Belis Memik

Since I remember myself I loved creating, making, being creative and I loved art. I see it as a way to express yourself and your feelings. I have been deeply connected to the unseen; to emotions, feelings, nature, movement, animals and meaning. I never set out to become a “designer” in the conventional sense. Instead, I was always drawn to creating experiences that speak to the soul. Architecture became the vessel for that — a way to translate feeling into form, memory into space, and presence into materiality. Most people don’t realize this but the spaces we live in shape our entire emotional reality. We spend over 80% of our lives under a roof and I believe they have an amazing power on shaping our inner world and have the power to influence and re shape our reality and experiences in this world. I studied architecture, but my true education came from life: from silence, from travel, from loss, from love, from dancing until dawn, from observing the way light falls on worn stone. Over time, I realized my role wasn’t just to design buildings but to heal, to awaken, to question, and to gently remind people of what really matters. Design for me isn’t separate from art, nor from life. It’s a way of sensing, storytelling, and co-creating with the earth. I’ve always been a designer in that sense not by choice, but by nature.

My studio, BELISMEMIK Architecture & Creative Studio, is not just a design practice. It’s a living, breathing reflection of my values: empathy, emotion, nature, and truth. We work across architecture, interior design, and creative direction, but always with a deeper purpose. Every project begins with listening not just to the client, but to the context, the light, the energy of a space, and the unspoken needs of the people who will inhabit it. We don’t chase trends. We don’t design for ego. We design to feel to create spaces that hold, inspire, and transform. Our work blends storytelling with spatial experience. Whether it’s a private home, a retreat in nature, or a poetic visual concept, each project is grounded in emotion and layered with meaning. We are here to challenge unconscious construction, to bring sensitivity back into the built world, and to use design as a quiet form of activism. I believe how good of a designer or an architect really depends on how well you can understand your client's needs, how well you can put yourself in their shoes and empathize as well as understanding the context and the surroundings within the project.

Design, for me, is a sacred language. It’s how we translate energy into form, emotion into texture, and presence into space. It’s not about objects or aesthetics but it’s about essence. True design listens. It responds. It heals. It slows us down and reminds us to feel not just to function. It’s the subtle pause before you enter a room, the way light touches a surface, the silence between materials that lets your mind rest. Design is not decoration. It’s not perfection. It’s a mirror of life itself; layered, imperfect, intuitive, and alive. It holds the power to elevate consciousness, to reconnect people with the earth and themselves. That’s the kind of design I live for to be honest; honest, poetic, and deeply human. Good design, to me, is measured by how deeply it can touch others and make them feel something. How well it solves their problems, both functionally and visually. It’s not only about beauty, but about making people feel seen, supported, and connected.

I am more drawn to concept projects, creative direction and designing experiences rather than structures. Story telling is key to me since we learn and grow from sharing our stories with each other on this planet. I can say I’m most drawn to projects that carry emotion, spaces or concepts that hold a story, a purpose, a pulse. I love designing environments where people can feel deeply: homes that feel like sanctuaries, nature-integrated spaces that quiet the mind, and creative concepts that awaken something within. And since everyone is different, I try to empathize with my client's lives and needs or the project's and leave my ego behind and design from their life. Storytelling and creative direction are especially close to my heart. I care deeply about how well a design or visual narrative conveys a story, where it takes the user from within. I want my work to move people, to shift something inside them, to change how they see or feel about the world. Whether it’s a retreat in nature, a soulful renovation, or a poetic visual concept, I gravitate toward projects that blend beauty with meaning. I design not just to create spaces but to create experiences that invite presence, emotion, and transformation.

One of my favorite designs wasn’t the biggest or the most complex to be honest. It was one of the most emotional. It was a private home, nestled close to nature, where the client asked me to design a space that felt like a breath and comfort; soft, warm, grounding, and deeply personal. What made it special wasn’t just the materials or the layout or solving the technical parts but it was the process. We talked about memories, dreams, fears, and sensations. Experiences from our lives and understanding each other. The house became a reflection of who they were beyond the surface. Every decision was guided by emotion: how the morning light would enter the bedroom, where they would like to wake up from, the quiet corner where they could sit in silence, the textures that felt like home. What touched me most was what they said when it was complete: “It feels like the house knows me.” That, to me, is everything. When design becomes invisible and what’s left is feeling, that’s when I know I’ve done something meaningful. It reminded me why I do what I do: to create spaces that speak to the soul.

The first thing I designed for a company was an interior space that needed more than just function. I remember walking into an empty shell of a place and instantly sensing its potential. Even back then, I wasn’t focused on “styles” or trends. I was focused on feeling, how the space would hold people, where the energy would move, how it could create a certain mood. I didn’t have a big team or flashy tools. Just my intuition, my sensitivity, and my ability to read space like a story. I sketched by hand, chose materials that spoke to the concept, and stayed involved in every detail, because I saw the space as something alive. That first project taught me that even within commercial or professional boundaries, design can still be deeply emotional and human. It was the beginning of learning how to balance structure with soul. As I was responsible of the construction of the project too, it was my biggest lesson in my profession. As long as you are at the site and solving and co-working with the workers, you end up with a good result.

I’m most drawn to natural, honest materials, the ones that carry memory, texture, and time. Raw wood, earth, stone, linen… materials that age gracefully, that breathe, that respond to light and weather and touch. I believe materials should not just be seen, but felt. They should evoke a sense of grounding and a return to what’s real. I love how one material changes over time because it actually reflects the life and that nothing stays the same as it should not also. Because of this reason I love Corten also, as it ages, it just becomes prettier and prettier. In terms of platforms, I love working with anything that allows for storytelling and emotional expression. Whether it’s physical space or digital media, I’m interested in how design can guide people through a journey. Even technology — when used consciously — can become a tool for connection, not distraction. But at the core, I always come back to what’s tactile, textural, and real. I’m not interested in perfect surfaces. I’m interested in surfaces that hold stories and are unique.

I feel the most creative when I’m fully present, when I’m not trying to “design,” but simply allowing inspiration to move through me. It often comes in stillness, in nature, or in the quiet in-between moments: walking alone at sunrise, dancing in the dark, listening to the wind, or watching how light changes throughout the day. Creativity flows when I’m connected to emotion; whether it’s joy, heartbreak, awe, or longing. I need to feel deeply to create truthfully. That’s why I protect my sensitivity; it’s the source of everything. My most creative ideas usually come when I feel lost in my life. I also feel most creative when I let go of control. Like when I allow the unknown to enter, when I surrender to the process rather than trying to force an outcome. That’s when the most honest ideas arrive, unexpected, raw, and full of life.

For me, everything begins with listening to the client, to the space, to the land, and to what’s not being said. I don’t start with forms or styles. I start with energy, emotion, and intention. I observe and try to sit with what's given to me. I focus deeply on characterizing the essence of the person or place I’m designing for like who they are, how they feel, what they need on a soul level. Every human, every space has a unique story, and I try to translate that story into atmosphere, material, and experience. Nature is also a constant guide. I always consider how light moves, how wind flows, how the seasons will interact with the space. I aim to design in harmony with nature not against it and my biggest teacher is the nature itself. All the answers are already there. Ultimately, my process is grounded in empathy. I design to support people emotionally, to hold them, to awaken them and to do that, I have to feel deeply first and just sit with what's given to me.

When I design, I feel everything. That’s what makes the process alive for me. There’s a deep sense of presence and intimacy, almost like I’m in conversation with something invisible. Sometimes I feel peace, sometimes tension, sometimes longing but always connection. I often feel protective — like I’m holding space for someone’s inner world. I feel responsible, but not in a heavy way — more like a quiet duty to honor the truth of what I’m creating. There’s also a sense of excitement, especially when a space starts to reveal itself and I know I’ve touched something real. I get too excited while designing and I love that. And at the core, I feel love! Love for the process, for the people, for the potential of what design can awaken in someone. It’s emotional, intuitive, sometimes overwhelming but always beautiful. It’s like giving form to something you can only feel.

This is the most fulfilling part of my profession. When a design is no longer just on paper but when it becomes real, lived in, felt, that’s when the magic happens. If I see that I’ve truly touched someone, that I’ve created something that resonates deeply with them, then I know I’ve done something meaningful. It’s not about praise or perfection but it’s about connection. When the client is happy, when they feel seen, understood, and held by the space, that’s when I know the design is truly complete. It fills me with quiet joy and deep gratitude. Because in that moment, design becomes more than architecture - it becomes emotion, memory, and transformation.

A design is successful when it touches people and if it solves their needs while working in harmony with the given context; emotionally and practically. It should solve real needs, reflect the soul of the person or place, and create an atmosphere that feels natural and alive. If it brings peace, inspires change, or simply makes someone feel seen and supported, then it has done its job. To me true success isn’t loud but it’s felt in the quiet details, the emotions it evokes, and the way it lingers long after you leave the space. Successful design is hidden in the details and the feelings.

First, I look at how well it fits with its surroundings, not just visually, but emotionally and environmentally. Then I ask: Does it reflect the user? Does it speak to who they are, how they live, and what they need on a deeper level? And most importantly; what does it give back to the user? A good design should not just serve; it should uplift, support, and inspire. If it doesn’t add something meaningful to their life, it’s just decoration - not design in my eyes.

As designers, we carry a deep and big responsibility because what we create shapes how people live, feel, and connect with the world. For society, our role is to design with empathy and awareness; to create spaces that support well-being, inclusivity, and emotional connection. We have the power to influence behavior, challenge norms, and quietly shift collective consciousness. For the environment, our responsibility is even greater. We must design in harmony with nature, not against it; choosing materials and methods that respect the land, reduce harm, and promote sustainability. Every choice we make has an impact — and it’s our duty to make conscious ones. Conscious design and thinking about the impact is key. Design should never be about ego. It should be about healing, honoring, and protecting both people and the planet.

I strongly believe that design is evolving into a more conscious and holistic practice. It’s no longer just about aesthetics or functionality; it’s about creating experiences that resonate emotionally, ethically, and environmentally. The future of design lies in its ability to tell meaningful stories, foster human connection, and promote sustainability. As we move forward, I believe design will continue to be a powerful tool for positive change, shaping not only our environments but also our behaviors and perspectives.

I don't want to lie about this but besides university I have not had any exhibitions. My website and instagram platform are my exhibitions and spaces where I connect with people.

Honestly my inspiration comes from life itself; from nature, emotions, silence, and stories. I’m constantly moved by the raw beauty of the natural world: light filtering through trees, the rhythm of the sea, the texture of stone. Nature teaches me balance, imperfection, and presence. All the answers are already there for the ones that knows how to listen. I also draw from my own personal journey like every experience, feeling, or encounter becomes part of my creative language. And most of all, I’m inspired by people. Their stories, their energy, their needs. I love observing how someone moves through space, what makes them feel safe, alive, or seen. I love talking to people about their experiences, their views and I have always something to learn from everyone so I try to listen as much as I can. To stay creatively open, I feed my soul with movement, travel, solitude, dancing, music, and moments of stillness. I don’t seek inspiration but more like I let it come to me when I’m fully present and listening. When I force something it never works so I try to move with the flow and let it come when it should be.

My design style is calm, minimal, and nature-inspired. I don’t like using too many colors in the main structures; I prefer soft, natural tones that create a sense of peace and timelessness. I believe the architecture should be quiet, allowing life, art, and emotion to speak. When something's shape is bold than the colour needs to be subtle. I like to balance within what I want to pop out and drag the user's focus there. When there are too many things going at once I feel like the space or the design looses its spark and importance. I like to bring in color and energy through elements that can evolve and change over time, like art, plants, textiles, and objects. Things that can shift as I change or grow or when I get bored. This keeps the space alive and personal. What drew me to this style is my need for clarity, silence, and depth; both in life and in design. I’m not interested in over-designing or following trends. I’m interested in creating spaces that breathe, that feel grounded, and that allow people to just be instead of proving something. My approach is always emotional first! I listen, I sense, I simplify. Then I shape something that holds space for the soul. I like to look into details, how materials come together or how one space joins to each other. Details and connections are key!

I live in Istanbul, Turkey. It's a country rich with cultural layers, contrasts, and emotion. Growing up here has definitely shaped my sensitivity to texture, light, and storytelling. There’s a deep emotional rhythm in this land from ancient architecture to the chaos of everyday life and that rhythm often flows into my work. I’m especially drawn to the timeless beauty of natural materials and handmade details, which are deeply rooted in Anatolian culture. I think this heritage taught me to value what feels real and lasting, not just what looks new or polished. The challenge, though, is working in a fast-paced, often unconscious construction culture, where emotional intelligence in design is still rare, and short-term thinking often overshadows soul-driven work. But that’s also what fuels my mission: to offer an alternative, to remind people of the emotional and environmental impact design can have. Living here has taught me resilience, depth, and how to design with both history and hope in mind. But I am more into conscious construction and design therefore moving to Copenhagen for my work in less than a month.

When I work with companies, I treat the process like a partnership instead of a transaction. I start by deeply listening: to their story, their values, their challenges, and their vision. I try to understand not just what they want to build, but what they want people to feel and their ideology as a company and their values. Whether it’s a spatial design or creative direction, I approach each project with empathy, clarity, and intention. I guide them through a process that’s emotional, strategic, and grounded. I am always focused on creating meaningful impact, not just visual results. I also value honesty and alignment. I only take on collaborations where there’s mutual respect and a shared desire to create consciously — for people, for the brand, and for the planet and environment.

My biggest suggestion is: don’t just look at the portfolio but instead feel the person and their story behind it. A good designer isn’t just someone who makes beautiful things, but someone who can understand your vision, guide you emotionally and practically, and translate your story into something meaningful. Also they need to be structured and motivated to work and they need to love their profession. Choose a designer who listens deeply, asks the right questions, and challenges you when needed. Not one who simply agrees but look for someone who fights for their views. Look for someone whose values align with yours, who designs with intention, and who treats the process as a collaboration, not a service. And once you find that designer, you should trust them. The best work comes when there’s mutual respect and space for creativity. Be open, be honest, and let the process evolve organically.

My process is intuitive and emotional. It often feels like taking two steps forward and ten steps back and doing this forward and backward until the design fulfills me in which it will fulfill the client and its surrounding. I am constantly reflecting, refining, and reconnecting with the essence of the project. It’s not linear, but it always leads to something honest and meaningful in the end.

- The sofa in the living room. It actually reflects everything about the family and the house in my eyes. - Mirrors - Door details + feeling of them. How it opens, locks, closes etc. - Bed pillows - Staircase

I wake up every day at 6:00 am and start with my lemon water and just sitting outside for 10-15 minutes. Then I do morning workout to wake my body up; sometimes just 10 minutes, sometimes longer, depending on how I feel. By 8:45, I’m at my laptop, usually focused on emails, writing, or calculations until around 13:00. At lunch, I recharge by going horse riding or taking a walk in nature, then enjoy a slow meal and a good coffee before returning to work. My afternoons are usually quieter, and I often leave the more creative tasks for my afternoons like concept work, moodboards, or design development, for the evening, when the world is softer and my thoughts are freer. That said, my schedule flows with my mood. I honor my energy, so no two days are exactly the same and I like it that way. I love working on creative stuff when the world is quieter so really early in the mornings or after actual work times in the day.

Protect your sensitivity I would say and your creativity, it’s your superpower. Don’t rush to fit in or follow trends. Instead, slow down, listen deeply, and design from emotion, not ego. Leave your egos behind. You have something to learn from everyone on this planet. Stay curious. Ask questions. Observe life. Design isn’t about perfection but it’s about presence. Let your work reflect who you are, not just what you’ve learned. Be brave enough to say no to projects that don’t align with your values. Your energy is precious — only give it to things that truly matter. And remember: the most powerful designs are often the quietest ones. They don’t scream; they feel.

One of the greatest positives is being able to touch lives I would say, to create spaces or experiences that make people feel something, that support them emotionally, and that leave a quiet impact. Design allows us to tell stories, to heal, to shift perceptions and that’s incredibly powerful. But the challenge is that it’s deeply emotional work and a lot of discipline. You carry a lot, the client’s needs, your own vision, the responsibility to do better for the planet and for people. Sometimes it’s hard to protect your energy or stay inspired in a world that often values speed over meaning. It’s a constant balancing act between intuition and structure, creativity and limits; but that’s also what makes it so meaningful.

Design from emotion, not ego. If it doesn’t feel honest, it doesn’t belong. Every choice should serve the soul of the space, the story, and the person on a deeper level, not just the surface.

Patience — because meaningful design takes time to reveal itself. Curiosity — to keep learning, questioning, and exploring new perspectives. Observation — the ability to notice the quiet details others miss, and translate them into something meaningful. Listener Empathy

My toolbox is a mix of intuition and technology. I always start with hand sketching and moodboarding. It helps me connect emotionally to the project before anything digital begins. For software, I use tools like AutoCAD, SketchUp, and Adobe Suite (especially Photoshop and InDesign) for visualization and development. I also use Lightroom and Premiere for creative direction and storytelling work. Beyond that, my true sources of inspiration are books, nature, music, art, and people. I read stories, study materials, observe shadows, collect feelings. My camera, sketchbook, and sometimes even long walks are essential tools because they help me see, feel, and capture what I can later turn into design.

This is where discipline is key! I try to manage my time and structure my day with balance so doing focused tasks like emails and technical work in the morning, and leaving creative work for later when I’m more fluid and intuitive. I also break my day with movement like horse riding, walking, or just stepping away for a moment of stillness. It helps me reset and return with clarity. That said, I’ve learned not to force creativity into a rigid schedule. Design isn’t linear, and sometimes taking a step back is more productive than pushing through. I manage my time by respecting both the process and my own pace.

It’s hard to define with a fixed timeline. My process is emotional and layere; sometimes it moves quickly, and other times it needs space to breathe. I believe good design can’t be rushed. It unfolds when it’s ready, and I trust that rhythm. It also depends on the scale, depth, and emotional complexity of the project. Sometimes it flows in a few days, and other times it takes weeks or even months of reflection, revision, and quiet thinking.

People often ask me, “Can you make it look beautiful?” and I always smile, because for me, beauty is never just on the surface. Or they show me a pinterest photo saying I want this but it is a render that cannot work and needs details.

My most important job experience was the first time a client told me, “This space feels like it understands me.” It wasn’t the biggest project, but it was the moment I realized the true power of emotional design. That experience shaped everything for me, it confirmed that my role isn’t just to create beautiful spaces, but to listen, reflect, and hold people through design. It gave me confidence to trust my intuition and lean into the kind of work that feels meaningful. Since then, every project has been a continuation of that; using design to connect, to heal, and to make people feel seen.

I’ve worked with a mix of private clients, small businesses, and creative entrepreneurs. Rather than big-name clients, I’m drawn to collaborations where there’s trust, openness, and a shared desire to create something meaningful.

I enjoy the kind of design work that tells a story; where I can blend emotion, space, and intention into something that touches people on a deeper level. Whether it’s a home, a retreat, or a creative concept, I love when the work feels alive; when it holds meaning and awakens something in the user. I’m especially drawn to projects that allow freedom, trust, and collaboration, where the client is open to exploring beyond trends and into truth. That’s when design becomes more than function and it becomes transformation. Because of this I love writing scenarious and doing creative direction as well as doing street interventions and installations. Radical arts + critical architecture!

I’m moving to Copenhagen. It's a city where I feel my kind of work is more understood and valued. The pace, the mindset, and the respect for nature, craft, and emotional design all align deeply with who I am and what I want to create. This next chapter is about expansion for me, continuing to design with soul, while collaborating internationally and growing my studio in a way that feels aligned and purposeful. I’m open to what comes, as long as it’s honest, human, and rooted in meaning.

I do both but I love working as a team. I believe design gets stronger when there are multiple perspectives involved. Sometimes someone else sees what I can’t, or offers an idea that expands the entire vision. Or in a meeting they understood or felt the client differently than me and I learn from them also. I’m very open in that way! I enjoy honest conversations, creative exchange, and co-creating with people who share the same sensitivity and purpose. Collaboration, for me, isn’t about compromising but it’s about growing the idea together.

Yes! I’m currently working on a few deeply personal and emotionally driven projects, including a space that blends nature, retreat, and storytelling. Each one is still unfolding, so I like to keep them protected while in progress. But what excites me most is the direction they’re moving in. They are more aligned with who I am now: conscious, poetic, and emotionally connected design that creates real impact. I don't see my work as my work, I see it as a part of my life and my self!

The best way to reach me is by email. I check it constantly and always try to respond with care. It’s the most direct and personal way to connect with me about projects, collaborations, or just to start a conversation.

Just a gentle reminder that design is not only about how things look — it’s about how they feel. I believe we need more sensitivity in the world of design; more honesty, more emotion, and more connection to nature and to ourselves. We need to keep in mind to do everything consciously and thinking about the impact we are creating or leaving behind. If my work can remind even one person to slow down, to feel more deeply, or to see beauty in a new way then I know I’m doing what I’m here to do.

I’ve been working professionally in the design and architecture field since 2016, after completing my studies at Central Saint Martins and University of the Arts London, where I focused on Industrial Design, Spatial Design, and earned my BA in Architecture. Since then, I’ve had the opportunity to work across a range of sectors from boutique residential projects to industrial-scale offices, always guided by a deep commitment to emotionally intelligent, human-centered, and nature-connected design. One of my most meaningful projects to date has been Eurobump Unfold, a multifunctional workspace within a car part factory, where I transformed a rigid industrial space into a flexible, story-driven environment. Beyond architecture, I also work in creative direction, blending design with storytelling, movement, and atmosphere to create experiences rather than just spaces. My studio practice is grounded in empathy, research, and the belief that design is a powerful tool for transformation both emotional and spatial.

Becoming a designer was never a calculated decision, it was something that naturally unfolded. From a very young age, I was drawn to movement, art, music, and creating things with my hands. I was always in dance classes, sketching, shaping spaces in my mind, or rearranging objects to feel “right.” Design, for me, was never about appearance but it was about feeling. There wasn’t a single person who pushed me into design, it was more of an internal drive to create spaces and experiences that could touch people, offer comfort, and hold stories. I was always aware of how environments affect emotions, and I knew I wanted to use that sensitivity to do good, to make people feel understood through space. That path led me to study at Central Saint Martins and University of the Arts London, where I explored Industrial Design, Spatial Design, and finally completed my BA in Architecture. After graduating in 2017, I started working professionally but I quickly realized I wanted to design beyond function, and instead focus on emotionally intelligent, story-driven spaces that support well-being and connection. Design became my language. It’s how I express what words can’t and how I quietly try to change the world around me.

There are three core priorities I always carry into every project: 1.Listening deeply — to the user, the space, and the emotion behind the brief. 2.Storytelling — every design must hold a narrative that people can feel, not just see. 3.Empathy-driven functionality — the space should serve people emotionally and physically without forcing them into rigid behavior. I always begin with listening, observation and reflection. Whether it’s an interior, an installation, or a creative direction piece, I try to sense the unseen first and what the client or context is trying to say but can’t yet express. I use both hands and digital tools in my process. I sketch, write, build small mock-ups when needed, and then develop the concept further using CAD, SketchUp, V-Ray, and Adobe Suite for visuals. But even with technology, I never let it dictate the soul of the design, it simply helps me communicate it. A calm, natural, minimal aesthetic runs through my work, often softened with art, plants, and textures that bring life and movement. I don’t chase trends, I design for emotional longevity.

When I’m designing, I feel all emotions that are pure and aligned with my heart. There’s a sense of presence, a deep connection to something beyond logic and that’s what makes the process so fulfilling for me. The most exciting phase is often the beginning, when the idea is just forming; fragile, intuitive, and full of possibility. Creating moodboards to reflect the feeling you want to achieve is also my favorite part I would say. But I also love the unfolding journey, where the concept takes shape through layers of decisions, challenges, and discoveries. Designing gives me a feeling of clarity, purpose, and joy. It’s like translating emotion into form. I love the quiet moments when something just “clicks,” and I realize I’ve created a space or experience that will touch someone, even in a subtle way. That’s where the real pleasure lies - in knowing the design has meaning, and not just function.

Many of the qualities that shaped me as a designer have nothing to do with technical design skills. I would say the most important ones are: •Empathy — I’ve always been highly sensitive to energy, people, and spaces. This helps me listen deeply and create designs that respond not just to needs, but to emotions. •Observation — I notice subtle details others often overlook — body language, light shifts, atmosphere — and that awareness finds its way into how I shape space and experience. •Intuition and storytelling — My ability to feel and imagine deeply has helped me create spaces that hold layers of meaning and feeling, not just function. My background in dance, music, and movement also plays a big role. These practices taught me how to feel rhythm, flow, and tension, which directly inform how I compose space. The biggest influence on my design work has been life itself I would say; nature, people I’ve met, places I’ve lived, and the emotional landscapes I’ve traveled through. My journey has been about learning to trust my sensitivity as a strength, and shaping a design language that is honest, quiet, and human.

My growth path is about deepening, not expanding for the sake of scale. I want to keep creating spaces and experiences that are emotionally intelligent, intuitive, and connected to nature. Whether it’s through architecture, creative direction, or installations, my focus is on impact over noise and work that truly touches people, changes their views or perception about something or just leaves them with a different view. I’m now moving my studio to Copenhagen, where I believe my way of designing — slow, meaningful, and conscious — will be more valued. I hope to collaborate with people and brands who care about story, sustainability, and soul. My dream design project is to create a retreat space in nature, a place where people can reconnect with themselves through environment, silence, and beauty. I also dream of working on public installations or street interventions that challenge how we relate to space emotionally, not just visually. In the future, I want to be remembered as a designer who designed with feeling. Someone who helped people see differently, breathe differently, and feel at home in the spaces around them. I want to show and remind people that we spend over 80% of our lives under a roof and the spaces we live in shape our entire emotional reality. You feel in a way in a space and yet most people don’t realize why they are feeling in that way in that space...

My biggest advice is: don’t lose your truth trying to fit in. In the early years, it’s easy to get caught up in what’s trending or what clients expect but your strength lies in what only you can see and feel. Also, be patient. Success is not a straight line. I’ve made mistakes, even lost money on projects but each experience shaped me. Don’t rush the process; take the time to understand yourself and what you really want to say through your work. Learn to observe deeply, not just aesthetically but emotionally. How spaces affect people, what’s missing, what could be felt more. Stay curious. Ask questions. Talk to people outside your field. Read. Travel. Be open to learning from everyone! Even a stranger on the street can teach you something about space and energy. One of the best pieces of advice I received was: “Don’t design for approval. Design with presence.” That changed everything for me. And finally and most importantly; trust your intuition. The design world is loud, but your inner compass knows the way.

Stay honest in your process with yourself, with your clients, and with your intention. It’s easy to fall into patterns of designing for trends, approval, or aesthetics alone, but true success comes when your work is anchored in meaning and aligned with your values. One of the most important things I’ve learned is that how you listen matters as much as how you create. Whether it’s a client brief or a material you’re working with, listen to the essence behind it not just the surface. Avoid over-designing. Let spaces breathe. Let your concept rest and evolve before rushing to finalize it. Simplicity, when done with depth, can speak louder than complexity. And remember: your energy is felt in your work. If you are disconnected, overworked, or chasing something that doesn’t align with you, the design will reflect that. Take care of your inner world because that’s where your true design power comes from. Lastly, don’t be afraid to challenge systems, ask better questions, and design to shift perspectives. The world doesn’t need more noise - it needs designers who dare to create meaning.

I start every morning early, usually around 6:00 AM. I begin with a glass of lemon water, some movement and sometimes a short workout, sometimes a long walk and just to wake up my body and clear my mind. By 8:45, I’m at my laptop and ready to dive into work. Mornings are when I handle the more structured tasks like emails, project coordination, budgeting, or technical drawings. I try to leave creative work like concepts, writing, or visuals for the evenings or late afternoons, when my emotional energy is at its peak. Midday, I take a break to connect with nature. Whether it’s horse riding, walking outdoors, or grabbing a coffee. That reset is essential for me. I need space to feel inspired, even in the middle of a business day. Little things that lift me like a good song, light shifting through the room, an unexpected client message that shows something clicked. I stay closely tuned to energy and mood throughout the day. My routine is consistent, but my creativity flows best when I let it move naturally.

I stay aware of design trends, but I don’t follow them in a literal or seasonal way. I believe in designing with depth and longevity, not for what’s considered “in” at the moment. Trends can be inspiring and they show what people are craving emotionally or culturally but they shouldn’t dictate the soul of a design. I do a lot of research in materials and technologies that are new and unique. My work is rooted in emotional storytelling, human behavior, and nature. I prefer to let those lead the process, rather than fitting into a visual trend. I’d rather create something that feels timeless, personal, and alive, something that can evolve over time with the user, instead of becoming outdated. When I do look for inspiration, it’s not from trend forecasts or design blogs, it’s from life itself: a movement, a texture, a piece of music, or a silent moment in nature. That’s the kind of influence that never goes out of style.

For me, good design is defined by how deeply it touches people emotionally, functionally, and visually. It’s not just about how something looks, but how it feels, how it works, and how it respects its context and user. When I look at a space or product and immediately sense that it’s thoughtful, intuitive, and alive with purpose, that’s when I know it’s well-designed. It should feel like it belongs to the people using it, to the environment it’s in, and to the moment it’s made for. Good design solves a problem without noise. It supports without overwhelming. It leaves room for life to happen. The common mistake I see is designing for appearance or trends without understanding the emotional or spatial needs behind it. Design isn’t decoration, it’s a form of communication and care. If it moves people, supports them, and makes something quietly better then that’s good design to me.

I don’t think a design is ever truly finished, it just reaches a point where it feels honest, aligned, and able to stand on its own. There’s always something you could tweak, add, or rethink. But for me, the moment I know it’s ready is when nothing feels forced anymore and when the design is calm, resolved, and every part has a reason to exist. It’s more of a feeling than a rule, a quiet sense of “this is enough.” I listen closely to my intuition, but I also ask: – Does it serve the user with clarity and care? – Does it tell the story it was meant to tell? – Would I want to inhabit this space or interact with this object again and again? Once those answers are yes, and the energy of the design feels settled, I know it’s time to let go and move on. But I always carry the lessons forward because every design evolves you, even after it’s built.

While I’ve had the chance to design impactful, built spaces like Eurobump Unfold, which reshaped how a factory office could feel I believe my biggest work is still in the making. It’s a concept project that I’ve been quietly developing, centered around one deep question: “How can I build trust?” It’s not just about space or form, it’s about emotion, human connection, and rethinking how design can facilitate transformation and how we can build trust into a tangible form! This project will eventually launch as part of a larger initiative I’m building — a brand and platform called Trust Exchange. It’s a side project for now, but one I hold very close. It’s the most personal and visionary thing I’ve ever worked on. I’ll share the full details when the time is right but what makes this project so special is that it’s not just design for the eye, it’s design for healing, dialogue, and reconnection. That, to me, is the future of meaningful design.

I deeply admire Peter Zumthor, not just for his architecture, but for the stillness and soul in his work. He designs spaces that don’t scream, but whisper something eternal. His sensitivity to atmosphere, material, and human experience resonates so closely with my own values. I also admire Tadao Ando, Hiroshi Sambuichi, and Shigeru Ban. Each of them brings a kind of poetic discipline to design. They create silence, light, structure, and flow in a way that feels more like meditation than construction. If I could speak to a single designer from the past, I would love to talk with Bruno Munari. His curiosity, his multi-disciplinary mind, and his ability to turn simplicity into wonder are something I find incredibly inspiring. For me, the most impactful designers are the ones who don’t just build, but make people feel differently and more connected, more alive, more human.

I live a life that’s deeply connected to nature, movement, and emotion. I start my days early, carve space for horse riding, walking, or simply breathing in silence. Music is always around me, it’s not just a background, it’s a companion to my creative process. It helps me shift energy, access feeling, and move ideas through me more freely. I’m currently based in Turkey, but transitioning my life and studio to Copenhagen, where I feel my approach to design - slow, intuitive, human-centered - is more valued. Still, my Turkish culture stays with me. It taught me about contrasts; chaos and calm, tradition and change and I carry that into my designs, always seeking balance and honesty. I am also half German and that's where my discipline and waking up early comes from I believe. Good design, to me, is how we soften the world. It helps us move through life more gently. In my own life, design has taught me to observe more, own less, and feel deeper. Even the smallest decisions and like how light enters my home, or how a space invites stillness and shape how I move through the day. Design, lifestyle, and culture are never separate for me, they are one quiet, evolving story.

I run my studio with a soul-first approach. Whether I’m working solo or collaborating, I value honesty, presence, and deep listening. My work culture is built on trust, freedom, and the belief that good energy creates good design. I love working in collaboration, especially with people who bring different perspectives or see what I might miss. I’m very open in that way and I believe co-designing makes the final outcome more layered and human. I regularly collaborate with stylists, engineers, artisans, and other creatives whose energy I respect. What I look for in team members or partners is emotional intelligence, curiosity, and the ability to observe. Technical skills can be taught but the sensitivity to read space, context, and people is something deeper. My responsibilities range from creative direction to design strategy, from client listening to hands-on execution. But what can’t be forgotten is that at the heart of it all, my job is to hold space for ideas, for people, and for transformation. The core challenge of this profession is staying true to your vision while navigating practical constraints and client expectations. But if you’re aligned with your purpose, the challenges become part of the beauty. A good designer, in my view, must be patient, observant, emotionally aware, and willing to keep learning not just about design, but about life itself. Leave your egos behind and design for soul!

For me, design has always been a tool for healing, connection, and awakening. So giving back isn’t just an extra, it’s woven into how I work. I believe deeply in using design to raise awareness, shift perspectives, and support well-being, especially in environments where people often feel overlooked, like industrial settings, public spaces, or emotionally disconnected offices. I’ve taken on pro bono projects when the purpose aligned especially for nonprofit causes or individuals doing meaningful work without resources. I also mentor young designers informally, guiding those who are sensitive and purpose-driven but still finding their voice in this loud industry. I believe artists, designers, and architects should absolutely be involved in humanitarian projects. We are not here just to make things look beautiful. We’re here to reimagine systems, amplify truth, and care for people in visible and invisible ways. We are here to reshape the society and the world around us! We have the power to do that. Good design, to me, is a form of quiet activism. And I will always use it to contribute, uplift, and create change, however I can.

Participating in the A’ Design Award was an incredibly affirming and expansive experience for me. It gave my work a global platform to be seen, understood, and celebrated. Three main benefits I’ve felt as a designer: 1.Visibility – My work reached audiences and professionals I wouldn’t have connected with otherwise. It opened doors internationally, which is so important for independent designers like me. 2.Validation – Not in an ego sense, but in knowing that something I created from such a heartfelt place resonated on a larger scale. 3.Momentum – The recognition gave me a sense of creative trust in myself, and it helped strengthen the story I tell through my studio and future projects. I think design competitions like this are relevant because they encourage designers to refine their voice, not just their visuals. They create a space for reflection, exposure, and creative bravery. Being selected as Designer of the Day was deeply meaningful. It reminded me that quiet, emotionally rooted design has a place in the world and that even in an industrial workspace, empathy and imagination matter.

I studied at Central Saint Martins and University of the Arts London, where I built a strong foundation in spatial thinking and design. My journey began with a foundation degree in Industrial and Product Design (2013–2014), followed by a year of Spatial Design (2014–2015), and then I completed my BA in Architecture at Central Saint Martins (2015–2018). While my education gave me the technical grounding, my design approach has always been led by emotion, storytelling, and intuition. I see design not just as a discipline, but as a way of sensing the world; a tool for creating spaces and experiences that are honest, human, and connected to nature. That mix of formal training and soul-driven perspective has shaped everything I do today.

I became a designer because I feel things deeply and I needed a way to translate that emotion into something physical, something that could be shared. Design became my language. It’s how I tell stories, ask questions, create meaning, and hold space for others. I believe design as a language to improve to our society, change their behaviour or change their inner world. What motivates me is the possibility of touching someone of creating something that shifts their perspective, supports them emotionally, or reconnects them with what really matters. I’m not interested in surface-level beauty. I design to make people feel. For me, design is both a responsibility and a gift. It allows me to shape the world more consciously and that keeps me inspired every day.

I didn’t choose it in the traditional sense but it was more like it chose me. Designing, creating, being creative, feeling space... It’s always been a part of how I move through the world. I never imagined doing anything else, because nothing else made me feel as alive or as connected. No one forced me. But at times, I did feel the pressure to fit into what others thought design should look like. It took time to unlearn that and return to what design truly means for me: emotional, intuitive, healing, and deeply human. So in the end, it was always mine but I just had to claim it on my own terms.

I design spaces, stories, and experiences. My work moves between architecture, interiors, and creative direction, but what connects it all is a desire to touch people deeply. I’m especially drawn to designing installations, street interventions, and immersive experiences. Projects that exist in public space, invite interaction, and shift perception. I want to create work that makes people pause, feel something, or see the world differently, even just for a moment. I also love creative direction; shaping the mood, the story, the atmosphere. In the future, I want to work more on emotionally driven, nature-connected, and socially conscious experiences that live outside traditional boundaries.

First of all, thank you but I don’t see myself as a legend. I see myself as someone who creates from the heart, and I think that’s where young designers should begin too. My advice? Stay true to your sensitivity. Don’t rush to impress. Don’t chase trends. Instead, listen more. Observe more. Feel more. Design from emotion, not ego! That’s where the real power is. Also, protect your curiosity. Ask why things are the way they are. Question everything. And most importantly, design with intention; not just to make things beautiful, but to make them meaningful. That’s how you create work that lasts; not just in form, but in feeling.

A good designer can make something look beautiful. But a great designer listens deeply; to the client, the surroundings, the emotion behind the brief. It’s about how well they empathize, how carefully they observe, and how honestly they characterize what they’re designing for. Great design isn’t about the designer but it’s about the ability to reflect the essence of others through space, story, and feeling.

A really good design goes beyond aesthetics, it just feels right. It fits its surroundings, reflects the user’s soul, and quietly improves their life. I evaluate good design by how deeply it touches someone. Does it solve a real need? Does it create peace, clarity, or inspiration? If it resonates emotionally and functions effortlessly, then to me, it’s truly good design.

Good design shapes how we feel, how we live, and how we connect. It's often done without us even realizing it. It creates environments that support our well-being, inspire us, and bring clarity to our everyday lives. Investing in good design isn’t about luxury but it’s about intention. When design is done with care, it can shift our mindset, our mood, even our behavior. That’s the true value: quiet transformation that lasts.

I would design a quiet place in nature; a space for healing, reflection, and reconnection. Something raw, simple, and deeply emotional. Not to impress, but to hold. And I would design it for those who feel deeply, the ones who are often overwhelmed by the world, who crave silence, who need space to breathe, feel, and come back to themselves. It would be less about form, more about feeling; a place that simply says, “You’re safe here and you can be yourself here without any judgement.”

My dream project is to create a retreat space in nature; a place where architecture, emotion, and stillness exist in harmony. Somewhere people can disconnect from the noise, reconnect with themselves, and experience the healing power of space, light, and silence. It would blend architecture, art, movement, and nature. A living, breathing project that touches people not just physically, but spiritually. A place that invites transformation, just by being in it. It’s still forming — but I know it’s coming.

Emotion!!!! I design from feeling; not from ego, not from trends. I listen deeply, I observe quietly, and I let the story guide the form. My secret is empathy I would say. Understanding not just what someone wants, but what they truly need on a soul level. That’s where the magic is. When you design from that place, the rest follows.

I’m deeply inspired by architects like Peter Zumthor, Tadao Ando, Hiroshi Sambuichi, and Shigeru Ban. Their work is rooted in sensitivity, silence, and purpose. They design with restraint, with reverence for nature, light, and material. Their spaces aren’t just seen, they’re felt. I admire how they create atmosphere and presence without needing to say too much. That kind of emotional intelligence in design is what inspires me most.

One of my favorite works is Peter Zumthor’s Therme Vals. It’s not just a building - it’s an experience. The way it uses light, stone, silence, and rhythm creates a space that holds you without needing to explain itself. It’s deeply emotional, sensory, and timeless. I also love Tadao Ando’s Church of the Light — the simplicity, the power of contrast, the spiritual quietness it evokes. And Shigeru Ban’s paper structures, for their humility and humanitarian soul. They all remind me that good design doesn’t need to be loud — it just needs to be honest. What I admire most in these works is how they feel alive — they breathe, they listen, and they stay with you long after you leave.

One of my greatest designs isn’t the biggest or most visible but it’s the one where the client cried when they entered the space. It was a quiet, nature-connected project where every decision was made with emotion, memory, and presence in mind. What makes it great to me is that it felt like them. It wasn’t just a space but it was a reflection of their story, their energy, their healing. That moment reminded me why I design: not to impress, but to touch. To me, greatness in design is when the space disappears and all that’s left is feeling; peace, connection, clarity.

To become a better designer, you have to first become a better observer I believe. Better observer of people, of nature, of yourself. It’s not just about learning tools or techniques. It’s about learning how to feel, how to listen, and how to stay curious. What helped me most was protecting my sensitivity. I stopped trying to design to please others, and instead started designing from emotion and intuition. I also spent a lot of time in silence, in nature, and with myself — asking why I wanted to design in the first place. My advice: slow down. Question everything. Design with purpose, not pressure. And never stop evolving and changing; both as a designer, and as a human.

I would still become a designer I think, in one form or another. It’s not a job for me, it’s who I am. Even if I wasn’t doing it professionally, I’d still be creating, observing, shaping, and telling stories through space, light, and feeling. It’s not something I chose - it’s something I am.

Design, for me, is a language of emotion. It’s how we translate energy into form, memory into space, and silence into experience. It’s not just about how things look — it’s about how they feel. Design is storytelling. It’s listening, observing, and shaping something that reflects both the visible and the invisible. It’s a tool for healing, awakening, and reconnecting with ourselves, with others, and with nature. For me, design is not decoration. It’s truth, made tangible.

Nature and life itself. Every experience — the joy, the heartbreak, the silence, the movement — has shaped me. Nature has been my greatest teacher, always reminding me to slow down, listen, and stay honest. Best design is to find in nature, it always flows and work in harmony with each other. I’ve learned more from stillness, storms, and seasons than from any person or book.