Interviews with Tamás Fekete
Designer profileDesign Legend Interview
8 October 2025
I started studying Industrial Design in 2012 at the Moholy-Nagy University of Art and Design in Budapest, where I completed both my Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees. During my studies, I spent half a year at Philips in Amsterdam as a product design intern, learning how product development works in a structured, corporate environment. After finishing my master’s, I worked in design agencies and as a freelancer, gaining hands-on experience across a wide range of projects. During this time, I worked both as an industrial and graphic designer, which became a valuable complementary skill in my career.
A few years later, I moved from Hungary to the Netherlands and joined an agency as a Senior Industrial Designer, focusing on soft goods and accessories for major tech brands such as Nikon and Logitech. There, I designed fabric-based products like backpacks, protective cases, and other accessories, developing strong expertise in materials, CMF, and production coordination with factories.
In 2022, I founded Openend Design, offering product design and development services, and began working independently with clients around the world. Since then, I’ve developed several award-winning products, including Chalk Tyme and Subkayak D46.
A few years later, I moved from Hungary to the Netherlands and joined an agency as a Senior Industrial Designer, focusing on soft goods and accessories for major tech brands such as Nikon and Logitech. There, I designed fabric-based products like backpacks, protective cases, and other accessories, developing strong expertise in materials, CMF, and production coordination with factories.
In 2022, I founded Openend Design, offering product design and development services, and began working independently with clients around the world. Since then, I’ve developed several award-winning products, including Chalk Tyme and Subkayak D46.
What motivates me most is that moment when an idea becomes real, when you create something that didn’t exist before and it turns out to be both beautiful and useful. That feeling never gets old. Designing feels natural to me, almost instinctive. I’ve always had this urge to create, to draw, build, and solve problems just for the joy of seeing things come to life.
As a child, I made models out of paper and plasticine, trying to understand how things were built. That curiosity never left. Becoming a designer was my way of turning all those interests — art, storytelling, engineering, technology, and innovation — into one ecosystem where I could keep learning and creating endlessly.
Objects have a deep influence on how we feel and live. They shape our mood, our comfort, and our connection to the world. Knowing that something I design can quietly improve someone’s day is what keeps me motivated. Design gives me the chance to leave a small but meaningful mark on the world.
As a child, I made models out of paper and plasticine, trying to understand how things were built. That curiosity never left. Becoming a designer was my way of turning all those interests — art, storytelling, engineering, technology, and innovation — into one ecosystem where I could keep learning and creating endlessly.
Objects have a deep influence on how we feel and live. They shape our mood, our comfort, and our connection to the world. Knowing that something I design can quietly improve someone’s day is what keeps me motivated. Design gives me the chance to leave a small but meaningful mark on the world.
I chose it completely on my own. At the end of high school, I set my mind on becoming a designer and never really looked back. Once I discovered what design was, it felt like a clear direction, something that connected everything I enjoyed doing. From that point, every decision I made was aligned with that goal.
Along the way, my interests evolved. In the beginning, I wanted to become a car designer, that was the dream. But as I studied more, I became fascinated by the broader world of product design. Everyday objects offered endless possibilities for creativity and problem-solving. The more I learned, the more I realized that design isn’t one fixed path; it’s a mindset that can grow and adapt.
Along the way, my interests evolved. In the beginning, I wanted to become a car designer, that was the dream. But as I studied more, I became fascinated by the broader world of product design. Everyday objects offered endless possibilities for creativity and problem-solving. The more I learned, the more I realized that design isn’t one fixed path; it’s a mindset that can grow and adapt.
Over the years, I’ve designed a wide range of products, each with its own challenges and character. I’ve worked on sports equipment like racing kayaks, innovative pair of scissors, water bottles, and many more across a lot of categories. I’ve designed everyday consumer products as well as tech products with integrated electronics. My work also includes decorative objects and concept pieces that blend technology and craftsmanship. I’ve collaborated with inventors to help shape and refine patented products, from household tools to sports gear.
For several years, I specialised in fabric-based product design, creating backpacks, camera accessories, and other soft goods for global brands.
What I’d love to design more of are products with strong, dynamic aesthetics — objects that have emotional impact and presence. I’m especially drawn to boats and watercraft; they’re such beautiful objects where form, performance, and emotion come together perfectly. I’d be genuinely passionate to work on more of those.
For several years, I specialised in fabric-based product design, creating backpacks, camera accessories, and other soft goods for global brands.
What I’d love to design more of are products with strong, dynamic aesthetics — objects that have emotional impact and presence. I’m especially drawn to boats and watercraft; they’re such beautiful objects where form, performance, and emotion come together perfectly. I’d be genuinely passionate to work on more of those.
Stay curious and open-minded. Opportunities often show up in unexpected ways, and the best ones usually don’t look perfect at first. Say yes, try things, and learn from them, even the small or difficult projects can teach you something valuable.
Be patient. Design takes time. It takes years to build your eye, your skill, and your intuition. There will be slow periods and setbacks, but they’re all part of it. Just keep improving, keep creating, and hold on to that excitement that made you want to design in the first place.
Becoming a good designer takes a lot of patience and practice. It doesn’t happen overnight, and there’s no clear moment when you can say you’ve “made it.” Don’t chase the next shiny thing, focus on what you’ve already started and what you’re good at. Surround yourself with people you can learn from, and stay consistent. That’s how your work and mindset will naturally evolve.
Be patient. Design takes time. It takes years to build your eye, your skill, and your intuition. There will be slow periods and setbacks, but they’re all part of it. Just keep improving, keep creating, and hold on to that excitement that made you want to design in the first place.
Becoming a good designer takes a lot of patience and practice. It doesn’t happen overnight, and there’s no clear moment when you can say you’ve “made it.” Don’t chase the next shiny thing, focus on what you’ve already started and what you’re good at. Surround yourself with people you can learn from, and stay consistent. That’s how your work and mindset will naturally evolve.
A great designer thinks in more dimensions. They connect dots that most people don’t even see, drawing links between disciplines, ideas, and experiences, and turning that complexity into something clear and effortless.
It’s not just about making something beautiful or functional, but about combining both with intelligent problem-solving and invention. A great designer can take insights from completely unrelated fields and translate them into something extraordinary. It’s this ability to think deeply, to merge creativity with logic, and to simplify the complex that truly sets them apart.
Just as important, a great designer truly understands the target user — their pain points, wants, and needs — and keeps that at the center of every decision.
It’s not just about making something beautiful or functional, but about combining both with intelligent problem-solving and invention. A great designer can take insights from completely unrelated fields and translate them into something extraordinary. It’s this ability to think deeply, to merge creativity with logic, and to simplify the complex that truly sets them apart.
Just as important, a great designer truly understands the target user — their pain points, wants, and needs — and keeps that at the center of every decision.
For me, good design works on multiple levels. It’s not just about how it looks, but about depth, meaning, and intention. It should make sense, feel right, and ideally, make you feel something too.
A strong design also surprises me. It might be crafted so precisely that you can’t immediately tell how it was made, or it challenges your expectations in a clever way. But good design isn’t only about creativity — it’s also about answering the needs of the business behind it. Designing something that works commercially, that people actually buy and use, is often the hardest part.
Beyond aesthetics, I value craftsmanship, quality, and how well a design solves the problem it’s meant to — not just functionally, but also in terms of production, cost, and market success. When a design manages to balance emotion, intelligence, and commercial sense, that’s when I consider it truly great.
A strong design also surprises me. It might be crafted so precisely that you can’t immediately tell how it was made, or it challenges your expectations in a clever way. But good design isn’t only about creativity — it’s also about answering the needs of the business behind it. Designing something that works commercially, that people actually buy and use, is often the hardest part.
Beyond aesthetics, I value craftsmanship, quality, and how well a design solves the problem it’s meant to — not just functionally, but also in terms of production, cost, and market success. When a design manages to balance emotion, intelligence, and commercial sense, that’s when I consider it truly great.
Good design sells. To put it bluntly, it’s as simple as that. It creates emotion, desire, and trust in ways that price alone never can. The way something looks, feels, and communicates its purpose has a direct effect on how people connect with it.
There are countless objects, interiors, and products in the world, but only a few truly stand out — the ones that make you feel something, that you remember, or that you keep choosing again and again. The power of good design is that it resonates emotionally and adds value that goes far beyond function.
Good design can also make existing solutions better — more efficient, easier to produce, and often cheaper — with clear benefits for both the business and the user. For businesses, it increases perceived value and helps products succeed in crowded markets.
There are countless objects, interiors, and products in the world, but only a few truly stand out — the ones that make you feel something, that you remember, or that you keep choosing again and again. The power of good design is that it resonates emotionally and adds value that goes far beyond function.
Good design can also make existing solutions better — more efficient, easier to produce, and often cheaper — with clear benefits for both the business and the user. For businesses, it increases perceived value and helps products succeed in crowded markets.
That’s a difficult question because my curiosity constantly shifts. I’m not the type who dreams of one specific project for years; I get inspired when the right challenge appears. When that happens, I immediately know what I want to dive into, and I make the time for it.
Before I designed my first kayak, I wasn’t even focused on that type of product, but I had the skills to take it on and make something unique. The same happened with soft goods — I never imagined I’d be designing backpacks and accessories, but once I did, I became completely fascinated by that world.
That’s why I prefer to keep this question open. Each project brings a new direction and a new kind of excitement. I’d rather stay curious, adaptable, and ready for whatever opportunity truly sparks something in me.
Before I designed my first kayak, I wasn’t even focused on that type of product, but I had the skills to take it on and make something unique. The same happened with soft goods — I never imagined I’d be designing backpacks and accessories, but once I did, I became completely fascinated by that world.
That’s why I prefer to keep this question open. Each project brings a new direction and a new kind of excitement. I’d rather stay curious, adaptable, and ready for whatever opportunity truly sparks something in me.
I’d like to create and launch a product under my own brand one day — something where I can shape the process from concept to final story. After years of designing for clients, it would be meaningful to apply that experience to something more personal and long-term.
I’m especially drawn to interior and lifestyle design, the kind of objects that make a home feel better to live in. I like creating things that quietly influence the atmosphere and make everyday moments feel a little more special.
I’m especially drawn to interior and lifestyle design, the kind of objects that make a home feel better to live in. I like creating things that quietly influence the atmosphere and make everyday moments feel a little more special.
If I tell you, it wouldn’t really be a secret anymore, right?
For me, a big part of it is patience, resilience, and not giving up when things get difficult. I tend to stick with projects longer than most and have this quiet optimism that even if it’s tough now, it will turn out fine in the end. I trust that instinct, and it’s proven right more often than not.
Once I start something, I keep pushing, sometimes well past the point where others would stop. That persistence has opened doors and led to results I wouldn’t have reached otherwise.
Another part of it is how I connect skills. I’m always learning, experimenting, and refining. Over time that compounds, and you start seeing links between areas that seem unrelated. That’s often where my best ideas come from — connecting dots others might not notice.
And finally, aesthetics. For me, the right form and proportions are very important. Even the most functional design loses its soul if it feels off visually. I try to give every object an organic, sculpted quality, something that feels balanced, natural, and emotionally triggering. That’s what makes the design alive when you look at it.
For me, a big part of it is patience, resilience, and not giving up when things get difficult. I tend to stick with projects longer than most and have this quiet optimism that even if it’s tough now, it will turn out fine in the end. I trust that instinct, and it’s proven right more often than not.
Once I start something, I keep pushing, sometimes well past the point where others would stop. That persistence has opened doors and led to results I wouldn’t have reached otherwise.
Another part of it is how I connect skills. I’m always learning, experimenting, and refining. Over time that compounds, and you start seeing links between areas that seem unrelated. That’s often where my best ideas come from — connecting dots others might not notice.
And finally, aesthetics. For me, the right form and proportions are very important. Even the most functional design loses its soul if it feels off visually. I try to give every object an organic, sculpted quality, something that feels balanced, natural, and emotionally triggering. That’s what makes the design alive when you look at it.
I’d say the Subkayak D46 is the design I’m most proud of so far. It brought together everything I’ve learned: technical precision, aesthetics, and hands-on process. I led the entire project from 3D scanning and reverse-engineering the client’s handmade prototype to reshaping the surfaces, adjusting proportions, and refining every curve through A-class modeling. It was a mix of sculpting and engineering, which is exactly what I enjoy most.
The kayak has a strong two-part look, with a central core wrapped by an outer shell that gives it a clear identity and a sense of motion even when it’s still. I also integrated customizable 3D-printed parts, which made production more efficient and opened options for personalisation. I’m really proud of how it turned out.
The kayak has a strong two-part look, with a central core wrapped by an outer shell that gives it a clear identity and a sense of motion even when it’s still. I also integrated customizable 3D-printed parts, which made production more efficient and opened options for personalisation. I’m really proud of how it turned out.
I think the best thing any designer can do is to never stop learning. I’m naturally curious, and that curiosity has shaped my path more than anything else. I try to stay open to many disciplines — architecture, gastronomy, art, and design from all over the world. You can always find unexpected connections between fields, and those often lead to the most original ideas.
I also believe in trying new things while constantly refining what you already know. Experimentation gives you fresh perspectives, but deep practice gives you mastery. The balance between the two is where real growth happens.
Another key part is understanding human emotions and the connection between people and the objects they use. Every detail matters — how it feels, how it looks, how it communicates. Figuring these things out requires empathy. A good designer always keeps the user in mind and designs for their needs, not just for the sake of form.
For me, staying curious, being open-minded, and designing with empathy are the things that keep me evolving as a designer. Once you stop exploring or stop caring about how people connect with your work, your designs lose their purpose.
I also believe in trying new things while constantly refining what you already know. Experimentation gives you fresh perspectives, but deep practice gives you mastery. The balance between the two is where real growth happens.
Another key part is understanding human emotions and the connection between people and the objects they use. Every detail matters — how it feels, how it looks, how it communicates. Figuring these things out requires empathy. A good designer always keeps the user in mind and designs for their needs, not just for the sake of form.
For me, staying curious, being open-minded, and designing with empathy are the things that keep me evolving as a designer. Once you stop exploring or stop caring about how people connect with your work, your designs lose their purpose.
That’s an interesting question. Before I decided to study product design, I was very interested in media — especially video creation and editing. I always enjoyed storytelling through visuals, so I could easily imagine myself working in that field.
Outside of design and the creative world, I’d probably be an entrepreneur in hospitality. Both my parents ran a restaurant for 30 years, and that place was like a second home to me. I grew up around that environment and I really liked it, so if I hadn’t chosen design, I’d most likely have followed that path.
Outside of design and the creative world, I’d probably be an entrepreneur in hospitality. Both my parents ran a restaurant for 30 years, and that place was like a second home to me. I grew up around that environment and I really liked it, so if I hadn’t chosen design, I’d most likely have followed that path.
That’s always a difficult question, because my definition of design keeps evolving as I gain more experience. The word “design” is used so broadly today that it can mean almost anything, but for me, it’s the balance between emotion, function, and aesthetics.
Design is about shaping how people experience the world. It’s not only about how something looks or works, but how it makes you feel when you use it. A well-designed object has a kind of harmony. it solves a problem, while it carries a personality and resonates emotionally with the use. For me, design is the process of translating ideas, emotions, and needs into something physical that improves life, even in a subtle way.
Design is about shaping how people experience the world. It’s not only about how something looks or works, but how it makes you feel when you use it. A well-designed object has a kind of harmony. it solves a problem, while it carries a personality and resonates emotionally with the use. For me, design is the process of translating ideas, emotions, and needs into something physical that improves life, even in a subtle way.
In the beginning of my studies, my parents were very supportive. They never doubted my path or tried to steer me in another direction. They just let me be myself and explore what I was interested in.
Later, my wife became my biggest supporter. She’s been by my side through every high and low, encouraging me when things get tough and celebrating the wins just as much as I do. Having people who truly believe in you — not just in your work, but in who you are — makes all the difference.
Later, my wife became my biggest supporter. She’s been by my side through every high and low, encouraging me when things get tough and celebrating the wins just as much as I do. Having people who truly believe in you — not just in your work, but in who you are — makes all the difference.
I was lucky to be surrounded by talented and clever people who shaped me into the designer I am today. Early on, teachers, mentors, and friends played a huge role in helping me grow, and later I learned a lot from colleagues and design leaders with more experience. Being around people who challenged me made all the difference.
What also helped was constantly stepping out of my comfort zone. Many of my best projects started with uncertainty with situations where I wasn’t sure how things would turn out, but I trusted my instincts and went for it anyway. I’ve realised that I seem to have a relatively high tolerance for risk and uncertainty, which helped me jump into the unknown and eventually come out with a lot of new experience and knowledge. That mindset has pushed me to grow and discover new sides of design I wouldn’t have reached otherwise.
I’ve also learned to stay open to criticism and look at my work with a critical eye. That mindset helps me see where I can improve, and then actually do it. I don’t like to stagnate, so continuous learning and refining my approach have always been important to me. Those habits, combined with curiosity and persistence, are what keep me evolving as a designer for more than a decade now.
What also helped was constantly stepping out of my comfort zone. Many of my best projects started with uncertainty with situations where I wasn’t sure how things would turn out, but I trusted my instincts and went for it anyway. I’ve realised that I seem to have a relatively high tolerance for risk and uncertainty, which helped me jump into the unknown and eventually come out with a lot of new experience and knowledge. That mindset has pushed me to grow and discover new sides of design I wouldn’t have reached otherwise.
I’ve also learned to stay open to criticism and look at my work with a critical eye. That mindset helps me see where I can improve, and then actually do it. I don’t like to stagnate, so continuous learning and refining my approach have always been important to me. Those habits, combined with curiosity and persistence, are what keep me evolving as a designer for more than a decade now.
One of the first big challenges was getting into university. The design program I applied for was extremely competitive, with only a handful of places available each year. I had to build new skills to reach the required level. That period taught me discipline and patience, qualities that became fundamental later on.
Breaking into the industry after graduation was another difficult step. In Hungary at the time, there weren’t many design studios or open positions, so I started freelancing early on to work on industrial design projects. It was uncertain and unpredictable, but it gave me a wide range of experience working with different agencies and designers. That independence helped me learn how to adapt fast and find my own direction.
Another obstacle was learning to balance creative freedom with commercial expectations, and to handle rejection without taking it personally. In the beginning, that was tough, but as my portfolio grew and my experience solidified, I learned to separate feedback from self-worth.
Later, the challenges changed, acquiring clients, managing deadlines, and delivering consistent quality became the new focus. Those experiences taught me to look at design not only as a creative pursuit but as a business as well. Understanding that balance has probably been one of the most valuable lessons in my career.
Breaking into the industry after graduation was another difficult step. In Hungary at the time, there weren’t many design studios or open positions, so I started freelancing early on to work on industrial design projects. It was uncertain and unpredictable, but it gave me a wide range of experience working with different agencies and designers. That independence helped me learn how to adapt fast and find my own direction.
Another obstacle was learning to balance creative freedom with commercial expectations, and to handle rejection without taking it personally. In the beginning, that was tough, but as my portfolio grew and my experience solidified, I learned to separate feedback from self-worth.
Later, the challenges changed, acquiring clients, managing deadlines, and delivering consistent quality became the new focus. Those experiences taught me to look at design not only as a creative pursuit but as a business as well. Understanding that balance has probably been one of the most valuable lessons in my career.
I think design should be presented as a story, not just a collection of images. People connect better when they understand the thinking behind what they see — the problem, the process, and the intention. A good presentation guides the viewer through that journey in a clear and engaging way. Every image, sketch, or render should communicate a purpose, not just fill space.
Just as important, a good presentation should show the impact the design created. Whether it improved the user experience, solved a problem, or added value for a business, showing real results helps people understand why the design matters.
Just as important, a good presentation should show the impact the design created. Whether it improved the user experience, solved a problem, or added value for a business, showing real results helps people understand why the design matters.
With my company, Openend Design, I’ll continue collaborating on exciting projects. I enjoy working with brands who are passionate about creating meaningful, well-crafted products, and I want to keep building long-term collaborations that allow great ideas to grow into successful products.
In parallel, I’m developing my own product line — something I’ve wanted to pursue for a long time. I’m especially drawn to objects that shape the atmosphere of a space, that add warmth, texture, and emotion to interiors. This direction feels like a natural extension of my design philosophy, and I’m excited to bring these pieces to life in the near future.
In parallel, I’m developing my own product line — something I’ve wanted to pursue for a long time. I’m especially drawn to objects that shape the atmosphere of a space, that add warmth, texture, and emotion to interiors. This direction feels like a natural extension of my design philosophy, and I’m excited to bring these pieces to life in the near future.
My ultimate goal is to create products that improve everyday life. I want people to feel something when they use the object I design, comfort, happiness, or a small moment of joy.
If my work can quietly make life a little better or more beautiful, that’s the goal. Another part of it is the joy of invention itself. I love the process of solving problems in new ways finding ideas or mechanisms that didn’t exist before but offer a clear, simple answer to a real need. That moment when something clicks and works beautifully is what keeps me motivated to keep creating.
If my work can quietly make life a little better or more beautiful, that’s the goal. Another part of it is the joy of invention itself. I love the process of solving problems in new ways finding ideas or mechanisms that didn’t exist before but offer a clear, simple answer to a real need. That moment when something clicks and works beautifully is what keeps me motivated to keep creating.
People usually expect clarity and direction, someone who can take their idea and turn it into something real without overcomplicating things. They want designs that feel fresh and original but still make sense in a practical way.
Clients also expect you to understand their goals, not just make something look nice. The best projects happen when there’s real collaboration and trust on both sides. I try to keep the process simple, transparent, and enjoyable to work through together.
Clients also expect you to understand their goals, not just make something look nice. The best projects happen when there’s real collaboration and trust on both sides. I try to keep the process simple, transparent, and enjoyable to work through together.
There are many ways but at its core, design aims to move things in a positive direction. It’s about improving how we interact with the world — whether that’s through a better tool, a smoother process, or simply a more pleasant everyday experience.
Good design removes friction. It makes tasks easier, systems clearer, and interactions between people more enjoyable. Even something as simple as improving how we use a product or service can quietly raise the quality of life.
But I also believe these improvements are often small and incremental. They don’t always create an immediate, visible impact. It’s usually with time that we look back and realize how a certain design made things better, easier, or more human. That’s what makes design powerful — it’s a series of small, thoughtful steps that gradually shape a better society.
Good design removes friction. It makes tasks easier, systems clearer, and interactions between people more enjoyable. Even something as simple as improving how we use a product or service can quietly raise the quality of life.
But I also believe these improvements are often small and incremental. They don’t always create an immediate, visible impact. It’s usually with time that we look back and realize how a certain design made things better, easier, or more human. That’s what makes design powerful — it’s a series of small, thoughtful steps that gradually shape a better society.
I’m currently working on several projects that explore new ways to improve everyday experiences through design. Some are client collaborations, while others are self-initiated concepts I’m developing in my studio.
I’m also working on a few personal projects, which gives me complete creative freedom. A big part of my work involves experimenting with 3D printing, both as a design tool and as a production method. It’s an exciting phase where exploration and refinement come together, and I’m really enjoying that process right now.
I’m also working on a few personal projects, which gives me complete creative freedom. A big part of my work involves experimenting with 3D printing, both as a design tool and as a production method. It’s an exciting phase where exploration and refinement come together, and I’m really enjoying that process right now.
The projects that gave me the most satisfaction are the ones that actually made it to the market. There is something special about seeing people use what you have designed because it makes the whole process feel complete. Designing for production is much harder than just creating concepts, but that is what makes it satisfying. It forces you to solve real problems, deal with constraints, and still make something beautiful and functional.
My product Vector Scissors was one of the most challenging and rewarding ones. It started from an idea to improve how scissors cut and turned into a full venture to bring it to ready for mass production. That process taught me a lot about design, manufacturing, and business along the journey.
The D46 kayak was another highlight. Knowing that athletes use it every day to train and race, and that they connect with it emotionally, is an incredible feeling.
In general, I really enjoy projects where I can spend enough time refining proportions and form. That is where a product’s character really comes to life. When the geometry, balance, and surface transitions start to feel right, you just know it is going to catch people’s attention. That moment is one of the most satisfying parts of my work.
My product Vector Scissors was one of the most challenging and rewarding ones. It started from an idea to improve how scissors cut and turned into a full venture to bring it to ready for mass production. That process taught me a lot about design, manufacturing, and business along the journey.
The D46 kayak was another highlight. Knowing that athletes use it every day to train and race, and that they connect with it emotionally, is an incredible feeling.
In general, I really enjoy projects where I can spend enough time refining proportions and form. That is where a product’s character really comes to life. When the geometry, balance, and surface transitions start to feel right, you just know it is going to catch people’s attention. That moment is one of the most satisfying parts of my work.
I think design is going through one of its biggest shifts in decades. We’ve never had this much access to high-quality tools, resources, and inspiration. The overall quality of design is rising globally, and a big part of that comes from the rapid integration of AI.
AI has changed how designers work almost overnight. I believe the future of design will rely less on technical execution and more on human judgment. Designers will need stronger skills in taste, curation, and direction — the ability to filter ideas, frame them meaningfully, and connect with the human side of a product even more deeply.
From a technical point of view, design will become faster and more accessible. But the role of the designer is changing. We’re shifting from being creators to interpreters, from makers to meaning-builders. That’s both the challenge and the opportunity ahead of us.
AI has changed how designers work almost overnight. I believe the future of design will rely less on technical execution and more on human judgment. Designers will need stronger skills in taste, curation, and direction — the ability to filter ideas, frame them meaningfully, and connect with the human side of a product even more deeply.
From a technical point of view, design will become faster and more accessible. But the role of the designer is changing. We’re shifting from being creators to interpreters, from makers to meaning-builders. That’s both the challenge and the opportunity ahead of us.
It really depends on the project and the level of depth it requires. Every design process is different. Some projects move quickly because the goals are clear and well-defined, while others need more exploration, testing, and refinement before reaching the right result.
In general, I try to adapt to the available time. Design is flexible, and there are many ways to solve a challenge, but quality always takes focus and iteration. The more time there is to explore, the more refined and complete the outcome becomes.
In my experience, there is a stage where it is absolutely worth spending more time on a project to answer all the important questions properly and reach real depth. But it is just as important to recognise when to stop. Design is open-ended by nature, and perfection does not really exist. Knowing when a design is right enough is part of the craft.
In general, I try to adapt to the available time. Design is flexible, and there are many ways to solve a challenge, but quality always takes focus and iteration. The more time there is to explore, the more refined and complete the outcome becomes.
In my experience, there is a stage where it is absolutely worth spending more time on a project to answer all the important questions properly and reach real depth. But it is just as important to recognise when to stop. Design is open-ended by nature, and perfection does not really exist. Knowing when a design is right enough is part of the craft.
I almost always start by understanding my client’s needs in depth. Often, the most important aspects are business-related — things like time to market, production constraints, and key objectives. A good discovery session at the beginning is essential because it becomes the foundation for everything that follows. I like to start from the expected outcome and plan backward from there.
Then I study the product category I am designing for. I look at what already exists, what works well, what does not, and where there is room for something better. This helps me identify real opportunities instead of just adding another product to the mix.
For me, the project can only start once I feel there is enough clarity and understanding of the needs. That point of clarity is what gives direction and confidence to the entire design process.
Then I study the product category I am designing for. I look at what already exists, what works well, what does not, and where there is room for something better. This helps me identify real opportunities instead of just adding another product to the mix.
For me, the project can only start once I feel there is enough clarity and understanding of the needs. That point of clarity is what gives direction and confidence to the entire design process.
I think in most cases, trends set the direction for design. Moods, materials, shapes, textures, and colors change constantly, often influenced by pop culture, films, technology, trend reports and fairs. These shifts affect how people and designers see the world, and naturally, they translate into design.
But there are rare exceptions when a new design sets a trend. That usually happens when something truly different appears — something that feels fresh and unexpected and not following any previous trends.
But there are rare exceptions when a new design sets a trend. That usually happens when something truly different appears — something that feels fresh and unexpected and not following any previous trends.
Technology is critical in design. It’s what turns an idea into something that actually works. Without the right technology, a design often stays just a concept. For me, it’s a key factor in shaping how an object is developed and refined down to its details.
New technologies also open new opportunities. I’m always looking for tools and methods that allow better execution or smarter solutions. One of the biggest impacts for me personally has been 3D printing. It changed the way I design and test ideas, and it also transformed how quickly products can move from prototype to market.
Better technology leads to better tools, and better tools make better design possible.
New technologies also open new opportunities. I’m always looking for tools and methods that allow better execution or smarter solutions. One of the biggest impacts for me personally has been 3D printing. It changed the way I design and test ideas, and it also transformed how quickly products can move from prototype to market.
Better technology leads to better tools, and better tools make better design possible.
I start most of my ideas with pen and paper or sketching on my iPad using Procreate and the Apple Pencil. That’s my go-to setup for quick concept development. For 3D work, I use Rhino and Fusion 360 for modeling and CAD. For visualisation and rendering, I use KeyShot, and I also integrate AI tools like Midjourney and Vizcom to explore directions and generate variations quickly.
For graphics and presentation materials, I work with Adobe Photoshop, Illustrator, and InDesign. On the prototyping side, I use multiple FDM 3D printers, which are essential in my process for testing proportions, functionality, and real-world usability.
For graphics and presentation materials, I work with Adobe Photoshop, Illustrator, and InDesign. On the prototyping side, I use multiple FDM 3D printers, which are essential in my process for testing proportions, functionality, and real-world usability.
They are among the most important aspects of design because they define how a product feels and how people connect to it. Color, material, and ambience set the mood the user experiences when interacting with an object.
All these tactile and visual elements shape perception. Colors carry both subconscious and cultural meanings, so what feels calm or premium in one context might mean something completely different in another. Materials and textures, on the other hand, affect how pleasant or uncomfortable an interaction feels.
When these elements work together in harmony, they create a product that feels right. And it feels right because those decisions were made thoughtfully during the design process.
All these tactile and visual elements shape perception. Colors carry both subconscious and cultural meanings, so what feels calm or premium in one context might mean something completely different in another. Materials and textures, on the other hand, affect how pleasant or uncomfortable an interaction feels.
When these elements work together in harmony, they create a product that feels right. And it feels right because those decisions were made thoughtfully during the design process.
I’d like if people asked more about the process instead of just the result. Every design goes through hundreds of decisions, trials, and adjustments before it finally feels right, and that invisible work is often what makes the final product successful. Knowing the full story behind a design would put the end result in a completely different perspective, it would make people appreciate it differently.
When I see a great design, I always wonder how the idea came to life and what led the designer to make certain decisions. I start thinking about the process behind it — the challenges, iterations, and reasoning that shaped the final result. There is always a story behind good design, and I find that story just as fascinating as the object itself.
Absolutely, I believe in co-design. The best results often come from good collaboration.
For me, an ideal design partner is someone who aims to be on the same level for the sake of the project. It is not about who has the better idea, but how we can create a great product together. They should challenge me, but also be open to feedback and improvement when needed.
A good partner is flexible with workload because it is rarely an even split, and having a similar sense of taste and aesthetics helps a lot. Without that shared visual direction, decision-making can become difficult, especially in design. Most importantly, they should have a collaborative and proactive spirit, not waiting for the other person to take the first step.
For me, an ideal design partner is someone who aims to be on the same level for the sake of the project. It is not about who has the better idea, but how we can create a great product together. They should challenge me, but also be open to feedback and improvement when needed.
A good partner is flexible with workload because it is rarely an even split, and having a similar sense of taste and aesthetics helps a lot. Without that shared visual direction, decision-making can become difficult, especially in design. Most importantly, they should have a collaborative and proactive spirit, not waiting for the other person to take the first step.
Different people influenced me at different stages of my career. My teachers gave me a strong foundation and taught me how to think critically about form and function. Later, working with colleagues and mentors helped me see design from new angles and understand the value of collaboration and also the business side of design. Many of my clients also had a big impact. Their feedback, knowledge, and ambitions constantly remind me that design is about solving real problems for real people. All of these interactions shaped how I approach my work today.
The Design of Everyday Things by Don Norman had a big impact on me. It was one of the first times I read about design from a scientific and psychological point of view. It helped me understand how much design is connected to human behaviour and how small decisions can completely change the user experience.
I developed my skills mostly through tutorials, courses, and a lot of self-experimentation. I’ve always learned best by doing, so I like to test things myself and figure out how they work in practice.
A big part of my growth also came from incremental improvement during projects. Each task usually brings something new I need to solve, and figuring out those solutions on the go teaches me just as much as any course could.
A big part of my growth also came from incremental improvement during projects. Each task usually brings something new I need to solve, and figuring out those solutions on the go teaches me just as much as any course could.
Leonardo da Vinci is the first one that comes to mind. He was curious about everything — art, science, mechanics, anatomy — and somehow managed to connect it all. Even though he was from a very different era, I’d like to just talk with him about how he saw the world and where his ideas came from, and how he managed to do all the things he did.
I’m very pleased and proud of the recognition I’ve received. It’s a great feeling when your work gets noticed and appreciated by others. At the same time, I don’t let it get to my head. I haven’t really changed because of it, and I wouldn’t say I feel “famous.” I still approach my work the same way.
Not at all. As a kid, I spent most of my time drawing, building models, playing with LEGO and so on, but I did it purely for fun. I loved the act of creating more than the final result. People often told me I should do something with my talent, but I was unsure how. I didn’t even know design was a real profession until the end of high school. When I finally discovered it, everything clicked. It suddenly made sense that all the things I enjoyed, drawing, building, problem-solving could actually come together into one path.
With how fast things are changing? I’d already be happy to know what the world looks like ten years from now. Whatever it is, it’ll probably be something we can’t even imagine today.
I’m always open to meeting new people and exploring collaborations. If you’d like to get to know me or see more of my work, feel free to visit my website or connect with me on LinkedIn. And if you’re interested in working together, I’d be happy to chat and see how we can help each other out.
Designer Interview
15 June 2025
Since I was very young, I was interested in drawing, building and assembling, and understanding how objects work. I used to spend hours sketching cars, planes, machines, and scenes from movies and games, copying images with pencil. No one taught me how, I figure things out for myself. But back then, I didn’t know that design as a profession existed.
That changed in the last year of high school. I stumbled across an article about a university program that offered car design, and something in me just clicked. Like discovering the word for something you’ve felt your whole life. I suddenly realized that all the things I loved doing, drawing, building, thinking in shapes and mechanics could actually become a profession. It felt like finding a door that had always been there, but I had never known to look for it.
I decided to apply to Moholy-Nagy University of Art and Design in Budapest, but I wasn’t ready. My drawing skills were strong, but they were rooted in replicating still images, not creating. I had to start from scratch, not just to sketch differently, but to think differently. I spent months rebuilding my portfolio, learning design thinking, and adapting my approach. Eventually, I was accepted and went on to complete both my Bachelor's and Master’s degrees there.
At first, my dream was to design cars. But over time, my focus shifted. I became more interested in the kinds of objects people use every day, tools, products, ideas that quietly improve someone’s experience without needing to shout. That evolution gave my work a new sense of purpose: not just to create something beautiful, but to make something meaningful.
So no, I didn’t always want to be a designer. But once I found out what design was, there was no going back. It gave me the words, the tools, and the path I had been unconsciously walking all along.
That changed in the last year of high school. I stumbled across an article about a university program that offered car design, and something in me just clicked. Like discovering the word for something you’ve felt your whole life. I suddenly realized that all the things I loved doing, drawing, building, thinking in shapes and mechanics could actually become a profession. It felt like finding a door that had always been there, but I had never known to look for it.
I decided to apply to Moholy-Nagy University of Art and Design in Budapest, but I wasn’t ready. My drawing skills were strong, but they were rooted in replicating still images, not creating. I had to start from scratch, not just to sketch differently, but to think differently. I spent months rebuilding my portfolio, learning design thinking, and adapting my approach. Eventually, I was accepted and went on to complete both my Bachelor's and Master’s degrees there.
At first, my dream was to design cars. But over time, my focus shifted. I became more interested in the kinds of objects people use every day, tools, products, ideas that quietly improve someone’s experience without needing to shout. That evolution gave my work a new sense of purpose: not just to create something beautiful, but to make something meaningful.
So no, I didn’t always want to be a designer. But once I found out what design was, there was no going back. It gave me the words, the tools, and the path I had been unconsciously walking all along.
Openend Design is an independent industrial design studio based between Budapest and Rotterdam, helping startups, inventors, and consumer brands develop physical products, from idea to production. The studio offers end-to-end services including industrial design, prototyping, 3D printing, branding, packaging, and visual communication.
The studio specializes in creating products that are not only functional and manufacturable but also emotionally engaging, using form, material, and storytelling to connect with users. A strong focus on design semiotics helps shape visual identities through shape, proportion, color, and finish.
Openend Design is particularly suited for clients developing patentable solutions, launching e-commerce products, or looking to refine the user experience of their physical tools and devices. Past projects include award-winning accessories, tools, soft goods, and home products currently on the market.
The goal is always to turn ideas into compelling, real-world objects, with clarity, creativity, and purpose.
The studio specializes in creating products that are not only functional and manufacturable but also emotionally engaging, using form, material, and storytelling to connect with users. A strong focus on design semiotics helps shape visual identities through shape, proportion, color, and finish.
Openend Design is particularly suited for clients developing patentable solutions, launching e-commerce products, or looking to refine the user experience of their physical tools and devices. Past projects include award-winning accessories, tools, soft goods, and home products currently on the market.
The goal is always to turn ideas into compelling, real-world objects, with clarity, creativity, and purpose.
For me, design is where function meets emotion, it solves problems, but also speaks to people through form, material, and experience. It’s how objects communicate. It creates emotional clarity without needing to explain itself.
It’s not just about making things work, it’s about making them feel right. The way an object looks, sounds, or rests in your hand, that all tells a story.
It’s not just about making things work, it’s about making them feel right. The way an object looks, sounds, or rests in your hand, that all tells a story.
I enjoy projects that let me shape both the form and the function of a product. I like working on sculpted surfaces , shaping objects with precision and flow. At the same time, I’m drawn to the problem-solving side of design, taking an existing product and making it better, more intuitive, or more elegant. There’s something deeply satisfying about inventing a new solution that feels obvious once it’s in front of you.
One of my favourite designs is a pair of scissors I invented, called Vector. It started as a university project, but I eventually turned it into a real product on my own. The concept came from a simple frustration: cutting straight lines is harder than it should be, even with good scissors. Vector solves this with a guiding mechanism, by pressing the handle against the edge of a table, it helps users cut straighter with ease.
At the time, I didn’t know how to 3D model complex shapes, but I had hand-sculpted the handle in clay and needed to recreate it digitally. That challenge pushed me to teach myself advanced organic surfacing so I could translate my design into a manufacturable model.
What makes this project so meaningful is how much it taught me. I went through every stage myself inventing the mechanism, prototyping, sourcing materials, finding manufacturers for both plastic and metal parts, and learning to negotiate and produce in small batches. It was incredibly difficult at the time, but it gave me a crash course in what it really takes to bring a physical product to life.
That project still influences how I work today. It combined invention, ergonomics, manufacturing, and storytelling all in one small, simple tool that solved a real problem.
At the time, I didn’t know how to 3D model complex shapes, but I had hand-sculpted the handle in clay and needed to recreate it digitally. That challenge pushed me to teach myself advanced organic surfacing so I could translate my design into a manufacturable model.
What makes this project so meaningful is how much it taught me. I went through every stage myself inventing the mechanism, prototyping, sourcing materials, finding manufacturers for both plastic and metal parts, and learning to negotiate and produce in small batches. It was incredibly difficult at the time, but it gave me a crash course in what it really takes to bring a physical product to life.
That project still influences how I work today. It combined invention, ergonomics, manufacturing, and storytelling all in one small, simple tool that solved a real problem.
The first commissioned project I got paid for was designing three different sets of repeating wall tiles, made from cast concrete with various surface coatings. It was for a company developing high-end architectural elements, targeting luxury hotels in Dubai.
It was an exciting first assignment, the tiles had to work both as individual pieces and as a cohesive pattern when installed on large surfaces. That project taught me a lot about modular design, texture, and working within material constraints early in my career.
It was an exciting first assignment, the tiles had to work both as individual pieces and as a cohesive pattern when installed on large surfaces. That project taught me a lot about modular design, texture, and working within material constraints early in my career.
My favorite technology is 3D printing — especially FDM and SLS. As a designer, I find it incredibly powerful because it gives me full control over form, iteration, and execution. I use it extensively for prototyping, but also increasingly for producing end-user products, especially as the technology continues to evolve in quality and surface finish.
For some reason, my deepest focus and most creative energy often shows up between midnight and 3:00 a.m. There is something about this part of the night that helps me tune everything else out and fully drop into focus. Even if I wasn’t productive during the day, that time somehow unlocks everything. I usually try to avoid working at night, but whenever I’ve stayed up late, it’s consistently been the most focused and productive stretch.
That said, I don’t rely on a specific time to be creative. Over the years, I’ve learned to switch into that mindset in many situations, especially when I’m already deep into a project and the momentum carries me forward.
That said, I don’t rely on a specific time to be creative. Over the years, I’ve learned to switch into that mindset in many situations, especially when I’m already deep into a project and the momentum carries me forward.
I focus on balancing two core things: solving the underlying problem and creating a product that feels high-quality through its form and aesthetics. I care a lot about how something works but also how it looks, how it feels in the hand, and how clearly it communicates its purpose.
That said, I always adapt my focus depending on the project. Some require more functional invention and others need emotional storytelling or a strong visual identity. But across all of them, I try to maintain a sense of clarity and refinement in the design.
At the same time, I’m always thinking about real-world constraints, especially cost. I consider how a product will be manufactured, what materials make sense, and how to keep the design feasible for production and business. Because in the end, good design isn’t just about the idea it’s about getting it to market successfully, without losing its essence.
That said, I always adapt my focus depending on the project. Some require more functional invention and others need emotional storytelling or a strong visual identity. But across all of them, I try to maintain a sense of clarity and refinement in the design.
At the same time, I’m always thinking about real-world constraints, especially cost. I consider how a product will be manufactured, what materials make sense, and how to keep the design feasible for production and business. Because in the end, good design isn’t just about the idea it’s about getting it to market successfully, without losing its essence.
The closest thing I can compare it to is a sense of exploration, almost like solving a series of unknowns. Every design challenge feels like a new kind of adventure, whether it’s coming up with a product idea from scratch or just figuring out how two surfaces should transition into each other.
There’s excitement in the process, especially when things start to click. Sometimes it’s subtle like choosing the right texture or color, but even those small decisions carry a lot of weight. I enjoy the feeling of being fully absorbed in the work, moving through the uncertainty, and slowly shaping something that didn’t exist before.
There’s excitement in the process, especially when things start to click. Sometimes it’s subtle like choosing the right texture or color, but even those small decisions carry a lot of weight. I enjoy the feeling of being fully absorbed in the work, moving through the uncertainty, and slowly shaping something that didn’t exist before.
It’s a mix of excitement and relief and also pride. Seeing a design come to life is always a big moment, especially after a long and uncertain process. You make so many decisions during development, and you never fully know how it will turn out until it's real. When it works, when the details come together and the product feels right, it’s incredibly rewarding.
But what makes it even more exciting is what comes next. Once the design is out in the world, a new phase begins, how people will perceive it, use it, and respond to it. That’s a different kind of challenge, and the excitement keeps going. Hearing someone’s positive experience with something I designed, that’s one of the most meaningful moments for me.
But what makes it even more exciting is what comes next. Once the design is out in the world, a new phase begins, how people will perceive it, use it, and respond to it. That’s a different kind of challenge, and the excitement keeps going. Hearing someone’s positive experience with something I designed, that’s one of the most meaningful moments for me.
For me a design is successful when it sparks joy, solves a problem in a very natural, almost invisible way. From a more technical point of view, It has to meet the needs of the user and the business. If it’s manufacturable, cost-effective, and makes sense commercially, that’s a success. But I also think a successful design brings something positive to people, whether it makes their life easier, more efficient, or just adds a little joy. In the end, it’s not just about the first impression. It’s whether the product keeps working and stays meaningful over time.
It really depends on the product, every category has its own priorities. But if I had to generalise, I look at two layers: the first impression, and what’s behind it.
The first thing I notice is the aesthetics, the proportions, form, colors materials finishing and overall presence. Good design makes a strong first impression. It’s clear when care has gone into every part the shape, the detailing, the flow. It feels deliberate.
Then I look at how it functions. Does it solve the problem well? Is it doing something in a smart or unexpected way? Is there real depth behind the form?
And finally, I ask what kind of emotion it triggers. A good design makes you feel something whether it’s trust, delight, curiosity, or calm depending on the product’s purpose. If it leaves some kind of emotional impact, that’s usually a very good sign.
When a design balances beauty, usability, smart problem-solving, and emotional presence that’s when it really stands out to me.
The first thing I notice is the aesthetics, the proportions, form, colors materials finishing and overall presence. Good design makes a strong first impression. It’s clear when care has gone into every part the shape, the detailing, the flow. It feels deliberate.
Then I look at how it functions. Does it solve the problem well? Is it doing something in a smart or unexpected way? Is there real depth behind the form?
And finally, I ask what kind of emotion it triggers. A good design makes you feel something whether it’s trust, delight, curiosity, or calm depending on the product’s purpose. If it leaves some kind of emotional impact, that’s usually a very good sign.
When a design balances beauty, usability, smart problem-solving, and emotional presence that’s when it really stands out to me.
As designers, we're not just making objects, we're making choices that affect how people live, what gets produced, and how resources are used. That comes with real responsibility.
Environmentally, I believe we have to be mindful of what we put into the world. Avoiding waste, overproduction, and unnecessary complexity is part of the job. We need to understand materials, manufacturing, and life cycles so our designs make long-term sense.
Socially, I think our role goes beyond function and aesthetics. Designers often have the skillset to connect dots that others don’t even see to understand systems, context, and hidden needs. We should use that to offer solutions that improve everyday life, even in small ways.
In the end, design is a tool for shaping the world around us. Using it with care, awareness, and empathy is part of the responsibility.
Environmentally, I believe we have to be mindful of what we put into the world. Avoiding waste, overproduction, and unnecessary complexity is part of the job. We need to understand materials, manufacturing, and life cycles so our designs make long-term sense.
Socially, I think our role goes beyond function and aesthetics. Designers often have the skillset to connect dots that others don’t even see to understand systems, context, and hidden needs. We should use that to offer solutions that improve everyday life, even in small ways.
In the end, design is a tool for shaping the world around us. Using it with care, awareness, and empathy is part of the responsibility.
I think design is going through one of its biggest shifts in decades. We’ve never had this much access to high-quality resources, tools, and inspiration. The general quality of design is rising globally and part of that is due to the rapid integration of AI.
In my opinion AI has changed the way designers work almost overnight. I think the future of design will rely less on technical execution and more on human judgment. Designers will need to develop stronger skills in taste, curation, and direction, being able to filter, frame, and guide ideas in a meaningful way and to connect to the human aspect of the product even more.
In the future, from technical point of view design will be getting faster, more accessible. But the role of the designer is shifting. We’re moving from creators to interpreters, from makers to meaning-builders. That’s the challenge, and the opportunity.
In my opinion AI has changed the way designers work almost overnight. I think the future of design will rely less on technical execution and more on human judgment. Designers will need to develop stronger skills in taste, curation, and direction, being able to filter, frame, and guide ideas in a meaningful way and to connect to the human aspect of the product even more.
In the future, from technical point of view design will be getting faster, more accessible. But the role of the designer is shifting. We’re moving from creators to interpreters, from makers to meaning-builders. That’s the challenge, and the opportunity.
I haven’t organized a solo exhibition of my work yet, but some of my projects have been featured in group exhibitions. Most recently, a racing kayak I designed was exhibited in 2023 at the Museum of Ethnography (Néprajzi Múzeum) in Budapest, Hungary.
Honestly, it comes from all over the place. I’m constantly observing the world around me. I look at how things are built, how they’re shaped, how they work. Whether it's a tool, a vehicle, or a piece of furniture, I always try to understand the thinking behind it. I pay attention to both the small details and the bigger picture, and I like connecting things that don’t obviously belong together.
Whenever something catches my attention or sparks an idea, I take a photo or save it. Over time, I’ve built up a really diverse, organised library of images and references. That helps me go back later and understand where the idea came from or what I found interesting about it.
I don’t have one exact source. It depends what I’m looking at. If I’m in the Louvre, I’ll study the colors, composition, and how the art makes me feel. If I’m learning about the technical innovations and features of SpaceX’s Starship, I’ll focus on how the parts interact and try to understand the function behind it. Once I figure that out, it usually becomes a reference point I can use later, even unconsciously.
I feed my creativity pretty much all the time. I look at design platforms, magazines, and whatever interesting thing crosses my path. I draw from many different areas, aesthetics, mechanisms, clever ideas and I’ve always been equally interested in art, engineering, and design. I just focus on whatever’s the most interesting thing in front of me at the moment.
Whenever something catches my attention or sparks an idea, I take a photo or save it. Over time, I’ve built up a really diverse, organised library of images and references. That helps me go back later and understand where the idea came from or what I found interesting about it.
I don’t have one exact source. It depends what I’m looking at. If I’m in the Louvre, I’ll study the colors, composition, and how the art makes me feel. If I’m learning about the technical innovations and features of SpaceX’s Starship, I’ll focus on how the parts interact and try to understand the function behind it. Once I figure that out, it usually becomes a reference point I can use later, even unconsciously.
I feed my creativity pretty much all the time. I look at design platforms, magazines, and whatever interesting thing crosses my path. I draw from many different areas, aesthetics, mechanisms, clever ideas and I’ve always been equally interested in art, engineering, and design. I just focus on whatever’s the most interesting thing in front of me at the moment.
I’d describe my style as sculpted, modern, and chic. I lean toward modern minimalism, but I always add something expressive. I use a lot of organic shapes, soft transitions, and dynamic linework. I’m really inspired by the luxury sector, and I often draw from cars, yachts, and architecture when shaping forms. I also try to avoid flat, straight surfaces on my products.
My background in drawing and sculpting had a big impact on this. During my studies, I focused a lot on natural forms, anatomy, and soft transitions. That trained my eye and helped me understand how to create flow in a shape. Later, I pushed myself to replicate that same level of organic quality in 3D, which led me down the rabbit hole of digital surfacing and A-class modeling.
I pay close attention to how light breaks on a surface. It’s a small thing, but it tells you a lot about whether a shape is working or not. That’s something I always think about while designing, how it will feel visually in real space.
I’d say I’m pretty balanced in mixing form and function, but I always try to include one detail that makes the object stand out. It can be something functional, emotional, or purely aesthetic, but it has to be there. I’m not a fan of ultra-minimalist designs that strip away too much. I prefer to keep things interesting and expressive.
In terms of approach, I always come back to emotions. Design should make you feel something. Whether it’s comfort, curiosity, confidence, or calm, I think every object should carry some kind of mood.
My background in drawing and sculpting had a big impact on this. During my studies, I focused a lot on natural forms, anatomy, and soft transitions. That trained my eye and helped me understand how to create flow in a shape. Later, I pushed myself to replicate that same level of organic quality in 3D, which led me down the rabbit hole of digital surfacing and A-class modeling.
I pay close attention to how light breaks on a surface. It’s a small thing, but it tells you a lot about whether a shape is working or not. That’s something I always think about while designing, how it will feel visually in real space.
I’d say I’m pretty balanced in mixing form and function, but I always try to include one detail that makes the object stand out. It can be something functional, emotional, or purely aesthetic, but it has to be there. I’m not a fan of ultra-minimalist designs that strip away too much. I prefer to keep things interesting and expressive.
In terms of approach, I always come back to emotions. Design should make you feel something. Whether it’s comfort, curiosity, confidence, or calm, I think every object should carry some kind of mood.
I was born and raised in Hungary, and I currently live in the Netherlands. Both places shaped me in different ways. Growing up in Hungary gave me a practical mindset being resourceful, finding clever ways to solve things, and that definitely shows in how I approach design. But I wouldn't say Hungary’s cultural heritage directly influenced my design style.
Living in the Netherlands, had a different impact. The design culture is different here and I think more all around wherever you go in the cities, in homes, in products — and that makes it a great place to grow as a designer. You’re surrounded by high standards.
One of the biggest pros is that people here take design seriously. They invest in it, talk about it, and give honest, thoughtful feedback. That’s super helpful. I can’t really think of major cons, it’s a supportive place to work from.
Living in the Netherlands, had a different impact. The design culture is different here and I think more all around wherever you go in the cities, in homes, in products — and that makes it a great place to grow as a designer. You’re surrounded by high standards.
One of the biggest pros is that people here take design seriously. They invest in it, talk about it, and give honest, thoughtful feedback. That’s super helpful. I can’t really think of major cons, it’s a supportive place to work from.
I always start with a long conversation to understand their goals, whether it's solving a technical challenge, launching a product, or improving something that already exists. From there, I tailor my process. Sometimes I help with just the concept and design, other times I handle the full journey, from sketch to 3D prototyping or even preparing for manufacturing. I build trust, pay attention to the details, stay accountable, and always aim to deliver quality work. That usually fosters a strong relationship and leads to great results.
First, get clear on what you want to achieve. If that’s defined, it’s easier to find the right designer. Don’t just look at the style of their portfolio, try to understand how they think. A good designer doesn’t just make things look good. They solve problems, connect dots, and often bring up things the company hasn’t even considered yet.
Have multiple conversations and invest time and energy into these discussions. See how they respond, how they think, and whether there’s a good dynamic. Chemistry matters more than people realize, you’ll be working closely, so trust and mutual respect go a long way.
I’d also suggest approaching the process with an open mind. Design might look effortless in the end, but getting there is rarely easy. It takes real time, skill, and mental energy to be creative on demand and make the right decisions under pressure. So give your designer room to explore, and trust that their suggestions are based on a lot of thought and experience. The more you share, business goals, customer pain points, future plans, the more valuable a designer can be.
Have multiple conversations and invest time and energy into these discussions. See how they respond, how they think, and whether there’s a good dynamic. Chemistry matters more than people realize, you’ll be working closely, so trust and mutual respect go a long way.
I’d also suggest approaching the process with an open mind. Design might look effortless in the end, but getting there is rarely easy. It takes real time, skill, and mental energy to be creative on demand and make the right decisions under pressure. So give your designer room to explore, and trust that their suggestions are based on a lot of thought and experience. The more you share, business goals, customer pain points, future plans, the more valuable a designer can be.
As much as I’d love to have a set formula, my process always adapts to the project. But in general, I follow a clear flow: I start by understanding the mechanism or use-case behind the product , who it’s for, the business constraints, the cost, all of it. That sets the stage.
Then I move into sketching. I usually begin on paper, just to explore ideas fast and visually. Sometimes I bring in AI tools like Midjourney or Vizcom to experiment or push the boundaries, especially early on. After that, I switch into 3D, usually Rhino, Fusion, or Shapr3D to start developing the geometry.
Once the concept takes shape, I render it, visualize the feel, and move into prototyping. I use 3D printing a lot to test form, ergonomics, and function. From there, it's all about iterating, refining, validating the solution, and making adjustments based on feedback or new ideas.
Once it feels right, functionally and emotionally, I finalize the design, prepare all deliverables, and get it ready for production or client handoff.
Then I move into sketching. I usually begin on paper, just to explore ideas fast and visually. Sometimes I bring in AI tools like Midjourney or Vizcom to experiment or push the boundaries, especially early on. After that, I switch into 3D, usually Rhino, Fusion, or Shapr3D to start developing the geometry.
Once the concept takes shape, I render it, visualize the feel, and move into prototyping. I use 3D printing a lot to test form, ergonomics, and function. From there, it's all about iterating, refining, validating the solution, and making adjustments based on feedback or new ideas.
Once it feels right, functionally and emotionally, I finalize the design, prepare all deliverables, and get it ready for production or client handoff.
On a typical weekday, I start with brewing coffee and read something fun, a random article, a weird piece of news, or anything that catches my curiosity. It’s a nice way to wake up the brain without jumping straight into work mode.
Then I map out the day, check if anything needs to shift, and decide where I want to work. Sometimes I stay in my home studio, but often I head to a nice café or a place with a vibe I enjoy, a change of scenery helps me focus.
I usually get a few solid hours of deep work in before lunch. After a proper break to reset my mind, I handle meetings and calls if there are any, and keep progressing on whatever project I’m working on.
Toward the end of the day, I take a few minutes to plan tomorrow, I look at my tasks, adjust the time blocks, and make sure everything is realistic. Then it’s dinner, some downtime, and doing whatever helps me switch off and recharge.
Then I map out the day, check if anything needs to shift, and decide where I want to work. Sometimes I stay in my home studio, but often I head to a nice café or a place with a vibe I enjoy, a change of scenery helps me focus.
I usually get a few solid hours of deep work in before lunch. After a proper break to reset my mind, I handle meetings and calls if there are any, and keep progressing on whatever project I’m working on.
Toward the end of the day, I take a few minutes to plan tomorrow, I look at my tasks, adjust the time blocks, and make sure everything is realistic. Then it’s dinner, some downtime, and doing whatever helps me switch off and recharge.
Try to get real-world experience as soon as you can. School is great for experimenting and developing your thinking, but designing for the market is a different game. There are constraints, budgets, timelines, and users who don’t care about your concept unless it truly works. That kind of pressure teaches you a lot.
Also, avoid perfectionism. I know it feels like a strength, but it’s heavy to carry and usually slows you down. Something finished is always better than something perfect. You’ll learn more by finishing things, getting feedback, and improving over time.
Lastly, always be curious. Learn from everything around you. Look at how things are made, why they exist that way, and what you would do differently. That’s how you start developing your taste and your voice.
Also, avoid perfectionism. I know it feels like a strength, but it’s heavy to carry and usually slows you down. Something finished is always better than something perfect. You’ll learn more by finishing things, getting feedback, and improving over time.
Lastly, always be curious. Learn from everything around you. Look at how things are made, why they exist that way, and what you would do differently. That’s how you start developing your taste and your voice.
Being a designer is often rewarding, you get to solve interesting challenges and turn ideas into something physical people use and love. There's a deep satisfaction in seeing your thinking become reality. I also enjoy how varied it is, every project brings something new, so it never gets boring.
On the flip side, it can be mentally exhausting. We often push ourselves to keep tweaking, perfecting, and exploring different options, sometimes way beyond what’s actually needed. That tendency can easily lead to working excessive hours, and maintaining a good work-life balance becomes a real challenge.
You're also making creative decisions constantly and often within very strict timeframes under pressure, and need to explain your thinking to people who don’t always see the full picture. It’s part of the process, but it can be tough mentally.
Still, despite the challenges, I wouldn’t trade it.
On the flip side, it can be mentally exhausting. We often push ourselves to keep tweaking, perfecting, and exploring different options, sometimes way beyond what’s actually needed. That tendency can easily lead to working excessive hours, and maintaining a good work-life balance becomes a real challenge.
You're also making creative decisions constantly and often within very strict timeframes under pressure, and need to explain your thinking to people who don’t always see the full picture. It’s part of the process, but it can be tough mentally.
Still, despite the challenges, I wouldn’t trade it.
Design is a language. The form, the material, the way light hits a curve, it all communicates something. I believe a product should not only work, but also feel right and say something meaningful. That emotional “click,” that wow, even if small, is what I aim for.
I also believe no design is ever truly finished. There’s always a better way if you’re willing to look for it. That’s what keeps it exciting, the idea that things can always be improved, refined, or seen from a different angle. For me, design is open-ended.
I also believe no design is ever truly finished. There’s always a better way if you’re willing to look for it. That’s what keeps it exciting, the idea that things can always be improved, refined, or seen from a different angle. For me, design is open-ended.
There are many, but for me, it starts with soft skills. Emotional intelligence, empathy, and patience are more important than people think, especially when you’re designing for someone else’s needs, not just your own vision. Being able to really understand others, stay curious, and stick with the problem even when it gets hard, that’s key.
Then comes creativity and imagination plus having good taste, which is harder to teach. You need to know when something feels right, even before you can fully explain why.
And of course, there’s the technical layer: sketching, 3D modeling, knowing how things are made, and how they work in the real world. But without the mindset and awareness behind it, those tools won’t get you fa
Then comes creativity and imagination plus having good taste, which is harder to teach. You need to know when something feels right, even before you can fully explain why.
And of course, there’s the technical layer: sketching, 3D modeling, knowing how things are made, and how they work in the real world. But without the mindset and awareness behind it, those tools won’t get you fa
I always start with pen and paper, it’s still the fastest way to explore ideas. From there, I often move into digital sketching using Procreate, or sometimes Vizcom if I want to quickly iterate with AI-assisted linework. Midjourney is another tool I use early on to spark inspiration, especially for styling, form directions, or mood. It’s a great way to explore unexpected visual directions that I might not have thought of.
Once a concept takes shape, I jump into CAD. I use Rhino for complex surfaces, Fusion 360 for mechanical design and assemblies, and Shapr3D if I’m working on the go. Blender comes in occasionally if I need to test something more organic or animated.
For prototyping, I use FDM and SLS 3D printing, depending on the part and purpose to validate proportions, ergonomics, and functionality.
When it’s time to visualize, I render in Keyshot and do post-processing in Photoshop. If there’s packaging or branding involved, I use Illustrator and Indesign.
So the tools shift depending on the project, but the workflow stays fairly consistent from idea, to concept, to prototype, to final presentation.
Once a concept takes shape, I jump into CAD. I use Rhino for complex surfaces, Fusion 360 for mechanical design and assemblies, and Shapr3D if I’m working on the go. Blender comes in occasionally if I need to test something more organic or animated.
For prototyping, I use FDM and SLS 3D printing, depending on the part and purpose to validate proportions, ergonomics, and functionality.
When it’s time to visualize, I render in Keyshot and do post-processing in Photoshop. If there’s packaging or branding involved, I use Illustrator and Indesign.
So the tools shift depending on the project, but the workflow stays fairly consistent from idea, to concept, to prototype, to final presentation.
Time management is essential in my work. I can get into deep focus quickly, which helps with creativity, but I need structure to keep things progressing. Every Monday begins with an admin session where I review all projects, check my project log, and block out time in my calendar. For larger projects, I use Gantt charts to plan the full timeline and milestones.
It’s also important for me to understand the time requirements of a project from the start. Once I know the expectations and deadlines, I retro-plan all the key steps and actions, and fit them into realistic blocks of time. This gives me clarity and helps ensure that the project is delivered on time without stress or last-minute rushing.
I also track my time throughout the week, so I can reflect on how long tasks actually take and improve my planning for the future. But managing time isn’t just about the hours, I also pay close attention to energy and focus. I schedule deep creative work when I’m at my best and leave admin or messages for lower-energy windows.
In the end, it’s not just about using the hours well, but using them wisely, so each project gets the quality and focus it deserves.
It’s also important for me to understand the time requirements of a project from the start. Once I know the expectations and deadlines, I retro-plan all the key steps and actions, and fit them into realistic blocks of time. This gives me clarity and helps ensure that the project is delivered on time without stress or last-minute rushing.
I also track my time throughout the week, so I can reflect on how long tasks actually take and improve my planning for the future. But managing time isn’t just about the hours, I also pay close attention to energy and focus. I schedule deep creative work when I’m at my best and leave admin or messages for lower-energy windows.
In the end, it’s not just about using the hours well, but using them wisely, so each project gets the quality and focus it deserves.
Well, it always depends on the time available. The process is flexible, and I adapt it to fit the deadline. So my short answer is: the object is done within the time we have. But realistically, design could always take more time to refine. You can keep going forever if you let yourself.
Some products can be done in a few weeks, some take months, and some (especially if you're inventing something new) can stretch over years. The main factor isn’t always the design itself, but how many decisions need to be made, and how quickly those decisions happen.
When I lead a project, I move fast. I define the timeline early, break the work into phases, and plan backwards from the deadline. That way I always know where I’m at and what’s coming next. Over time, I’ve built a workflow that lets me balance speed, creativity, and structure, and make sure that the result feels right, and lands on time.
Some products can be done in a few weeks, some take months, and some (especially if you're inventing something new) can stretch over years. The main factor isn’t always the design itself, but how many decisions need to be made, and how quickly those decisions happen.
When I lead a project, I move fast. I define the timeline early, break the work into phases, and plan backwards from the deadline. That way I always know where I’m at and what’s coming next. Over time, I’ve built a workflow that lets me balance speed, creativity, and structure, and make sure that the result feels right, and lands on time.
I usually get asked, “What kind of products do you design?” and honestly, it’s a harder question than it sounds. My work spans across a lot of categories, from soft goods to technical tools, sports gear tech-gear or packaing. So I often tailor my answer depending on who’s asking, to see how they relate to it. It’s also a good test of how well I can explain what I do in a clear, human way.
One of the most important experiences in my career was designing and launching Vector, a patented pair of scissors I developed together with my father. It started as a university project, but we decided to take it all the way and figure out how to manufacture and launch it ourselves. That process taught me more than any job ever could, from sourcing metal and plastic parts, to learning about patent law, and understanding how much work goes into turning a prototype into something real. The handle had an organic, hand-sculpted shape, and since I had no idea how to model that digitally, I had to teach myself complex surface modeling just to recreate my own design. That skill alone opened many doors later.
Later, working as a lead designer at a studio in Amsterdam was equally important for a different reason. I was managing multiple client projects from concept to production, under strict timelines and budgets. I worked on fabric-based products for brands like Nikon, Logitech, JBL, and Ultimate Ears, while also being the bridge between design and production, and juggling multiple time zones and client expectations. It was intense, but incredibly formative. What stood out was learning to design within tight cost constraints, and still find creative, clever solutions. That kind of problem-solving under pressure really sharpened my thinking. It also taught me how to make fast decisions.
Later, working as a lead designer at a studio in Amsterdam was equally important for a different reason. I was managing multiple client projects from concept to production, under strict timelines and budgets. I worked on fabric-based products for brands like Nikon, Logitech, JBL, and Ultimate Ears, while also being the bridge between design and production, and juggling multiple time zones and client expectations. It was intense, but incredibly formative. What stood out was learning to design within tight cost constraints, and still find creative, clever solutions. That kind of problem-solving under pressure really sharpened my thinking. It also taught me how to make fast decisions.
I’ve worked with a variety of clients over the years. While working as lead designer at a studio in Amsterdam, I designed soft goods and accessories for brands like Nikon, Logitech, JBL, Lenovo, Schneider Electric, Sennheiser, and Ultimate Ears. I also collaborated with Subkayak, a performance kayak manufacturer, and later worked with companies like Nuvio Inc., Storemasta, Garzini, Oonly, and Chalk Tyme, The mix of big brands and smaller ventures keeps things exciting, every project brings something new to learn.
I enjoy a lot of different types of design work, but the ones that truly get me excited are projects where we're working on something entirely new, something inventive, not yet public, and still being figured out. I love being part of that early phase where everything is open and we’re shaping the product from the ground up to solve a real problem in a smart and unexpected way. Especially when we manage to improve an existing category in a way people wouldn’t expect, both functionally and aesthetically. I naturally have a mindset for improvement, and I enjoy using my own internal “scorecard” to push things further and ask myself: how can we make this even better?
At the same time, I really enjoy when I can dive into the sculptural and visual side of design. I'm deeply drawn to surface work and creating strong aesthetics. Developing beautiful, complex forms is something I’ve always loved, especially when there’s time and space in the project to really refine those surfaces and pay attention to CMF and detail. My roots are in sketching and sculpting organic forms, and that transitioned into how I model in 3D today. I love digitally sculpting shapes that are full of movement, clarity, and emotion.
This is probably why I’m always excited when a project touches automotive or watercraft design. These sectors really value surfaces, proportions, and emotion, and I’ve always felt a strong connection to that world. If I can combine that kind of aesthetics with smart problem-solving and real-world function, that’s the dream for me.
So to sum up, my favourite projects are the ones where I can bring together innovation, beautiful surfaces, and clear function. I want the time and resources to make the object look and feel amazing, but also the technical challenge to keep it interesting. That combination is where I do my best work.
At the same time, I really enjoy when I can dive into the sculptural and visual side of design. I'm deeply drawn to surface work and creating strong aesthetics. Developing beautiful, complex forms is something I’ve always loved, especially when there’s time and space in the project to really refine those surfaces and pay attention to CMF and detail. My roots are in sketching and sculpting organic forms, and that transitioned into how I model in 3D today. I love digitally sculpting shapes that are full of movement, clarity, and emotion.
This is probably why I’m always excited when a project touches automotive or watercraft design. These sectors really value surfaces, proportions, and emotion, and I’ve always felt a strong connection to that world. If I can combine that kind of aesthetics with smart problem-solving and real-world function, that’s the dream for me.
So to sum up, my favourite projects are the ones where I can bring together innovation, beautiful surfaces, and clear function. I want the time and resources to make the object look and feel amazing, but also the technical challenge to keep it interesting. That combination is where I do my best work.
at the moment, I’m focused on two main areas: growing my design practice and also developing a venture in e-commerce. by working with exciting clients globally. I really enjoy the variety and challenges of client work, and I want to keep developing this side. eventually, when the time is right, I’d love to bring in more people and build a small, talented team to take on more complex and ambitious projects together. I already collaborate with freelancers, so that process is slowly taking shape.
At the same time, I’m working on developing and launching my own products. I’ve always had a passion for designing not just for others but also as an entrepreneur. My goal is to create a product brand with objects that feel personal, functional, and beautiful. I’m especially drawn to interior products and lighting design, and I’m investing a lot of time into exploring that space. It’s a long game, but a very exciting one, and I like playing both sides: helping others bring ideas to life, and building my own.
At the same time, I’m working on developing and launching my own products. I’ve always had a passion for designing not just for others but also as an entrepreneur. My goal is to create a product brand with objects that feel personal, functional, and beautiful. I’m especially drawn to interior products and lighting design, and I’m investing a lot of time into exploring that space. It’s a long game, but a very exciting one, and I like playing both sides: helping others bring ideas to life, and building my own.
Right now, I mostly develop my designs on my own. I have a wide skillset, so I can cover a lot from concept sketching and 3D modeling to packaging and visuals. I’ve designed with a wide range of materials, including soft goods and fabric-based products, and I often work on projects that combine both soft and hard components. I also do graphic design and branding when the project needs it.
That said, I don’t believe in doing everything alone. I regularly work with a few trusted freelancers, like engineers, who support certain technical aspects when needed. So even when I’m leading a project solo, I know when to bring in others to make it stronger.
I actually feel at home both working independently and as part of a team. It really depends on the context. As an entrepreneur, you naturally wear many hats and take on a lot by yourself, especially in the early phases of a business. But I also find that surrounding myself with great designers and great clients is one of the best parts of the job. It motivates me, and I’m looking forward to growing that further as I build my studio.
That said, I don’t believe in doing everything alone. I regularly work with a few trusted freelancers, like engineers, who support certain technical aspects when needed. So even when I’m leading a project solo, I know when to bring in others to make it stronger.
I actually feel at home both working independently and as part of a team. It really depends on the context. As an entrepreneur, you naturally wear many hats and take on a lot by yourself, especially in the early phases of a business. But I also find that surrounding myself with great designers and great clients is one of the best parts of the job. It motivates me, and I’m looking forward to growing that further as I build my studio.
Yes, I have a few projects in the works. Some for clients, some that are self-initiated. Right now, I’m developing a small lighting collection that focuses on sculptural forms and emotional impact, designed to bring warmth and atmosphere into a space. I’m particularly interested in exploring and utilising 3D printing to create these objects. I’m also exploring new homeware objects and work on an invention-based concepts that solve everyday problems in unexpected way. These are still under development, but they’re the kind of projects that keep me excited and curious.
People can reach me through my website at tamasfekete.com, by email at tamasfekete.design@gmail.com, or find me on LinkedIn. I’m always open to collaborations, new projects, or just connecting with fellow designers and entrepreneurs.
Honestly, I think we covered just about everything but ask me within a few months and I’ll probably have many more things to say.
Grand Interview
23 June 2026 · Smork Sling Bag
The idea originated from Benedict, the founder, who is himself a working videographer and regular gym-goer. He noticed a pattern that had become second nature in fitness spaces but had never really been solved. People wanted to film themselves training but most did not carry a tripod. Instead they improvised, propping phones against water bottles, angling them against weight plates, or asking strangers to hold the camera for a single set. The other half of the problem was what happened to everything else. Keys, wallets, and personal items all ended up on the gym floor, unattended, next to equipment used by dozens of people every day. If the bag could mount to the tripod, a creator would have a stable filming setup and a secure home for their valuables, all within arm's reach and off the floor.What made this project genuinely interesting from my perspective as the designer was that there was no obvious precedent to reference. No adjacent product category pointed clearly toward a solution. The founder's vision was coherent, a bag that stores a tripod for quick access and physically attaches to it during use, but the technical realisation was entirely open territory. My first instinct was not to reach for complex fastening hardware. From the beginning I was aware that a solution dependent on injection-moulded components would introduce significant tooling costs and limit the product's ability to work across different tripod models. The goal became finding a way to realise the founder's vision through soft goods construction alone, something adjustable, manufacturable without expensive tooling, and reliable enough to perform across a wide range of tripods in the field. That constraint turned out to be the most generative part of the process. The adjustability that emerged from it is what allows Smork to integrate into a creator's existing kit rather than requiring them to own a specific tripod model. The best outcome was not despite the constraint, but because of it.
The traditional camera bag was designed for protection in transit. Get your gear from A to B without damage. Those bags are large and bulky, built around the assumption of a fixed setup, a team nearby, or at minimum an assistant to manage logistics. The founder described it well: today's solo creator is the director, the camera operator, the talent, and their own logistics department, often simultaneously. That brief shaped everything about how I approached the interior organisation.Most solo content creators today shoot with one camera, sometimes just a phone, and they are moving constantly. When I approached the interior layout, I added another constraint deliberately: this bag also had to function as a gym bag. That dual purpose forced a useful discipline. There was no room for compartments that only served edge cases. Every zone had to justify itself against two use modes simultaneously, the creator on a shoot and the same person heading to the gym before or after.I designed the side access zipper around a specific scenario: being in vlog mode, walking between locations, not wanting to stop, take the bag off, and dig through the main compartment every time you want to grab your camera. The side zipper solves that. You reach, you grab, you keep moving. That kind of micro-interaction is easy to overlook in the design process, but for this user it matters more than almost anything else.
The counterweight insight came from the founder's field experience rather than a research lab. When running a lightweight rig at the gym, in a dance studio, at a campsite, or on any outdoor location, the system is inherently unbalanced. Any mass offset from center wants to tip the whole setup over. The standard workarounds are a heavier tripod, which means more to carry, or simply accepting the instability. What the founder kept noticing was that the bag he carried every day already contained the mass to solve this problem. That mass was being completely wasted, hanging off the shoulder and contributing nothing to the filming setup. The question became: can that dead weight be redirected into functional ballast? Mounting the bag to the tripod pole column does exactly that.There is a tendency in product design to reach for rigid components when a problem involves mechanical function, fastening, or load bearing. Injection-moulded parts feel like the natural answer, but that route comes with significant cost implications, especially at lower production volumes, and it locks you into fixed geometries that cannot adapt to variation in the real world. Soft goods construction is something I often prefer precisely because it avoids those constraints. The challenge is not the concept, it is that engineering a well functioning soft goods system still requires a lot of iteration and know-how to get right. It is not the cheaper option because it is simpler. It is the smarter option when the brief demands adaptability and cost conscious manufacturing. What Smork demonstrated is that a soft goods solution can outperform what a rigid component would have achieved. The attachment system works across a wide range of tripod diameters from different manufacturers, something a rigid collar or snap component simply could not do without multiple size variants and significant tooling investment. The flexibility of the material is not a compromise, it is the functional advantage. For me personally, this project was a good reminder of why I keep coming back to soft goods construction when the brief allows for it.
Winning the Silver A' Design Award before a single unit had been sold felt like direct validation of the design philosophy behind Smork. The award criteria, functional efficiency, innovative use of material, and user experience, map precisely to the principles the team refused to compromise on during development. Every visible decision traces directly to a documented user need identified through observation and iteration.What I am most proud of is that Smork is a genuinely minimalist bag where every component earns its place. There are no decorative elements added for the sake of appearance. Each detail has a function, and the aesthetic comes from that discipline rather than from styling layered on top. Form follows function is a principle that gets said a lot in design, but Smork is a project where I feel it was truly applied throughout. One thing that works particularly well visually is the decision not to hide the tripod inside the bag. The tripod is visible, it is part of the silhouette, and it makes the bag look immediately different from anything else on the market. When the bag is mounted on the tripod during use, the whole setup feels visually balanced and considered.What I hope this Silver recognition communicates to other designers is that innovation does not require reinventing everything from scratch. Bags and backpacks are one of the most saturated product categories in the world, and yet there was still a meaningful gap to fill here. A relatively simple idea, attaching the bag to the tripod, added a completely new function to a familiar product form without expensive tooling or complex manufacturing. Good innovation does not always require breaking the bank. Sometimes it just requires looking at a familiar problem from a different angle and having the commitment to follow it through properly.
The process of arriving at the attachment solution was less about physical failures and more about eliminating options through analysis before they were ever built. Velcro was considered early but ruled out quickly. The sound alone was a problem, nobody wants that in a gym or on a shoot, and beyond that, velcro collects debris, degrades over time, and is not genuinely quick to adjust. Elastic cord systems had a different problem: they could be tuned to work well with one specific tripod diameter but lacked the adjustability to perform reliably across different tripods from different manufacturers. That was a non-starter.The webbing and buckle solution came from wanting something that was fast to engage, fully adjustable, and universal. What confirmed it would work was actually an accidental moment during a video call with the founder. He happened to have a webbing strap with a buckle nearby, similar in principle to what I had been sketching. I asked him to pin it to his bag and test it on his tripod on camera. He did it in about ten minutes. The bag stayed on the pole, sat at the right position, and looked exactly as intended. That informal test was enough to confirm the direction.The one refinement that came from early mockup testing was adding a second webbing strap at the bottom of the bag. The first version only had one at the top, which held the bag in place but left some movement at the base. Adding the lower strap eliminated that and gave the system the stability it needed to feel fully secure when moving with the tripod. A small change but an important one.
The material selection was driven by wanting the bag to sit on the premium side without being flashy about it. The coated matte fabric does a lot of work in that regard. It has a soft, high quality feel in the hand, and visually it reads as modern and urban, closer to tech accessory than traditional bag. The founder and I were aligned on this from early on. The bag had to feel at home in a gym, on a street, and on a shoot location without looking out of place in any of them.The visual language of the bag is deliberately restrained. The front face is clean and easy on the eye, with the logo as the first thing you notice, prominent enough to read but not oversized. Beyond that, the orange accents do specific work. They are placed only where there is an interaction point, the tripod storage webbing and the attachment buckles. The eye goes there naturally and understands immediately that something happens in those zones. Where there is colour, there is action.The silhouette was also carefully considered. I wanted the bag to feel neither boxy nor oversized, so the shape uses subtle curves and a soft rounded top rather than straight lines throughout. Hidden zipper teeth keep the surface clean. The grab handle was designed to feel thick and secure, genuinely encouraging the user to reach for it. Every interaction point, whether visual or physical, was designed to feel intentional and rewarding to use. That combination of restrained aesthetics and considered touch points is what gives Smork its modern, slightly technical character.
The principle Smork is built on, that a carry system and a creation tool should be integrated rather than managed as two separate activities, extends well beyond this product and this user community. Solo operators who are simultaneously managing equipment, logistics, and output exist across photography, audio production, journalism, and many other fields where the gear list has condensed but the operational complexity has not. As the founder sees it, the core concept of making the carry system a functional component of the production setup rather than a passive container is what Smork aims to be known for as the independent creator economy continues to grow.Working closely with the founder on a project this focused reinforced something I already believed: every project shapes the next one. Smork reassured me that the approach I have developed over the years for soft goods design is the right one. I approach these projects strategically, not just focusing on the aesthetics but on the realisation. Understanding what can be manufactured easily or cheaply, what is going to be complex or expensive, directly shapes the ideas I develop. That knowledge is what allows me to push for genuine innovation without designing something that is impossible to bring to market at a reasonable cost. After Smork I want to invest more time in bag and carry accessory projects. The content creator scene is changing fast, the way people shoot video and capture images keeps evolving, and there is always going to be a need for better gear that keeps up with that.More broadly, I think we are going to see more hybrid concepts across many product categories, not just bags. People live more hybrid lives now. The workplace can be anywhere, lifestyles are shifting, and the gear people carry needs to match that reality. Smork is one expression of that principle, but the same thinking, finding areas where integrating two functions into one system creates completely new value for the user, can apply across a much wider range of products. That is the space I want to keep exploring.
The dimension that has received the least attention is the cultural specificity of who this bag is actually for. Smork was not designed from a trend report or a market gap analysis. It was designed because the founder was the user. He had lived the problem for years across real shoots and had accumulated enough frustration with every available workaround to build a proper solution. The solo content creator, specifically the one who trains, creates, and manages their own logistics in the same session, has never been treated as a primary user in the accessories space. Camera bags assume infrastructure that solo creators do not have. EDC bags assume that organisation and aesthetics are the main concerns. Neither reflects the reality of someone who needs to deploy a rig and keep their valuables secure simultaneously, on a gym floor, without a team. The Silver Award validated the design quality. What deserves recognition next is the scale and significance of this user category, and what designing for them seriously means for the future of carry accessories.From a design perspective, what I feel deserves more recognition is how much thinking went into the tripod attachment system specifically. From the outside it looks simple and straightforward, which is actually the goal, but arriving at that simplicity required a lot of work. Making the system adaptable to virtually any tripod on the market, fast enough to use repeatedly during a session, and achievable without expensive rigid components, those were three demanding constraints to satisfy simultaneously. Simple outcomes rarely come from simple processes. What that system enables is also worth appreciating beyond the attachment mechanism itself. When the bag is mounted on the tripod, the two together form a small self contained workstation. The bag is elevated, the gear is accessible, and nothing touches the ground. Even the tripod legs, which are the only contact point with the floor, are concealed inside the side pocket during transport. Soft goods is a saturated space and showing something genuinely new is difficult. What I am proud of with Smork is that we created something unique through a relatively simple solution rather than through complexity for its own sake.
Every project involves compromise, and Smork was no different. What made this collaboration work well was that the founder was also the primary user. He had lived the problem firsthand, across real shoots and real gym sessions, so his feedback was never abstract. When he described a challenge the bag needed to solve, it came from direct experience rather than assumption. That gave every design decision a concrete reference point to validate against, which is genuinely rare and valuable in a client relationship.What also helped significantly was that Benedict and I aligned on style and aesthetics from the very beginning. Without needing to explain things in great detail, we understood and felt which direction was right. That kind of instinctive creative alignment between designer and client is not something you can always count on, and when it happens it makes the whole process faster and more confident.What sharpened my instincts most was having clear, specific functions to design around from the start. The observations the founder brought were not vague aspirations, they were solvable problems. Every sketch and decision I made was focused on the target user's needs, validated together with the founder throughout. I do not like making design decisions based on my own preferences alone, so working with someone who was a genuine representation of the target audience made the collaboration effective and grounded.The bigger challenge was figuring out a working solution for a system that had never existed before. The founder had a vision, but the technical realisation was mine to work out. That unknown is always demanding, but when my gut tells me something is achievable I will find or work out the solution. Balancing user needs with commercial constraints is something I have developed over years working on soft goods for brands like Nikon and Logitech, where commercial targets are present from day one. The webbing based attachment system is a direct result of that discipline, finding a solution that serves the user without going into expensive engineered components. The other pressure is knowing when to let go of ideas. As a designer I could probably add ten interesting features to any product, but keeping the concept focused and within realistic constraints is often where the most important design work happens.
Six litres is a deliberate constraint, not a compromise. It forces every zone, every panel, and every strap to justify its presence by serving a specific function at a specific moment in the user's workflow. A lot of the scenario mapping came from the founder's firsthand experience. Because he was the target user himself, the feedback on what felt right or wrong in use was immediate and specific, which made the spatial decisions much easier to validate.One example is the main zipper opening. Being able to open the front panel almost completely gives full access to the interior, which makes packing and reaching items at the bottom of the bag significantly easier. It is a small detail but it makes a real difference in daily use. Similarly, the shoulder strap can be switched between left and right shoulder orientation, because creators often need to reposition the bag quickly depending on how they are moving or shooting.The sling format itself was a deliberate choice. A sling bag is faster to put on and take off than a backpack, easier to swing from back to front, and less bulky for active movement. Combined with the dedicated side access pocket for the camera, the goal was that the user never has to think about where their camera is. They know it is there, they reach for it, they grab it. That kind of muscle memory is only possible when the spatial logic of the bag is consistent and predictable. A small but useful detail is the luggage webbing on the back panel, which allows the bag to slide onto a trolley handle when travelling, a detail easy to overlook but one that meaningfully improves the experience when moving through an airport.The guiding principle, applicable across many product categories, is this: if a product has multiple functional states, the moments of switching between them deserve as much design attention as the states themselves. That transition point is where most products fail their users, and it is where some of the most significant design work on Smork happened. When the bag is mounted on the tripod, keeping it upright was important so the contents stay organised and the main compartment remains easy to access. The back panel uses breathable mesh for ventilation during wear, a straightforward ergonomic decision for a bag designed to be used actively across different environments.
Grand Interview
22 October 2025 · Vector Scissors
When I was very young, I always loved making things out of paper. I’d build models, cut out shapes and make cars or buildings out of paper, anything I found exciting at the time. A4 office paper was always available at home, so it naturally became my go-to material for creating things. And with that came scissors. I remember we had this big kitchen scissors with long blades, and I used that for everything. I made so many paper models with it that I’ve lost count.I got pretty skilled at using scissors, especially for papercraft, but one thing always bothered me, cutting a straight line was difficult. No matter how careful I was, I’d always get a bit of wobble. Then one day, my father brought home a paper guillotine because he needed to cut photos and printed sheets. Of course, I immediately started using it for my projects too. It was a game changer, suddenly I could cut clean, straight lines, much faster. So I adapted my workflow and started using both scissors and the paper guillotine together. My paper models instantly looked better.Fast forward to university. I was studying industrial design, and our first assignment was to research and redesign a pair of scissors. The brief was very open and we could take any direction we wanted. At first, it felt impossible. There are so many types of scissors out there, and I was unsure what could I possibly add.But I kept coming back to this one experience from my childhood, cutting straight lines with regular scissors. It still wasn’t easy. Why do we need to draw a line first, grab a ruler, use a pencil, and then carefully follow that line with scissors, just to get something clean? I started wondering, isn’t there a better way of doing this?That’s when it clicked. I remembered how efficient the guillotine was and started breaking down both tools, scissors and the guillotine, into their core functions. That’s when I realised that the paper guillotine is essentially a pair of scissors, just laid out differently. One blade is just a flat plate and you only control the other one. And then it hit me: what if the edge of a table could act like that bottom blade?That was the moment everything slowly came together. Most people cut paper on a table anyway, so why not design scissors that could be pressed along the edge of the table and guide your hand for a straight cut? That was the original concept behind Vector.What followed was months development, cardboard prototypes, testing different mechanisms and shapes. I had to figure out how to make it work. The first working prototype came together by the end of the assignment. The handle was made from wood, the blades were mocked up in plastic, it looked rough, but it functioned. Sort of. It still had plenty of flaws, and the cutting performance wasn’t proven yet. But it was a start.What came next was years of refining it on the side, alongside my university studies. It became one of the longest and most challenging projects I’ve ever worked on.
The shape of Vector evolved over many iterations. I was essentially designing the scissors from the inside out. I began with the core function, figuring out how the handle could rest against the edge of a table while still allowing the blade to move freely and cut. Once I locked in the blade orientation and handle angle, I had something that worked mechanically, but it was far from comfortable to use.From there, the next challenge was to develop a handle that actually felt good in the hand. That process took months and probably around 40 physical prototypes to get right. I started with cardboard models, then moved to polyurethane foam, clay, and eventually plaster handles that I cast in silicone molds. I sculpted and refined each version by hand, following the natural shape of my palm and how it wanted to hold the object. Then I’d mold and replicate those shapes, iterate again, and slowly evolve the design into something that felt truly ergonomic.Every part of the handle has a purpose. Every radius, every curve, it’s all there for a reason. Even the space between the handles, the size and angle of the thumb rest, and the width of the grip were tested and refined until the scissors just felt “right.” You don’t realize how bad a handle can be until you use one that pinches your fingers in all the wrong places. So I paid close attention to every contact point.I also learned a lot from the scissor craftsman I partnered with during development. Their focus was strictly on the blades. I had to understand how scissor blades are shaped, how and when the edge is forged, and how they fine-tune the closing tip to achieve cutting precision. There’s a tiny protruding bump near the tip, and I learned how critical that is to the mechanics, it controls where and how the blades meet.So the final form is really a fusion of that blade craftsmanship and months of ergonomic sculpting. Once everything came together, the mechanics, the comfort, the proportions, it just felt right. And that’s when I knew the shape was finished.
The main frustration was how hard it is to cut paper in a straight line with regular scissors. Your hand naturally shakes, and it takes a lot of patience and coordination, not everyone has that. Once I started looking into this, I realized there are many people who could benefit from a tool that makes straight cuts easier and more intuitive.For example, people with shaky hands or less refined motor control can achieve much better results with Vector, because the table edge guides their hand. And the learning curve is surprisingly quick, you don’t need to be precise, the product helps you be precise.Even when using a hobby knife, there are so many steps. You need a cutting mat, a ruler, a pencil to mark the line, then carefully follow it with the blade. It’s a whole setup. A paper guillotine simplifies that, you just place the paper and cut, but those tools are bulky and not very convenient to store or use casually.So with Vector, I wanted to bring the same clean-cut simplicity into a compact, handheld tool. It’s faster, easier to use, and much more convenient for everyday tasks while still offering the precision people need.
Interestingly, even for the craftsman, this blade orientation was a challenge. Because Vector needs to work next to a table edge, the blades and handles have a unique configuration. I remember they were intrigued but also a bit puzzled when I first explained how I wanted the blades to connect. Thankfully, they were open-minded and willing to try the solution I had in mind, and it worked. That was a really rewarding moment for both sides.One tiny but crucial detail was the pin connecting the two blades. In most scissors, it protrudes a bit, but we needed it to sit completely flush. If it stuck out even slightly, it would interfere with the edge-gliding function. With their expertise, we figured out a manufacturing method to make the connection totally flat.They brought decades of knowledge to the table, everything from selecting the right steel, to understanding how to forge and grind the blades, to setting the exact edge angle for sharp, clean cuts. Even the tip of the blade was fine-tuned so that the very last millimeter of the cut would be clean. These are small things most people wouldn’t even notice, but they matter.
The ergonomic design of Vector really came from physically sculpting and testing dozens of prototypes by hand. I started with rough wooden blocks and later used clay and foam, materials I could easily shape, sand, or build up as I worked. Because I was holding these prototypes for hours, I immediately felt what wasn’t working. If something pressed too much into my palm or didn’t support the fingers well, I could fix it right away.The sculpting process helped me follow the natural shape of the hand, both in open and closed positions. I carved the form by instinct and feel, always aiming for something that felt effortless to hold and use. I also made silicone molds to replicate and tweak the best versions. Over time, these iterative changes led to a handle that feels fluid and organic, but everything on it has a purpose, every curve, radius, and spacing is there because it passed the test of comfort through real use.This hands-on approach was essential. It let me design not just by looking at a screen, but by directly shaping what I wanted people to feel. That’s what gave Vector its unique, sculpted form.
Vector introduces a new approach to cutting. It doesn’t aim to replace traditional scissors or guillotines, but adds a fresh option—something that blends precision and ease in a format we haven’t seen before. Because of this, I see it carving out its own product category, especially for consumers who often struggle with tools that require perfect coordination.What makes it exciting is that it lowers the barrier for achieving clean, straight cuts. It offers a simple but pleasant benefit for the users. That has potential across many segments: students, hobbyists, makers, even professionals in creative industries. I imagine expanding it into a product family with variations for different tasks, materials, or hand sizes, while continuing to explore how design can make precise tasks feel intuitive and accessible to more people.
During my early research and conversations, one thing kept coming up: most people admitted they weren’t confident cutting with scissors. Whether it was curves or straight lines, many struggled more than I expected. That confirmed it wasn’t just my personal experience growing up doing papercraft, but a more common issue.The second insight was that paper guillotines, while effective, aren’t really household items, and not that popular. They’re bulky, take up space, and not something you’d grab casually for a quick task. On the other hand, scissors are always around, in every household but don’t offer the same straight-line precision unless you use them with extra tools like a ruler, pencil, etc. That gap between the two tools felt like an opportunity.The third insight was about accessibility. I realized that many people, children, elderly, or anyone with shaky hands or limited coordination could benefit from a more guided, stable cutting method. Even if it's just for one small cut, it matters. Something that doesn’t require a perfectly steady hand to get a satisfying result. That’s when the idea of using the table edge as a guide really clicked. It offered a simple, clever way to stabilize the motion without adding bulk or complexity.
Almost all of the development took place in Budapest, where I first explored the concept, built countless prototypes, and shaped the core idea into what it is today. After relocating to the Netherlands, I revisited the design with fresh eyes and made a small redesign, refining a few details on the handle and adjusting the blade lenght.That said, I wouldn't say the shift between Hungary and the Netherlands had a direct influence on the outcome. I tend not to be defined by the environment I’m in. I pull inspiration from all over through conversations, tools I use, problems I notice, and random moments of curiosity. So while both cities have strong design scenes, Vector wasn’t really shaped by a local aesthetic or cultural influence. It was more of a personal journey, driven by the idea itself and the process it demanded.
There were quite a few challenges. First, regular scissors aren’t designed to work against a table edge, their blade orientation simply doesn’t allow for it. So I had to completely rethink the geometry: how to position the blades so they could press flat against the edge while still cutting efficiently.To work properly, one side of the scissors had to be completely flat so it could rest against the table, while still functioning like a normal scissor. It also had to stay in place, open and close easily, and allow for a sliding movement toward the front, all at the same time. Finding the right joint position was another tricky part. If the pivot was off, the handle would open and close at an awkward angle, ruining the experience.Then there was the pin that connects the blades. I envisioned it to be flush on both sides, especially the table-facing side where any protrusion would interfere. But the other side still needed to allow for assembly and tightening. That created a mechanical and production challenge, and it took multiple iterations to find a fastening solution that worked.Another major challenge came later: translating the sculpted ergonomic handle into something manufacturable. The original shape was highly organic and hand-sculpted, beautiful but tricky to replicate accurately in CAD. Preparing it for injection molding meant refining the geometry without losing its feel or comfort. That step alone took considerable time and engineering effort.
I see Vector not just as a standalone product, but as the beginning of a new category of guided tools. The core idea, using the edge of a surface to stabilise and improve control has broader potential wherever accuracy and ease matter.What excites me most is that this kind of guided, intuitive motion helps people achieve better results with less effort. It lowers the barrier to precision and gives users more confidence in their actions.
Grand Interview
22 October 2025 · Corner Pocket Billiards Chalk Holder
The original idea came from my client, Randy Carville, who had patented the original version of the concept—a watch-like housing with a magnet to hold the chalk. It worked in principle, but it was far from a finished product. When we began working together, my role was to take that early prototype and turn it into something players would actually want to wear a refined accessory that felt at home on the wrist of a serious billiards player.We began by setting a clear direction: this wouldn’t just be a tool, but an accessory with style and presence. I explored a wide range of sketches and design languages to find a form that felt both functional and elegant. From there, we went through countless iterations of 3D modeling, printing, testing, and refining. It was a process of constant trial and error, dialing in proportions, materials, and usability.As the project evolved, I also supported the client in preparing the product for market. That included everything from helping source manufacturing partners to optimizing the design for cost-effective production—especially important for a niche product like this. 3D printing played a huge role in keeping development lean while still allowing us to deliver a polished result.Eventually, I developed a scalable product line with multiple versions, entry-level, standard, and premium by playing with different materials and finishes. This not only made the product accessible at launch, but also gave it room to grow as demand increased. What began as a simple idea has now become a functional, wearable product with a clear identity and real market traction.
From the start, I wanted this product to carry more than just function—it needed to feel familiar and symbolic. I looked for inspiration mainly at two objects rooted in ritual and precision: the pool table and a wristwatch. Both represent craftsmanship, focus, and personal identity. My goal was to merge their design languages into a single form that felt both intentional and original.The outer housing was shaped to represent the sturdy frame of a billiard table, while its silhouette sits somewhere between the softened rectangle of a table and the circular case of a classic wristwatch. I worked consciously with design semiotics, embedding subtle visual references throughout. The insert, for example, has a matte, textured finish reminiscent of billiard cloth, while the housing is polished and smooth—mirroring the contrast between the soft felt surface and the wooden railings of a pool table. This textural contrast became one of my favorite design elements, and the natural surface quality of 3D printing made it feel even more authentic.The cap that locks together all the components of the product, was designed to evoke the depth and shadow of a table pocket. It provides visual contrast and balance, reducing the visual mass of the object.Each element was chosen to harmonize watch-like refinement with the structural language of the pool table. In the end, it’s not just a chalk holder—it’s a new wearable archetype shaped by the materials, meanings, and culture of the game.
One of the biggest design challenges came from the magnet itself. I envisioned a clean, seamless design where the components would snap together permanently, mainly to prevent users from opening or tampering with the product. But during early prototyping, the magnet turned out to be too strong. Instead of securing the parts, its force caused the device to snap apart under stress, especially during wrist movements. The solution had to be more than just magnetic, it needed a mechanical layer of security.To overcome this, I developed a custom mechanical locking feature that worked in tandem with the magnet, securing all parts firmly while keeping the assembly intuitive and tool-free. I ran dozens of digital simulations in CAD to explore how the three components could interlock reliably, and then validated each concept through iterative 3D-printed prototypes. One of my key design goals was to limit the number of components and avoid the need for screws, adhesives, or post-processing—so the product could be entirely 3D printed and assembled without extra tools.Another challenge was finding the optimal material thickness around the magnet. With 3D printing as our production method, I had to work within its tolerances and material behavior. Even slight increases in wall thickness noticeably weakened the magnetic strength. Through hands-on testing, I determined the thinnest structure possible that preserved magnetic performance while maintaining durability and fit.These technical constraints directly shaped our manufacturing approach. 3D printing wasn’t just a prototyping tool, it became the most practical way to achieve the design’s precision and simplicity. It allowed us to tightly control wall thickness, tolerances, and interlocking geometry, delivering a final product that’s elegant, robust, and easy to assemble at scale.
The original insight came from the product’s inventor, Randy Carville, a lifelong and highly engaged billiards player who had first-hand experience with the everyday frustrations of traditional chalk holders. Through his own gameplay and years of observation and talking with fellow players, he noticed recurring problems. chalk stored near the hip via belt clips or pocket magnets often stained clothing, obstructed movement, or accidentally hit the cue or table. Chalk left on the rails, meanwhile, could easily be forgotten, knocked off, or lost entirely, disrupting the rhythm and mental flow of a focused game.For many players, chalking the cue is more than just a practical step, it’s a moment of preparation and focus. It’s almost meditative. So the chalk needs to be not only accessible but seamlessly integrated into the player’s natural movement. Surprisingly, the wrist turned out to be an ideal location. It keeps the chalk close at hand, off the clothing, and out of the way.When I first heard the concept, I was immediately intrigued. It felt both ergonomically smart and symbolically rich. There’s a poetic parallel between chalking and checking the time. That subtle metaphor, paired with the functional benefits of wrist placement, convinced me this was a meaningful design direction worth developing.
Ensuring compatibility with a wide range of chalk brands and shapes was a fundamental requirement from the very beginning. Every player has their own preferences, and these can vary not just by country, but by local culture, playing style, or even personal superstition. While there are a few dominant chalk brands globally, I didn’t want to limit the product to just one or two options. Chalks differ significantly in shape — some are circular, some rectangular, others octagonal. So I designed the system to be modular. The chalk holder component is interchangeable and tailored to fit specific chalk geometries. The first set of holders supports the most commonly used forms, and the range is expanding as new chalk types and user demands emerge.
From the beginning, I wanted to keep the design as simple and minimal as possible. I deliberately avoided using multiple parts or overcomplicating the mechanism especially because we had to be careful about two things: keeping manufacturing costs low and minimizing assembly time. A complex system would have worked against both.The final design uses a subtle but effective principle: the chalk holder features a slightly tapered interior cavity that gently compresses the sides of the chalk. Chalk is a relatively soft material and has a slight give when pressure is applied. I used that natural deformation to create a friction-fit mechanism — the chalk presses into the cavity and stays securely in place through contact alone.This simple geometry offers a surprisingly reliable hold. Even as the chalk wears down, the pressure around its base remains consistent, keeping it stable inside the holder. The cue-stick-sized hole in the bottom of the insert allows players to easily push the chalk out using the end of their cue, which became an intuitive gesture that ties the product even more closely to the billiards environment.The result is a system that feels effortless to use but it took many iterations to perfect. I tested over 50 prototypes, each with slightly different internal diameters and taper angles, until I found the one that delivered the best balance of grip and ease. The final product is compact, durable, easy to load and unload, and carries the kind of detail you only notice when it's done just right.
I think there’s still a lot of untapped potential when it comes to innovation in billiards accessories. There are still many small inconveniences players experience during a game, things that have gone unaddressed for years simply because they’ve become accepted parts of the routine. But those areas are actually full of potential.This project showed me how even a small, focused accessory, if well-designed, can enhance the game in a subtle but meaningful way. I can definitely imagine more crossover concepts emerging in the future. Objects that blend functionality with personal expression, performance with comfort. Wearables are especially interesting because they live on the player’s body and can seamlessly integrate into the rhythm of gameplay.
The budget for launching the product was limited, so from the start I had to be creative about how to make the product feasible without compromising on quality. I always viewed each design decision through the lens of perceived quality, actual cost, and ease of production.Working with professional watchmakers or traditional high-end manufacturing methods was out of scope, they were simply too expensive. Instead, I focused on technologies that could offer a good surface finish without the premium price tag. I researched available materials and finishes that resembled the aesthetics of watches, such as anodised aluminum or polished steel, then built a material and finish library to evaluate different combinations.This internal catalog helped me test what was possible at small production volumes and what looked and felt premium without pushing the product out of budget. I also calculated costs per assembly to make sure each version was viable.
Finding the ideal magnetic strength turned out to be more complex than expected. Player preferences varied significantly especially regarding how strong the pull force should be when removing the chalk vertically at a 90-degree angle. Some users wanted a strong, locked-in feel with a satisfying snap, while others found that level of resistance inconvenient.At one point, it seemed impossible to satisfy everyone. That’s when I shifted my approach. Instead of relying solely on vertical removal, I explored the idea of sliding the chalk out sideways. This small adjustment allowed for easy removal, even with a strong magnetic hold. It became a simple yet effective compromise that made the product intuitive for a wide range of users.Interestingly, that design change also led to an unexpected visual benefit. The open side created by the sliding motion began to resemble an abstract version of a billiard pocket. It gave the product a distinctive character and helped distance it from looking like a wristwatch. something I had intentionally wanted to avoid.When it came to chalk replacement, user feedback was equally important. Most players preferred a firm grip that kept the chalk in place as it wore down, but removing it by hand wasn’t ideal especially for those with larger hands or limited dexterity. That led to the idea of using the cue stick to push the chalk out from a hole in the bottom. It’s a natural gesture within the game and ties the interaction back to the sport itself.In the end, user feedback played a critical role in shaping the final product. It pushed me to find solutions that balanced usability, aesthetics, and emotional connection to the game.
This project showed me there's still plenty of room to improve the billiards experience through smart accessories. I’d like to keep exploring ways to make playing more comfortable, focused, or enjoyable—solving the small things players usually just put up with.Chalk Tyme itself could grow into different styles and materials—more minimal, more premium, or more playful. I also see potential for a small lineup of matching accessories with different functions, all built around the same design language.Even something as simple as a chalk holder can become part of how players express themselves. That’s what I want to keep building on.
Grand Interview
22 October 2025 · Subkayak D46 Racing and Leisure Touring Kayak
The visual separation of the kayak into two flowing sections began as a stylistic idea, but it quickly turned into something more meaningful. I wanted the kayak to stand out instantly, not just as a high-performing product, but as something sculptural and desirable. The challenge was to find a way to express this character without disrupting the functional integrity of the hull, which had already been optimised for speed and efficiency by the Subkayak team.That’s where the split concept came in. Everything above the waterline was designed to be bold, angular, and expressive. But as the form transitions toward the hull, it becomes completely flat and smooth, just as it needs to be for hydrodynamic performance. This contrast between sculptural top and sleek bottom not only creates a striking visual identity, but also draws a clear boundary between expression and function.For touring paddlers, it gives the feeling of paddling something unique, something with presence. For racers, it subtly reinforces a sense of control and focus: the kayak looks fast, and that has a psychological effect. The visual split, enhanced by the painted line, becomes more than just decoration, it becomes a design feature that enhances the emotional experience of both performance and leisure.
The key was identifying components that weren’t structurally critical, areas that wouldn’t be exposed to high mechanical stress or wear. That gave us the freedom to explore customization without compromising the performance or safety of the kayak. The parts we chose for 3D printing such as logos, decorative inlays, and select cockpit features were ideal candidates for this approach.With today’s additive manufacturing technologies, these components aren’t a compromise; they’re a design advantage. They allow us to create complex geometries, personalized logos, or even one-off elements in ways that would be impossible or very expensive with traditional methods.What started as a visual upgrade quickly became something more meaningful. Paddlers are passionate about their gear, and offering them the ability to express their identity through small but visible elements adds an emotional layer to the product. It’s a performance kayak, yes, but it’s also theirs. And that sense of ownership matters.
Digitizing the a hand-built and developed kayak hull with millimeter accuracy was one of the most demanding parts of the project. Although we had access to a high-quality 3D scanner, capturing such a long, thin, and organically curved object came with challenges, especially around narrow or reflective areas where scan noise often appeared. The raw data needed a lot of cleanup and several rounds of surface reconstruction before it was usable for further surface modeling and CAD.Because the kayak had to stay strictly within regulated dimensions for length, width, and height, every surface had to be rebuilt with precision. Even a few extra millimeters in the wrong place could make the design ineligible for competition.Once the hull was accurately reconstructed, the upper section, everything above the waterline, was modelled from scratch. This is where the design freedom started. I combined my concept sketches with strict ergonomic and structural requirements to sculpt a new top body that visually redefined the kayak, while perfectly blending into the certified hull below. Finding this optimal transition was a very time consuming and meticulous ask.What made this process especially complex is that a kayak like this has no flat surfaces anywhere, every part is curved and continuous. Since the final model for production would be CNC-machined directly from the CAD, the surface quality had to be flawless. Any minor inconsistency would be visible in the reflections or even affect performance. So I treated the entire design like a Class-A surfacing job, balancing performance-critical accuracy with expressive form. It was like sculpting within two boundaries, freedom above the waterline, discipline below it.
The cockpit design is an area where personal preference plays a big role. What feels right for one kayaker may feel too narrow for another. Through our conversations with both amateur and professional paddlers, we found that comfort and freedom of movement were non-negotiable, even if it meant compromising slightly on the visual sharpness of the design.One of the key parameters we identified was the minimum distance needed between the legs for a comfortable paddling posture. That dimension became our hard limit, no matter how much we wanted to make the cockpit look sleeker or more pointed, we didn’t cross that threshold. Visually, a narrower cockpit would have looked more aggressive, but the feedback was clear that comfort comes first.The real design challenge was in how we resolved this ergonomically driven width with the rest of the kayak’s sculptural form. We had to carefully adjust the curvature around the cockpit to ensure it flowed seamlessly into the overall geometry, so it didn’t feel like a compromise, but rather an intentional part of the design. In the end, the cockpit improved accessibility, comfort, and also made the kayak more inviting to a broader range of users, without losing its aesthetic identity.
My approach to the D46 was influenced by both automotive and marine aesthetics, but more importantly, by a personal fascination with surface transitions, how a shape can feel dynamic, sculptural, or even emotional depending on how it catches light. I’ve always been drawn to designs that blend sharp, defined geometry with fluid, organic curves. In this project, I intentionally played with that contrast.From the automotive side, I looked at how sports cars use “strength lines” those sharp creases that run along doors, fenders, or hoods. I translated that into the area behind the cockpit, where a strong central line adds structure and motion to the form. But unlike in a car, these lines had to be carefully scaled to fit the long, narrow proportions of a kayak. The goal wasn’t to copy automotive design, but to reinterpret it for something that lives on water.Marine influences came mostly from yachts, particularly in how they present themselves in profile. I wanted the D46 to have a similar sense of presence and balance when seen from the side. The way the front and rear taper gives it a planted, stable stance, visually echoing the silhouette of larger boats.One detail I’m particularly proud of is the over-extending frame at the back side of the cockpit, behind the back of the user. While most of the cockpit rim maintains a uniform depth, this rear section extends much deeper almost like a spoiler or a yacht terrace. It’s where the D46 logo is embedded, and it serves both a functional and aesthetic role. To me, it’s a hybrid gesture, part marine, part automotive.
Vacuum infusion was chosen mainly for its ability to produce consistent, lightweight, and high-strength parts, three things that are critical for a performance kayak. The process ensures that the resin is distributed evenly throughout the composite layers, which helps avoid weak spots or excess weight. This results in a hull that’s light and structurally reliable.From a performance point of view, weight is very important. A lighter kayak accelerates faster, responds more easily to the paddler’s movements, and is less tiring to handle over longer distances. But it also has to be stiff and durable enough to maintain its shape under pressure. Vacuum infusion helps achieve that balance, it gives the kayak a clean, strong layup with minimal material waste, which also improves overall weight distribution. That contributes not only to speed and responsiveness, but also to a longer-lasting product that can withstand regular use without degrading over time.
I believe personalization will play an increasingly important role in the future of water sports equipment. While a kayak is primarily a performance tool something to train or race with it’s also an extension of the athlete’s identity. Choosing the color or finish has always been a personal process, and now we’re starting to see that extend to the components themselves.By allowing customization in parts that were previously considered “standard” or purely functional, we open up new territory for both design and innovation. Some of these changes may be aesthetic custom logos, patterns, or shapes but I think we’ll also start to see new ideas emerge by rethinking these elements entirely. Components that once had a single purpose might evolve to serve multiple functions or become platforms for accessories. As 3D printing and digital manufacturing continue to grow, I expect more experimentation, more individual expression, and a shift toward gear that feels more tailored to the athlete visually, ergonomically, and even emotionally.
One of the most defining moments for me came during a round of testing with 3D-printed scale models. Even though I have a trained eye for digital sculpting and can usually read mass and proportion well on screen, holding a physical model always reveals something new. I had printed several variations, each with slightly different surface transitions especially around the area behind the cockpit.I remember sketching directly onto one of the black scale models using a white pen, trying to explore different line flows. Instead of focusing only on the top profile, I let the line wrap around the body flowing down the sides and looping back under. That experiment led to the idea of using both the sculpted form and a change in paint color to create the illusion of two visually separated sections. Suddenly, the concept of a “split body” clicked —not as a literal construction, but as a visual effect integrated into the design.From that point on, the design began to crystallize. That one sketching session, with pen on plastic, shaped the overall language of the kayak and gave it the identity it has now.
While most users may not consciously recognize G3 surface continuity, they absolutely feel its effects. From a visual standpoint, it gives the kayak a sculpted, handmade quality. Light flows cleanly across the surfaces without awkward reflections or breaks, which creates a sense of visual calm and sophistication. That aesthetic impact often translates emotionally.But there are performance benefits as well. Smooth surface transitions improve hydrodynamics by allowing water to flow over the body of the kayak without interruption. This reduces drag and contributes to a more responsive, efficient experience, especially important in both racing and long-distance touring.There’s also a production benefit. I often think of the builders as users too. Each D46 is handmade, and if the mold they’re working with is CNC-machined from a high-quality, G3-continuous CAD model, there’s less manual sanding or correction required. That means a more consistent result, fewer imperfections, and ultimately a more durable kayak. Even structurally, sharp transitions or uneven surfaces can sometimes become stress points over time, so precision in the digital phase leads to longevity in the real world.
Winning the Gold A' Design Award for the D46 was a huge encouragement, not just personally, but as a validation of my design approach. The recognition confirmed that attention to form, emotion, and surface quality matters just as much as engineering precision especially in a product that’s ultimately an equipment used in motion, in nature, and in direct physical connection with the user.The response to the D46 showed me that when you treat a product not just as equipment, but also as a designed object, you create something far more memorable, something that resonates with both users and experts. It reinforced my commitment to putting equal weight on functionality and expression. A product can perform beautifully and look beautiful and when those two come together, it elevates the entire experience.
