Interviewe mat Tutku Bayat Yılgür

The main principle behind the Point Wall Mirror is making the invisible visible. In most wall mirror designs, the hanging detail is always hidden, concealed as an unsightly or purely technical element. I brought this detail to the very center of the design. "Point" refers both to the physical point that connects the mirror to the wall and to the idea of creating a focal point in a space. My inspiration came from unsolved problems hidden within everyday objects. The mounting process is both an aesthetic and practical challenge in most mirror designs; I wanted to transform that problem into the design itself.

My main focus was turning the mounting detail into both a functional and a visual element. Hanging a wall mirror is typically a frustrating process: keeping it level, hiding the screws, concealing the back mechanism. I integrated the entire process into the design itself and aimed to offer the user an effortless and intuitive experience. At the same time, I wanted to achieve a form that creates a sense of calm in the space and transforms the corner it occupies into a starting point.

The Point Wall Mirror is, for me, the starting point of a design language. With the recognition that this award has brought, I am developing a collection that carries the same language into different typologies, from accessories to living space objects. My goal is to position Point not as a standalone product but as the first piece of a collection in dialogue with itself. I am also actively pursuing international brand collaborations and participation in design fairs.

From concept to production-ready took approximately six months. The initial sketching phase spanned a few weeks, followed by 3D modelling, prototype production, and resolving manufacturing details. The most time-consuming part was ensuring the mounting mechanism worked correctly both aesthetically and functionally at the same time. Good detail requires patience.

This design was entirely a response to a personal inspiration. While searching for a mirror for my own home, I noticed that most available options were either impractical when it came to mounting or simply ignored that detail altogether. The question of "why has this problem not been solved yet?" began to occupy my mind. As a designer, these kinds of unsolved everyday problems are what excite me the most.

Yes, the Point Wall Mirror is currently in production and available for sale under the MORE Design Objects brand. I produce it in limited quantities in collaboration with skilled craftspeople in Turkey, using selected natural materials. I am also open to licensed production arrangements with the right brand partners.

Living space objects such as mirrors, lighting fixtures, and side tables have always attracted me because they can carry both a functional and a sculptural character. For me, the greatest power of design lies in an object not only fulfilling a function but also transforming the atmosphere of the space it inhabits and acquiring an emotional presence. The wall mirror is one of the most beautiful typologies that can carry both the function of reflection and the identity of a spatial object at once.

Japanese minimalism and the concept of "ma", the idea that empty space itself can carry meaning, left a deep mark on this design. Naoto Fukasawa's philosophy of quiet design, the principle that an object should integrate into your life without demanding your attention, has always been a reference point for me. The woodworking tradition and craftsmanship detail of Turkish artisanal heritage also found its way into the material language of this design.

The Point Wall Mirror was designed for those who value design, who curate their living spaces with intention, and who embrace the principle of "less but right." My target audience consists of design enthusiasts who seek an object that adds meaning to their space rather than simply purchasing a mirror, and who want to be satisfied both in terms of quality and aesthetics. Architects and interior designers who follow a minimalist approach may also find this design a natural fit for their vocabulary.

What sets Point apart from other mirror designs is that it brings the typically hidden hanging detail to the very focal point of the design. Most mirror designs treat the mounting mechanism as a problem and try to conceal it. I transformed this detail into both a visual element and a practical solution. This approach gives Point both aesthetic coherence and ease of use at the same time, without contradiction.

The name "Point" comes from the very essence of the design. In English, it means both a physical point and a focal point, and that is exactly what the design does: it transforms the single point on the wall, the hanging detail, into the focal point of the entire space. It also carries the connotation of a "starting point"; the mirror creates an anchor in the room, a place where the eye begins.

During the concept phase, I used a traditional A3 sketchbook and pencil. In the digital phase, I worked with Rhinoceros for 3D modelling and KeyShot for rendering. I prepared technical drawings and presentation materials in Adobe Illustrator. During the prototyping phase, I worked directly with craftspeople to produce physical models.

The most unique aspect is that the mounting mechanism was designed to function simultaneously as both a functional and an aesthetic element. Thanks to this detail, Point gives the feeling of being "perfectly placed" both visually and in practice when hung on the wall. Additionally, the proportional relationship between the wooden frame and the mirror surface gives the form a sculptural character; the object does not simply reflect, it establishes a presence in the space.

The design process developed independently; the concept and form decisions are entirely my own. However, during the transition to production, I worked closely with master woodworkers and metalworking craftspeople in Turkey. We resolved the engineering details of the mounting mechanism together. Good design comes to life when the right people are involved at the right moments.

CNC machining played a critical role in achieving the precise proportions of the wooden frame and ensuring consistent quality throughout production. However, I wanted to balance technology with traditional hand craftsmanship; surface treatments and assembly details after CNC cutting still require skilled hands. Technology here is a tool; what determines the final result is still the human hand and eye.

I began by observing user behaviour: how do people hang their mirrors, and what difficulties do they encounter? This observational research revealed the necessity of redesigning the mounting experience. I also examined existing mirror designs on the market to identify which gaps remained unfilled in this space, and I shaped the positioning of Point accordingly.

The greatest challenge was ensuring the hanging mechanism worked simultaneously on both visual and functional levels. A mechanism that looked aesthetically correct might prove insufficient in practice; conversely, one that worked perfectly but clashed with the visual integrity would undermine the spirit of the design. Finding this balance required many prototypes and revisions. Identifying the right surface finishing technique to keep the selected wood material stable across different environmental conditions was also a time-consuming process.

I was internally certain that the design was right; but I wanted the perspective of an independent international jury as both a validation and a calibration point. A' Design Award was a natural choice for this purpose, given its global reach and respected jury. Understanding where I could place this design on a world scale was also important for clarifying my next steps.

This design showed me in very concrete terms how a single good detail can transform an entire object. When you make an invisible detail visible, the whole design language shifts. Working with craftspeople throughout the prototyping process also reinforced, once again, how important it is to involve production constraints early in the design process. The dialogue between designer and craftsperson always makes the final product better.

The A' Design Award Bronze is not merely a recognition for Point Wall Mirror; it is a sign that a design language has found resonance on the international stage. This gives me a stronger foundation on which to build the collection ahead. I believe design has something to contribute to the world; every object that makes a space more intuitive, more beautiful, and more meaningful is part of that contribution. I am grateful to everyone who took the time to engage with this work.

I completed my design education in Istanbul, focusing on industrial product design. A scholarship I won through a design competition took me to Milan for a master's degree in product design. Afterward, I interned at a design studio, which gave me a close look at how cultural differences between East and West shape design thinking. Today I run my own design practice while also teaching as a university lecturer.

What motivates me is getting caught up in the small, often unnoticed details of everyday objects and turning them into a meaningful solution. That curiosity questioning why things exist the way they do and how they could be better is really why I became a designer. Seeing an object quietly find its place in someone's daily life is what keeps me motivated.

It was entirely my own choice, though not a decision made in a single moment — it grew out of curiosity over time. There wasn't one turning point; it was more that the way I looked at everyday objects gradually changed.

Right now I mainly design home and office products; the award-winning Point mirror is an example of a home accessory. Going forward, I'd like to work on larger-scale furniture and spatial systems, and build project-based collaborations with furniture brands in Turkey.

Follow people, not trends. Take the time to really understand a material, a production method, a user behavior — and be patient about it. The best ideas rarely come from flashes of inspiration; they come from careful observation.

A good designer solves a problem; a great designer is someone who can then take the excess back out of that solution. The difference lies in having the courage to ask "what can I remove?" instead of "what more can I add?"

I think what sets good design apart is that it settles into someone's daily life so naturally that they forget it was ever designed at all. A truly good design is one that respects the nature of its material, is free of excess, and genuinely answers a real need.

Good design reduces friction in daily life and extends an object's lifespan. Everyone should invest in it because cheap, under-considered solutions may look like savings in the short term, but they cost more in the long run — both to us and to the environment.

If I had the time, I'd design a collection that brings the legacy of forgotten names from Turkish mid-century furniture history together with contemporary manufacturers. It would be a way of paying tribute to that past while creating objects that genuinely speak to today's user.

The dream project I haven't had time to fully realize is a comprehensive archive and documentary project telling the story of Turkey's modern furniture history as a whole. I'm doing a smaller version of this through my video series right now, but the real dream is a much larger version of it.

I think the secret to a design's success is being able to closely observe people's small behavioral gestures — both while they're using a product category, and even in the moments they're not using it. Watching these behaviors is what helps us understand where to focus, and how to arrive at a good result.

I love Achille Castiglioni; Eero Saarinen and Dieter Rams are also important names for me. What draws me to these figures is that their formal decisions are always grounded in an idea or a real condition of use — no line is ever there by accident.

One of my favorite designs is Castiglioni's Arco lamp. Alongside that, his Sella stool affects me deeply: it was originally designed for use in the phone booths of its time. Without knowing that, it's hard to fully grasp the concept — it gives the user something to lean on while talking on the phone, but it isn't comfortable enough to sit on for long, which naturally keeps the call itself from running too long. I find it incredibly powerful when a design can shape a user's behavior, not just through its form, but through what it quietly encourages or discourages.

My greatest design so far is the Point mirror. I took the mounting detail that mirrors usually hide as something "unattractive" and made it the center of the design, turning the whole experience — from mounting to daily use — into something effortless. Seeing this approach recognized internationally through the A' Design Award confirmed that I was following the right idea.

I'd say build your observation muscle. I developed mine by working across different cultures, by reading, and mostly by never giving up on asking questions. Researching design history has also taught me a lot — looking at past solutions helps me see today's questions more clearly.

I'd probably still have ended up somewhere close to teaching or research — maybe as a design historian or curator. My curiosity about the stories behind objects isn't really separate from design itself.

For me, design is a considerate answer to a need. Good design adapts to the natural flow of life, doesn't show off, and simply finds its way quietly and positively into the life of whoever uses it.

My father's support meant the most to me. When I was studying a different field at university and told him I hadn't made the right choice and wanted to turn to design, my real dream, he believed in me even more than I believed in myself. He was my first and biggest supporter.

Working across different cultures shaped me the most. My education in Istanbul alongside my master's and internship in Milan showed me how different cultures arrive at different solutions to the same problem, that perspective is now at the core of my design practice.

Adjusting to studying alone abroad wasn't easy. Before that, there was an even bigger hurdle: I was studying a different field at university, and leaving that path to pursue what I actually wanted — design — took real courage. Stepping into the unknown was never easy.

Designers should present their work together with the story of the process, not just polished renders. Explaining which question they started from, and which observation triggered the idea, makes the work far more meaningful.

My selected pieces will be exhibited at FDI, the furniture and design fair held in Turkey, where I'll also be presenting my new collection for the first time. That's what you can expect from me in the near future.

My ultimate goal is to bring Turkey's design heritage together with contemporary production, and to have my own designs remembered as objects that keep their meaning over time, independent of passing trends.

I think people expect the same rigor and consistency from me in every project, but also a fresh perspective each time. I try to meet that by starting from observation rather than falling back on formulas.

Good design makes people's relationship with objects healthier. Living with fewer but truly meaningful products slows down the pace of consumption and helps people build a more conscious connection with what surrounds them — which adds up to a more sustainable society.

What excites me most right now is preparing for the FDI Istanbul 2026 fair. Beyond having my selected pieces on display, I'm genuinely excited to be presenting my new collection there for the first time.

The Point mirror gave me the greatest satisfaction, because I took a small, easily overlooked detail and turned it into an idea recognized internationally. Watching my students find their own design language through the projects we work on together has also been a separate source of satisfaction.

An ecosystem where project-based collaborations between designers and manufacturers are easier to set up would add a great deal to the industry.

I think design is moving toward a "less but better" understanding. People increasingly want to live with fewer products that carry a personal trace and a story — and I expect this tendency to become even more pronounced in the coming years.

It depends on the project, but the observation-and-simplification process can generally take several months. As with the Point mirror, arriving at the right idea usually comes at the end of a process of observation, prototyping, and paring back that takes a few months.

I always start with observation: trying to understand user behavior, production methods, and what the material makes possible. Only once that picture is clear do I move on to the actual design, the process of simplifying.

My life motto is: "Notice what goes unseen." It reminds me, in design and in life, to pay attention to the small details everyone else overlooks.

I believe good design doesn't chase trends, it reads needs — but over time, the right answers to those needs can themselves become trends. So a trend is sometimes design's outcome, not its starting point.

For me, technology is a powerful tool for understanding research and production methods, but the starting point of design should always be human need. I see technology not as an end in itself, but as a way of getting to the right question.

Throughout my process I use a mix of digital 3D modeling tools, hand sketching, and physical prototypes together. I think the real test happens less on screen and more in the moment the hand actually touches the material.

Material is often one of my starting points; in the Point mirror, respecting the nature of wood shaped the entire logic of the design. Color and atmosphere, meanwhile, determine the sense of calm an object brings to a space — I tend to favor simple, natural tones.

I wish people would ask me more often, "why did this particular detail matter so much to you?" Because the real story is usually hidden in that small detail everyone else overlooks.

I'm curious about the observation and decision-making behind it, not just how it looks.

I do believe in co-design, and I especially value working with manufacturers and craftspeople, their knowledge of material and production is what turns my idea into reality. My ideal partner is someone confident enough to challenge my thinking, but who also has a deep command of material.

The people who influenced my design the most were the team I worked with during my internship in Milan, and my own students today. My students' questions often push me to question my own design thinking all over again.

Donald Norman's The Design of Everyday Things left one of the most lasting impressions on me — it's the book that taught me to look at user behavior so systematically. Dieter Rams' Less and More, which lays out his design principles, has also directly shaped my own approach to simplicity.

I've developed my skills through both research and teaching, having to explain a subject to students forces me to see the gaps in my own thinking. Prototyping and working with my hands have also been the most important way I've turned that knowledge into something concrete.

Regardless of time or place, I'd want to sit down with Charlotte Perriand and hear about her process directly from her. The LC series chairs, so often associated with Le Corbusier's name alone, are now understood to have largely come from her hand; hearing about that long-overlooked work from her would mean a great deal to me.

I value the award and the recognition, but visibility was never my real motivation, the process itself is. What I feel isn't so much the pressure of fame as the responsibility to keep the same rigor in every new project.

My favorite color is red even though it's actually the color I use the least. My favorite place is Istanbul, especially my own home. When it comes to food, mantı is the first thing that comes to mind, and my favorite season is spring. My favorite object is my pen, and if I had to pick a brand, it would be Flos.

While I was studying design at university, I once spent days finishing a model for a final exam. Just a few hours before the exam, my sister accidentally broke it while looking it over. It wasn't funny at all in the moment, but looking back now, it's become one of my funniest memories.

What makes my day is the moment I feel I've solved a small detail the right way. To motivate myself, I turn to my design history research or discussions with my students — both give me a fresh perspective.

I can say I was a child who was curious about how everyday objects were made.

A thousand years from now, I imagine a world with far fewer objects than today, but far more meaningful ones — a world where technology and craftsmanship are intertwined, giving even gentler answers to human need.

I'd love for my followers to keep following the Point mirror's story; they can also look forward to the selected pieces I'll be exhibiting at the FDI fair, along with the new collection I'll be presenting there for the first time.

Looking back, I realize my interest in design goes all the way back to my childhood. I was a child who always wanted to change and transform the furniture in her room, endlessly curious about how things were made. Over the years this interest never faded, and at university I chose to study industrial product design. Just before finishing school and starting my master's program in product design in Milan, I came across an old newspaper clipping among my belongings. It was an article titled 'Turkish Designers in Milan,' with a photograph of a group of designers. Until I saw it again, I had completely forgotten that years earlier I had cut out and saved such a piece of news. Right as I was preparing to leave for Milan, I quietly thanked the little Tutku who had once spotted and carefully kept that article, and in that moment I realized I was living out my childhood dream. It was a deeply emotional moment for me.

I work mainly in furniture and product design, creating pieces that bring together minimalist, functional, and sculptural forms. What sets my designs apart is that I rethink the product's use scenario from the very beginning and usually add a new, previously unused detail. A good example is my Point wall mirror, which received an award at the A' Design Award: I brought the hanging detail, normally hidden at the back, to the very center of the design, making it both the focal point of the piece and a practical solution to what is often a difficult installation step. Alongside product design and production, collaborating with companies as a designer is one of the working methods I enjoy most.

For me, design is not merely about determining the shape of an object; it is about designing the relationship between people and objects. A well-made design is a product that enters the user's life in a calm yet powerful way and is used intuitively. Design means responding to problems with sensitivity and bringing material and form together to create new meaning. It is also a language; through design I express emotions, cultural references, and values. For me, design is a quiet but lasting form of communication.

I most enjoy designing furniture and living-space products. Beyond pieces like chairs and tables, objects that can carry a sculptural character, such as mirrors, side tables, and floor lamps, excite me the most. These kinds of products can hold both function and an emotional presence.

My favorite design is the Point Wall Mirror, which was honored with a Bronze A' Design Award this year (2026). This wall mirror has a form that places user experience at its center, offers an effortless experience from the very moment of installation, and brings a sense of zen to the space it inhabits. The mirror is not just a reflective surface; it creates a starting point, a focal point in the room. Its minimalist form, the relationship between the wooden frame and the mirror, and the craftsmanship details in its production represent for me both a technical and an emotional achievement. Having this design recognized by an international jury was an important confirmation that I was on the right path.

My first professional design was a furniture series I created for Fuga Mobilya. That project was a school for me; it was there that I learned to read a brief, to see that constraints can be one of the paths to creative results, to speak the manufacturer's language, and to build the bridge between an idea and a marketable product. Seeing that product go into production and take its place on the shelves was the first real reward of my career as a designer.

I love natural materials, especially wood, brass, stainless steel, and ceramics. Alongside these, I also enjoy using fabrics produced with regional, traditional techniques. The way these materials age, their textures, and their honesty fascinate me; I want to use materials that can become more beautiful over time. On the technology side, I like combining CNC machining with traditional craft techniques. The most interesting results emerge at the point where technology and handcraft meet.

I feel most creative in the early morning hours, before the world gets noisy, alone and in a quiet environment. Beyond that, ideas multiply when I travel, especially when I encounter the objects, architecture, and streets of other cultures. Sometimes the strongest ideas appear in moments when I am doing nothing, taking a walk, or visiting a museum. For me, creativity is not a scheduled moment; it is an inner voice that emerges in the moments when I can hear my own mind and be alone with myself.

First, I think about the balance between form and function. When starting a design, I focus on the question 'Why does this object exist?' Along with all these questions, color, material, and finish (CMF) are also among my important focal points. Then I turn to the details: material transitions, assembly points, scale, and proportion. Ergonomics and everyday usability also determine whether the design can truly live in reality.

The design process is a multi-layered emotional experience for me. At the beginning there is uncertainty and a slight anxiety; then, once an idea takes hold, great excitement and energy arrive. As I dig into the details, I sometimes feel impatience and sometimes a meditative calm. When I reach a decision, when my inner voice confirms 'this is the right one,' I feel a deep satisfaction. Design is both a rational and an emotional process; one shouldn't deny either side.

The moment a design leaves the screen or paper and turns into a physical object is incredibly exciting. When I hold the first prototype, both pride and a critical eye work together, and the question 'is this really its best version?' never quiets down. And when it goes into someone else's home or office and becomes part of their life, thinking that the design no longer belongs only to me, that it has also become part of the user's life, is a very special feeling.

For me, a successful design carries three things at once: it solves the right problem, presents a visually pure and honest form, and stands the test of time. A design that is not dependent on trends and still feels meaningful when looked at decades later is a successful design. In addition, the stronger the emotional bond it forms with its user, the more successful the design is.

When evaluating a design, I first look for the answers to these questions: Does it respond to a real need, or is it a product that will get lost in the crowd of the market? What is its cultural and environmental impact, how responsibly does its production process proceed, and does it have a circular life? For me, good design is that which is meaningful, sustainable, and durable in its function, its material, and its approach.

Every product means the consumption of raw materials, a production process, a carbon footprint. Because the designer is one of the first links in this chain, they decide what will be produced, with which material and how, and how durable it will be. In my view, a designer must create lasting value rather than chase fleeting trends, and must question whether a product is truly necessary before adding it to the world. Sustainability is not a choice but a professional obligation.

Design is becoming increasingly interdisciplinary. It is now intertwined not only with form but also with sustainability, behavioral sciences, digital experiences, ethics, and even artificial intelligence.

My last exhibition took place in September 2025, as part of Furnishings & Design Istanbul, in a section called 'New Horizon.' As a next step, I plan to take part in the exhibition in Italy during the A' Design Award gala night, and to open a small-scale exhibition of my own collection within the coming year. Exhibitions are very valuable to me because they offer the chance to experience design directly.

My inspiration mostly comes from daily life, from the geometry of nature, and from the shape of silence; museum visits, architecture books, and travel also nourish me. Alongside these, one of my freshest sources of inspiration is my little daughter. While playing with her, looking again at the ordinary forms we are all used to, from a completely different scale and with a child's curiosity, allows me to approach design with fresh eyes every time.

I would describe my design language as minimalist, functional, and sculptural. I like using few but right materials and avoiding unnecessary detail. In fact, I look for the same simplicity in all my choices in life; this preference for a pared-down way of living naturally reflects in my design language.

I live in Turkey. Although my design has a more modern and global language, the culture I grew up in inevitably has an influence, especially in my knowledge of materials, my closeness to the craft tradition, and the importance I place on detail. The advantages of being a designer in Turkey are: being close to a highly diverse ecosystem of artisans, having access to a wide palette of natural materials, and standing at the intersection of different cultures. The disadvantages are that the sector's support infrastructure can at times remain weak, and that one faces logistical and bureaucratic difficulties in accessing the global market.

I usually begin working with brands through a brief; we discuss our shared values and goals in detail. Then we carry out the concept development, sketching, 3D modeling, and prototyping stages together. Open communication, mutual respect, and transparent processes are indispensable for me. Building a long-term relationship with a brand, joining forces toward a common goal, is very valuable.

I would suggest that brands spend time with a designer in order to understand not only 'what they want, but what they actually need.' A good designer is someone who can question what lies beyond the brief. When making a choice, it is more accurate to look not only at the portfolio but also to learn about how the designer approaches the process, their way of communicating, and their values.

My process consists of these steps: listening and research (grasping the problem and context), sketching, filtering (eliminating ideas and selecting the two or three strongest), 3D modeling and digital prototyping, physical prototyping and testing, detailing for production and dialogue with craftspeople, and production follow-up and final touches. I never hesitate to go back at any stage; patience is essential for good design.

First of all, the products I have designed myself; beyond those, I could name a side table and a lighting piece by a design brand I admire. In addition, a vintage chest and a rug inherited from my grandmother are very precious to me, pieces that carry sentimental value.

I am an early riser. Before anyone wakes up and the daily rush begins, calmly being on my own and gathering my thoughts does me a lot of good; even just ten minutes of this helps me prepare for the day. After planning what I need to do and reviewing the day, I start it feeling motivated. When I am in the design and concept phase my days pass more calmly, while during the prototyping phase they become much busier and more dynamic. The part of the day I spend with my family is when I unwind, my favorite moments.

My most important advice to young designers is to internalize the difference between 'looking' and 'seeing.' We are surrounded by images; but a designer is not someone who merely looks, but someone who examines, questions, and draws meaning from what they see. For this reason, I suggest they closely study as many works of art, other designers' products, and the iconic designs that have shaped design history as possible. When they look at an object, they should get into the habit of asking 'why was it designed this way, what problem does it solve, how could it have been better?' Because becoming a good designer begins with training the way you see.

The pleasure of knowing that the products your hands have touched continue to exist in the world without you, the opportunity for constant learning, the chance to meet inspiring people, and the freedom to build a career according to your own vision: these are, to me, the most positive sides of the profession. Of course there are negative sides too; but they have never been my focus.

In truth, I have never had a strict rule that I followed unconditionally; in design, I mostly trust my instincts. Still, if I had to name the principle that guides me most, it would be 'less but right.' Knowing how to subtract rather than add... If you can still take one more thing away from a design, then that design is not finished yet. The same principle applies to the choice of form, material, and detail: everything unnecessary weakens the meaning.

Visual thinking, empathy, patience, knowledge of materials, communication and presentation skills, and the maturity to receive criticism. Technical skills can be learned over time; but empathy and openness to criticism help a designer grow much faster. And curiosity: a designer without curiosity eventually starts repeating themselves.

In terms of software, Rhinoceros, KeyShot, Adobe Illustrator, and Photoshop are the ones I use most often. As for hardware, a laptop, a traditional A3 sketchbook, a pencil, and charcoal. My books include Bruno Munari's 'Design as Art,' Dieter Rams's writings, monographs of Naoto Fukasawa and Charlotte Perriand, and classics on design history. My sources of inspiration: Dezeen, Wallpaper, museum visits, and long walks.

I reserve the morning hours for uninterrupted design work; these hours are the most productive for me. I move meetings to the afternoon. Sometimes I enjoy the Pomodoro technique and task-based working. Resting is part of creativity. Especially during intense working periods, ideas about the project I'm working on or solutions to design details can suddenly appear in my mind while I'm resting or doing everyday tasks. For this reason, I always keep a sketchbook both by my bedside and with me.

It varies depending on the type of project, but on average a furniture design can take between 4 and 8 months from concept to production. The sketching phase can take a few weeks, modeling and prototyping one to two months, and production preparation and revisions just as long. Respecting the process is, in my view, an important part of our work.

The question I'm asked most often is: 'Where does a design idea come from?' There is no single answer; sometimes from a word, sometimes from a landscape, sometimes from a problem. But what they all have in common is that it comes from observation.

My most important experience was the collection I carried out entirely on my own, from concept development to production and sales. In that collection you have to take on not only the role of designer but also those of manufacturer, investor, accountant, and salesperson. Alongside my identity as a designer, I had the chance to get to know my entrepreneurial side as well.

My clients can be listed as both the end consumers themselves and the local furniture brands I work with.

I most enjoy designing furniture and lighting. These objects touch people's daily lives and change the atmosphere of a space. The fact that an object can be both functional and an emotional presence is what excites me the most.

Within the coming year, I plan to launch my first solo collection: it will consist of several pieces in dialogue with one another, produced with sustainable materials. At the same time, taking part in international design fairs and building collaborations with brands abroad is on my agenda. The A' Design Award success has been an important step in opening this path

I mostly work independently; the concept and design process belong to me. However, this changes during the production stage. The phase in which a design comes into being is a solitary process, but the phase in which it comes to life is always teamwork. Good design is made possible by the right people getting involved at the right moments.

There are a few projects I'm currently working on. One of them is in accessory design; as a continuation of the Point Wall Mirror, it will be a collection piece applying the same design language to a different typology. It's still too early to share the details, but we plan to launch it within the coming months. At the same time, I'm working on a licensed chair design for a furniture brand.

You can reach me by email at tutkubayat@gmail.com ; those who would like to see my work can visit my website at https://tutkubayat.com ; and you can also contact me through my social media accounts (Instagram: @tutkuby, LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/tutku-bayat-18b31872/ ).

I would like to add that the Bronze A' Design Award has been not just a personal recognition for me, but has also opened a new door in my design journey. I thank everyone who has believed in and supported me along this path. And I thank everyone who has taken the time to get to know me.