T and Joy

Some artistic collaborations arrive gently, unfolding through feeling. They emerge through conversation, intuition, and the quiet recognition that something meaningful is taking shape between people, words, and experiences. Working with Joy, a creative artist from Turkey, felt very much like this.

Their installation work, inspired in part by fragments of my poem that will appear in the upcoming Queer & Feminist Poetry Anthology Vol II: Queer Joy and Gender Euphoria by The Unwanted Words, grew from a shared emotional space, rooted in vulnerability, reflection, and trust in the creative process itself.

When I first shared the poem, I did not yet know how it would continue to live beyond the page. I only knew that it carried questions of identity, tenderness, memory, and becoming. Joy connected with it immediately as they shared with me:

“Your poem really touched my soul when I first read it, and I went with that.”

There is something deeply beautiful in allowing art to begin from that place - from resonance. So often, the most honest creative processes emerge when we stop trying to force meaning and instead allow ourselves to follow what moves us emotionally.

For Joy, the installation became a deeply personal exploration of identity and self-understanding. They described the process as both liberating and emotionally challenging, since the work reflected parts of themselves and experiences they do not often speak about openly. They shared:

“My work was about self-exploration and identity. And for the creation process I can say that it was hard for me since it's a reflection of my inner world about a topic that I don't really talk about. Working with all of those thoughts and emotions was challenging.”

There is a quiet courage in creating from such an intimate place. Art has the ability to hold emotions that are difficult to articulate directly. It allows people to approach vulnerability carefully, symbolically, and sometimes more truthfully than ordinary conversation ever could. For queer artists especially, creativity can become both expression and sanctuary.

Joy also spoke about the reality of living and creating in Turkey, where being openly queer does not always feel safe. Within this context, the installation process itself became a space of temporary freedom - a place where emotions, identity, and inner experiences could exist more openly. As they expressed:

“I felt free working in that space since I live in Turkey, which is not a safe place for queer people.”

This truth adds another layer to the work. It reminds us that art is never created separately from the environments we live in. Every piece carries traces of personal history, social reality, fear, hope, and longing. Sometimes the creative process becomes a way of reclaiming space that is otherwise unavailable.

What felt especially meaningful throughout this collaboration was the mutual willingness to let the process unfold naturally. There was no attempt to control the outcome too tightly or define everything in advance. Instead, there was trust - trust in intuition, trust in emotional honesty, and trust in the unexpected directions that collaboration can take.

In many ways, this is what makes artistic collaboration so powerful. Once words are shared, they begin to live differently in someone else’s imagination. They transform through another person’s experiences, emotions, and creative language. Joy did not simply respond to the poem visually; they entered into a conversation with it. Through that dialogue, something entirely new emerged - something shaped by both of us, yet belonging fully to neither one alone. There is something profoundly tender in that kind of exchange.

Joy’s installation embodies that complexity beautifully. The work does not turn away from vulnerability or difficulty, but instead moves gently alongside them. It reminds us that queer joy is not always loud or uncomplicated. Sometimes it exists quietly - in moments of self-recognition, creative freedom, emotional connection, and the courage to be seen, even briefly, as we truly are. This collaboration reminded me that creativity does not always need to arrive with clarity from the beginning. Sometimes the most meaningful work emerges slowly, through openness, trust, and the willingness to stay with the process as it unfolds. And perhaps that is what makes collaborative art so special in the first place: it allows us to meet one another in spaces where language alone is no longer enough.
Even if the installation was dismantled and travelled to Amsterdam and Paris from living in Saint Montan as part of the project “Shooting Stars” organised by La Petite Orse and Tiliade, April 2026.