La Jato del Gato

Since I was little, I was always in contact with craft and manual work —my dad used to make wooden toys, and at school I also learned to work with wood. I grew up surrounded by pre-Columbian art and crafts, which shaped the way I see objects, meaning, and symbolism. At 16, I discovered magic, and that opened a whole new world for me —it gave me confidence, helped me shine despite being shy, and taught me how to create experiences that spark emotions. Design felt like a natural way to bring all that together —another branch of the same path.

I co-founded La Jato del Gato with my wife, Vanessa. It’s a startup dedicated to designing and making sustainable, functional, and playful furniture and toys for cats and their humans. It started as a very personal project with our own cat, and today it’s a growing business with a clear mission: improving coexistence through better design and helping people observe and understand their cats better.

Design, for me, is making people feel free —free to be themselves, to enjoy their surroundings with less stress and more connection. It’s also about communicating —creating something that tells a story and evokes emotions without words. Good design feels almost invisible because it flows and simply feels right.

I love creating spaces and objects that become channels of communication —between humans and cats, or between people themselves. Things that invite interaction, play, emotion. I also enjoy designing little details that might seem unimportant —like a doorknob— but actually tie everything together.

My favorite is definitely MoCats, the multifunctional modular cat furniture we created and presented for the A’ Design Award. It represents everything we believe in —a thoughtful balance of functionality, sustainability, and playfulness. It’s modular so it adapts to different spaces and needs, it’s fun for cats, and it gives humans the chance to assemble and leave their own scent, strengthening their bond with their pet. Its ability to transform and evolve over time —both for the user and for me as a designer— is what makes it perfect to me.

The very first was our modular cardboard house for cats, which became the seed of our entire business.

Digital fabrication. I love how it allows you to imagine something and then bring it to life almost instantly. Being able to prototype, test, and refine ideas with such precision and speed feels like magic to me —it completely changed the way I approach design. I also love working with cardboard and plywood —they’re accessible, easy to shape, and incredibly versatile.

When I’m in a new place, surrounded by unfamiliar details and mechanisms. I’m always observing how things work, and that sparks ideas —I start thinking about where I could apply what I see and how to adapt it to the needs I’m working on. I also feel creative when I’m playing —games, magic, cooking— because they help me see things differently.

The emotional and sensory experience of the user —how it feels, sounds, looks, smells— and how it flows functionally. Everything must have a reason to be there, and everything must feel intentional.

Excitement, joy, and curiosity. It feels like solving a beautiful puzzle. And I enjoy knowing that optimizing something now means more time later to do what I love —cooking, magic, playing, creating.

It’s magical —seeing something that was just an idea in my head now being used and enjoyed is incredibly satisfying. It’s even more special when someone tells me it changed how they feel about their home or their relationship with their pet.

When it solves a real need while making life feel freer, lighter, and more enjoyable. When people can’t help but want to tell the story of the object —that’s when I know it worked.

First, functionality —if it truly meets a need and solves it properly. Then I look at the form, materials, joints, and details. At the same time, I listen to the proposal and the idea behind it —to see if what has been made really aligns with what the designer claims it does.

To create responsibly —not just solving problems but also avoiding harm, reducing waste, and improving lives. We should stop creating things destined to fail quickly. Instead, we should design things that last and create complementary elements that add value without adding waste.

I believe technology and digital fabrication are bringing design closer to everyone. Designers can create and share ideas, and people will be able to fabricate them at home or locally. That makes design more accessible, more personal, and more sustainable —and gives us a chance to move away from planned obsolescence toward something more meaningful.

This was actually our first exhibition, but already our second design award. It was a very special milestone, and I hope it’s just the beginning —I’d love to exhibit again soon, especially in spaces where I can connect with people who care about design, animals, and the environment.

A big part of my inspiration comes from magical experiences —anime, video games, theater, books— all of which create atmospheres and emotions that stay with you. That’s what moves me: creating something that feels magical, brings happiness, and makes people feel something they want to share. Magic really transformed my life, and it taught me that design can do the same.

Minimal yet playful, sensory, and environmentally conscious. I love designs where nothing is wasted, and every element is intentional. I approach each project as a way to create a moment, not just an object.

I live in Lima, Peru. I was lucky to grow up in a home surrounded by Peruvian culture —not everyone here has that privilege. Those creations and traditions were always within my reach. Seeing those details and imagining how they were made inspired me to create things that combine digital techniques with manual craft. The advantage is that if you look for inspiration, history, and references, you’ll find them everywhere. But the country doesn’t really promote art, design, or culture. It may be all around, but what good is it if no one is taught to value it? Design is not well recognized or appreciated in Peru. People often don’t believe design can really help improve their lives —and part of my work is proving to them that it can.

I love working conceptually —taking the time to understand what they want to express, what they want others to feel, and helping them land that vision. Then we craft something unique that feels truly theirs.

Find someone who listens to you, asks questions, and truly cares about the outcome for the user. A good designer won’t just execute what you say —they’ll help you discover what you really need.

I work as a team with Vane —she focuses more on the research and the big picture, and then I add the magical, emotional details. I also create many of the tools we use in the workshop to make our processes more efficient. We do a lot of prototyping to test functionality with the real user. Personally, I’m able to visualize the result very clearly in my head, almost exactly as it will be, and that helps me refine details as we go. Finally, we keep polishing certain details to make everything more precise and thoughtful —because it’s only when I can hold it in my hands and manipulate it that I start to see even more ways to improve it.

My Quimera Box magic set, our MoCats, my AeroPress coffee maker, the joinery samples from the brand Plywood.it, and a jacket with a pre-Columbian design made by my cousin, Stephany Geiser.

My day always starts with coffee —I can’t function without it. Vane and I are always together, at work and at home. Mornings are for the workshop —creating, producing, testing, and improving our tools and processes. Afternoons and evenings are for being at home with our cats, practicing magic, cooking, and of course, dreaming up more ideas. It’s a life full of creation, play, and connection.

Be patient. Don’t rush it —every detail matters, and good design takes time. Find something you love so much that it becomes part of you, and bring that feeling into everything you create. It’s not about pleasing everyone —but if you design with the intention to transmit something meaningful, people will feel it.

The positive is that you start to see the world differently —you begin to understand the intention behind so many things around you, to find meaning and purpose in everyday objects like benches, streets, buildings. That perspective enriches you. The negative is that in any creative field, there will always be people who judge you —so you have to learn that criticism can also be good, and you have to learn to listen to it.

Every detail matters. Nothing should feel arbitrary. And also —don’t be afraid if, at first, what you design feels like a monstrosity. Keep transforming those ideas and trust the process. And if you ever feel stuck, it’s okay to step away and create something else —sometimes, working on another project helps you solve what was missing in the first one.

I think one is learning to question certain processes —why things are done a certain way— and finding new paths to reach the same goals. And enjoying the process of finding those paths. Another is always keeping an open mind, because things can change in an instant and force you to rethink parts of your design. You have to be open to those possibilities.

Paper, pencil, markers, and my inspiration gallery —a collection of references from websites, books, or photos I’ve taken myself. I also use digital tools like AutoCAD and Illustrator, laser cutters, CNC machines, cardboard, sketchbooks, and of course… my cats.

By setting priorities, breaking the work into steps, and focusing on the essence of what I want to transmit. That way, nothing essential gets lost in the details.

It really depends on what kind of object I’m designing. If the goal is simply to satisfy a functional need, sometimes it can take just 10 minutes to solve the problem. But if I want that same design to also feel artistic, decorative, and meaningful, it can take me days to make it feel perfect.

“Will my cat actually use it?” —and I’m proud to say yes, because it’s designed with them in mind.

I think being a magician. That brought me very close to seeing the reactions and sensations of the audience. It taught me to focus on the experience and the emotions people feel —and that’s something I carry into all my design work.

Pet owners, NGOs focused on animal adoption, specialty pet stores, and other artists who want custom pieces or collaborative designs.

Prototyping —that’s when the idea starts becoming real and I can test, feel, and adjust it. It’s a moment of discovery. It reminds me of when a magic effect is nearly ready to be shown —everything is in place, and I can sense the emotion it’s going to create. That stage, where possibility meets precision, is where I feel most alive as a creator.

We want to expand our products internationally and explore new ideas for coexistence —including board games and sensory experiences that connect people to their pets and themselves.

We’re a team. Vanessa and I complement each other perfectly —she handles the macro view and research, I obsess over details and emotional impact.

Yes —one project I find particularly interesting is a collaboration we’re working on with an artist. We’re creating installations for his projects, where the mounts or displays are not just stands, but pieces of art themselves that combine and dialogue with his work.

Through our website: www.lajatodelgato.com or Instagram: @lajatodelgato

Just a thank you for recognizing that thoughtful design —even small-scale— can have a big impact. I hope to keep growing and learning. I also believe design isn’t always something physical —it can also exist in more intangible forms: in music, in poetry, in stories, in the way people express themselves or present their ideas. We should also recognize those as design, because they shape us and inspire us too.

I studied architecture and co-founded La Jato del Gato, where I’ve spent the last 7 years designing sustainable, modular products for cats and their humans. I’ve worked with private clients, NGOs, and pet stores, always focusing on improving coexistence through thoughtful design.

I grew up surrounded by craft and manual work and later discovered magic at 16, which changed my perspective on creating experiences. Studying architecture was a natural step, and the need to improve my own cat’s wellbeing sparked my journey into product design.

My priorities are: functionality, emotional connection, and freedom of choice for the user. I combine digital tools and physical prototyping, and my style is minimal yet playful. I always make sure what I design lets the cat choose how to use it, rather than forcing a single use.

Curiosity, focus, and joy. I love the early creative stage when everything is still possible, but also enjoy seeing the final product being used. Designing fulfills me because it feels like solving puzzles that make others happier.

My manual skills, observation, and patience. I learned to see beyond what’s obvious —to notice subtle details— thanks to magic and working with animals. I think designers need empathy above all else. Another thing that shaped me is that I’ve kept my creativity very alive and developed —I approach every project as if I were playing, and that sense of playfulness gives me the freedom and ease to keep innovating.

I want to keep growing our brand internationally and explore how digital manufacturing can bring good design to more people. My dream is to design a full system that transforms small homes into better habitats for both humans and cats, seamlessly integrated.

Be patient. Observe more than you speak. Not every idea needs to be flashy —sometimes the simplest ones work best. Don’t forget the user is the one who decides if your design works, not you.

Always keep learning. Don’t assume your way is the only way. Watch how your users interact with your design and accept when they do something unexpected —that’s the best feedback.

I start my day with coffee and a quiet moment. Then we head to the workshop to create, test, and prototype. In the evenings I practice magic or cook —both are creative outlets that inspire me. Little details —like seeing a cat enjoy something I made— make even ordinary days feel special.

I stay aware of trends, but I don’t follow them blindly. I’m more interested in observing human creations in general —not necessarily what’s fashionable now. Many times I find more inspiration in older designs, because they were often made to last, with care and intention. Nowadays design can feel too ephemeral, focused on what’s next rather than what endures. My work tries to find that balance —relevant but timeless.

When it feels intuitive, solves a real need, and the user enjoys it without thinking about why. Good design blends into life and makes it better without shouting for attention.

For me, a design is “ready enough” when it solves the core problem and works well for the user —but I always keep a mental note of how to improve it later. I believe design is never completely finished. We always say that we can heal through design —if it helps create harmony and wellbeing, then it’s doing its job, even if it’s not perfect yet.

MoCats —our modular, multifunctional cat furniture. It embodies everything I believe in: adaptability, sustainability, and freedom of choice for the user. It took years to develop, and seeing it improve lives makes me proud.

I follow and admire Bruno Munari —his ability to combine playfulness, simplicity, and deep thought about how we interact with objects is inspiring to me. I’m also deeply influenced by Peter Zumthor, especially his way of thinking about atmospheres and how spaces make you feel. That resonates with me because I always try to focus on the sensory experience of the user, not just the object itself.

I live in Lima, Peru, which has taught me to be resourceful and creative with limited means. I’m surrounded by cats, magic, and food —all of which inspire me. Music helps me focus when I’m creating, and I believe good design can elevate everyday life.

We’re a small, close-knit team that values observation and empathy. We work collaboratively, and I always encourage people to bring their own ideas. For me, the most important trait in a designer is curiosity.

We often collaborate with animal welfare NGOs, designing products for adoption campaigns and donating part of our work. Beyond that, we also donate the production and post-consumer waste from our products to NGOs that recycle materials, reinforcing our commitment to a circular economy. With La Jato del Gato, we aim to create products that are sustainable, long-lasting, and part of a cycle that minimizes environmental impact. I believe design can help improve lives at all scales, and I try to support young designers by sharing what I’ve learned.

Winning the A’ Design Award was an amazing experience. It validated our work and gave us visibility. The three biggest benefits of participating were: learning to articulate our ideas clearly, connecting with an international design community, and gaining confidence to keep innovating. Being named Designer of the Day is a great honor and motivation to keep creating.

I studied architecture, but my learning didn’t stop there. I grew up around manual work —my dad made wooden toys— and I was always drawn to creating things with my hands. I was also surrounded by pre-Columbian art and craft traditions, which shaped how I see form, symbolism, and how objects carry meaning across generations. Later, magic taught me about attention to detail and experience. Most of my skills as a designer come from observing, playing, and solving real-world problems through experimentation.

Design, for me, is not just about creating objects —it’s about creating an experience. That’s why I also love creating magic effects: because I enjoy transmitting a feeling, a sensation, and seeing it reflected in someone else. Every design I make carries an emotion that I want the other person to feel and take with them. What moves me is knowing that even small changes in an object, space, or moment can transform how someone experiences their world.

I chose it —but more than that, I discovered it as part of my path. I actually discovered magic before I discovered architecture. When I performed magic, I realized I was already creating experiences and atmospheres, and I could bring that same mindset into architecture and design. Design became another branch of that path —another opportunity to create, to surprise, to connect. It’s my way of linking what I love about magic with something tangible and lasting.

I design spaces and objects that create a channel of communication —especially between humans and cats, through play and interaction. For me, design is about facilitating these moments where two beings connect and understand each other. Lately, I’ve been exploring the idea of designing magic props and utensils, because they also create experiences and emotions that stay with people. I’ve always enjoyed creating furniture and improvising abstract pieces from separate parts, letting the pieces find their place. In the future, I’d love to keep designing these spaces of communication —whether with yourself or with others— and focusing on those small details that often go unnoticed but give everything its meaning. A simple doorknob, for example, might seem trivial, but it can bring a whole design together.

First, you should focus on finding something that truly moves you —something you love deeply, not just “design.” It has to become part of you, something that makes your eyes light up when you talk about it. Then, when you sit down to design, bring that feeling into everything you create. When you manage to connect those two things —your passion and your craft— you’ll start to feel fulfilled. It’s not about making everyone like what you do, but if you design with the clear intention of transmitting something, people will feel it and appreciate it.

A good designer solves the problem. A great designer solves it and makes the solution invisible —natural, fluid, and meaningful. A great designer listens more than they talk, and never stops questioning.

For me, it’s hard to define absolutely —it depends a lot on the context and the situation. Personally, I find it more valuable to create a good design with very little than to create a good design with a big budget. It’s like cooking: anyone can make a great dish with premium ingredients, but making something that looks good, tastes good, and feels special on a tight budget —that’s true skill. That’s how I see design, too.

Good design saves time, improves wellbeing, and prevents future problems. It reduces waste, frustration, and disconnection. It’s not a luxury —it’s an investment in harmony. Especially in today’s world, design has the power to heal, not just function.

If I had the time and resources, I would design for myself, for Vane —my wife— and for my family. But beyond that, I’d want to design for people who share my vision: people who do what they do with purpose. People who see meaning in their craft and care about the impact it has.

I’d love to design games —objects or spaces that invite emotion, experience, and communication. Another dream of mine is to create my own personal space: a place where I can be myself, learning, practicing, and sharing what I know with others.

I believe it helps to know a mix of many things —even skills or knowledge that might not seem necessary at first, but that give you perspective and help you internalize and express ideas. To that, I add two habits I always practice: first, draw what you’re going to design —put it on paper. And second, be capable of visualizing it fully in your mind, thinking through every element and every detail, so you’re already 10 steps ahead when you build it. After that, it’s all about polishing.

I’m inspired by Bruno Munari for his playfulness and clarity, and by Peter Zumthor for how he designs atmospheres that you can feel with all your senses. I also admire Miguel Ángel Gea, a magician who conceptualizes magic effects in a way that’s deeply human. He focuses on transmitting feelings and crafting sensory experiences for his audience. To me, he’s also a designer —of moments, of emotions, of experiences.

When I look at design, what I enjoy the most is seeing how the materials have been worked —the textures, the colors, the finishes. I love the details, the quiet elements that show care and intention. Those are the things that make a design meaningful to me.

My greatest design is MoCats —our modular cat furniture. What I value most about it is its capacity for transformation: the possibility of creating more with the same system. I’m not just talking about the user’s experience, but also about mine as a designer. It gives me so much freedom that I can keep evolving it —the system stays consistent, but the form keeps adapting. As we used to say in architecture school: “there is no 20,” because there’s always something you can improve. I love being able to chase different versions of perfection in this product —that’s what makes it perfect to me.

It starts with feeling what surrounds you. Really feeling and listening to the world around you —touching, seeing, even listening to materials. Observing everything in maximum detail. And not just in this physical world, but also in others —inside video games, virtual spaces, board games, movies, books, plays. All of these spaces are also designed, and you can find valuable information and inspiration there if you take the time to observe and truly experience them.

I would still be creating —probably as a full-time magician or chef. Both let me experiment, express myself, and connect with others through crafted experiences, which is what I love most about design too.

For me, design is communication —it’s how we speak to others through spaces, objects, sensations. A good design tells a story or creates an atmosphere that stays with the person who experiences it. It’s invisible yet unforgettable.

Vane, my wife and partner. She’s been with me through everything —both in life and in work— helping me see what I sometimes can’t. My family also gave me the foundation of craft and care for detail that shaped me, and they were the ones who introduced me to the richness of pre-Columbian design, which influenced how I see form and meaning. And I’ll always be grateful to two of my professors in architecture school, Pablo Díaz and Martín Frabbri, who taught me to look deeper and think critically about what I create.