Ngā Uiuinga me Neda Mirani

I never had a specific plan to pursue a career in the arts. During my school years, my thoughts were more occupied with subjects like astronomy and aerospace. However, looking back on my life, I can say that I was always drawn to the idea of creating something—giving form to an idea. That was what truly gave me peace of mind.

At the same time, in my free moments, I often found myself lost in imagination, sketching abstract drawings that didn’t necessarily reflect reality. Back then and where I lived, there wasn’t much proper guidance to help us understand our talents and interests. As a result, our paths were often shaped by coincidences and circumstances rather than clear direction.

But when I started studying architecture at university, everything became clear to me. The further I went, the more I realized that this was exactly what I had been looking for. I was finally doing something I genuinely enjoyed. That’s when I decided to fully focus on architecture and put in my best effort to pursue a career in this field.

My design studio is not at a large scale at the moment. I typically take on projects as a complete design package, covering exterior design, interior design, landscaping, and any other necessary design aspects. I believe that all these elements are part of a cohesive whole, and each aspect should be considered in relation to the others.

However, some projects—such as Café Ivy, which are commercial spaces—were specifically centered on interior design and renovation. After working on Café Ivy, I took on several similar projects, which naturally led me to develop a greater focus on interior design. This experience encouraged me to explore the field more deeply and dedicate more of my work to it.

In my view, design—particularly architecture—is the art of interaction. It’s about engaging with people, nature, cultural and social contexts, and more.

The better we understand these dynamics, the more meaningful and impactful our work can be.

I have a deep interest in renovation—or rather, revitalization. The idea of breathing new life into something that once thrived but has since faded, and bringing it back into an active cycle, is truly fascinating to me.

There are many projects that I find fascinating and could mention, but I’d like to highlight two from Iran.

The first is Hanna Boutique Hotel, a remarkable revitalization project in an old neighborhood of Tehran. It was an abandoned space for years, but the design team managed to restore it in a way that preserved the building’s original value while bringing it back to life. More importantly, this project transformed the area from a neglected, crime-ridden space into a vibrant and functional urban environment. I find that incredibly valuable. There have been other inspiring revitalization projects in Iran as well, which is truly encouraging to see.

The second is, honestly, Azadi Tower in Tehran. Considering the time it was built, with hand-drawn plans and the limited technology of that era, the architects managed to create a stunning parametric structure that beautifully merges traditional Iranian architectural elements with a modern, contemporary approach. To me, that is truly admirable.

The first was a small-scale project—a roof garden design—while the larger-scale one was a two-story villa on a site with an irregular geometry. The process of shaping the project’s form in response to the site’s geometry was especially enjoyable for me.

I really love raw materials—those that haven’t undergone excessive processing and can showcase their natural purity. These materials often tend to be simple, abundant, and inexpensive, which makes them even more appealing to me.

When an unforeseen problem arises during a project, and a solution must be found on the spot—not just to fix the issue, but to ensure that the outcome remains architecturally sound and visually compelling.

The first and most important aspect, in my opinion, is developing a responsive framework—one that functions effectively both in its overall form and in its details.

Separating from the external environment and its concerns.

The feeling that the tree you planted has borne fruit.

I believe many factors contribute to the success of a work, and the most important is the acceptance and interaction of the user with it. However, before that, the designer’s perspective is crucial. It’s essential for the designer to avoid arrogance and to remain open to learning.

I am still in the process of learning, and I don’t seek to do "judging". However, when I look at a project, I like to understand the concerns that led the architect to arrive at that particular outcome.

In my opinion, our social responsibility lies in considering the collective benefit rather than individual interests. When we view things from a communal perspective, we also evaluate everything we design through the eyes of others . We ask ourselves: What impact does our work have on the urban landscape? What effect does it have on the users who will interact with it? How does it affect the natural fabric of the area? Ultimately, what are we really contributing to?

I believe we are in a transitional phase—a period of change and transformation, and this means that we are not necessarily flawless or free from mistakes.

In architecture, projects are not merely meant to be exhibited for display purposes alone.

,My golden rule is: "Don't just finish the work for the sake of finishing it; make sure the outcome is meaningful to you"

This topic also depends on design thinking and approach. Generally, I use SketchUp for quick and easy initial sketches, allowing me to explore ideas more efficiently. Then, depending on the design, I use 3ds Max, Rhino, and for rendering, either Corona or Lumion.

It definitely depends on the scale of the project and the approach I take for its design.

Currently, my main focus is on enhancing my experience and skill level. I believe that any program should be developed alongside these two aspects.

I do both: I am part of an architecture team, and I also work on my own personal projects. In fact, working as part of a team plays a significant role in the growth and learning of a designer, and it is highly valuable.

I am currently working on a renovation and interior design project for a music instruments store. I hope to share it soon.

You can reach me through my Instagram page or email:

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/neda.mirani/

Email: nmirani27@yahoo.com

Using cement blocks was not intended to be provocative, but rather honest. It was a straightforward, accessible material that matched both the project’s budget and the raw identity I envisioned. Its industrial quality helped the space stand apart from typical decorative café settings, while remaining grounded and contextually relevant.

The ivy plant was chosen for its visual softness and organic rhythm, in contrast to the rigid and repetitive form of cement blocks. It added a gentle layer of life to an otherwise static structure. The contrast was intentional—to bring emotional balance and invite a sense of quiet growth within a rough, minimal framework.

Clarity in design decisions from the start helped streamline the process. Instead of aiming for excess, we focused on doing fewer things well—working with existing materials, local labor, and avoiding unnecessary detailing. That economy of means made the process efficient without compromising the core ideas behind the space.

The arrangement of the blocks varied based on the functional needs of each area. In some places, they acted as semi-transparent partitions to define boundaries; in others, they served as table or counter bases. Elsewhere, they became stands for showcasing products or shelves for displaying smaller items. This repeatability and adaptability made it possible to create diverse spatial experiences within a compact space—without relying on multiple materials or complex structures.

Constraints forced a sharper focus. Rather than searching for new materials or extravagant details, I explored repetition, rhythm, and proportion within what we already had. That led to discoveries about how subtle shifts—like light, spacing, and layering—could create richness without adding complexity or cost.

We began by identifying what was essential and eliminating anything unnecessary. Clear zoning, multi-functional elements, and consistent material use helped keep the space visually calm and physically efficient. The repetition of the block structure also helped unify the space while allowing functional variety.

It confirmed that sustainability isn’t only about certifications or new technologies. Sometimes it’s simply about using what’s available, using less, and using it well. This project reminded me that constraints can be a resource, not a limitation—especially when guided by clarity and care in execution.

This project is one example showing that working with simple and cost-effective materials doesn’t necessarily compromise quality. Of course, many designers have explored similar approaches before. But reiterating these ideas in fresh, context-sensitive ways can help strengthen their presence in the design discourse. It’s not always necessary to choose the most expensive option to stand out—sometimes, doing the opposite, with a strong concept and execution, can be even more impactful.

Easy access to cement blocks in the Mazandaran region initially presented an economic advantage, but it quickly became part of the design logic. The material has a familiar presence in the local urban fabric, and that visual familiarity helped the project draw from its context rather than trying to disguise it—offering a refreshed interpretation of something already embedded in the environment.

Biophilic elements in this project were not extensive or decorative, but minimal and intentional. The experience showed that even subtle signs of nature—when placed thoughtfully and rhythmically—can enhance a sense of connection and calm in commercial spaces, without overpowering the overall spatial narrative.