acknowledge it. didn’t want to I didn’t want to acknowledge acknowledge it. I didn’t want to acknowledge it. it. I didn’t want to

be normal. normal. normal. normal. bebe normal. bebe normal. bebe normal. be normal be normal. normal. normal. normal. bebe normal. bebe normal. bebe normal. be normal And I wanted nothing more than to be normal.

BE NORMAL!

would they treat me differently? would they treatWhat would people think? If they find out, would me differently? would they treatthey treat me differently? I didn’t want to test the me differently? would they treatboundaries of the “liberal” population around me. My me differently? would they treatmother might tolerate it. But my mother will tell her me differently? would they treatbrother. Her brother will tell his son. His son will tell me differently? would they treathis girlfriend. His girlfriend will tell her aunt. Will my me differently?mother’s brother’s son’s girlfriend’s aunt accept me?

me me ing me me me no

e I’m m not e same same ’m not

If me,

Will m mother’ brother’ s o n ’ girlfriend’ a u n If they don’t accept me, will anyone? What about my accept me? schoolmates? I’d be a social outcast. social social

outcast outcast

social social

outcast outcast

And end up losing all my friends. They’d think I’m weird or predatory. No, they cannot find out. No, no, no, no, no No,nono,nono, no,nono, no, no, no Eventually though, the buzz got to me. It haunted me and followed me around till one night, under the cover of dark, I whispered it. First to myself, and eventually 28 to a close confidant. It felt good to share it. It wasn’t till a few years later though, when I came to university, did I get comfortable enough to let the people around me know. My peers shifted from a sea of like-minded people raised in a supremely conservative country’s small occasionally radical bubble, to a diverse group of individuals who shared similar experiences as me and allowed me the freedom to be myself. What would

No no

people

think?

Unfortunately for me, there are pieces of myself I must shed in university before I head back home. But the gentle, supportive buzz in my ear reminds me that no matter how it may seem, it’s always going to be a part of me. I’m not alone because I know who I am. I acknowledge the change life will bring in me, and I keep my buzz in my pocket to carry everywhere.

they don’t accept will anyone?

33 UNTITLED 34 CALLA WAGORN PHOTOGRAPHY @CALLAMAKENA 35 ANOTHER DAMN ORANGE POEM ISOBEL O’TOOLE SOFTCOVER PUBLICATION @ I.SO.DESIGN 36 THIS TIME 37 JIMIN CHUNG EDITORIAL @44JIMIN44 38 EXTRUDED STOOL JONAH RANDELL CLAY AND ACRYLIC @DANGERRANDELL

TABLE OF CONTENTS

TEENAGE SANDBAG 39

SHIKA TANG 40 BLENDER AND PYTHON SCRIPT @GELATIN_KIND

BIRTHMARKS

41 HANA VIE MITCHELL 42 PHOTOGRAPHY @HANA.VIE.MITCHELL

***** 43

VALERIE CHEN EDITORIAL @SLIEPHO

SECTION 3 PAGES 33-43

Close your eyes. Squeeze your eyelids tight. Can you see flashes and glimpses of last summer? Can you make out the faces of those you would’ve died for in a heartbeat? Through the fog and mist, do you see the light on the other side of the water? Can you breathe in the smell of those nights you spent without any thoughts? All the places you’ve made your own; the times where you were able to realize in the moment that this day would stay with you for a long time ― do you remember it all? How can you even begin toforget any of it? The sounds, loud vibrations, the touch of wet grass against your cheek, a taste of something sweet; something you’ll never feel altogether again. Even you in July are aware that you could never hope to be at peace with this knowledge. People I would give my life for, those who I believed would stay with for life are now but a ghost haunting the city. Every time I reach out the car window to feel the breeze pass between my fingers I remember it all. I grasp and grab onto the fleeting, transparent images in my head. The cocoon I call nostalgia surrounds me and wraps around my head, pulling out the memories from the corner of my brain.

I’ll admit it only to myself ― I miss it all. My only wish is to live in it once again and not change a thing about the unfolding events. I’m trying to figure out why I was so worried for the upcoming months ― too deep in the not knowing of it all ― unaware and oblivious to the bitter fact that I oughta be holding onto this time of peace? I know it wasn’t perfect; I know I had days where I lost everything- but if I could just go back ― feel what I felt all over again ― Open your eyes and the thoughts will soon fade away ― followed by a heavy relief.

You cannot hope to continue to live in the past. The date is today, not July of last year. Today will become yesterday soon enough, and you know fully well that you cannot go back once it’s past. Take all the reminiscence and people who won’t reach out with yourself as you go ― and notice how everything is in its right places. Breathe life into every second your lungs take in fresh air. Reach out the window and touch the winds of today. This week will become last summer in a heartbeat. Can you notice the gradient sky outside your walls? The light is getting darker and darker, the time left getting shorter and shorter. Every time your heart pumps blood into your veins is a chance for you to live. Bathe in life- and don’t try to look back to find what you’re searching for. It’s in you. It’s in front of you. It’s been here all this time.

These 6 images and their stamped labels follow the theory that birthmarks may have a correlation to a previous life.

They may be a

mark of how

*****

I find my tongue solid, stiff and paralysed. Stone. Like a grave of memories locked into the shadows of my youth. It’s a ghost town of words once known, instead replaced by the colonizer’s language. “How is your English so good?”— it’s a cloud that hazes the rest of my tongues. “You don’t have an accent” is a compliment I take with guilt; I speak the language of the new, globalized world. Fluent like a river. Sounds of the colonized.

43 I feel a world apart. A thorn of humiliation pokes my side.They don’t sound like the people around me. What would my new friends feel if they would ever hear them?

BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP.

escape me)

(curse words that

How dare I feel that way with the people that raised me so lovingly! The longer I live here, a new skin grows. Will I be able to recognise myself in 30 years?

Except I am tone deaf. I croak broken and rigid words, desperately searching for vocabulary in a basket of shadows. A language I smell but cannot see or touch anymore. It’s locked into a time far away ― knowledge that belongs to the old.

I am thankful for the opportunities the generations before blessed me with, but to embrace it I will? leave them behind.

Danne… 很烦 e-yo g#ng 妈！ S** p^t ts#ng

Ch%#*a s#%a An€₹ez ki aulलाद

GOLDFISH BUYING A SNACK AT THE STORE

ABBIE GAMBOA DIGITAL COLLAGE @ABBIEGAMBOA 48

LIBERATION VS. CONFORMITY

KIEN FORBES MULTIMEDIA @ARO._.ARTS 49

THE STORY OF BECOMING A COMMUNITY

MAIDE AKAN RISOGRAPH, ZINE, COLLAGE AND MIXED MEDIA @ARTEENOLOGY - @DIARY_OF_A_FART_STUDENTE

CONSCIOUSNESS

50 JASON HO BLACK FINE LINER AND INK @MIDNIGHTPRETENDERSSSS

TABLE OF CONTENTS

{DEPTHS} 51 ANAT ELKAYAM 52 SCULPTURE AND PERFORMANCE @ANAT1690 LABYRINTHINE 53

JENNA WEIND STEEL @BAOMII JENNAWEIND.COM

“THE BUZZED SHOW” 54 WITH MR LIGHTBULB CALLAHAN. RICARDO IZETA GRAPHITE AND INK @TEM.AZCAL

HAIRCUT PIECE 55

ANIKA PEPPARD 56 PERFORMANCE @ANIKA.PEP - ANIKAPEPPARD.COM

SECTION 4 PAGES 47-56

Community 49

belonging

I cut the of the with my hands teeth

hair sitter 56

and

59 THE BUZZ AROUND BUZZKILLS 60 NAYSA PHILIP 61 INTERVIEW 62 @NAYSLIKESTOSNIFFPAINT 63

STUNTED GROWTH

JULIA PATERSON CERAMICS @JULIALISE.ART 64

CRADLE

PHYLLIS CHEUNG RISOGRAPH ZINE @LUVPHYLL 65

UNTITLED MONOTYPE

DAYANA MARDEN MONOTYPE @KNOWNDANONE 66

BRONZE CHAIRS (INCENSE HOLDERS)

JONAH RANDELL BRONZE @DANGERRANDELL

TABLE OF CONTENTS

FORTIFY 67 JENNA WEIND 68 INK & GRAPHITE @BAOMII - JENNAWEIND.COM REUNION 69

NIKOLAS GEORGE CYANOTYPE, ARCHIVAL PAPER @SOLAKAIN_

FRAN, NEPTUNE MUSIC 70

NIKOLAS GEORGE VAN DYKE PRINT ON ARCHIVAL PAPER @SOLAKAIN_

BACK TO SQUARE ONE

71 LEANN JUATCO 72 EDITORIAL @LEANNCARYL

JULIA.2025 73 ANNE SUEYEUN SEOL 74 PHOTOGRAPHY 75 @KR.ATIF.SOO 76

SECTION 5 PAGES 59-76

THE BUZZ AROUND

BUZZKILL

What does it mean to be a buzzkill? What do you do when you are the ‘buzzkill’? In this semester’s edition, WOO curates what a buzz looks like to students at ECU. We flip through these pages and feel the buzz seeping through each artwork, through each sound, and through each word. But what happens when this buzz is abruptly interrupted, flatlines, and disappears? Like how a buzz is often subjective, knowing if or how the buzz has been killed varies on the situation and the person.

What does the term buzzkill mean to you? AB

A type of person... I’ve only really recently noticed that I tend to talk about things that don’t necessarily excite people and at worst actually upset them.

Something or someone that puts an end to a good time with their attitude, or vibe, or something they say.

The first thing that comes to mind is when someone is talking with so much passion, so much care, and so much love… but then your first thought is to that and break someone’s thought process and rhythm.

disrupt

Have you ever experienced a buzzkill? And if so, who or what was the buzzkill? AB

I feel my experience with buzzkill is when people talk about Indonesia or other economically developing countries as this… paradise.

For me there’s an “I’m joking” buzzkill where you’re out with your friends and you don’t want the night to end and someone says, “I can’t go out, I have to go to bed. I need to sleep.” And then you say, “Oh you’re such a buzzkill,” jokingly. But on the other hand, my buzzkill is usually… political. For example, there’s a lot happening in the world right now and sometimes when we’re having a lighthearted conversation and somebody else has a very, very, very controversial or conservative opinion, that’s definitely a huge buzzkill. It gets awkward.

I like to cherish just the mundane stuff, like… the easiest thing like going to get groceries with friends fills me with joy but that may not be everyone’s cup of tea. Something like that can bring me a lot of joy and a lot of people don’t like it when you’re really happy, and so their first thought is to bring down your excitement down to their own level.

Did it change you as a person? AB

I feel when people hear the word buzzkill they’re very uncomfortable to the point they don’t want to speak of it, but often I want to talk about it further. I think conversations like those need to happen even if it kills the mood.

Yes, it does. It makes it harder for me to enjoy being around that person even when we’re having a good time; I tend to remember what they said. It freaks me out and then puts me into a bad mood, and then I become the buzzkill. So it’s like a cycle.

I learnt that the words that come from them might be their own insecurities and they might be projecting. They may have a hard time accepting my idea of excitement.

Do you think you’ve ever been a buzzkill… 61

Yes. . . because it’s really hard for me to read the room sometimes. But I will be talking about something that I’m interested in, say about a specific political thing about my home country. I will be laughing and smiling about it. And people look at me in a very weird way like, “How are you smiling at this? It’s an actual crisis.” I think in reality, I use laughter to personally deal with the gravity of things. The world’s f*cked in so many ways, and not laughing through it all seems like a miserable reality.

Oh, yeah, 100%. I think that, again, politically, I’ve been a buzzkill. Like, for example, if people say “Oh, let’s go to McDonald’s or let’s go to Starbucks.” I’d be like, “Nah, I’m boycotting.” Or when people talk about AI and then I can see it in their faces like, “Oh, this person is annoying.” And I also don’t like a lot of things. I’m very, like... selective with the things that I like. A lot of people think that’s why I might come off as negative, so I have been a buzzkill many times. I have no shame in admitting that.

Honestly, absolutely. I may not have realized it at the time either. Emotions are a whirlwind, and if I’m in a bad mood I may not react to something the way they want me to. I think by reading peoples faces after I say something, I realize I might’ve messed up and I shouldn’t have said that.

Reflecting on buzzkills, how would you approach a future buzzkill? AB

I don’t think there’s a sort of difference in how I would approach it, really. Let’s say I’m talking about the militarization of Indonesia for example. If someone says, “Oh, Indonesia is so pretty,” I’ll just be like, “Yeah, but also we don’t get rights there, haha.” Sort of having a lightheartedness about it, but at the same time still trying to be informative. Being a buzzkill in that sense is not really a bad thing. It helps create more empathy, even just sympathy, when it comes to talking about other countries or just talking about cultures that you’re not fully aware of.

When I think of political buzzkills in a public setting, I say you should be very careful with how you approach it, because you don’t know what opinions everyone around you has. It could put you in a dangerous situation, especially if you’re a person of colour. If I feel uncomfortable and I can recognize that other people around me are uncomfortable, I have no problem speaking up; someone has to. Put yourself in the other person’s shoes and try to understand where they’re coming from and then 62 approach them when you’re not as irritated, agitated, or annoyed with what happened. It might be hard to do. It might mean that you have to be a bigger person.

There are two ways: one is acknowledging it, and one is ignoring it. Ignorance is bliss. If you withdraw your attention they no longer have power and that convo fizzes out and they will have to retrospect at the end of the day. But if you acknowledge it, I think it would help ground them. Coming up with instant remarks, something witty, more casual, that usually delivers the idea of, “You’re not being a good person right now” without hurting their feelings and turning their day into a bad day. Medhavi (she/her) is a 3rd-year 3D animation student. She is intrigued by how environments, particularly post-apocalyptic environments, can reflect various emotions. She continues to explore other disciplines within animation such as lighting, compositing, and character design.

A is an ECU student who wishes to remain anonymous. Abi (they/she) is a 4th year communication design student. They work in the intersections of writing, illustration & design to create pieces inspired by their own Indonesian heritage and culture.

0363

Back to Sq Judgment split into half The voices in my head, friends that never liked you back

No matter how much I antagonized you, I could never hate you like they do They’re trying to save my life, I’m destroying it on the sideline I’m boosting your ego, while I’m losing my dignity I said I couldn’t bear to leave,

but I’m already one foot out the door There’s nothing to lose anymore

Suffocated, deep into mess

I need to be emancipated ‘cause loving you feels like dying

I have no desire to kil l myself again Everything comes with a price

ce I’ll You’re the consequen

pay for life

We never got it maybe we’ll do in another life

Always back to square one, you’ll never be the one

Why can’t you let me go? you don’t want me back either I’m not settling to be your maybe, not wait until you’re ready No more static on the phone to override my melancholy This is beyond repair with hundreds of sorrys

Our names were written in the stars

All along, those stars were d Logically, it was best that I left But if my heart is to decide our fate, I would‘ve stayed

quare One

kthrough Unloving is a tough brea you? unds without picturing How do I unveil the wo Bled on the ripped pages you were Blocke part of d out the places where it all started

Still, I search for you everywhere You’re everywhere ‘cause I wish you were Is it worth everything I lost? If it’s you I’ve been longing for Everything comes with a price

You’re the consequence I’ll pay for life 72 We never got it right, maybe we’ll do in another life

Always back to square one,

you’ll never be the one

I unlocked the door, waiting for you to barge in

I waited for too long, now, it’s too late

Always back to square one,

you’ll never be the one

dead since the start

1) sticking gum on streetlights 2) helped some lost cats 3) me just walking stupid 4) it starts to pour and I sink 5) sun comes out damn pretty day

Julia

Die Lustige

AM I LAVA OR THE SEA ?

ZION WANG MAXMSP @TAMSU1_R00M

80 PROTOZOA 81 AMELIE SHYPILOVA EDITORIAL @AMESKETCHES 82

SMUDGE

JUSTIN PARK PHOTOGRAPHY @JUSTINYPARRK 83 SILENT DREAMS 84 LORENO HART INK ON BRISTOL BOARD @LORENO.ARTS

TABLE OF CONTENTS

BORDERLESS 85

DAYANA MARDEN 86 MONOTYPE

@KNOWNDANONE

NAALALA MO BA, 87 YUNG HINULI NATIN 88 YUNG MGA PARUPARO? (DO YOU REMEMBER WHEN WE CAUGHT THOSE BUTTERFLIES?) LEI SABAUPAN EDITORIAL @L_ _ _ _ _ _ _31

WHERE WILL YOU GO? 89

MALVIKA GARLYAL 90 PHOTOGRAPHY @ST4RCHIILD - @MALVIKAAA._

SECTION 6 PAGES 79-90

a buzzing that won’t leave,

a question echoing under the skin.

when summer threw a bone, i drooled and whined like a dog. i chased in circles like a kid. summer made me chase past blue houses and yellow walls, past wisteria trees and spiders crawling down – past seeds germinating dying from the cold melting slush warm sun rays filtered through leaves and cicada hum buzzing in the streets like a symphony. it’s nostalgic to chase. chasing, then digging ditches in the yard, roughening my paw pads dulling claws vibrating worms in their holes seeking metazoic friends to keep me company, and tasks to keep me occupied. ugly dirt holes. i dig. i dig. i dig. deep underneath the strata to branching colony tunnels, like worker ants i rebuild then kill the drones. why must i give all of myself to the queen? 80 when she cleans me right down to the bone, suddenly i’m not so nostalgic anymore. dog fly worm bug– bugs are shit partners, stupid senseless hard shelled bone headed selfish egocentric exoskeletons. they’re all beauty on the outside, hollow on the inside. i crush a crane fly. it all comes to a head as my metazoan division of the self back to proto back to meta triggers asexual reproduction of myself, myself, myself, again back up and down again around then finally asking the doctor, “when will i be whole again?” she doesnt say when. but when i am, i will amalgamate all my selves back again. bacteria metazoan protozoan dirt ants worm holes dirt flies dogs and bones. i will be all of it. i will be more.

summer threw me a bone and it’s too hard to gnaw. i never wanted to crush bugs, much less a crane fly– yet how beautifully a cicada hums seems to only have clouded my mind. but a crane fly was no cicada and i’ve killed a silent bug. my skin is bending stretching and changing. dog fly worm bug. when i can’t keep crushing, i let you go. it’s a heartache, it’s in my rib cage, it’s molting this body out of a feeling. disappointment anger grief blood, bones shell skull skin. i’m no crane fly but i was crushed too. i was divided up in cells. all the way back to one. like a protozoan.

PROTOZOA

i finally like how life is now, with only one body to worry about.

naalala mo ba, yung hinuli natin yung mga paruparo?

² “kahon” means “box, chest” and “dibdib” means a person’s “chest”, making the sentence “holding the chest to my chest” as a metaphor equivalent to “heart to heart”

¹ “huli” means both “caught” and “last”, therefore making “ako nalang ang na huli” to mean both “i’m the only one caught” and “i’m the only one last”

naalala mo ba, yung hinuli natin yung mga paruparo? yung maliit pa tayo sa kagubatan ng bundok yung naalala ko yung paghuli natin ng mga paruparo ngayon, parang panaginip, parang marilag na multo nakikita ko pa yung pagpalakpak ng pakpak nila ako yung humahawak ng maliit na kahon natin, kung saan kinulong natin yung mga paruparo sinara at binuksan ko, muli at muli, para sa pag isa na nahuling paruparo hanggang inip na ikaw at yung lahat na bata, at yung susunod na biktima niyo ay mga gagamba ako nalang ang na huli¹, hawak parin yung kahon sa dibdib² ko hindi ko talaga maalis ang mga mata ko sa mga paruparo, narahuyo hindi na kayang huminga o lumipad o kahit ipakpak ng mga pakpak ang mga paruparo umupo ako sa ilalim ng puno, kahon sa tabi ko hanggang parang walang hanggan, nakaupo lang doon kasama ng malambot na simoy bata pa lang ako noon, hindi ko pa naman alam kung ano yung nararamdaman ko hindi ako mamatay na parang isang paruparo, gusto ko lang huminga gusto ko lang lumipad hanggang walang makakahuli sa akin

(do you remember when we caught those butterflies?)

do you remember when we caught those butterflies? when we were still small in the forest mountains when i remember our catching of the butterflies now, seems like a dream, like an enchanting ghost i can still see the flapping of their wings i was the one holding our little chest, where we trapped the butterflies opening and closing it again and again for each butterfly caught until you were bored, along with all the other children and your next victims were the spiders i was the only one left, still holding the chest to my chest i just couldn’t take my eyes off of the butterflies, enchanted no longer could the butterflies breathe nor fly nor even flap their wings i sat under the tree, the chest beside me until there was no end, just sitting there together with the softness of wind i was only still a child then, i didn’t yet know what i was feeling i won’t die like a butterfly i just want to breathe i just want to fly until nothing/nobody/no one can ever catch me

WOO Publication - BUZZ Published by the student editors, authors and designers of WOO, at Emily Carr University of Art + Design, Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. WOO is available at Emily Carr University of Art + Design and at woopublication.ca. © 2025 WOO Publication. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form without permission.

WOO also recognizes the support provided by the students, alumni, faculty and the Emily Carr Students’ Union. Inquiries can be addressed to the directors at woopublication@gmail.com Typeface used: Neue Haas Grotesk Display Pro, Arimo Printed by: Hemlock Printers This issue is limited to 350 copies.

WOO assumes all work published Email: woopublication@gmail.com here is original and is the property Website: woopublication.ca Instagram: @woopublication of the submitting students. All artwork titles and student names @facesofemilycarr are trademarked or copyrighted by their respective owners. WOO Publication acknowledges that our work takes place on the unceded, traditional, and ancestral territories of the xʷməθkʷəy̓əm (Musqueam), Sḵwx̱ wú7mesh (Squamish), and səlilwətaɬ (TsleilWaututh) Nations. We are deeply grateful to live, learn, and create on this land as settlers.

WOO Publication 520 E 1st Ave, Vancouver BC V5T 0H2 2nd Floor

(bye)