Interview with Hamed Mahzoon

Becoming a designer was a gradual but inevitable path. My interest in design began with an early fascination for objects, materials, and how form influences human behavior. Rather than a single defining moment, it was an internal drive to understand and improve everyday experiences that led me toward design. Formal education helped structure this curiosity, while professional experience refined it. Design became a way for me to translate observation, culture, and emotion into tangible outcomes.

My priorities revolve around clarity of concept, material honesty, and emotional relevance. I begin each project by defining a strong conceptual core, ensuring that every formal and functional decision aligns with it. I combine hand sketching with digital modeling, using technology as a tool rather than a driver. Physical logic, proportion, and light behavior guide my process more than trends or visual noise.

Designing is both meditative and energizing for me. The initial ideation phase brings excitement and curiosity, while development introduces a sense of discipline and responsibility. The most rewarding moment is when the concept reaches clarity and the design starts to feel inevitable. Designing fulfills me by turning abstract ideas into meaningful physical presence.

Writing, critical thinking, and editorial work have deeply shaped my design approach. Being involved in design criticism and analysis taught me to articulate ideas clearly and question assumptions. Cultural awareness, research skills, and the ability to communicate complex ideas have been as important as technical design skills in shaping my professional path.

My growth path is centered on deepening the relationship between design, human experience, and cultural context. I aim to develop more system-based lighting and furniture projects that engage with space, behavior, and emotion. A long-term goal is to realize large-scale lighting concepts for public and cultural spaces where design can influence collective experience.

Young designers should focus on building depth rather than speed. Understanding materials, processes, and context is more important than quick visibility. Patience, critical thinking, and consistency are essential. Learning how to articulate ideas clearly is as important as designing them.

Long-term success comes from developing a clear point of view. Designers should resist superficial differentiation and instead invest in understanding why they design. Staying curious, questioning one’s own work, and continuously refining conceptual clarity are key professional practices.

My days usually start with research and reading, followed by design development, sketches, and digital work. Editorial responsibilities at Designooor often overlap with studio work, creating a constant dialogue between theory and practice. Small moments of reflection, observation, and writing keep the day intellectually balanced.

I observe trends analytically rather than follow them directly. Trends can reveal social and technological shifts, but they should not dictate design decisions. I prioritize timeless concepts and meaningful narratives over seasonal aesthetics.

Good design is coherent. When form, function, material, and concept align naturally, the design feels resolved. I look for clarity, purpose, and restraint. If a design communicates its intention without explanation, it is usually successful.

A design is ready when further changes no longer add meaning. While perfection is unattainable, there is a moment when the design achieves balance and confidence. I consider feedback, functionality, and conceptual integrity before finalizing any project.

Rather than a single project, my most significant works are those that successfully integrate concept, emotion, and usability, particularly in lighting design. Projects like CrownShell and BrightCell Air represent milestones where research, narrative, and form converged meaningfully.

I admire designers who think beyond objects and influence culture through design thinking. Figures who approached design as a philosophical and human-centered discipline have had the greatest impact on my perspective.

Culture plays a strong role in my work. I am influenced by architectural heritage, craftsmanship, and contemporary urban life. Music, reading, and visual culture are integral parts of my creative routine. Design, for me, is inseparable from daily life and cultural observation.

I value clarity, respect, and shared vision in collaborations. Whether working alone or with teams, transparency and intellectual alignment are essential. I look for partners who understand design as a long-term investment rather than a short-term solution.

Through Designooor, I contribute by sharing free critical content, supporting emerging designers, and fostering informed dialogue around lighting and design culture. Knowledge-sharing and education are important forms of contribution within the design community.

Participating in the A’ Design Award provided international visibility, professional validation, and meaningful connections. Design competitions encourage reflection, elevate standards, and create platforms where ideas can reach broader audiences. Being recognized as Designer of the Day represents both an honor and a responsibility to contribute thoughtfully to the global design discourse.

Design for me is a way to connect with people on an emotional level, to enhance their experience of the world through thoughtful and intentional creations. I became a designer because I’m fascinated by the potential of design to shape spaces, behaviors, and even cultural narratives. I wanted to create objects that are both functional and meaningful, that contribute to the quality of life in a subtle yet powerful way.

It was always a conscious choice. From a young age, I was drawn to the process of creating and problem-solving, and design became a natural outlet for that curiosity. It wasn’t something I was forced into; it felt like a calling, and I’ve been fully immersed in it ever since.

I design primarily furniture and lighting, always with a focus on functionality and cultural awareness. What excites me most is the opportunity to create pieces that influence both the aesthetic and functional aspects of a space. I’d love to explore more public space designs, where the interaction between people and objects becomes a more central theme.

The key is dedication to your craft. Young designers should focus on building a solid foundation of skills while continuously pushing the boundaries of their creativity. It’s also important to stay curious and open to new ideas, technologies, and cultures. Seek mentorship, but also be brave enough to create your own path.

A good designer solves problems efficiently, while a great designer creates something that resonates deeply with people, elevating the experience beyond mere functionality. Great designers often challenge the status quo and push the limits of their field, infusing their work with originality and emotional depth.

Good design is holistic—it should be functional, aesthetically pleasing, and considerate of the user’s experience. A really good design takes this further, integrating a sense of narrative or emotion that makes it memorable. I evaluate good design based on its balance between form and function, its sustainability, and how it enhances the lives of those who interact with it.

Good design improves the quality of life. It’s not just about aesthetics; it’s about creating solutions that are both beautiful and functional, making everyday experiences better. Investing in good design is investing in your environment, your comfort, and ultimately your well-being.

If I had unlimited time, I’d design more public spaces that foster community interaction—places where design serves a greater social purpose. I’d want to create environments that promote well-being, collaboration, and sustainability.

I have always dreamed of creating a complete design ecosystem that integrates architecture, furniture, and lighting in a seamless experience. A space where design doesn’t just occupy the physical world but enhances the human experience through every detail.

My secret ingredient is empathy. Understanding the needs and emotions of the people who will interact with my designs is essential. This empathy guides my decision-making process and ensures that my work connects with users on a deeper level.

I draw inspiration from several design legends, including Charles and Ray Eames for their timeless approach to furniture design, and Ettore Sottsass for his bold, unconventional work in lighting. These designers combined functionality with emotion in a way that continues to influence me.

One of my favorites is the Eames lounge chair, which strikes a perfect balance between comfort, craftsmanship, and elegance. It’s a great example of how design can be both beautiful and highly functional. I also admire the work of Zaha Hadid for her visionary approach to architecture and fluidity in form.

I would say my greatest design is always evolving, but a recent project that stands out is a lighting collection I created that focuses on material honesty and light manipulation. It combines sculptural elements with a functional, sustainable approach. What makes it great is its ability to transform a space, not just through illumination, but by enhancing the mood and character of the environment.

Continuous learning and self-reflection are key. I push myself to explore new materials, technologies, and cultural contexts. The more you expose yourself to diverse perspectives, the better your designs will become. I also find it valuable to collaborate with other creatives to gain fresh insights.

I would have likely pursued a career in the arts, perhaps in sculpture or architecture, as I’ve always been fascinated by the intersection of form, space, and functionality. Design is a natural extension of that curiosity.

Design is the act of shaping the world around us in a way that improves the human experience. It’s a blend of problem-solving, creativity, and empathy that results in meaningful objects and spaces.

My family and mentors have played a huge role in my development as a designer. Their guidance, critiques, and encouragement have been invaluable in shaping my career. I also owe a lot to the incredible teams I’ve worked with, who have helped bring my ideas to life.

A combination of hard work, curiosity, and a willingness to fail and learn from mistakes. Over time, I developed a unique design philosophy rooted in the belief that design should enhance the human experience while remaining true to its material and functional aspects.

Like many designers, I faced moments of self-doubt and the challenge of building a portfolio that reflected my true style. The industry is competitive, and it took years of refining my skills and finding my unique voice in design to overcome these obstacles.

21. How do you think designers should present their work?
Designers should present their work as a coherent narrative, not a collection of isolated objects. Presentation is not about decoration or over-rendering, but about clarity. A good presentation explains intention, process, constraints, and decisions. It should show why a design exists, not just how it looks. Context, material logic, scale, and use must be visible. When presentation becomes louder than the idea, the design usually isn’t strong enough.

I’m currently focused on expanding my work in furniture and lighting through more concept-driven collections. The direction is toward fewer objects, but deeper thinking behind each one. Future projects will likely explore the emotional role of light and furniture in everyday rituals, with a stronger emphasis on material experimentation and long-term usability rather than short-lived trends.

My ultimate goal is to create designs that remain relevant beyond their launch moment. I’m not interested in being constantly visible; I’m interested in being durable. If my work can still make sense culturally, emotionally, and functionally years later, then I consider that success.

People often expect confidence, consistency, and clarity of vision. More importantly, they expect responsibility. An experienced designer should not simply produce objects, but set standards, ask better questions, and contribute to a more thoughtful design culture. At a certain point, your role extends beyond personal output.

Design shapes behavior, access, and interaction. When done responsibly, it reduces friction in daily life and increases dignity in use. Design can encourage care, awareness, and sustainability, or it can promote waste and superficial consumption. A better society is built through many small, intelligent design decisions repeated over time.

I’m particularly excited about projects where lighting is treated not as a technical requirement, but as a spatial and emotional medium. Projects that allow experimentation with shadow, material transparency, and indirect light are always the most rewarding for me.

Projects that allowed enough time for research and refinement have given me the most satisfaction. Especially those where the final outcome felt inevitable, where every decision was justified and nothing felt arbitrary. Satisfaction comes when the design feels calm, resolved, and honest.

I would like to see less obsession with speed and visibility, and more respect for depth and process. The industry needs to slow down and move away from constant novelty. Designers should be rewarded for thinking, not just producing content.

Design is moving toward greater responsibility. Sustainability, material transparency, and social impact are no longer optional. At the same time, technology will increasingly influence how we design, but the human experience must remain central. Tools will evolve, but judgment and sensitivity will always matter.

There is no fixed timeline. Some ideas mature quickly, others need years. What matters is not speed, but readiness. A project is finished when further changes no longer improve it, only alter it.

I start with questions, not sketches. Why does this object need to exist? Who is it for? What problem does it solve, emotionally and practically? Only after that do I move toward form and material.

Design less, think more. Remove what doesn’t matter. Keep what does.

Trends exist whether designers like them or not. Weak designers follow them, strong designers understand them, and independent designers work around them. Meaningful design usually outlives trends rather than chasing them.

Technology is a tool, not a goal. It expands possibilities, but it doesn’t replace judgment. I use technology to test, refine, and communicate ideas, but the core decisions are always human.

I use a combination of 3D modeling, rendering, and prototyping tools depending on the project phase. Software is interchangeable; thinking is not. The tool never defines the design, it only serves it.

They define atmosphere and perception. Material is not a surface choice; it’s a structural and emotional decision. Color and ambient conditions shape how people feel and behave in a space. These elements must work together, not compete.

I wish people asked more about intention and context, and less about style. Style is the result, not the starting point.

I usually think about how inevitable it feels. Good design often looks simple because the complexity has been resolved internally.

I believe in collaboration with people who challenge assumptions and bring expertise I don’t have. Co-design works when roles are clear and respect is mutual.

Mentors, craftsmen, engineers, and even critical editors have influenced me deeply. Often the most impact comes from people who ask uncomfortable questions.

Books on philosophy, architecture, and visual culture have shaped my thinking more than purely design-focused books. Understanding how people think and perceive is essential for good design.

Through repetition, failure, and reflection. Skill develops over time when curiosity is combined with discipline and honest self-critique.

I would love to have long conversations with designers and thinkers who questioned norms rather than reinforced them. People who designed from conviction, not market pressure.

Awards are acknowledgments, not validation. They open doors, but they don’t replace responsibility. Recognition is useful, but it should never become the goal.

Awards are acknowledgments, not validation. They open doors, but they don’t replace responsibility. Recognition is useful, but it should never become the goal.

Early in my career, I once spent weeks refining a detail that no one noticed. Later I realized that the discipline it taught me mattered more than the recognition.

Progress. Even small steps forward matter. Motivation comes from clarity, not excitement.

Not explicitly, but the tendencies were there. Curiosity about objects, spaces, and how things work usually shows early.

Design will still exist because humans will still shape their environment. The tools will change completely, but the need for meaning and care will remain.

My work is not about visibility or spectacle. It’s about attention, responsibility, and respect for the user. If my designs feel quiet, it’s because they are meant to listen first.

Rodis Design is a product-oriented design studio where I serve as Creative Director. The studio focuses on furniture and lighting design, working closely with manufacturers and brands to develop products that balance concept, production realities, and long-term relevance. We are not interested in fast trends; our approach emphasizes clarity, material honesty, and designs that can age with dignity.

Design, for me, is a structured way of thinking rather than a visual outcome. It is the act of making conscious decisions under constraints. Good design is not about adding more, but about deciding what is necessary and what should be removed. It sits between logic and emotion.

I am most engaged when designing furniture and lighting because these objects exist in constant dialogue with the human body and space. They are used daily, often unconsciously, which gives them a strong psychological and emotional impact. This responsibility makes the design process more meaningful to me.

One of the projects that best represents my design philosophy is Crown Shell. This sofa was conceived as an exploration of balance between strength and comfort, presence and intimacy. The form draws inspiration from the natural geometry of a seashell and the symbolic notion of a crown, not as decoration, but as structure and meaning. The circular black anodized metal frame acts as a continuous backbone, defining both stability and movement, while the upholstered shell embraces the body in a calm, protective gesture. The choice of materials was deliberate: metal for structural clarity and longevity, and velvet for tactile warmth and emotional contrast. What makes Crown Shell particularly significant to me is not only its sculptural identity, but the way it negotiates ergonomics, rotation, and spatial presence without becoming visually aggressive. Every detail, from the curvature to the stitching and proportions, was refined to ensure that the object communicates quietly yet confidently. Its international recognition confirmed that the project resonated beyond aesthetics, addressing comfort, symbolism, and function as a cohesive whole. For me, Crown Shell is less about being a statement piece and more about demonstrating how concept, material logic, and user experience can coexist without compromise.

My first professional project was a product developed under strict technical and budget limitations. It was an important lesson in understanding that design is not about ideal conditions, but about intelligent compromises.

I am drawn to materials that reveal their nature honestly and age gracefully. In lighting, I am particularly interested in technologies that allow precise control of light quality without overpowering the form or experience.

Creativity usually comes after periods of deep observation and research. I feel most creative when I have mental space, when there is time to think slowly and without constant external noise.

I focus heavily on proportion, material logic, and intention. If these elements are resolved properly, aesthetics emerge naturally instead of being imposed.

Designing is more analytical than emotional for me. It involves concentration, doubt, and continuous questioning. Satisfaction comes later, often very quietly.

Designing is more analytical than emotional for me. It involves concentration, doubt, and continuous questioning. Satisfaction comes later, often very quietly.

A successful design functions effortlessly, communicates without explanation, and remains relevant over time. If it does not demand attention, but still holds presence, it has succeeded.

I first look at intention and honesty. Does the design truly serve its purpose? Is it pretending to be something it’s not? If those fail, appearance becomes irrelevant.

Designers are responsible for minimizing waste, questioning unnecessary production, and improving daily life instead of contributing to visual and material pollution. Every object introduced into the world carries responsibility.

The design field is moving toward accountability. Sustainability, transparency, and ethical production are no longer optional. The future of design will favor depth over speed and responsibility over spectacle.

Recently, my focus has been more on product launches and curated design presentations rather than traditional exhibitions. Future exhibitions, if held, will likely be concept-driven rather than retrospective showcases.

Inspiration comes from architecture, visual culture, everyday rituals, and critical writing. Writing and editing for Designooor has also become an essential way for me to sharpen my thinking and feed my creativity.

My style is restrained, material-focused, and conceptually grounded. I avoid decorative gestures and focus on clarity, balance, and emotional calm. My approach is analytical first, visual second.

Yes, cultural context inevitably shapes perspective. Living in a place where tradition and modernity constantly intersect has made me sensitive to continuity, restraint, and meaning. The challenge is limitation; the advantage is depth.

Through structured collaboration, clear communication, and shared responsibility. A successful partnership depends on mutual trust and aligned values.

Companies should approach design not as a service to be bought, but as a strategic partnership. A good company frames design briefs in terms of real insight into user behaviors, context, and long-term value, rather than superficial aesthetic lists. Selecting a good designer isn’t about portfolio shine or trendy visuals; it’s about understanding how that designer thinks. A strong candidate explains not only what they made, but why they made it, what constraints shaped their decisions, and how they measured success. Designers who can articulate intentions, limitations, and alternatives demonstrate maturity. Companies that invest time in clear briefs and open collaboration often see smarter outcomes, because design is fundamentally an iterative process of questioning and refinement, not a once-off execution.

My design process begins with questions, not sketches. I start by defining the problem, identifying stakeholders, and understanding context deeply. After that, extensive research — visual, material, cultural — lays the groundwork. Prototyping is never an afterthought; it’s a core part of refinement, allowing ideas to be tested materially and spatially. Each iteration is evaluated against clarity of intention, functional logic, emotional resonance, and long-term relevance. I see every stage as a conversation between constraints and possibilities — design is about negotiation, not imposition. While tools change, this mindset remains constant.

My home collection reflects the same values I pursue professionally: pieces that feel quiet yet purposeful. I gravitate toward furniture that speaks through proportion and material integrity rather than ornamentation; lighting that subtly shapes atmosphere; objects that reveal character as they age. Among these, a modular seating piece that adapts to changing living patterns; a task lamp that balances direct function with calm ambient glow; a hand-thrown ceramic vessel; a chair shaped by human scale rather than stylistic trend; and a bookstand that invites touch and reflection. Each embodies restraint, utility, and a quiet emotional clarity.

My days are structured around thinking blocks, not tasks. I begin with reading and writing — both essential for sharpening perception and language. Mornings are often dedicated to design development, sketching, modeling, or critiquing ongoing work. Afternoons involve collaboration: calls with partners, reviews with engineers or manufacturers, or mentoring emerging designers. Evenings are quieter: research, reading, reflection. Unlike a typical “nine-to-five,” design work spills into thought as a continuous thread, but maintaining balance guards against noise and preserves creative depth.

A young designer’s greatest asset is patience paired with critical self-reflection. Learn fundamentals deeply — proportion, material behavior, ergonomics, light, and context — before chasing stylistic signatures. Develop a practice of asking better questions: Why? For whom? Under what constraints? Don’t fetishize rapid output; depth always outlasts noise. Seek mentors, but don’t mimic them. Your strongest design voice emerges from sustained observation of people and environments, not from trends or imitation.

The positive side of design is the opportunity to shape lived experience — to create objects and environments that ease daily life, provoke thought, and nurture emotion. Design is intellectual play grounded in real human problems, which is rare among creative fields. The downside is persistent self-critique; designing well demands constant questioning of every decision, which can feel both exhausting and isolating. Designers carry the weight of responsibility — each object introduced into the world has environmental, cultural, and emotional implications.

If it doesn’t need to exist, don’t design it. This rule isn’t about simplicity as a visual style; it’s about necessity. Every design decision should address a real user need, improve experience, or responsibly mediate a context. Excess is not elegance.

Critical thinking, empathy, and disciplined curiosity are non-negotiable. Technical skills — sketching, modeling, prototyping — are important, but they serve thinking, not overshadow it. The ability to listen, to reinterpret constraints as opportunities, and to communicate decisions clearly separates capable designers from outstanding ones.

My toolbox spans analog and digital. Sketching remains foundational because it externalizes thought quickly. 3D modeling allows exploration of form and structure in space. Prototyping tools — physical and digital — test ideas materially. Books on philosophy, architecture, and design culture feed conceptual depth. Writing is a tool too; articulating ideas sharpens intention. Inspiration comes from observation, not screens — from lived environments, people, and materials.

Time management in design isn’t about scheduling tasks rigidly; it’s about allocating time for deep thinking. Early phases demand more time for research, reflection, and problem definition. Setting aside uninterrupted periods for these stages prevents misguided decisions later. Time spent up front saves time spent undoing weak ideas. I protect creative time fiercely; meetings and deliverables must bend around it, not vice versa.

There is no fixed timeline. Some concepts resolve quickly if the intention is clear and constraints lean in their favor. Others take months of refinement, prototyping, and evaluation. What matters isn’t speed, but readiness — releasing a design prematurely compromises its integrity.

People often ask “What inspired this?” Inspiration is rarely a singular event. For me, it’s a web of observations, experiences, and long periods of thought. Good design isn’t a snapshot of inspiration; it’s the outcome of persistent engagement with a question.

Leading projects where I was accountable not only for form, but for consequence — where design decisions affected manufacturing, sustainability, and user experience — was pivotal. These experiences taught me that design is systemic; good ideas must be feasible, responsible, and meaningful.

I have worked with international manufacturers and brands in furniture and lighting, alongside bespoke collaborations with studios and architects. Each client relationship is an opportunity to expand how design is understood and integrated into everyday life.

I am most engaged by concept-driven work where narrative, function, and production logic align. This is where design moves beyond form into cultural relevance — where objects address real behaviors and rituals rather than surface aesthetics.

Looking ahead, I aim to focus on fewer but deeper projects that challenge norms and reconsider how environments support human well-being. This includes explorations in inclusive design — environments that are genuinely usable by people with varying abilities — and lighting systems that shape emotion and perception.

Both. Strong ideas benefit from dialogue, critique, and diverse expertise. Collaboration with engineers, makers, and other designers enriches outcomes. At the same time, core conceptual thinking often emerges in focused individual work.

Currently, several lighting and furniture concepts are in development, each rooted in emotional clarity and material exploration. These projects aim to balance technological innovation with human sensibility and will be shared as they reach maturity.

People can connect through my website contact channels or professional networks for collaborations and inquiries.