We recently connected with Joshua Rille and have shared our conversation below.

JOSHUA, looking forward to hearing all of your stories today. What’s been the most meaningful project you’ve worked on?

A little backstory about me: I’ve only recently started embracing the title of emerging artist. For years, I knew I was an artist, but I wasn’t sure what I wanted to share or what my role could be. I spent multiple years assisting some of Toronto’s best talents, like Jorian Charlton and Oluseye—please check out their work. Both have been incredibly encouraging and instrumental in pushing me to forge my own path and develop my artistic voice as well as continuing to put Toronto on the map.
As I began thinking about what I wanted to create, I kept returning to my experiences curating nightlife events with The RUDE Collective and being part of Toronto’s Kiki ballroom scene—shoutout to my house the Kiki House of Siriano. Community has always been at the heart of what I do, and I wanted to continue to honour that in my work.
The inspiration for NOTICE.me came from the NOTICE signs popping up all over Toronto, signaling that gentrification was on the horizon or that yet another cherished space would soon be replaced by a condo. After COVID, the pace of these changes accelerated, with these signs appearing at an alarming rate. I felt it was crucial to encapsulate and archive the significance of queer spaces, artist spaces, public spaces, and sexual spaces before they disappeared.
Much like the queer past, COVID reminded us how essential outdoor spaces are for connection. Hosting balls and raves on Cherry Beach during the pandemic felt like reclaiming its deeper history—a place where queer folks gathered in the 80s and 90s to connect and explore freedom and desire. Spaces like Cherry Beach, Hanlan’s Point, and High Park hold rich queer histories and are woven into the fabric of our survival and joy.
Through NOTICE.me, I set out to create a project that pays tribute to these spaces and the people who made them meaningful. The series captures beautiful imagery that blurs the lines between past, present, and future—an archive of spaces, moments, and communities that deserve to be remembered and celebrated.
Each of these shoots are meaningful ive been lucky enough to collaborate with talents that include Morgan at Hanlan’s Point, Oluseye at the Weston Flea Market, Diseiye at Cherry Beach, Charles at 888 Dupont, Darynel by Luanda House, Chason at Church, Aston in front of Filmores, and Zeina in High Park. These moments remind me why this work matters—preserving the spirit of people and places that shaped our lives, joy, and freedom and not taking these moments for granted.

Great, appreciate you sharing that with us. Before we ask you to share more of your insights, can you take a moment to introduce yourself and how you got to where you are today to our readers.

My photography journey began in junior high school in Wetaskiwin, Alberta. A student pastor from my church lent me a film camera and a photography book, and I had my first camera phone—a trusty LG Keybo. I spent countless hours wandering my small town, capturing whatever caught my eye. That initial spark eventually led me across the country to attend photography school at Sheridan College.

Growing up in the church shaped a complicated relationship with sensuality, rooted in shame. But as I grew closer to my truth, I learned to embrace sensuality as sacred. Unlearning shame, embracing my sexuality, and loving both my own gender fluidity and that of others has been a crucial part of my journey.

In school, I knew I loved capturing beautiful images, but I struggled to find a true purpose. That changed when I immersed myself in Toronto’s queer community. I co-founded events with The RUDE Collective, prioritizing QTBIPOC folks and creating immersive nightlife experiences where music, art, and community thrived. These events became essential spaces to celebrate queer art and excellence—and played a pivotal role in shaping my creative identity.

Today, my photography practice celebrates intimate moments within the queer community, deeply rooted in my experiences as the only openly out individual from Wetaskiwin. As a non-binary artist, I cherish genuine connections and honor the courage it takes to live authentically. Having lived in Toronto for seven years, I’ve collaborated with people to create images that reflect a vibrant queer present and imagine a radical future.

Being part of the Ballroom scene—shoutout to the Kiki House of Siriano—and queer nightlife has been transformative for me. These spaces allowed me to merge real life with fantasy, creating environments where queer, trans, and BIPOC individuals could shine. That same ethos guides my photography practice.

I shoot on film, blending natural light and flash to capture the spirit of queer nightlife. The flash isn’t just a technical choice—it’s symbolic, highlighting the fleeting beauty of these sacred spaces while bringing focus to the individuals I photograph, allowing them to feel seen, safe, and sensual.

The most rewarding part of this work is seeing collaborators recognize their own beauty in our creations. Through this practice, I aim to archive intimate, authentic moments and continue building spaces where queer people feel celebrated, empowered, and seen.

Can you tell us about a time you’ve had to pivot?

I’m currently living through a significant pivot. For a long time, I felt stuck—frustrated with where I was and unsure how to move forward. I realized that if I truly wanted change, I had to start making small shifts, trying new things, and embracing failure.
For the past seven years, I worked as a freelancer without stable income. My time in the film and TV industry, particularly in the art department, took a heavy toll on my mind and body. It’s a space that often overlooks the well-being of the very creatives who bring productions to life. The industry’s disposable nature left many of us burnt out and struggling to communicate. The financial instability only worsened after the actors’ and writers’ strikes. I found myself completely burnt out, financially strapped, and in desperate need of a reset.
Since 2023, I’ve been focused on rebuilding. I’ve worked on creative projects, refined my writing skills to apply for grants, and started seriously building my fine art career. I’ve been diving into audiobooks and podcasts about finances, self-development, and transformation to help me “level up.” My sister recommended You Are a Badass at Making Money by Jen Sincero, and my partner introduced me to The Diary of a CEO podcast with Steven Bartlett. I’ve also been looking forward to workshops, particularly those offered by Erotics of Liberation.
This pivot is about more than just my career—it’s about understanding my relationship with money, strengthening my mental and physical well-being, nurturing connections with loved ones, and learning to care for myself fully. I’m hungry for change and committed to pursuing the growth I need to create a better life for myself and those around me.

For you, what’s the most rewarding aspect of being a creative?

For me, the most rewarding part of being an artist is the boundless freedom to create. Art offers an unapologetic space to lean into my calling, uncover truths, and heal—both myself and others. It’s a process where personal growth naturally becomes communal healing.

One of the most fulfilling experiences is when collaborators see themselves in our work and are struck by the beauty they radiate. It’s powerful to create imagery that honors them and their truths. Through this practice, I strive to archive intimate moments and build spaces where queer people feel seen, celebrated, and empowered.

Another rewarding aspect is the sense of completion—bringing a project from vision to reality. Creativity often presents endless possibilities, which makes finishing something challenging, but there’s immense satisfaction in shaping a vision and seeing it fully come to life.

Mistakes are part of the process too. Through them, I’ve learned how to better reflect the current state of the world—or how we, sometimes unknowingly, mirror the environments we inhabit. When I look at Toronto, with the NOTICE boards signaling the erasure of sacred spaces in the relentless pursuit of capitalism, I’m reminded of Canada’s own history of genocide against Indigenous peoples. The parallels are haunting when considering what’s being done to Palestinians today. These echoes of colonial violence highlight how systems of oppression continue to repeat themselves on a global scale.

This observation connects directly to my next project, tentatively titled Latebloomer/Saturn’s Return. With this work, I confront my own fears as a queer person exploring feminine expression in a world where trans folks face governments actively seeking to erase their existence.

It’s not just about what’s rewarding—it’s about storytelling and empathy. Finding ways to tell these stories helps remind us of the humanity in people who may not look like us or think like us, yet still deserve love, dignity, and respect as human beings.

Contact Info:

• Instagram: jjjjjjjoshua