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How Do We Translate Joy and Optimism into the Tangible?
How Do We Translate Joy and Optimism into the Tangible?
A Commentary by Victor Perton, That Optimism Man
“How do you translate emotions of happiness and optimism into tangible objects?”
That question, posed by Anna Solomon in Wallpaper’s feature on Yinka Illori and his collaboration with Veuve Clicquot at Milan Design Week 2026, is one worth sitting with.
Illori’s answer is worth reading in full:
“When it comes to joy and optimism, I’m really interested in how we get there and where we pick people up, because everyone is chasing that feeling. For me, optimism comes from the idea that happiness is something we create ourselves. It exists within each of us. So the process begins with looking inward, listening closely and then translating that into physical form. The shapes and objects come out of that process of reflection, giving form to something that is usually invisible.”
It is a thoughtful and grounded answer.
The connection between joy and optimism has fascinated me for years. During a year of collaboration with The Art and Science of Joy, I came to this conclusion: an optimistic spirit experiences more joy, and a joyful soul tends to be more optimistic.
That is one reason Illori’s reflection resonated so strongly with me.
Joy and optimism are not only internal states. They can be expressed, embodied, and shared. Design becomes one of the ways we make that happen.
We can express joy and optimism in colour, in objects, in spaces, in art, in decoration, in song, in beauty, in the colours of our garden, in hospitality, and in the way we gather people and welcome them.
We can also translate joy and optimism into the tangible through the way we live with other people. In a smile. In a warm greeting. In a good question. In the tone of a conversation. In the choice to bring warmth, encouragement, and openness into a room. Some of the most tangible forms of optimism are not objects at all. They are human gestures that make people feel seen, lifted, and more open to possibility.
Illori’s reflection on colour also stayed with me. He speaks of “the brand’s signature colour” as offering “a range of tones, sometimes more orange, sometimes more yellow,” and adds, beautifully, “Just like the sun, it has natural variations.”
Those are colours of optimism.
They carry warmth, energy, welcome, and life. They lift a room. They invite a smile. They suggest possibility before a word is spoken.
In my own life, I often choose orange and yellow for exactly that reason. They are a visible expression of how I want to show up in the world. A quiet signal of warmth, openness, and optimism. They show up in the car I drive, the roses I plant, and in the colours I choose to live with each day.
The same principle applies in leadership, culture, and community.
We give joy and optimism tangible form when we create places and experiences where people feel seen, encouraged, and open to possibility. A well-designed room can do it. A generous table can do it. A conversation can do it. A workplace can do it. A school can do it. A civic institution can do it.
My work, and my own commitment to live the life of an optimist, have convinced me that we need to give visible form to optimism, joy, connection, dignity, and hope.
This is part of the work of leadership. It is part of the work of design. It is part of the work of building a better society.
Joy and optimism do not need to remain abstract. They can be made visible in the environments we create, the rituals we shape, the objects we choose, and the experiences we offer one another.
Illori’s work leaves us with a question worth carrying:
How do you translate joy and optimism into something people can see, hold, and feel?
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