— We actually started with a mural project, before we had even considered creating a toolkit. At that stage, the toolkit wasn’t really on our minds. But at the same time, we were already thinking about how we might capture or document the process. Part of the motivation came from the fact that we come from different disciplines. That mix of perspectives really shaped what the toolkit eventually became. The diversity in our disciplinary background was key to defining its purpose and content.

So it was really about working with people to understand how they would want to design an intervention, which an illustrator might do naturally anyway, but creating the toolkit pushed us to reflect more deeply—or in a different way—on the purpose behind how we do it. As an artist, sure, I can just paint a mural, create a big picture. But the toolkit made me stop and really think about why I'm doing it.

The communities we’re working with – and the fact that it's public – add so many layers to the process of producing an artwork. When you first approach a project like this, it can feel overwhelming. In that sense, the toolkit becomes a way to parse all those possibilities and distill them into something more manageable and documented. In a way, for us, the toolkit became a form of reflection that we had about the project overall. It was also a way of thinking: If you were to create a community mural with a bunch of people you don't know - strangers or acquaintances - how would you actually go about it? And that's effectively what we think the toolkit was about.

In terms of the toolkit itself, in some ways we’re still just at the beginning. The real challenge now is finding people—beyond ourselves—who will actually use it. That’s a bit daunting, to be honest. We’ve created something rooted in our own experiences and we believe it’s useful, but putting it out there and asking others to test it is a vulnerable step.

[Omar] For me, coming from the Social Sciences, toolkits usually imply something geared toward advocacy or policy change. So I had to rethink what a toolkit could be. What’s exciting about this toolkit is that it’s a physical object. It’s not just a written document—it includes practical, trial-based tools that emerged directly from the obstacles and challenges we faced during the project.

— There are two answers to this question. First, we were deeply involved in the stylistic choices that shaped the final artwork. I would argue that the murals are professional—even if the style differs from what you typically see in public art. The drawings used in the murals were created by community members and preserved in the final pieces. Our research team collaged, colored, and adapted them—not to overwrite them, but to enhance their readability for a broader audience. We thought carefully about visual literacy, making sure the stories could be “read” directly from the artwork.

Yes, the style might seem raw or "outsider" to some, but that was intentional. We wanted to activate and elevate the artwork created by community members, not replace it. So we don’t see the lack of conventional polish as a flaw. That said, you're right—some stakeholders were skeptical. But many others were genuinely excited. They recognised their own work in the final product, untouched by a more "professional" hand, and that meant a great deal to them.

This speaks to an important distinction. For us, inclusivity wasn’t just an abstract concept or a sentiment. It meant involving people not only in the design process, but also in shaping the imagery itself. In urban spaces, visual culture is often tightly curated—shaped by commercial interests, political narratives, or artistic gatekeepers. Even in the world of street art and graffiti, there are hierarchies of styles that are being constantly negotiated. We wanted to challenge that.

We approached this project as a form of commentary. If public art can capture a fleeting moment when diverse individuals come together to create something, then why shouldn’t the final aesthetic reflect that diversity? Instead of producing a polished interpretation by a single artist, we intentionally included everything—from a child’s doodle of a cherry tree to an adult’s drawing tied to a childhood memory. Our own drawings are part of the collage, too.

So yes, the result is professionally finished. But it’s important to distinguish between the mural project and the toolkit we’re developing. We’re not suggesting that everyone who uses the toolkit must make the same aesthetic choices we did. What mattered most for us was diversifying the visual language of the community. That’s what guided our decisions—and that’s central to the second question about the subtler curatorial choices we made.

— Through our community consultations, it was important to ensure that people felt connected to the design—and overall, the response was very positive. Instead of asking us to change things, many participants suggested adding more. This showed us that people were genuinely engaged in the participatory process. The relational aspect of the project continued even during consultations, as community members expressed a desire to keep contributing. This ongoing dialogue is something we aimed to capture in the toolkit. For example, when we received critical comments on Facebook about the artwork’s style, it raised important questions: How do you respond to that kind of feedback? How do you communicate the intention behind the aesthetic choices? And how can early community engagement help ensure that people feel heard and see their input reflected in the final result? These experiences were central to shaping the toolkit. Navigating these moments—when things get challenging—is often one of the hardest parts of a collaborative project. That’s why we wanted the toolkit to offer practical guidance and tools for working through those complexities together.

— One of the key discoveries was how interconnected our disciplines were, even before we fully realized it. In Sociology, we often use arts-based methods to engage with community groups and enhance our research, and in Illustration, many sociological concepts inform the storytelling and illustration work we do. While we might use different terms or approach things from different angles, it was never difficult to see that we shared the same goals and intentions for our work. From the start, we both understood that each discipline offers a valid interpretation of the world, and these interpretations are not objective truths.

What stood out in the realm of Illustration was its experimental nature—it's not rigid, yet it has structure and form, which makes it meaningful to carefully consider the purpose of an image. Why is it being created? Who is it for?Illustrators must constantly ask: Who is the artwork for, and what is its purpose? What does the client want? What does the audience need to understand? We all have biases, some of which we may not even realize we’re perpetuating. This kind of self-reflection is central to the work that illustrators do.

For us [Omar] in Sociology, the creative aspect of our work is often seen as lacking academic rigor. However, it’s clear that both Illustration and Sociology are grounded in thoughtful, deliberate processes. As a sociologist, I’m particularly drawn to methods that prioritize participation. It was exciting to bring participatory action research and arts-based research into the forefront, because it's through these approaches that research becomes truly impactful. This way, it’s not exploitative or extractive—it's about creating meaningful, collaborative work.