Born to a Nigerian mother and British father, Joel Chidi Sydenham approaches art as a space of convergence, where image, language, memory, and identity intertwine. Working fluidly between visual art and poetry, his practice resists fixed boundaries, instead unfolding through intuition, emotional resonance, and a deep exploration of connection. Whether through interwoven forms, symbolic figures, or layered narratives, Sydenham’s work continually returns to the idea of an underlying unity that binds people, cultures, and the natural world together.
Nature itself occupies a central position within his philosophy, not simply as subject matter, but as an active creative force. His paintings and poems often dissolve distinctions between self and environment, allowing forms to emerge, merge, and transform in ways that mirror the rhythms of the natural world. This sense of interconnectedness extends into his wider exploration of femininity, spirituality, and shared human experience, particularly within his Divine Feminine series, which reflects both personal influences and broader existential ideas surrounding creation, intuition, and balance.
In this interview with The FLUX Review, Sydenham discusses the relationship between poetry and visual art, the influence of dual heritage on his worldview, the absence of a fixed creative process, and his growing interest in storytelling through artist books and publications.
You work across both visual art and poetry. How do these disciplines inform and shape one another within your practice?
In my practice, visual art and poetry are not separate disciplines so much as parallel expressions of the same impulse. Both tend to emerge from a shared emotional core or a sustained fascination with a particular idea, image, or question. Rather than deciding in advance whether something will become a poem or a visual piece, I follow the energy of that initial spark and let it find its most natural form, or, often, multiple forms.
Your work often explores interconnectedness and shared human experience. What draws you to these themes?
I’m drawn to themes of interconnectedness and shared human experience because they reflect something deeply personal in how I’ve come to understand the world. Growing up with a Nigerian mother and a British father, I often felt like I was existing in a space between two cultures, learning to navigate, reconcile, and hold both at once. Rather than seeing them as opposites, I began to understand that the tension between them was also a point of connection, a place where different perspectives could meet and inform one another.
That sense of being “in between” shaped how I relate not just to culture, but to people more broadly. It made me attentive to the subtle ways we overlap – emotionally, culturally, and experientially – even when our surface differences seem pronounced. I think my work is, in part, an attempt to explore and make visible those quieter connections.
The idea of an underlying unity between all things runs through your work. How do you translate this into a visual language?
The idea of an underlying unity tends to guide my work, but how it’s expressed visually shifts depending on the themes I’m exploring in a given piece. I’m not interested in a single fixed way of representing it. Instead, I let the subject determine the language. One recurring approach is the use of intricate, interwoven patterns. These allow separate elements to feel inseparable, as though they’re part of the same continuous system rather than isolated forms. I’m also drawn to placing apparent opposites side by side then emphasising the points where they overlap or mirror one another, rather than where they diverge. At times, the idea becomes even more direct. I deliberately avoid drawing clear boundaries between forms, letting them bleed into or emerge from one another.
Nature plays a central role in your practice. What does the natural world offer you conceptually and creatively?
For me, nature isn’t something I observe from a distance… it’s something I belong to. I see myself as part of it, not separate from it. In a way, I think of myself as the forces of nature holding a paintbrush: the same energy that shapes landscapes and life is moving through my hand when I create. Conceptually, that perspective grounds everything I do. It shifts my work away from representation and toward connection, less about depicting nature, more about expressing an ongoing relationship with it. Creatively, the natural world offers me everything. The animals I paint, the textures and rhythms I respond to, even the materials I use, like the paper I draw on, are all Nature to me So my practice becomes a kind of loop: nature creating through me, using elements of itself, to reflect back on itself.
Your Divine Feminine series carries a quiet strength and sense of balance. What inspired this body of work, and what does it represent to you?
The Divine Feminine series really grew out of my own life experience. I’ve been profoundly shaped by the women around me, in ways that feel both personal and creative. My paternal grandmother, who I never had the chance to meet, was an artist, and I grew up surrounded by her work. It left a quiet but lasting impression on me. My sister, who’s an incredibly gifted pastry chef and actress, has always inspired me with her creativity and drive to develop her practice. Both my mother and my partner have played a huge role in shaping my character and how I see the world. This body of work became a way to honor those influences – to celebrate the strength, complexity, and balance I’ve witnessed in them. At the same time, it was also an exploration of my own relationship with femininity as a male artist. Not as something separate, but as an essential, integrated part of who I am. I’m also deeply inspired by femininity on a more existential level, beyond individuals, as a force tied to creation, intuition, resilience, and transformation. The series represents that intersection.
Can you talk us through your creative process from initial idea to finished piece?
I’ve tried to answer this in the past but I can’t really talk you through my process, I simply don’t have one. It evolves, there is no recipe or formula for what I do. And that is exactly why I do it. Making art for me, is like making a friend, it happens or it doesn’t. If you try to force things you make a mess. Most of the time what I create is very different to what I imagined. It’s a conversation not a speech.
Community and connection seem integral to your wider practice, including your workshops. How important is this aspect to you as an artist?
Community and connection are the reason I get up to make art, they may not be the inspiration for every piece, but they drive me as an artist and human being,
What are you currently exploring, and where do you see your work evolving next?
I keep getting told to make books. And to be completely honest it’s always been a dream of mine. I created a poetry/painting zine called Encounters that was received really well. I’m exploring other ways I can link my love for poetry and story telling to visual art
