Headless Greg is five years old. That’s right, I have been running my own creative studio for five whole years. Many things about the studio have stayed the same during that time. I’m still a writer and illustrator who loves playing with shapes, discussing how strange brains can be, and putting eyes on absolutely everything - these things will never change.

However, a lot has changed. My studio and I aren’t the same as when we started. Most notably, my career has become increasingly queer over the years - and I mean that in more ways than one.

Flicking the Switch

In 2020, when I launched Headless Greg, I had never written about my queerness. I’d just graduated and, while art school had helped me come to terms with my sexual identity and find a tribe of LGBTQ+ pals, sharing my experiences online felt like a big step.

I took the leap during my time working as editor at Make Bank - a job I loved for so many reasons, not least because my “boss” (I use that term loosely because we were always more friendly than professional), Kirsty Thomas, created a safe virtual space for me to explore topics I was truly passionate about. We ran a special Pride-themed editorial series and, as a part of it, I wrote an essay titled Everybody Say Gay exploring how my relationship with the word “gay” had changed over time, transforming from a playground insult to a badge of honour.

“The thought that my words could play a tiny role in brightening a young person’s queer journey made my little gay heart sing.”

The response to the article was truly uplifting. Queer pals, new and old, shared it around online, and one of my old lecturers even got in touch to say how much he’d enjoyed reading it. The content we made at Make Bank was aimed at high school pupils, and the thought that my words could play a tiny role in brightening a young person’s queer journey made my little gay heart sing. Writing about my personal experiences did feel more vulnerable, but it was also more rewarding.

That article is still one of my favourite things I have ever written, and, looking back, it flicked a switch inside me, opening up an entire new area of interest for me to explore through writing. Since then, I have written about queer films, queer TV, queer documentaries, queer books, queer dating, queer art, queer stereotypes, queer spaces, queer trauma, queer prejudice and queer friendships. That’s a lot of queerness.

Launching Headless Friends (the publication you are currently reading) as a digital magazine for creative queers with strange brains was another big gay step for me. I’ve placed a proudly queer project at the centre of my business - it has felt like hanging a Pride flag in the window of my virtual studio. Queerness has wriggled its way to the forefront of my career, and I’m so glad it has.

Less Traditional Paths

As a cisgender gay man, I am in the privileged position of being able to choose whether to identify as queer. And that is even more true when it comes to my professional persona. I could easily separate my personal identity from my professional brand, my real-life self from my creative alter-ego, Greg McIndoe from Headless Greg - but I don’t want to.

This is largely because I want to work with other queer creatives. Headless Greg being clearly marked as a value-driven queer-owned studio encourages those with a similar ethos and experience to want to collaborate with me - and that’s my goal.

“The diversity within the queer community has broadened my understanding of the world while deepening my sense that I belong here.”

- John Voss, Queer Design Club

In an enlightening article about queering design, John Voss, founder of Queer Design Club, perfectly explains why working with other queer designers is so desirable. He says: “Working with the queer community is a gift, not because I see my own identity reflected in the work but because the diversity within the community has broadened my understanding of the world while deepening my sense that I belong here.” That’s exactly it. Queer collaboration expands my understanding, encompassing new points of view and allowing me to look at the world differently - exactly what we aim to do as creatives.

Deepening our sense of belonging is massively important too. Lily Hannigan from Studio Lutalica recently wrote an article on this topic. In it, she says: “Belonging fuels creativity. When you’re not masking or second-guessing yourself, that frees up space to work. It also builds the team trust so you’re freer to take risks, collaborate and PLAY - three major contributors to creativity.” Having worked with Studio Lutalica, I will happily attest to the fact that they do prioritise these qualities, and it enhances the creative process for everyone involved.

By definition, queer people don’t do things the way they are normally done. We question everything before choosing the option that feels right, even if it isn’t the most popular choice. We’re not afraid to follow a less traditional path, a route that is less trodden. These qualities make for exciting collaborators, leading us to new, playful and compassionate places.

Supporting My Community

When I first started Headless Greg in 2020, I didn’t identify as queer either personally or professionally. At the time, I wasn’t sure if I was “queer enough” to use the term when describing myself. I now realise that there is no threshold of queerness which you have to surpass to be eligible. If you feel that you are queer, you are queer.

Now, I identify as queer both personally and professionally. I’m proud to wear the label. I’m proud to call myself queer not only because of what it says about my personal identity, but because it identifies me as part of the broader LGBTQ+ community. Queerness, for me, is as much about allyship as it is about identity.

“Queerness, for me, is as much about allyship as it is about identity.”

- Greg McIndoe / Headless Greg

Labelling myself as queer, I hope to signal that I am an ally to all members of the LGBTQ+ community, which feels particularly important when the rights and lives of trans and non-binary people are increasingly under attack. For the record: Trans rights are human rights, and if you don’t agree with that, then I have no interest in you being here, and I definitely don’t want to work with you (now kindly f*ck off).

I’m currently cooking up plans for new ways to be a louder, prouder ally to the trans+ community. And if you're a trans-led organisation or trans+ creative individual in need of some support, please do get in touch. I am just one person with one studio, but I hope that by using skills wisely, I can offer a sense of kinship to all of my fellow queers.

A Safe Space

I’ve been thinking a lot about the concept of safe space lately. Safe spaces are often thought of as physical places - a supportive and affirming environment where individuals feel accepted and protected from discrimination or harm. But a safe space can be a virtual space. They can be people. And maybe even studios.

When I think about the future of Headless Greg, my ultimate goal is for it to be a safe space. I’d like it to be a place where my collaborators and I feel safe and free to express and explore. I’d like anyone who reads Headless Friends to feel as though they are stepping into the warmth of this space, and be reminded that there are so many people who see the magic in their queerness.

Over the next five years and beyond, I’d like Headless Greg to offer windows of escapism, moments of calm, and pockets of joy to anyone who needs it. And I want to do so in the queerest way possible.

Queering My Career