Mina Maazi

Since I was a child, I believed that design could save the world. While other kids were playing, I would get lost in the shapes of ancient ruins, mesmerized by the details in their carvings, wondering how people so long ago created something so meaningful and lasting. Growing up in Iran, I was surrounded by art in its many forms — from traditional Persian carpets to architecture, calligraphy, and nature itself. I learned how to weave rugs, how to shape resin into art, and even how to plan interior and landscape spaces. Design was never a subject to me; it was a way of feeling, of noticing the unseen, and of caring deeply about beauty and function living side by side. For me, becoming a designer wasn’t a decision — it was something I grew into, naturally and inevitably. Over time, that curiosity evolved into a passion for digital experiences. I moved into UX/UI and product design, where I found the same sense of magic I felt as a child — except now, I get to shape experiences that help real people in real life.

For me, design is a silent yet powerful language that connects people, emotions, and purpose. It’s more than aesthetics or functionality—it's about empathy. Design is the way I translate complex challenges into simple, meaningful solutions. It's how I listen to human needs and give them shape. As someone who grew up deeply fascinated by ancient architecture and cultural symbols, I’ve always believed that design has the potential to solve real problems and even heal. It’s not just my profession—it’s the way I see and interact with the world.

I love designing products that improve lives—especially digital experiences that feel intuitive, inclusive, and empowering. I’m particularly drawn to socially impactful projects: tools that help people learn better, connect deeper, or access opportunities more easily. I enjoy working at the intersection of empathy and innovation, where design becomes a quiet force for change. Whether it's an adaptive learning app or a concept for assistive technology, I’m most fulfilled when my work makes someone feel seen, supported, or simply more in control of their world.

One of the most fascinating design innovations that deeply inspired me is the transformation of urban transportation through ride-hailing platforms like Uber. While I wasn't involved in designing it, I often find myself reflecting on how this service reshaped not just how people get from one place to another, but also how we interact with digital tools in everyday life. It’s a powerful example of how user-centered design, when combined with emerging technologies, can redefine entire industries. From the simplicity of booking a ride to the transparency in pricing and driver reviews—it solved real pain points with elegance. As a designer, this model continues to influence my thinking. It reminds me that great design is not just about aesthetics or usability; it’s about empowering people, saving time, and creating systems that feel almost invisible in their efficiency. I aspire to create products that carry this level of impact—quietly transforming routines and creating positive change.

As a digital product designer, I naturally gravitate toward tools and technologies that help me bring ideas to life and make them meaningful to users. Figma has become my go-to platform for collaboration and interface design—its real-time capabilities have completely changed the way teams co-create. Lately, I’ve been especially intrigued by the integration of AI in design workflows. Whether it’s using AI to personalize user experiences or leveraging it to streamline design iterations, I find it both powerful and thought-provoking. I’m also curious about emerging technologies like AR and voice interfaces—they push the boundaries of traditional UX and open up exciting new ways to design for the senses.

I feel the most creative at night, when everything is quiet and I can fully dive into my thoughts without distractions. There's something magical about the stillness that helps me connect deeply with ideas. I also find inspiration when I'm reading—books often spark unexpected ideas and help me see things from different perspectives. It’s like opening a door to a world of possibilities, and sometimes, that’s all it takes to get my creativity flowing.

For me, the most important part of any design is how it makes people feel and how easily they can interact with it. I always start by understanding the user's needs, emotions, and context—because a beautiful design that confuses people or creates friction isn’t truly successful. I pay close attention to usability, accessibility, and clarity in communication. Every button, every color, every micro-interaction must have a purpose. I also focus heavily on emotional impact—how can the design build trust, create delight, or reduce stress? To me, these subtle human touches make all the difference.

Honestly, it’s a mix of everything—excitement, curiosity, even moments of frustration—but at the heart of it, I feel deeply connected. Designing, for me, is an emotional experience. I often feel joy when I find elegant solutions, empathy when I imagine the user's journey, and pride when something I’ve created truly helps someone. Sometimes, I lose track of time completely—it feels like I’m in a flow state, almost like storytelling with shapes and systems. And there’s always a quiet sense of responsibility too, because I know every design I put into the world affects someone’s life, even in small ways.

It’s honestly one of the most rewarding feelings. Seeing an idea evolve from a sketch or wireframe into something real—something people interact with—is incredibly fulfilling. There’s a quiet kind of pride, but also humility. I often find myself reflecting on all the iterations, the late-night decisions, the user feedback that reshaped things. When I see someone using what I designed—especially if it makes their life easier or brings a bit of delight—it’s like a silent “thank you” moment that fuels me to keep going.

For me, it’s simple: if users love it, it’s successful. A design can win awards, follow every guideline, and look beautiful—but if it doesn’t resonate with real people or improve their experience, it misses the point. A successful design feels effortless to use. It understands its audience, adapts to their needs, and earns their trust over time. At the end of the day, the best compliment is when users don’t even notice the design—they just feel comfortable.

The first thing I notice is how much a design makes me think—or better yet, how deeply it makes me feel. Does it solve a real, everyday need in a thoughtful way? Does it respect the context in which it lives? I also believe that we’re never judging a person—we’re evaluating the outcome of many layered decisions. Good design is never accidental; it’s the result of understanding, empathy, iteration, and clarity. A great design balances function, form, and feeling—and that’s what I look for.

As a designer, I believe we are not just solving individual problems — we’re shaping experiences that ripple into culture, habits, and even the planet. I see it as a deep responsibility to design with empathy, inclusivity, and sustainability in mind. For example, I’m passionate about reducing digital and physical waste, creating solutions that respect users’ time and attention, and designing for people with diverse abilities. Every design decision has consequences — and as designers, we hold the power to make those consequences thoughtful and beneficial to both society and the environment.

I believe that good ideas and practical, user-centered designs will always have a future. The design field is evolving rapidly — we’re moving beyond just aesthetics and into designing systems, behaviors, and even ethics. With the rise of AI, accessibility, and sustainability concerns, I see design becoming more interdisciplinary and deeply human. The future belongs to those who can merge creativity with responsibility — creating not just beautiful products, but meaningful, usable, and lasting solutions.

A lot of my inspiration comes from films and series. I often find myself thinking, “If this digital product existed in this scene, that problem could have been avoided.” Of course, stories are fictional — but they spark real ideas. Watching them sharpens my visual literacy and helps me explore user needs from unexpected angles. I also actively observe new digital products, paintings, and all forms of art. For me, creativity is about staying curious and open — seeing the world not just for what it is, but for what it could be.

My design style is deeply human-centered, minimalist in form, and emotionally resonant. I’m drawn to clarity — not just in aesthetics, but in communication. I believe design should quietly empower users, making their experiences smoother, smarter, and more intuitive without overwhelming them. I often start with empathy — asking why something matters, who it’s really for, and how it fits into real lives. This has led me to explore interfaces that are emotionally aware, culturally inclusive, and technologically forward. Over time, I've found myself designing with a soft visual tone and a strong conceptual core. Whether I’m creating an AI learning tool or mentoring someone through portfolio feedback, my approach remains the same: listen deeply, solve meaningfully, and design with purpose.

I was born and raised in Iran, a country with a rich artistic heritage, where design is deeply woven into everyday life — from ancient architecture to intricate carpet patterns. Now living in the UK, I carry that cultural depth with me and often find it unconsciously influencing my work — whether in the form of visual rhythm, symbolism, or storytelling. Iranian design taught me patience, emotional subtlety, and the power of details. The contrast between East and West in my life has helped me build a design mindset that is both poetic and practical — deeply human, yet technologically adaptive. The challenge, at times, has been translating those culturally rich ideas into globally accessible formats. But I believe this is also my strength — to bridge cultures through design.

I usually work as an in-house designer because I deeply value collaboration. Being embedded in a company allows me to connect closely with developers, marketing teams, product managers, and users — which gives the design process more depth and impact. However, I’m also open to freelance opportunities, especially when the project feels exciting, has a meaningful challenge, or offers me something new to learn. For me, growth and curiosity are just as important as results.

My suggestion to companies is: don’t just look at portfolios — listen to how a designer thinks. A good designer isn’t just someone who makes things look nice. They’re someone who asks the right questions, understands the user, and collaborates with the team to solve real problems. When selecting a designer, look for curiosity, empathy, and communication skills. Great design comes from understanding, not just aesthetics. Give designers space to explore, include them early in the process, and trust their insights — that’s how the best outcomes are created.

My design process always starts with empathy. I spend time understanding the users — their pain points, behaviors, and unmet needs. From there, I define clear problems and start ideating possible solutions. I sketch, wireframe, and prototype — always validating ideas through feedback and iteration. I work closely with developers, marketers, and other stakeholders to make sure the solution is not only functional but feasible and impactful. For me, design is never just about the interface — it’s about the entire experience. I believe in co-creation, staying flexible, and always learning through each step.

What a lovely question! Here are five of my favorite design items at home — each with a story behind it: 1-My orange Nespresso machine — not only does it keep me caffeinated, but its color perfectly matches a Pantone swatch I once used in a project. A little daily reminder of how design can sneak into life. 2- A handwoven Iranian rug under my desk — it keeps me grounded (literally!) and connects me to my heritage every time I step on it. 3- A bowl and plate I made myself using resin — I always keep them filled with Iranian pistachios. They’re imperfect, but I love how they reflect both craftsmanship and culture. 4- An avocado seed I planted that's now a surprisingly big houseplant — it started as an experiment, and watching it grow reminds me that patience and care matter in design too. 5- An old copper candlestick passed down from my grandfather — it’s more than just a beautiful object. It’s a piece of memory and timeless design that adds soul to my space.

My days usually begin with a quiet ritual — I wake up early, make myself a warm drink, and tidy up our home with love. It might sound simple, but creating a calm and clean space helps me feel centered and ready to face the day. After that, I dive into work — which can mean anything from brainstorming new ideas, sketching out wireframes, giving feedback to junior designers, or mentoring someone on their portfolio. I try to keep my day balanced with learning and doing. I often take breaks to read or go for a walk, and I always make time for good food — cooking is another way I express creativity. At night, I feel most inspired. That’s when I read, watch films or series that feed my imagination, or jot down new ideas. It’s a gentle, thoughtful rhythm that keeps me connected to both myself and my work.

Don’t be afraid to sketch. Don’t wait for perfection before you begin — just start. Fall in love with your design. Let it matter to you. That passion shows through every pixel. Look a lot. Expose yourself to all kinds of visuals — art, nature, architecture, products. Build your visual literacy like a muscle. And most importantly, learn how to take feedback. Good design isn’t just about talent — it’s about being open, growing, and improving with every critique. Design is a journey, not a destination. Enjoy it, stay curious, and never stop learning.

Being a designer is like having a superpower — you get to shape experiences, solve real problems, and touch people’s lives in ways they might not even notice but deeply feel. That’s incredibly fulfilling. But the flip side is, it can be emotionally demanding. You pour your heart into your work, and sometimes it gets rejected, misunderstood, or lost in business priorities. Also, the line between work and life can blur, especially when you’re constantly “thinking in design.” Still, despite the challenges, there’s nothing quite like the joy of seeing an idea come to life and knowing it made someone’s day just a little bit easier or more beautiful.

Design should always serve the human first. No matter how beautiful or innovative something is, if it doesn’t make someone’s life easier, more meaningful, or more joyful — then it’s just decoration, not design.

In my opinion, one of the most important skills for a designer is being observant. A good designer sees beyond the surface — they notice patterns, behaviors, pain points, and silent frustrations that others often overlook. Observation is the first step toward empathy. But that’s just the beginning. Other essential skills include: – Empathy: Truly understanding what people need, even when they don’t say it. – Curiosity: Always asking why, and never settling for the obvious. – Storytelling: Being able to communicate not just what you designed, but why it matters. – Resilience: Receiving critique, iterating again and again, and still staying excited. – Collaboration: Because great design rarely happens in isolation. And above all, staying humble — because design is a constant process of learning, unlearning, and relearning.

My toolbox is a mix of practical tools and emotional triggers. For design work, I mainly rely on Figma — it’s where most of the magic happens: from wireframes and UI design to prototyping and team collaboration. I also use Illustrator for vector visuals, and my iPad with Freeform or Procreate for quick sketches and raw ideas. AI tools have become a natural part of my process lately. Whether it’s brainstorming, testing variations, or generating moodboards, tools like ChatGPT, Uizard, and Khroma help me accelerate early ideation and get past creative blocks. For cross-team collaboration and project tracking, I use Jira, Trello, Slack, and Microsoft Office. For design strategy, mapping user journeys, or workshops, Miro is one of my go-to tools. I constantly observe real life and listen to people — that’s where most design ideas come from. I’m also deeply inspired by Persian architecture, traditional craftsmanship, films, and visual storytelling. Books like “The Design of Everyday Things” and “Change by Design” have shaped my thinking. But honestly, conversations with creatives and mentoring others give me even more clarity. And yes — music always plays in the background. It helps me stay in flow.

I don’t really “manage” time when I design — design is a part of my life, not a task to be scheduled. When I’m designing, I lose track of time. I get immersed. I enter this focused, emotional state where nothing else matters. Of course, deadlines and timeframes exist, but for me, the best work happens when I feel the design — not when I count the hours. It's like storytelling: you don’t stop mid-story to check the clock.

It really depends on the complexity of the project. Some ideas come together in a few days — they feel natural, almost like they were waiting to be discovered. Others take weeks or even months, especially when research, testing, and iteration are involved. I don’t rush the process; I believe good design needs time to breathe. It's not just about getting things done — it’s about getting them right.

"Where do I start? Can I do it too?" That’s the question I get asked the most — especially from people who are just stepping into the world of design. And my answer is always: Yes, you absolutely can. Design is a skill that grows with practice, observation, and persistence. No one starts out perfect. You just need to begin — even with a single simple line. The moment you dare to draw that first line, you’ve already taken the first step.

It was learning how to truly collaborate with people — not just the team, but also stakeholders and end-users. It taught me the importance of embracing diverse perspectives and walking the fine line between client needs and user expectations. I also learned to design with humility — to let go of over-idealistic visions and instead focus on functionality. Because in UX/UI, design isn’t about showing off your artistic skills — it’s about solving real problems.

Some of the clients I’ve worked with include companies in the fintech and AI industries. These projects often involved complex systems, high user expectations, and a strong need for clarity in user flows — which made the design process both challenging and rewarding.

I love design work that feels like solving a puzzle. Whether it's aligning user needs with business goals or simplifying a complex journey into something intuitive, I enjoy putting all the scattered pieces together and finding that “click” moment. It’s like quiet problem-solving with real impact — and I find that incredibly fulfilling.

I'm excited about growing both as a designer and a mentor. I see myself working in leading tech companies where I can be part of impactful, large-scale products. At the same time, I’m passionate about giving back to the design community — mentoring new designers, sharing knowledge, and helping others find their voice in this field. That balance between learning and teaching is what keeps me going.

Design is never a solo act — it’s always teamwork. Even if I’m the one creating the UI or mapping the journey, it’s impossible without input from others — developers, product owners, researchers, marketers. I love working with teams because collaboration always leads to stronger, more thoughtful design. But I also enjoy those quiet solo moments when I can focus deeply and bring ideas to life. It’s the balance of both that makes a design truly come together.

Yes, I do — but it’s still under wraps for now. I'm currently working on a new concept for next year’s A’Design competition. It’s still in the early stages, and I’d prefer to keep it private until it takes a more solid shape. I’m really excited about it, though!

I'm always happy to connect and support fellow creatives! Feel free to reach out via LinkedIn ( www.linkedin.com/in/mina-maazi ), book a mentorship session through ADPList ( https://adplist.org/mentors/mina-maazi?session=51003-mentorship-session), or email me directly at mina.maazi.design@gmail.com.

Yes—just a gentle reminder that design is more than creating beautiful interfaces or objects. It’s a way of thinking, a language of empathy, and a tool for solving real-world problems. I believe every designer has the power to make meaningful impact—one pixel, one conversation, one decision at a time.

Certainly! My journey as a designer began over six years ago, blending creativity with empathy to solve real human problems. I started in the world of architecture and urban design, then transitioned into UX/UI and product design—driven by my passion for how people interact with technology. I hold a Master’s degree in Design Management from Birmingham City University, which helped me strengthen my strategic thinking while staying rooted in user-centered values. Throughout my career, I’ve worked with a variety of companies in FinTech, EdTech, and AI—ranging from ambitious startups like Cloud Sibyl in Canada to major financial platforms in the Middle East. I’ve also collaborated with international teams, taken part in award-winning academic projects, and recently earned the Bronze A’ Design Award in UX/UI Design for an adaptive learning platform I co-created. Beyond the screen, I’ve always remained connected to the world of art—whether through resin painting, textile design, or Persian carpet weaving. My experience is a blend of disciplines, cultures, and mediums. And that’s what keeps my approach fresh, thoughtful, and deeply human.

I’ve always believed that design can save the world—or at least make it kinder, more functional, and more beautiful. My journey started long before I knew what UX or product design even meant. As a child, I was fascinated by historic monuments and Persian craftsmanship. I would get lost in the details of ancient architecture, wondering how people managed to create such meaningful, emotional spaces without modern tools. That wonder never left me. I began with a background in architecture and later earned a Master’s in Design Management from Birmingham City University. Over time, I realized that my real passion lies in solving real-world problems—ones that require both creativity and critical thinking. UX and product design gave me a way to combine both. It allowed me to move from just designing “things” to designing experiences that impact people’s everyday lives. No one specifically pushed me into design—it was always an internal calling. But I’ve been constantly inspired by visionary women in design and leadership. One of my biggest sources of inspiration has been Samira Rahimi—not because of awards, but because of her bold thinking and empowering presence. Like her, I aim to lead with empathy and intention. Becoming a designer felt less like a decision and more like a return to who I’ve always been.

When designing, my top three priorities are user empathy, clarity, and functionality. Every project I start begins with a deep understanding of the user's needs, context, and limitations. I believe good design is not just visually appealing—it must serve a purpose, solve a problem, and make someone’s day easier or better. My process is heavily research-driven. I often start by mapping the user journey, identifying pain points, and conducting interviews or testing whenever possible. I then move into low-fidelity sketches and wireframes—yes, by hand—before transitioning into digital tools like Figma, Miro, or even AI-powered design assistants. Technology plays a huge role in my workflow, but the emotional intelligence behind a product always starts offline. While I don’t always build physical prototypes, I do rely on collaborative tools and iterative design methods, often working closely with developers, product managers, and users. My design style is clean and purposeful. I strive to remove unnecessary complexity and let the interface speak with simplicity and confidence. Across all my work—whether it’s a fintech app or an AI-based learning platform—inclusivity and accessibility are recurring themes. I want people from all backgrounds and abilities to feel seen, heard, and supported by what I create.

Designing for me is an emotional journey. At the very beginning, when an idea first takes shape in my mind, I feel a rush of excitement—like discovering a new world. There’s a quiet joy in that moment, a spark that makes me want to dive in and explore every possibility. As I move through the process—researching, sketching, refining—I feel deeply curious and focused. It's almost meditative. I lose track of time, completely immersed in creating something that could make someone’s life easier, more meaningful, or simply more beautiful. But perhaps the most powerful emotion comes at the end: when the design becomes real, when someone uses it and says, “This helped me.” That moment gives me a sense of purpose. It’s not just happiness—it’s fulfillment. It reminds me why I became a designer in the first place: to connect, to serve, to create with empathy. Designing, for me, is never just a task—it’s a part of who I am. It's where logic meets emotion, where function meets poetry.

Several aspects of my background beyond design have played a major role in shaping who I am as a designer today. For instance, my early exposure to handicrafts like carpet weaving and resin art taught me patience, attention to detail, and how to find beauty in precision and repetition. These weren’t just hobbies—they trained my eye and hand long before I even knew I wanted to be a designer. Growing up in Iran, surrounded by a rich cultural and artistic heritage, I learned to appreciate intricate visual storytelling, symbolism, and the emotional power of design rooted in tradition. That environment naturally sharpened my visual literacy and sense of aesthetics. Another important skill has been observation. I tend to notice small things—how people interact with objects, where they hesitate, what brings them joy. This constant observation helps me design with empathy and relevance. Also, my teaching and mentoring experiences gave me the ability to communicate clearly, simplify complexity, and see design from other people's perspectives. But perhaps the most powerful influence has been curiosity—I question everything. I love watching films or series and wondering, what if this existed in real life? That mindset has led me to ideate solutions that go beyond just visuals and actually improve real lives. My journey as a designer hasn’t been linear—it’s been layered with life experiences, artistic exploration, cross-cultural immersion, and always, a deep desire to use design as a force for good.

I believe growth is not always loud or linear—it’s often found in quiet dedication and the constant pursuit of becoming better. My growth path has been deeply shaped by cross-cultural experiences, working in different environments, and always staying curious about new technologies, industries, and human behavior. Looking ahead, I hope to continue designing meaningful products that solve real problems—especially in the fields of education, accessibility, and sustainability. My dream is to work with major tech companies that value human-centered design, and at the same time, mentor emerging designers, especially those from underrepresented backgrounds. One of my biggest aspirations is to develop an innovative accessibility-focused product—something like smart wearable devices for the visually and hearing impaired, combining design with AI and AR. I also dream of building a design initiative or platform that empowers young designers in the Middle East to gain global recognition. Ultimately, I want to be remembered as a designer who made things simple, beautiful, and useful, and as someone who opened doors for others while walking through her own.

My biggest advice to young designers is simple but powerful: observe deeply. Look around you, not just at screens but at people, behavior, culture, and nature. Design is not created in isolation—it’s a reflection of life. See more. Study great design, bad design, and everything in between. Let your eyes develop taste, and your mind develop judgment. Build a strong visual literacy, and don’t rush into having a style—let it emerge through practice. Also, find a mentor—or many. Learning from those ahead of you can save you years of confusion. I’ve been both a mentee and a mentor, and I truly believe that growth accelerates when you surround yourself with people who challenge you to think sharper and aim higher. One of the best pieces of advice I’ve received was: “Don’t design to impress. Design to solve.” In the beginning, it's tempting to create beautiful things just to prove your talent, but lasting success comes from creating useful, thoughtful, and impactful solutions. Lastly, never stop learning. Stay curious. Read. Listen. Ask questions. Try new tools. Explore industries outside of your comfort zone. The world is changing fast—and the designers who thrive are the ones who keep evolving with it.

Design is not a sprint, it's a rhythm. One of the best principles I’ve learned—and continue to practice—is consistency over intensity. Show up, even when you don’t feel inspired. Creativity isn’t magic; it’s discipline with curiosity. To my fellow designers, artists, and architects: Avoid the trap of falling in love with your first idea. Good design is iterative. Be willing to kill your darlings, rework, and question everything—even your own assumptions. Build strong relationships with developers, marketers, and users. Design doesn't live in Figma alone—it lives in how it works, how it’s communicated, and how it solves a real problem. Cross-functional collaboration is not just helpful—it’s essential. Don’t over-decorate. Over-solve. Let your design choices be driven by clarity, not complexity. The more invisible the friction, the more powerful the experience. Also, get comfortable with critique—but don’t lose your voice. Feedback is your ally, not your enemy. But always ask yourself: does it serve the user or dilute the vision? And finally, document your process. Not just for others, but for yourself. Looking back at how you arrived at a solution is where the real learning—and growth—happens.

My days usually start with a good cup of coffee and a quick mental reset while tidying up the house. Believe it or not, organizing my space—cleaning up, setting things in order—gives me a sense of calm and clarity that fuels my creativity. It’s like resetting the canvas before I start sketching on it. Once I sit at my desk, I go through any new design news or updates from the tools I use. I check in on ongoing projects, sync with my team if needed, and set small achievable goals for the day. I try to carve out blocks of deep work for design exploration, ideation, or prototyping—these are usually the most energizing parts of my day. In between tasks, I’ll often flip through visual inspiration—books, films, sometimes even old sketchbooks—to spark new thoughts. And I love moments when unexpected ideas hit me while doing something mundane, like folding laundry or watering a plant. Design lives in those quiet, in-between moments too. Even on the most ordinary days, what keeps me going is the joy of solving problems in beautiful, meaningful ways. And yes, having a tidy, peaceful environment around me plays a big part in keeping that joy alive.

I do keep an eye on design trends—especially when they reflect changes in user behavior or technology—but I never let them fully dictate my work. Trends are like the wind; they can guide your direction, but you still need your own compass. My design approach is always rooted in function, empathy, and a timeless aesthetic rather than what's just "in" for the season. That said, I love analyzing trends to understand why they’re emerging—what problem are they trying to solve? What shifts in society or tech are they reacting to? This helps me integrate relevant elements thoughtfully without losing the essence of my own style. My inspirations come from many places: real human experiences, cultural narratives, art, films, and even conversations. I look at new product launches, design blogs, and sometimes just take a walk and observe people interacting with the world. My goal isn’t to chase trends, but to create solutions that stay meaningful long after a trend fades.

Honestly, I don’t believe in labeling designs as purely “good” or “bad.” In my field (UX?UI design), design is deeply contextual. What may not seem effective at first glance could be the result of solid research and intentionally aligned with the user’s needs or business goals. Instead of judging design in binary terms, I focus on understanding the reasoning behind the decisions. Was it user-centered? Was it inclusive? Did it serve the problem it set out to solve? These are the questions I ask. A well-designed project, to me, is one that creates clarity, emotional connection, and functional ease—all while respecting its users. But even then, I believe good design evolves. It’s not a fixed state—it listens, adapts, and improves over time. So, rather than looking for perfection, I look for intention and impact. That’s how I define strong, thoughtful design.

For me, a design is never truly finished—it simply reaches a stage where it’s ready enough to be tested in the real world. I believe in releasing with confidence, not with the illusion of perfection. The real proof of readiness comes from user testing. If the solution resonates with users, helps them achieve their goals with clarity and ease, and requires minimal explanation, that’s when I know we’re close. I observe how users interact with the product—where they pause, where they smile, where they hesitate. These are signals. If feedback starts becoming more about preferences than usability issues, then that’s a good sign the core design is stable. Still, I keep an open mind. Sometimes I revisit a design weeks or months later with a fresh perspective—or based on new insights. But I’ve learned that done is better than perfect. A design ready for launch is one that serves its purpose and is backed by real user insights.

One of the design works I’m most proud of is Alma—an adaptive learning platform I created to make training more personalized, inclusive, and emotionally engaging. It started as a university competition entry, but it became so much more. It recently won a Bronze A' Design Award, which was deeply meaningful to me—not just because of the award, but because of what the project stood for. Alma was born from a simple yet powerful question: How can we make digital training more human? The journey involved user interviews, accessibility research, behavioral design models like VARK, and many iterations. I designed AI-driven personalized learning paths, mentorship features, and even language-independent onboarding systems—because I truly believe that learning should be accessible to everyone. What made this project special was the emotional connection. I wasn’t just designing screens—I was designing hope. Many users shared how the platform made learning feel less intimidating and more empowering. That, to me, is the best reward a designer can receive. I’m currently developing ideas for future versions of Alma—and working on a new, unreleased project that focuses on assistive tech for visually and hearing-impaired users, which I hope will be my next proudest creation.

It’s hard to choose just one, but two figures have had a profound impact on the way I see and practice design. The first is Louis Sullivan, the American architect known for coining the phrase “Form follows function.” That simple yet powerful statement shaped the foundation of modern design thinking. His philosophy reminds me that great design isn’t just about aesthetics—it’s about purpose. It needs to work before it wows. The second is Don Norman, whose work in human-centered design and cognitive psychology opened my eyes to the emotional and behavioral layers of user experience. His book “The Design of Everyday Things” helped me see design as a conversation between product and person. He taught me that empathy is not a soft skill—it's a design strategy. Both of them, in very different eras and disciplines, believed in meaningful, usable, and thoughtful design. That belief is what I carry into every project.

I was born and raised in Iran, a country with one of the richest artistic and cultural heritages in the world. From the rhythmic geometry of Persian carpets to the intricate tilework of ancient mosques, design in Iran isn’t just visual—it’s poetic, symbolic, and soulful. Growing up surrounded by these timeless masterpieces gave me an early and deep appreciation for detail, storytelling, and emotion in design. Persian culture has taught me that design is not decoration—it’s identity. It shapes how we see the world and how we want to be seen. That’s why even the smallest design decision matters. I often find myself inspired by the contrast between tradition and modernity, between the organic and the structured, and I try to reflect that balance in my work. I currently live in England, but no matter where I am, Iran is always a part of me. It shows up in the patterns I choose, the colors I’m drawn to, and the emotional depth I aim for in my projects. Even in tech-driven work like UX/UI, I carry forward the belief that good design tells a story and connects people to something greater than function. Music is also a big part of my life—it helps me find rhythm and flow, especially when I’m lost in the layers of a project. And while cities like Shiraz or Isfahan will always feel like home in my creative soul, I believe design itself is a way of living. It teaches mindfulness. It brings beauty to the everyday. And it constantly pushes me to evolve—both personally and professionally.

I believe good design happens through collaboration, not isolation. While I often lead and execute projects independently, I deeply value the energy that comes from working with cross-functional teams—product owners, developers, marketers, and even customer support. I’ve found that the best ideas often emerge when diverse perspectives come together with a shared goal. My work culture is built on empathy, clarity, and curiosity. I like to work with people who are open-minded, honest, and unafraid to challenge ideas—with kindness. I’m a strong believer in human-centered design, so I bring that same mindset to how I treat collaborators: I listen, I adapt, and I try to make the design process as enjoyable and empowering as the end product itself. In terms of business philosophy, I don’t believe in designing just to impress. I design to solve real problems—with beauty, yes, but also with logic and purpose. I think a great designer should be observant, emotionally intelligent, and endlessly curious. You need to care about people, and you need to be brave enough to unlearn and reimagine. The biggest challenge in our profession isn’t the tools or timelines—it’s balancing innovation with inclusivity, aesthetics with accessibility, and creativity with constraints. But that’s also what makes this job so rewarding. Every project is a new puzzle. Every user is a new story waiting to be heard.

I’ve always believed that design has the power to create real change, especially when it’s accessible, inclusive, and people-led. That’s why I actively mentor young and emerging designers on platforms like ADPList and through academic mentorship programs like Moonshot at UC Berkeley Extension, where I help guide students navigating the early stages of their careers. Whenever possible, I take on pro bono projects—particularly for startups or social impact ideas that aim to make life better for underserved communities. I’ve also collaborated with academic teams and student initiatives without expecting compensation, because I remember how much I wished for guidance when I was just starting out. For me, giving back isn’t just about offering time—it’s about sharing lessons, building confidence in others, and demystifying the design world. I try to make design feel less like an elite profession and more like a tool anyone can learn to use to solve problems. I also speak at design events, review portfolios, and share resources whenever I can. And beyond formal spaces, I keep my DMs open for anyone who needs honest advice or feedback. Because sometimes, all it takes is one encouraging voice to help someone keep going—and I’m happy to be that voice for someone else.

Participating in the A’ Design Award has been one of the most motivating and affirming experiences of my design journey so far. Beyond the joy of being recognized, the whole process gave me a moment to pause and reflect deeply on my design process, my intentions, and the impact of my work. Sometimes in the fast pace of daily projects, we forget to celebrate how far we’ve come—this award reminded me of that. Three main benefits of participating in design competitions like A’ Design are: Visibility – It opens doors by putting your work in front of a global audience. Validation – It reassures you that your thinking, approach, and design ethics matter. Reflection – The process itself forces you to look back, document, and present your work with clarity and depth—which in turn helps you grow. Design awards also connect you with a community of like-minded creatives from around the world. It’s not just about winning; it’s about being part of a larger conversation about what meaningful, responsible, and innovative design looks like today. Being selected as Designer of the Day feels incredibly special. It’s an honor I carry with pride, and it encourages me to keep going, keep learning, and hopefully inspire others along the way. I’m truly grateful for this recognition.

Certainly. My journey into design started in Iran, where I earned a Bachelor's degree in Architecture followed by a Master's in Urban Design. After graduation, I began working professionally and spent over five years in the digital product design field, focusing on UX/UI and interaction design. During this time, I collaborated with fintech and AI startups, gaining hands-on experience in solving complex user problems and designing human-centered solutions. Wanting to deepen my strategic thinking and leadership in design, I later moved to the UK to pursue a second Master's degree in Design Management at Birmingham City University. This helped me bridge my creative skills with business and innovation, and further shaped my multidisciplinary approach to design.

What truly motivates me to design is a deep love for creating. Since childhood, I’ve been fascinated by the way design shapes our lives—how even the smallest detail in a product or space can influence our emotions, behavior, and decisions. That love for crafting meaningful experiences, paired with a strong sense of purpose, led me to become a designer. Design, for me, is not just a profession—it’s a way to connect with people, solve problems, and leave the world a little better than I found it. I see every project as a chance to combine empathy, creativity, and logic to create something valuable, whether it’s improving someone’s daily interaction with an app or rethinking how we use space in a city.

I often wonder if I chose design, or if design chose me. It wasn’t a straightforward decision. I grew up surrounded by creativity—performing classical music on stage from the age of five, playing violin and flute at Iran’s iconic Vahdat Hall. Music taught me rhythm, patience, and expression. As I grew older, that same urge to express and connect didn’t disappear—it just evolved. I found myself drawn to the way cities were built, how people interacted with their environment, and later on, how digital products could improve daily life. Without realizing it, I transitioned from composing sounds to composing user experiences. So no, I wasn’t forced. And maybe I didn’t "choose" design in the conventional sense. But it was the most natural path my creative curiosity could take.

I design digital experiences that make everyday life easier, more accessible, and more meaningful. My focus has been on UX/UI and product design, often for fintech and AI-driven platforms—but beyond the field, my motivation is to solve real human problems with thoughtful, elegant solutions. In the future, I’d love to design more for social impact and accessibility. Projects that empower people with disabilities, support mental health, or promote sustainability deeply resonate with me. I believe design has the power to not just improve interfaces, but to reshape how we experience the world—and I want to be part of that transformation.

To become a design legend, don’t chase fame—chase impact. Design isn’t about perfection; it’s about solving the right problems with empathy and curiosity. My biggest advice? Observe deeply. The world is your greatest teacher—notice how people behave, struggle, adapt. Stay visually curious. Feed your visual literacy by constantly exploring art, architecture, nature, and even films. Learn to take feedback. Critique is not rejection—it’s direction. Get a mentor. Or more than one. Surround yourself with people who challenge and encourage you. Keep learning. Tools change. Trends evolve. But your mindset, your ability to adapt—that’s what defines your path. And above all, love what you create. Because when you love your design, others start to love it too.

I don’t really believe in “great” design as a final destination—there’s always room to do better, always a next version waiting to be imagined. What truly matters is how much you love your design, how much confidence and pride it gives you. A “good” designer might complete a project. But a designer who creates with conviction—who stands behind their work with clarity and belief—that’s someone who inspires others too. In the end, it’s not about being perfect. It’s about being authentic and designing something that resonates—with users and with yourself.

A good design becomes really good when it goes beyond solving a problem — when it quietly becomes part of someone's daily life without shouting for attention. I evaluate a design by how naturally it integrates into a user’s experience. Does it make someone smile without them noticing why? Does it reduce friction or create delight? But I also believe there's no absolute "perfect" design. Context matters. A design that's brilliant in one scenario might not work elsewhere. What really matters is how much listening went into it — to people, to behavior, to the environment — and whether the outcome respects that. It's about empathy and clarity, not just aesthetics.

Good design isn’t just a luxury — it’s a silent partner in our everyday lives. Its value lies in how it makes things feel effortless, how it solves problems we didn’t know we had, and how it brings dignity, clarity, and even joy into routine experiences. Investing in good design means investing in people. It saves time, reduces frustration, and builds trust. Whether it’s a physical product, a digital interface, or a public service — good design is what turns ideas into experiences that truly work. It’s the difference between using something and loving it.

If I had the time, I would design for those whose voices often go unheard — people with disabilities, refugees, the elderly. I believe design should be a tool for empathy and equity. I'd love to create inclusive digital products that make everyday tasks more accessible and dignified for them. And beyond that, I’d design for children — playful, educational experiences that nurture creativity and emotional intelligence. Because if we plant the right seeds early, we grow generations that value empathy, imagination, and design.

My dream project is to design a wearable AI-powered product — like smart glasses — that helps people with visual or hearing impairments navigate the world more confidently. A product that reads city signs out loud, filters overwhelming lights, or converts speech into on-screen captions in real-time. Something poetic yet practical — a design that blends empathy, technology, and aesthetics seamlessly. It’s a concept I’ve carried with me for a while, and one day, when the timing is right and I have the right team around me, I know I’ll bring it to life.

Well, if I tell you, then it wouldn’t be a secret anymore, would it? But honestly, I think my “secret ingredient” is deep observation — really paying attention to how people live, struggle, smile, and interact with the world. I also never stop learning. Curiosity is my fuel. And maybe another secret is that I fall in love with every design I work on — even the ones no one else sees. That connection pushes me to go deeper, not just in terms of visuals or features, but in designing experiences that actually matter.

There are so many brilliant minds in the world of design, but a few names have stayed with me throughout my journey. Dieter Rams taught us that “less, but better” isn’t just a style — it’s a mindset. His philosophy around clarity, order, and restraint has deeply influenced the way I think about design. Don Norman showed the world — and me — that design is not just about aesthetics but about usability, empathy, and real-world impact. His work laid the foundation for my understanding of human-centered design. And more recently, Samira Rahimi, the Design Director at Uber, has been a source of inspiration — not just because of her leadership in one of the world’s most influential tech companies, but because of her strong point of view, her ability to guide teams toward vision, and the way she represents thoughtful design at scale. I also find daily inspiration in traditional Persian design, unexpected details in everyday objects, and emerging digital interfaces. For me, design inspiration is everywhere — it just depends on how curious you are.

One of my all-time favorite designs is the Dyson Airblade hand dryer. It’s a perfect example of how rethinking an ordinary, everyday object can lead to extraordinary innovation. The way it blends engineering precision with user-centered functionality is truly admirable. Another favorite is the Uber app redesign under Samira Rahimi’s leadership. It’s not just about a sleek interface — it’s about creating clarity in chaos, making the experience seamless for millions of users across the globe. I also love the MUJI CD player designed by Naoto Fukasawa. It’s so minimal, so intuitive, and yet so poetic — you pull a string and music plays. It reminds me that the best designs don’t shout; they whisper gently and stay with you. What ties all of these together is that they solve a real problem in a surprisingly elegant way. They’re not just beautiful — they’re smart, human, and purposeful.

I think my greatest design so far is Alma, an adaptive learning platform I created to personalize education using AI. What makes it special isn’t just the technology behind it — it’s the intention. Alma was designed to give people from different backgrounds an equal chance to learn, regardless of language, age, or learning style. What I love most about this project is how it balances functionality with empathy. The design adapts to the user’s needs instead of forcing users to adapt to the system. We used behavior-driven learning paths, real-time insights, and visual simplicity — but all of that came from listening deeply to people. To me, it’s great not because it won an award, but because it proved that design can remove barriers. That’s the kind of work I want to keep doing.

Honestly, I think the key to becoming a better designer is to stay curious and observant. I’ve always tried to watch closely — how people behave, what they need, what frustrates them. Design begins when you start seeing those patterns. I also believe in never stopping the learning process. I constantly explore new tools, test out new ideas, and even mentor others — because teaching is one of the best ways to learn. And of course, I surround myself with design — from movies to museum visits, to looking at everyday objects more critically. I try to keep my visual vocabulary fresh and rich. Lastly, I’ve learned to be comfortable with feedback. Not every idea is a hit, and that’s okay. Listening, iterating, and growing from it — that’s where real improvement happens.

If I hadn’t become a designer, I think I would have still found a way to express creativity — maybe through music or writing. I actually started my creative journey through music as a child. I performed group violin and flute concerts on stage at Vahdat Hall in Tehran, and later studied Tar, a traditional Persian instrument. Even now, I think creativity would’ve found me one way or another. Whether through teaching, storytelling, or curating experiences, I’ve always been drawn to ideas that connect people and evoke emotion. So, even in another life, I’d probably still be building something meaningful — just in a different medium.

For me, design is the invisible bridge between problems and possibilities. It’s not just about creating something beautiful — it’s about shaping experiences, solving real-life challenges, and improving how we live, work, and connect with each other. Design is a conversation between empathy and functionality. It’s where emotion meets logic. When I design, I’m not just thinking about the interface — I’m thinking about the people behind the screen, their needs, their limitations, their joys. In short, design is intention made visible — every color, space, word, and interaction has a purpose.

Without a doubt, my biggest supporter has been my husband. He believed in me during the most uncertain moments — from late-night brainstorming sessions to the emotional roller coasters of competitions and career changes. His calm presence and constant encouragement gave me the strength to keep going when I doubted myself. Beyond him, my family, mentors, and even my students have all played a role. Every conversation, every challenge, and every bit of feedback shaped me into the designer I am today. I genuinely believe no one gets anywhere alone — we rise with the people who walk beside us.