Interviewe mat Egor Signienko

I have a degree in architecture. Immediately after graduating, I worked at an architecture studio, doing visualization. I quickly realized that I wasn’t particularly interested in that kind of work, so I decided to try graphic design.

I worked in this field for more than 10 years, while also working in industrial design, engineering design, and other related areas. I’ve always been drawn to things you can hold in your hands, so over time I started focusing more and more on physical objects and how they are made and how they work.

I think my interest in design was largely inherited. My mother is an architect, and my father is an engineer, so I grew up in an environment where creativity and technical thinking were part of everyday life.

After school, I enrolled in an architecture program. After graduating, I realized that I was more attracted to art and the visual side of design. In architecture, at least as I understood it at the time, there was too much engineering, calculations, and technical drawing, and not enough of what interested me from an artistic point of view.

In the end, I decided to move towards graphic design, where I could focus more on visual language, form, and creative exploration.

The main principles of my approach are minimalism and form following function. I believe that the purpose of a device should be clear almost instantly, and that interacting with it should be as simple and accessible as possible.

In my work, I try to use modern technologies at every stage of the design process. For example, 3D scanning speeds up the transfer of a physical prototype into a digital environment. Generative AI helps me visualize initial ideas faster and turn imperfect source materials into images suitable for presentations.

I constantly use CAD software and 3D printing to develop and test prototypes. Before starting work, I also create virtual boards where I collect references, components, ideas, and other materials related to the project.

The strongest emotional high comes when I find a solution to a specific problem or come up with an unexpected idea that changes the direction of a project.

Another particularly enjoyable moment is creating the first prototypes, when an idea finally becomes tangible. At that point, you can do more than just imagine how everything should work — you can actually interact with the result.

But after completing a project, doubts often start to creep in. I think this is familiar to many designers. It’s practically impossible to say that a design is perfect and no longer needs any changes. After some time, new ideas, technologies, and opportunities emerge for solving the same problems.

Sometimes this even leads to frustration with myself: Why didn’t I think of this earlier? Why was someone else able to solve a problem I was working on in a different way?

But I suppose that’s exactly what makes me keep developing and looking for new solutions.

It’s difficult for me to single out one skill unrelated to design that has helped me in my profession. Rather, my interest in design and how things work has developed me in different directions since childhood.

I’ve always liked taking toys apart, studying how they were built, and trying to understand how they worked. I also attended art school. Now I realize that all of this is directly connected to what I do today: on one hand, I’m interested in the technical side of objects, and on the other, in their visual language.

One of the people who influenced me was my grandfather. After retiring, he took up beekeeping, came up with new solutions in that field, and wrote articles for specialized magazines. In his free time, he also made toys for me in his workshop. I think his example shaped my attitude towards creativity and invention in many ways.

And, of course, the professional community has a big influence. Designers, both people I know and people I don’t, constantly push each other forward. It’s a kind of race with no finish line.

This is a difficult question to answer definitively because the world is changing too quickly. I don’t really want to make short-term plans when it’s hard to imagine what our profession will look like in a few years.

With the development of artificial intelligence, it’s quite possible that many of the tasks designers and engineers do today will be automated. Some professions, in their current form, may even disappear completely.

If that happens, I’d be interested in trying myself as an artist. I’d like to work with abstract art, explore new meanings, and create not so much forms as the ideas behind them.

Perhaps this is what my future development will look like: gradually moving from designing specific objects towards exploring more abstract concepts.

One of the main pieces of advice I’d give beginner designers is to learn how to filter feedback. Listen less to people who are constantly giving advice, and pay more attention to those who really understand the subject but don’t try to impose their opinions.

And most importantly, keep working. Almost any problem can be solved if you give it enough time and find the right approach. It’s much more useful to spend time looking for a solution than to decide in advance that a problem is impossible to solve.

Even if you don’t manage to solve the original problem, you’ll find plenty of solutions along the way that will be useful in future projects.

Another important piece of advice is to take an interest in areas beyond your own profession. Unique ideas often emerge at the intersection of disciplines. For example, programming, biology, engineering, and design can lead to unexpected combinations and completely new approaches to familiar problems.

The main thing is never to stop and never settle for something that’s just good enough. You should always try to do the best you possibly can. If you don’t make an effort, a mediocre result will happen on its own.

Every project eventually comes up against external limitations: time, budget, technical capabilities. But until you reach those limits, you should keep looking for better solutions.

I often notice that when I tell myself in the evening that I’ve done everything I could that day, I still find a way to make it better the next day.

So I try not to treat the end of the working day as proof that a solution is final. Sometimes it’s useful simply to return to a project with fresh eyes.

I like to deal with small tasks in the first half of the day. Usually, before 11 a.m., I try to take care of all the minor issues or work on ideas that came to me outside working hours.

At around 11, I take a coffee break and then switch to large and complex projects that need several hours of uninterrupted attention.

At around three, I might go to the gym or study a foreign language. After that, my colleagues usually start having questions, so I spend the rest of the day on emails, discussions, finishing current tasks, and planning the next day.

I prefer to read design articles and watch videos in the evening, after six, when I no longer need to be distracted from my main work.

I don’t actively look for trends — they naturally appear in my information field. It’s all about the professional community and constantly keeping an eye on new projects by other designers.

When I come across articles about trends for the following year, I usually see lists of things that have already become popular. By the time these things appear in such roundups, many of those approaches may already be outdated.

I think every designer wants their work to become a trend. But you don’t need to study trends to achieve that — you need to experiment and create something new.

If you constantly follow trends, you’ll always be a little behind. It’s much more interesting to observe what’s happening, analyze it, and use that knowledge to find your own direction.

What one person considers good design won’t necessarily be good design for someone else. Perception always depends on experience, habits, and context.

For me, one of the main criteria of good design is intuitive control and interaction. Through photography, I’ve come across many debates about camera ergonomics and the placement of controls. But in practice, it often turned out that different cameras were equally good at doing their job, and people’s preferences largely depended on which camera they encountered first and what they got used to.

I think the main thing that makes design good is its ability to simplify complex interactions. How much functionality can you make accessible with a single button? How can you reduce the number of actions a user needs to take? How can you make it so that people don’t have to think about the device itself?

The less effort it takes to interact with a product, the more attention people can give to the task itself.

In my opinion, design can never be completely finished. There is always another solution that can solve the same problem in a different way.

That’s why I think you need to evaluate tasks based on how long a person will interact with the result. If it’s the design of a napkin, there’s probably no point in spending several months on it: a person will use it for only a few seconds. But if we’re talking about an aircraft engine, the possibilities for improvement are practically endless.

In projects like that, you always have to take external limitations into account — time, budget, technology, and resources.

But in both cases, I’m still left with the feeling that it could have been done better. I think that’s an inevitable part of being a designer.

My most significant work is probably still ahead of me.

I don’t have one project that completely changed my life or became the final expression of my approach to design. I see every project as another stage in my development.

I think every next piece of work should become more interesting, more complex, and larger in scale than the previous one. That’s why I don’t want to single out one project as the most important — I’m much more interested in what I’ll be able to create in the future.

I admire Dieter Rams. To me, he’s a true artist in the world of industrial design.

His visual language is so recognizable and consistent that even individual details of his products are easy to identify. At the same time, his work doesn’t just have a distinctive appearance — it also demonstrates how closely form, function, and usability can be connected.

His approach has been so influential that it has inspired many generations of designers after him. What interests me is precisely this ability to create not just individual products, but an entire system of visual thinking that remains recognizable over many years.

As it happened, I’ve moved between different countries and haven’t yet built a permanent community of like-minded people around me. But because of that, I’ve been able to observe how strongly culture and lifestyle influence design.

For example, this is particularly noticeable in architecture. In different parts of the world, even such familiar elements as door thresholds can have completely different designs and purposes. In some places, they are connected to traditions and beliefs about protecting the home; in others, to the need to retain heat and maintain a seal; and in some places, they are practically absent because the climate and ventilation requirements call for different solutions.

These differences show that design never exists separately from the environment in which it is created. We bring our own cultural experience into projects that people all over the world may eventually use.

Music doesn’t play a particularly important role in my creative process. I often listen to it while working, but mostly as a way to distance myself from distracting surroundings.

I believe design is necessary for the development of society because it directly affects how we interact with the world. Can a person with a disability get to where they need to go? How will a bottle be disposed of or recycled? Can a foreigner easily find their hotel? These are all, in part, questions of design.

I’d like to think that I’m easy to work with, but I’m probably not entirely easy. I always feel that I could have done better, and sometimes I have to consciously fight this desire for perfection.

It’s especially important to know when to stop and give colleagues the opportunity to find their own solutions. My approach doesn’t always have to be the only right one, and sometimes another person’s perspective helps achieve a result I wouldn’t have come up with myself.

What I value most in people is openness to new things. It’s not necessary to constantly introduce new processes into your work, but it’s important to know that they exist and to take an interest in new technologies, design trends, and related fields.

I think curiosity and a willingness to reconsider familiar approaches are important qualities for anyone working in a creative field.

Unfortunately, I haven’t participated in any charity projects or done any pro bono design work yet. A large part of the reason is that I haven’t looked for these opportunities before and simply wasn’t familiar with such initiatives.

But I’d be interested in trying this kind of work. Especially projects where design can address a specific social problem and make people’s everyday lives easier and more accessible.

I think it’s an interesting direction in which professional skills can be useful not only to a client, but also to a wider community.

Taking part in the A’ Design Award allowed me to look at my own work from a different perspective. In everyday work, there’s usually no time to stop and think about a project as a whole. You’re constantly solving specific problems, moving forward, and rarely asking yourself fundamental questions.

Preparing for the competition makes you reconsider the project: What is it about? How is it different from other solutions? What problems does it solve, and what is its value? You start comparing, analyzing, and looking at your own work from the outside. It’s a completely different process from everyday design work.

I see several important benefits to participating in the A’ Design Award. First, it’s an opportunity to better understand your own work and its significance. Second, it helps expand your professional network and meet other designers. Third, it can lead to new opportunities, contacts, and potential projects.

I also think competitions are important because they provide a kind of snapshot of design at a particular moment in time. They help the professional community discuss current approaches and find new reference points.

I’m pleased to become Designer of the Day. It’s an honor for me and an opportunity to present my work and my own perspective on design to a wider audience.

I have always strived to bring freshness to familiar formats. This game reflects my own passion for board games and my attempt to create something new, drawing inspiration from fantastic stories and imagery that have influenced me

I wanted to go beyond the ordinary, to look a bit into the future, and create a game that not only refreshes familiar gameplay but also becomes a collectible object, valuable both for players and for those who see art in everyday things

I still hope to launch production of this game, starting with small series that could become highlights at thematic events, comic cons, and exhibitions

The development of the concept took about a year. I worked on it intermittently, giving myself time for reevaluation. I gradually developed the idea, created 3D objects, and experimented with graphics. I enjoy this pace as it allowed me to bring depth and a fresh perspective to the project

This design is my authorial project. I was both the initiator and the target audience. I wanted to create something unique, new, and interesting without being constrained by deadlines. It was a way to realize my ideas without boundaries

Currently, only a few prototypes have been created for testing. I wanted to produce the game myself, but currently I don't have the opportunity to do this. If someone expressed interest in producing this game, I would be open to discussing such a proposal

Many factors aligned to inspire this project: my love for the game, the boom in collectibles and NFTs, inspiring contemporary artists, and science fiction books I was reading at the time. This mix gave rise to the project.

I can never say that any particular person influenced me. Influence always comes from within. I think certain styles and images settle in the mind and find their way into my work. I can’t always pinpoint specific sources

The target audience is people aged 16 and older who enjoy spending time with friends over board games or visiting gaming clubs. In my city, there are even bars that hold Werewolf game sessions a couple of times a year

Its uniqueness lies in the approach. This design stands out with its distinct visual style, limited edition, and overall aesthetic.

For the name, I wanted something unique that sounds eerie and enveloping, like fog in horror films, while incorporating something from my culture and language. "Morok" is an Old Slavic word that is no longer in use, meaning "Darkness" or "Gloom

I created the 3D models in 3ds Max. For lettering, I used pens and gold or white paint on black cardboard, as well as gold leaf. These were scanned and assembled in Photoshop. Alongside software, I used numerous pens, knives, and improvised tools to achieve the desired effects. I also partially scanned fresco images from art history books I had left from my studies in architecture school

The most unique aspect is its eclecticism—everything from the choice of characters to the materials used. Nowadays, few people spend time using brushes and pens in graphic design when they can simulate them digitally. This, however, gives my work its distinct and unique appearance.

This project was done independently. My experience working in printing houses helped a lot. I know almost all image application techniques—from regular printing to silkscreen printing and various types of post-printing processing.

It’s hard to imagine creating such a project in such a short time or having the ability to replicate it without technology. Technology enabled me to create 3D graphics, digitize drawings, and experiment with object composition.

Yes, of course. Research directly influenced the depiction and roles of characters on the cards, as well as the fonts and overall style of the game. Books on architecture and art history were particularly helpful, as they provided examples of daily life, frescoes, and scripts

When working with new tools, you never know how they will behave or what results you’ll get. Especially with physical tools, where you can’t undo an action or save a particular iteration. This randomness, however, adds liveliness and realism to the work.

Initially, I didn’t plan to submit this work, and it was still in its early stages when I made the decision. It all started with an email invitation to submit my branding project for a consulting agency. I didn’t think that project was very competitive, but the idea of participating inspired me. So, I sped up the development of "Morok" to submit it for the award.

I did a lot of work and discovered many new things. I improved my 3D skills and experimented with various graphic techniques. Most importantly, I felt responsible for my project when I decided to enter the competition. Participation required completing extensive supporting documentation, which helped me better understand myself, my work, and its impact on design as a whole.

This project is my personal reflection on the intersection of technology and art, and I am glad I was able to bring my idea to life

I graduated from DonNASA and hold a Architecture bachelor’s degree. I also studied drawing with members of the Union of Artists of Ukraine. At the same time, I worked as a visualizer in an architectural bureau.

I love beautiful things and enjoy creating them. It’s my passion and hobby. That’s why I became a designer. Although I am an architect by education, I found designing buildings boring and monotonous, so I turned to design.

It so happened that many members of my family were connected to design in one way or another. My uncle was an artist, my grandfather and father were engineers, and my mother was an architect. I guess I had no other choice but to follow in their footsteps.

Currently, I work in graphic design, but I am very drawn to product design. I would like to design objects that people use in their everyday lives—lamps, furniture, household appliances. However, I don’t want this to become routine, so I haven’t fully shifted to that field.

Just work. Create a lot, observe what others are doing, and perhaps produce a lot of "work for the drawer." The rule of 1,000 hours, even if some don’t believe in it, works. But to become a true professional, you need to work your whole life. The first 1,000 hours are not the finish line but just the first step.

The difference between a good designer and a great designer lies in your environment. You can become a good designer on your own, but to become great, you need to learn from others. It’s important to find people you look up to, strive for their level of mastery, and learn from them.

A truly good design not only solves the problem of aesthetic perception but also addresses the task it was created for. Good design should be convenient and effective to use. It should help, not just please the eye.

Good design is always functional design. By investing in good design, you gain additional benefits beyond basic functionality. This could be incredible convenience or the aesthetic satisfaction of using a unique item.

I would like to create things that I would use myself. For example, comfortable furniture or practical work tools. To make a perfect item, you need to deeply understand the user. And who do we know better than ourselves?

A dream project implies that once it’s completed, I’d say, “That’s it, I’ve done everything I wanted.” But I don’t have such a project. Life constantly throws new challenges at me, and I’m happy to take them on.

There’s no secret. Just daily work and the support of the woman I love. She has no connection to design, but I always take her criticism to heart, and it has never let me down.

Definitely Dieter Rams, Arne Jacobsen, and Le Corbusier.

One of my favorite works, which always catches my eye, is the Lounge Chair by Charles and Ray Eames. It has remained relevant for many decades and, after 70 years, is once again at the peak of popularity.

I believe I haven’t created my greatest design yet; it’s still ahead of me.

I think the best advice is to learn from professionals. Absorb their experience, copy, and analyze the work of those you consider experts in their field. Over time, you’ll develop your own vision, which will help you grow.

I would have become a beekeeper. That’s a bit of a joke, but my grandfather became a beekeeper after retiring, and as a child, I was fascinated by what he did.

Everything is design. A flower is nature’s design; a city is the design of architects; a phone is the design of engineers. Every day, we encounter design, often without realizing it. Design determines why the things around us are the way they are.

The people around me helped shape me—through their right or wrong actions, they made me who I am. But the greatest help came from my wife, who always gives me her honest critical opinion.

Only work and passion for what I do.

The main challenge at the start of my design career was the lack of time to work on my own projects, as I had to spend all my time fulfilling client orders.

A designer should guide the audience through a story about the problem, the solution, and the importance of that solution. Only in this way can they prove its value.

I don’t know which project I will showcase next. Every day, I work on various projects for clients, but I can’t always disclose information about them.

I don’t want to be someone who sets a goal, achieves it, and then retires. I want to create every day for the rest of my life.

It’s hard to speak for others. Perhaps they expect me to surprise them in some way.

This question covers a lot of ground. Design creates a more comfortable and convenient space for people. As a result, it frees up time that people can spend on self-development or with their loved ones.

In addition to my primary work, I’m currently designing pendant lamps.

One of my favorite projects is the authentic "Pintarcam" camera, originally designed for 3D printing and later crafted from wood and brass. This project brought me joy primarily because I use it myself.

I would like to see greater adoption of generative design. It could help create unique properties and functions for mechanisms, making them lighter and stronger.

I think 3D printing will become widely used, from household appliances to buildings. Right now, it’s mainly startups or specialized production, but in the future, it will become very common.

It depends on the project. Some can take a few hours, while others might stretch over several months.

It starts with research—finding references, defining functionality, and listing requirements. It’s essential to create a clear project brief (technical assignment).

Once, I came up with the phrase, "Everything is design"—whether it’s a small flower or a complex mechanism, it’s design, regardless of whether it’s created by nature or humans. Years later, I found out this phrase was also said by Paul Rand.

Designers definitely create trends. Of course, not out of thin air—they must be immersed in the context. But the design comes first, and then the trend follows.

Technology plays a significant role in designers work. It’s everywhere—from software used for designing to the latest advancements in manufacturing.

I use a variety of software. This includes graphic editors like Photoshop and Illustrator, 3D software like 3ds Max, and CAD programs such as Fusion and SolidWorks. A 3D printer is an essential tool, along with compass for drawing, knives, airbrushes—everything depends on the task at hand.

Every element can influence how a design is perceived. For example, the same piece of furniture finished with rough fabric or smooth vinyl can completely change its perception and affect the atmosphere of the space. Objects can either blend into the surroundings or become focal points.

"Did it help solve your problem? Did it help you achieve the desired result?"

I always want to understand what makes that design great, so I might apply it in my future projects.

The ideal partner is someone who is a professional in the technical aspects of the product being developed. I believe in synergy.

Many people I’ve met or whose work I’ve studied have contributed to my ideas and influenced my work in one way or another.

The Design of Everyday Things by Don Norman

Thinking with Type by Ellen Lupton

Design as Art by Bruno Munari

These books didn’t fundamentally change me, but they gave me some interesting ideas.

There’s no secret—just a desire to create something new and daily hard work.

I’m proud of my achievements; they reassure me that I’m on the right path.

My favorite color is green, my favorite place is by the sea or a river, my favorite food is steak, my favorite thing is camera.

One day, while I was working at a printing house, the waste pigment container of a very large industrial printer overflowed, but I needed to finish printing a batch. There was no one else in the office except me and a colleague, so we decided to clean the container ourselves. When we removed the container, it opened up, and black powder spilled all over the room. This powder is extremely fine and behaves like wate-it spreads over every surface, fills every crack, and is very difficult to clean. Only specialized personnel were authorized to service the equipment, so to cover what we did, we spent the entire night cleaning the floors and furniture. In the morning, when the company management arrived, they noted that we had worked all night and gave us a bonus. Little did they know that we had spent the whole night trying to hide the traces of our "crime"

Engaging work makes me happy—feeling that things are going as planned or that I’ve figured out how to solve a particular problem.

Maybe. From a very young age, I loved drawing, taking apart and reassembling toys, and observing how they were made

I don’t have the most optimistic vision of the future, but I still hope we’ll learn how to disassemble and reassemble molecules into the desired order to create objects, food, and clothing at home—similar to the replicator from Star Trek. This would solve many issues, such as waste management, food delivery to remote areas, and even space travel.

I was born into a creative family. My father is an engineer, and my mother is a designer. Since childhood, I was surrounded by rapidographs and drafting boards. Later, my parents moved into advertising, initially working in video production and then transitioning to print advertising and promotional products. They began working on complex, unique projects for banks and football clubs. As a result, I grew up in a creative environment, often helping with various projects. I started learning 3D modeling to assist with some of their work. After graduating from an architecture academy, I also went into advertising. At first, I worked in printing houses, learning about different image application methods. Later, I worked in design studios and marketing departments. Eventually, I found my way to game development. I never wanted to limit myself to just one field. I wanted to design advertisements, create sculptures, and engineer mechanical objects.

For me, design is everything at once—it's a hobby, relaxation, and an opportunity to grow and explore the world. Often, the final realization of my ideas isn’t as important as the process itself. The development phase, the selection of references, and the exploration of areas necessary for a project’s implementation are what truly interesting to me.

I enjoy designing physical objects the most. It doesn’t matter whether it’s a sculpture, a table, or a business card. I love things you can hold in your hands, feel different textures, observe how light interacts with them, and marvel at the engineering solutions that made them possible. I appreciate design that allows for interaction.

I don’t have a favorite design because, for me, it’s all about the process. Once a project is finished, I feel happy with it for a while, but then I want to move on. It frustrates me when I come across an old piece of work because it forces me to reflect and think, “Have I really not created anything more interesting since then?”

The first thing I remember was after the construction of the Donbass Arena stadium for the Shakhtar football club. I worked on designing souvenir statuettes made of bronze and marble, featuring a stylized depiction of the stadium. They were intended for Euro 2012. It was a significant project. Back then, 3D printing wasn’t available for prototyping. We had to find people who could create a physical model based on the 3D design I developed, and then produce these souvenirs in small batches.

My favorite material is metal. I particularly love brass or bronze. They allow for a wide range of ideas to be realized using a single material. You can leave the metal raw or polish it. You can treat it with ammonia to create a patina or coat it with galvanization. Different parts of an object can look entirely different depending on the concept. My favorite technology is 3D printing. Nowadays, any creator can bring their ideas to life within just a few hours. Prototyping, small-batch production, creating tiny figurines or massive statues—it’s all possible.

I feel most creative when I have a clear idea. I can focus on it and work for hours. I see the final goal and move toward it. At such times, I can sit down to work and only realize at the end of the day that I haven’t gotten up from my desk, eaten lunch, or even had tea. Unfortunately, it’s not always like that. Often, the ways to implement a project reveal themselves during the process—I take one step and can only see one or two steps ahead, no further.

Design brings me peace. It’s my form of meditation. After completing some projects, I feel joy and satisfaction, but during the process, it’s a calming experience as I engage in something I love.

I’m definitely happy. It’s impossible not to feel joy when you see the results of your efforts. There are some projects I revisit some time after realization, sometimes feeling that joy again and sometimes reflecting on whether anything could have been done differently.

This depends on the type of design, but it must meet two key criteria. First, it should grab attention because we only have 1.5 to 3 seconds to engage a consumer. Second, if it’s product design, its primary focus should be on function. For example, the design of an airplane is dictated by its functionality. Phones have evolved into rectangles with full-screen displays because this shape serves their main function, and good design highlights that functionality.

I see how design trying to move toward eco-friendly. Green initiatives are widely recognized and rewarded. Designers should collaborate with technologists and material manufacturers to create durable products or, if that’s not possible, maximize their recyclability. However, corporations must be interested in this effort, and designers can help them achieve it

Inspiration must be sought continuously; it’s an ongoing process. You need to visit museums, travel, read, and simply observe the world around you. You shouldn’t limit yourself to just one field, as inspiration can come from anywhere, even areas unrelated to design.

The first step is research. You need to study what has already been done in this field. Create a list of key points and prepare references. Sometimes there’s no need to reinvent the wheel—it takes too much time. Next, compile a list of qualities that the design should possess and compare it with the collected information. This allows you to eliminate negative aspects or combine positive features from different sources. In most cases, this is a winning workflow.

I prefer minimalism at home, so most of my belongings are purely utilitarian. I can highlight a coffee table from the Carpathians. A local craftsman made it from a cross-section of oak that is over 200 years old. The tree grew in his yard, and he shared its entire story about this tree.

The second would be tetrapods—a sculpture project I started but didn’t finish due to moving. In 2013, there was an exhibition of painted tetrapods by various artists at the port in Mariupol. Ten years later, I decided to recreate this experience on a miniature scale.

If it’s a workday, it typically goes like this: I wake up at 7:30, have breakfast, and start working. At 11, I have a tradition of drinking coffee. I usually have lunch at 2, either at home or in a restaurant. After lunch, I study Spanish—I started learning it six months ago. Then I work until about 6 or 7 PM. However, work doesn’t always mean completing tasks; it can also involve reading articles about design, looking at photos, or studying new software—anything related to my main job counts as work. In the evening, I enjoy walking around the city with a cup of coffee, sitting in the park, or playing padel.

On a day off, I make sure to go somewhere. I might simply stroll through the city center, take a tram to nearby towns, or go hiking. If I don’t feel like going out, I’ll spend the day drawing.

"The secret of success is constancy of purpose." This is probably the most important advice you’ll hear in various forms, but the essence is that if you want to achieve something, you must work on it continuously and develop your skills. It may seem like others are more talented and that success comes naturally to them, but that’s not true. The truth is that they either worked very hard or simply talk a lot without having practical knowledge.

The Pareto Principle. Usually, a good design can be created quickly and still be successful. However, if you want something extraordinary, be prepared to invest all your free time into it. Also, be ready for the possibility that not everyone will fully appreciate the qualities the design gained from your efforts.

It’s essential to always be curious and amazed by everything. Find something new in everything and continuously learn. With a sense of superiority or overconfidence in your knowledge, you can quickly find yourself falling behind.

It all depends on the task. I buy tools based on the specific project’s needs. In everyday work, I use Photoshop and Illustrator, and I increasingly use 3D Max. For design engineering, I use CAD programs like SolidWorks and Fusion. Of course, I also use a wide range of physical tools—model knives, brushes, and airbrushes. I’m always experimenting, and hardware stores are like paradise for me. Lately, I’ve replaced books with the internet. You can find any information there in a convenient format.

I find it very difficult to manage my time, as I’m constantly distracted, and by the end of the day, I feel like nothing has been accomplished. I often use a notebook—a simple notebook where I write down what needs to be done. Because while I focus on one task, I tend to forget everything else.

It’s hard to say because there are different objects, and different ways to approach them. In general, there is no need to sit and work on a complex task non-stop. The idea has to mature. You start the project, do research, and then go off to do other things. The thoughts start to form in your mind and an insight arrives, which needs to be nourished with new information. The longer you work this way, the better the result will be. So the best answer would be, "The work will take all the time allocated for it."

"Why is it so expensive?" People often think some things can't possibly cost that much. And most likely, if you think it’s simple, you probably don’t understand in this field at all.

I mostly work alone. Of course, it’s easier to work in a team on complex projects, and I do turn to this approach occasionally because it’s always better to get expert feedback from a professional. However, team work can also be distracting. The best approach is to work independently, making calls at specific checkpoints.

The best design comes from life. I noticed that air fresheners always choose between two extremes: functionality without style, or style without capability.I wanted to create a third option — an object of desire, not just an appliance. To move from the realm of utilitarian fragrance dispersal into the sphere of mood-creation and fragrance design.The perfume aesthetic was a natural choice. A perfume bottle is the most stylish and timeless code, while also being completely organic within a space. The diffuser had to be the same: small, modern, minimalist, but with real technological depth inside.The Atlas Parfumator isn't just an air freshener. It's a tool for creating an emotional space that looks like luxury.

Smart features today aren't a luxury — they're a necessity. In busy times, people value devices that take on part of the responsibility for home comfort.The Atlas Parfumator solves an important but often overlooked task — managing the atmosphere in a room. It's not just a diffuser. It operates on schedules and custom scenarios, and integrates with climate control systems. It can act as a morning alarm with fragrance, or support evening relaxation modes with decreasing intensity.And here lies the paradox: smart features are exactly what made such a minimalist design possible. The user no longer needs physical buttons and dials. They set up scenarios in the app once — and the device works autonomously after that. From that point on, it doesn't need to be touched at all, except to charge it or replace the fragrance bottle.Minimalism here is the result of smart technology, not its opposite.

I'm convinced that the line between recycled materials and the premium segment is finally disappearing.For a long time, we associated luxury with gloss and inaccessibility. But modern technology now allows the creation of high-quality cardboard from recycled materials that's visually indistinguishable from new. Moreover, you can deliberately add textural flecks that highlight the eco-friendliness while still looking like a stylistic choice. It all comes down to presentation. The right packaging design, the right visual cues — and the customer perceives recycled material as a conscious choice by a premium brand, not as cost-cutting.What inspires me is the growing trend among niche perfume houses and luxury brands experimenting with reusable formats and minimal packaging. It shows that luxury consumers are ready for sustainability, as long as it's done with respect for quality.The Atlas Parfumator continues this line — not as a compromise, but as an evolution of how we define premium. Sustainability and luxury are no longer competitors. They're one and the same.

This duality is intentional and works on several levels.The top is a processed object, the bottom is a raw material. The upper part is polished, precise, cold — it's aluminum that has undergone processing, transformation. The lower part is textured, rough, organic — it's material in its natural state.This is a metaphor for a process: raw material becomes a product, nature becomes design, chaos becomes meaning. The diffuser shows both stages at once.At the same time, the base embodies the atmosphere the device creates. The texture reflects the essence of perfume — earthiness, warmth, organic quality. The top, meanwhile, is control, function, restraint. Reason guiding emotion.When you hold the diffuser, you feel this contrast in your hands — cold and warm, smooth and rough, processed and raw. It's a reminder that the design of the future isn't about rejecting nature, but consciously transforming it. Emotion + reason. Nature + technology.

One of the main challenges was creating a sufficiently high-performing device while staying within a compact size. But here a deep contradiction emerged.The real problem was autonomy. The more powerful the atomizer, the bigger the battery. The bigger the battery, the bigger the size. And size is the first thing that kills premium positioning. The diffuser had to be an organic decorative object on a table, not an appliance.I had to dig deep into electronic component documentation. I searched for microcontrollers, humidity sensors, and Wi-Fi modules with minimal power consumption.The solution came through reframing the problem. To stay autonomous within a compact size, I couldn't rely on power alone. I had to rely on intelligence — the device disperses exactly as much as needed, exactly when needed. That's the moment smart scenarios stopped being just a feature and became a necessity for the product's viability.That's when I went back to the smart scenarios I'd already conceived and understood their true value — they allow minimal energy to be used with maximum effect. The device disperses exactly as much as needed, exactly when needed.The result: the device stayed as compact as intended, while operating autonomously for at least a month. This isn't a compromise — it's a fusion of design and functionality. The user simply forgets about the device and enjoys the atmosphere.

The idea of sustainable development was built into the process from the very start. I began with 3D printing the core shapes and concepts using recycled PLA plastic. This let me understand the ergonomics, proportions, and usability in real conditions. The European market currently has plenty of quality recycled plastics available — it was a logical choice for iterations.But for the final product, I chose an aluminum housing. Yes, it's more expensive, but that was a conscious decision. Aluminum is durable, doesn't oxidize, has a premium look, and doesn't lose that look after 3-5 years. It's a material that works toward longevity rather than initial price. Moreover, aluminum is a key material in the circular economy. It's recycled in 90% of cases and can be recycled multiple times without losing quality. That's exactly what's needed for a premium product meant to last.I didn't choose the glass bottle by chance either. It's the standard in perfumery — chemically inert, doesn't absorb scents the way plastic does. Glass can be recycled almost indefinitely without quality degradation. This allowed me to create a refillable system. The user doesn't throw the bottle away — it can be refilled. That's more than sustainability; it's a shift in the consumption model.And finally, the packaging. Recycled paper reduces the need for virgin raw materials, but I didn't use it as a compromise. The texture of the recycled paper reinforces the product's visual concept — it highlights the philosophy of sustainability rather than hiding it.Every material was chosen not just for its appearance, but for how it contributes to durability, circularity, and convincing the user that this is a product they'll want to keep for years to come.

From the start, when developing the concept, the idea was to create a basic, open device that other fragrance manufacturers could build on. It's a platform, not just a diffuser. Open documentation and an SDK could be created so other designers can create their own interpretations of the housing within a shared technological standard. It's similar to modular design in architecture. Perfume brands and niche perfumers can't afford to develop their own diffuser. They're focused on fragrances. Atlas gives them a way to expand their offering with minimal investment — they pay for branding the housing, customizing the glass bottle, and packaging design.One diffuser, different perfumers. The device's basic configuration stays the same, but the housing can be recolored, engraved, and the glass bottle becomes a canvas for each brand's design.The customer buys the scent of their favorite perfumer. This deepens the connection between brand and consumer. Perfume stops being just a scent and becomes a complete sensory ecosystem in the home. Within the platform, all diffusers use the same components. This allows production to scale and prices to drop. More brands can afford sustainability.

I'm convinced that design influences our emotional state, but we underestimate this.When you wake up and see a beautiful object on the table, it affects your mood. When something works intuitively, it creates calm. When design disappears, becoming simply part of life, that's magic.I'm a follower of Bauhaus ideas: form follows function. But I interpret this not as minimalism, but as layeredness. An object should be restrained on the outside, but deep on the inside. Visually simple, but complex in meaning.The Atlas Parfumator is an example of this approach.On the outside — a simple bottle that looks like a perfume. But on the inside — smart scenarios, adaptive algorithms, a sustainability ecosystem. The form doesn't show all this complexity; it simply works.This is what I find missing in contemporary design: things that prioritize convenience and efficiency without losing beauty. Things that last a long time because they're properly engineered, not because they're trendy.I want everyday object design to become more meaningful. For every line, every material to have a reason. For beauty to be the result of the right decision, not a decoration on top of it.

Ultrasonic atomization is a very good technology, but for some reason it's not widely used in air fresheners. I chose it because it solves a broad range of problems.First, controlled atomization. You can adjust any parameter — frequency, intensity, schedule. This made it possible to build in smart scenarios and use simple one-touch control. The user sets it up in the app once, and the device works autonomously after that.Second, miniaturization and eco-friendliness. There's no longer a need for a large canister of compressed gas — fewer harmful emissions, less waste. And most importantly, this made it possible to create a genuinely small device with a premium design.As a result, I designed a device that fits harmoniously into any interior. It looks like a luxury object, not a household appliance. The choice of technology determined everything else — from functionality to design.

Packaging is genuinely an important part of the design narrative. The product's concept is embedded in its name: Atlas, as in a collection of maps within a single system. So the packaging needed to draw you into a journey — exploring new continents, creating a tactile sense of something natural. The dry, prickly surface of a volcano, the uneven yet smooth surface of a glacier. That's exactly what the recycled packaging materials needed to convey.And here's where a clever choice comes in: the defects and irregularities that give a sense of naturalness are already present in recycled materials. If I'd used modern high-grade cardboard, all those imperfections would have had to be manufactured deliberately, making production more complex and expensive. Recycled paper gives me exactly what I'm looking for — naturalness — without extra cost.The unboxing structure is a ritual of travel. First, the consumer sees the outer packaging made of thin cardboard with all the information — manufacturer, fragrance name, description. This is the route map, pointing the way. When they open it, they're met with solid-colored packaging made of dense cardboard, matching the color of the device. This packaging is minimal: just an embossed logo and a decorative colored stripe symbolizing the scent itself. This is where the immersion begins — outside noise fades away, leaving only the essence. When the user lifts the lid, they encounter the device itself. The moment of revelation. The final point of the journey.This isn't just packaging. It's a layered unfolding of a story — from informational to minimal, from description to silence, from map to the device itself. Each layer prepares you for the next. The user isn't unboxing a product — they're taking a small journey that emotionally prepares them to meet the product.

When designing the game, I focused on the key characteristics of the characters. For example, take the Inquisitors—they are brutal armed forces hunting heretics and conspirators, and in a fantastical context, witches and demons. They come at night, taking away those deemed undesirable, who are not always guilty. This is an image we all understand, built from countless films, book plots, and so on. In the game, they are a frightening character, hunting indiscriminately.Or consider the Praetorian. In the story, he’s a former soldier of the Roman Empire—an elite warrior with strong moral principles and a sense of justice. But even he can make mistakes. You might say these characters come from different eras, but that’s the point—we’re in a timeless world where the most terrifying forces are trapped. Welcome to MOROK.

I’m a graphic designer who works in various styles. I’ve noticed that opposing styles often enhance each other—for instance, flat design with photography, or in my case, classical graphics with 3D. The pseudo-realistic characters placed against fresco backgrounds make you examine them closely, analyze them, and wonder how they were made. The background tells the character’s story and places them in context, while the character itself stands out in the foreground as realistic and alive.This additional attention rewards the brain, making the design more memorable. I wanted it to feel more authentic—imagine cards with scratched drawings or elements made with real gold leaf, and the 3D characters embossed. You could feel and experience the texture. Unfortunately, it’s almost impossible to mass-produce such things, and they wouldn’t be practical for gameplay.

Yes, the game features characters from different cultures and eras. This was intentional, to bring together the most terrifying horrors in one place and amplify the sense of doom. Imagine it as a kind of purgatory where players must survive day after day among all the monsters of the universe. These are the consequences they face. They must overcome all the demons to gain freedom, making the joy of victory even sweeter.The cohesive visual language is maintained through the color palette and character style—black, ominous silhouettes draped in blood-red fabrics, and gold, that has always evoked base emotions in people, such as greed and envy. The plebeians are the exception—they are faceless silhouettes for whom gold is a punishment.

In today’s world, collecting has entered a new phase of evolution. People create NFTs, make collectible figurines and characters, and collect vintage Pokémon cards. I find this topic very interesting. That’s why I thought, if I made a high-quality, limited-edition product, it could potentially become collectible. This wasn’t the goal, but the idea of turning something utilitarian into a collectible object is intriguing.It’s always good when something is not only functional but also well-crafted, engaging to look at, and satisfying to own. I’m a designer, but I’ve always wanted to be an artist, and this is my attempt to bring art into a utilitarian item.

It’s very simple and rooted in history. Cards were originally made by hand, and their large format was dictated by aesthetics and the capabilities of the artists. This aspect carried over into modern practice, adding depth to their perception. Tarot cards often feature complex and detailed illustrations, and the large size allows for better visibility of these details, which are important for interpretation. Every detail can be significant, and it’s easier to notice on a larger card.I wanted to honor this tradition by making the cards in a classic Tarot format. This also enhances the perception of the game as something mystical. You could even give it a magical meaning—laying out cards of eliminated characters like a Tarot spread, turning the game into a kind of fortune-telling.

The frescoes in the game tell the story of the characters. They are taken from the same era as the characters and complement their narratives. For example, the Praetorian, my favorite character, is a headless knight. He is one of the positive characters whose mission is to protect the townspeople. His card features a well-known Roman fresco with the text Cave Canem (“Beware of the Dog”). The fresco depicts a fierce dog, serving as a warning not to enter.Our character is like this dog—his primary task is protection, but he can also harm if he deems it necessary or senses danger. I love symbolism, and every illustration on the cards has meaning—it’s never random.

Essentially, I didn’t change the gameplay mechanics. The idea was not to create a new game system but to introduce a new, mystical atmosphere. I wanted players to experience fresh emotions while playing a familiar, beloved game. The variety of characters allows the game master, depending on their skill, to craft incredible stories and explain the events unfolding in the game.

The unboxing experience wasn’t deeply planned—it’s a classic box with a foil seal that breaks upon opening. This approach was borrowed from premium playing cards, where every new game requires opening a fresh deck, ensuring it hasn’t been tampered with or marked.In our case, it’s simply beautiful and adds to the mystical experience of breaking the seal. You’re opening the door to hidden knowledge, experiencing something unique for the first time. A sealed package also adds collectible value. Inside, it’s simple—a set of cards and a rulebook. I wanted it to feel like a Tarot deck, and overly complex packaging would interfere with that.

In The Doomed City novel, there’s a situation where people from different countries, times, and professions mysteriously find themselves in the same city. They can understand each other even though they speak different languages, and their social roles change randomly over time, forcing them to adapt. I thought this novel perfectly explains what’s happening in the game.I love science fiction. I often bring ideas to life and only later realize which book or movie inspired the image or concept.

It seems the world is moving toward valuing unique items. A coffee mug is no longer just a mug—it has to reflect your worldview. That’s why old-school design, like Bauhaus, has regained popularity. Replicas of chairs and tableware from that era have become highly sought after because they were recognized by designers worldwide. People want to own a piece of success and history.Some people want more than just a deck of cards sold at a supermarket checkout. And my game gives them such experience —it’s unique, and there hasn’t been anything like its design before.. Perhaps my reinterpretation of the game will inspire companies to create collectible editions—for instance, in collaboration with contemporary popular designers or artists. It adds a sense of pride when you pull out a game to play with friends and can say it’s a collectible edition by a renowned creator.