I’ve learned something unexpected as a designer: every project begins long before the first sketch. It begins with a story someone is trying to tell — sometimes clearly, sometimes in fragments. My job is to chase those fragments, shape them, and give them a visual home.
People assume designers live inside Photoshop and Figma. But honestly? I live in conversations. I listen to founders who speak too fast because their ideas are bigger than their words. I listen to clients who don’t know what they want yet, only what they don’t want. I listen to users who express frustration in ways they can’t fully articulate. Hidden inside all of this is the design.
I once worked with a client who said, “I want the logo to feel like standing near the ocean at night.” Strange? Yes. But also thrilling. Because design becomes magic when it translates feelings into visuals.
That’s the part I love most — the moment when a vague emotion finds its shape.
Not everything is romantic, of course. There are endless revision rounds, mismatched expectations, and the classic client feedback:
“Can you make it more… design-y?”
(Whatever that means.)
But there’s also something deeply human about this work. I’m constantly learning about industries I’ve never touched — crypto, hospitality, skincare, robotics, fitness. Every field has its own energy, and for a short time, I get to live inside it.
Design has made me more observant, too. I catch color palettes in sunsets, layouts in street signs, and typography errors in menus that absolutely no one else notices. My brain never switches off — and I don’t mind.
Because at the end of every project, when someone looks at the final design and says, “Yes… that’s exactly what I meant,” it’s worth every late night, every failed concept, and every file named “new_final_realfinal_v27”.
Design isn’t just about visuals.
It’s about empathy, storytelling, and shaping how people experience the world.
And honestly? I can’t imagine doing anything else.