Rising Stars: Meet Youran “Joy” Jiang of LOS ANGELES

Today we’d like to introduce you to Youran “Joy” Jiang

Hi Youran “Joy”, please kick things off for us with an introduction to yourself and your story.
For a long time, I thought I had to become someone “extraordinary”—to stand out, to be special, to prove something. That mindset shaped a lot of how I approached school, creative work, even relationships. I studied architecture at USC, but I never wanted to only design buildings. I’ve always been interested in storytelling, in people, in designing experiences that hold emotion—so I found myself drifting into film production, stage design, event planning… chasing things that felt alive.

But last semester, I hit a personal low point. Between academic pressure, a difficult relationship, and uncertainty about my future, I felt like I had lost my passion for everything. I started to question myself: Was I even good at this? Did I still care about architecture? Or was I just surviving?

During winter break, I decided to take a solo trip to Kyoto. It wasn’t planned out—I just knew I needed space. That journey became one of the most healing experiences I’ve had. I wandered the city alone, watched people live their quiet lives, walked through temples in the rain, listened to jazz at night, and reconnected with the small, beautiful things. I realized how much I love observing the world, how deeply I’m moved by light, sound, movement, texture. I met strangers who are now friends. I remembered what it feels like to breathe again.

That experience reminded me that I don’t need to do everything perfectly. I don’t need to be “exceptional” to be meaningful. I’m someone who’s still exploring—sensitive, brave, curious, always growing. And that’s more than enough.

So now, I move forward with softness. I’m more comfortable with the unknown. I’m still designing, still trying new things, still finding my way—and I think that’s kind of beautiful.

I’m sure it wasn’t obstacle-free, but would you say the journey has been fairly smooth so far?
Not at all. But I’ve come to believe that a smooth road doesn’t necessarily make a meaningful one.

As a design student, a lot of my challenges have come from within—especially the pressure to constantly be “creative,” to have strong concepts, beautiful drawings, flawless models. There were many times I looked at my work and felt it wasn’t good enough, or that I wasn’t meant for this field. I would compare myself to others, wondering if they had something I didn’t. That kind of doubt can be really loud when you care deeply about what you’re making.

I also faced questions from people around me—friends, mentors, even family—who didn’t quite understand why I was stretching myself across so many directions. “Why don’t you just pick one path?” It was hard to explain at the time, but deep down, I knew I wasn’t doing all of this for a resume. I was doing it because I genuinely wanted to see how different creative languages could speak to each other.

To me, architecture is more than designing buildings—it’s a way of thinking, of observing, of shaping experience. That mindset has helped me step into other fields like film and event production. I approach each of those with the same questions: How can we tell a story through space? How can design evoke feeling? How can form create memory?
Over time, I’ve learned to embrace both sides of myself—the sensitive, spontaneous part that needs freedom and emotion, and the thoughtful, organized part that loves structure and clarity.
I’m still figuring things out, but now I move forward with more trust in the process, and in the kind of designer—and person—I’m becoming.

Appreciate you sharing that. What else should we know about what you do?
I’m currently studying architecture at USC, and my work centers around spatial storytelling, emotional atmosphere, and the relationship between people and space. I’m drawn to how space makes us feel—how movement, light, sound, and materiality can quietly shape our experience. I explore these ideas through a variety of formats: drawings, models, collages, narrative sketches. Model-making is something I enjoy, especially when exploring spatial rhythm and softness, but it’s just one of many tools I work with.

What sets my work apart is my sensitivity to mood and detail. I often focus on how people move through space—not just physically, but emotionally. I’m curious about what causes someone to pause, to feel comfort, tension, or calm. I’m also interested in how architectural thinking can translate into other creative fields.

Outside of architecture, I’ve been involved in producing short films as part of collaborative creative teams. Those experiences taught me how to support a vision while managing real-world logistics—something that also applies to architectural projects. Both require an understanding of time, space, coordination, and how to bring an idea to life with care and clarity.

Whether I’m working in architecture, film, or installation, I think my work always begins with a feeling. I don’t always start with a big concept—I start by sensing. I let that guide the process, the form, and the way people eventually interact with the space.

How do you think about luck?
I don’t think I’ve ever felt like an especially “lucky” person—not in the obvious ways, at least. I’ve had my share of confusion, burnout, and doubt. But over time, I’ve come to see that luck doesn’t always arrive loudly. Sometimes it shows up quietly, like light through a window, and you only notice it if you’re paying attention.

I think I’ve been lucky in small but meaningful ways. I’ve met people who encouraged me when I felt lost, and had moments where strangers became friends. I was lucky to give myself space when I needed it—like the solo trip I took to Kyoto, which helped me reconnect with beauty and calm during a difficult time. That decision wasn’t part of a plan—it just felt necessary. And looking back, it changed a lot.

More than anything, I feel lucky whenever I’m seen, needed, or supported by the people and things I care deeply about.
To be noticed by what you notice, to be encouraged by someone you admire, or to find that something you create resonates with someone else—that, to me, is the gentlest and most powerful kind of luck.

It’s not always visible. But when it happens, even for a moment, it reminds me why I keep going.

Contact Info:

• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jooii_r/
• LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/youran-joy-jiang-5491962bb/

Image Credits
Photo 1: Taken by Zhitong “Alex” Li