Interview with Szabolcs Nemeth

I come from a family of educators, and none of my ancestors were artists. Neither of my siblings showed particular inclination or interest in the arts. However, from a very young age, it became clear that I had a special talent: my drawings were far beyond the level of my peers. Although I won several drawing competitions, I didn’t really enjoy competing; I much preferred finding my own solutions and creating works that brought me personal joy rather than producing them at a competitive level. When I was admitted to university, I was extremely happy and enjoyed every moment of my studies. Thanks to the university, I also had the opportunity to travel to several major European cities through scholarships. I participated in the Erasmus program, studying at a university in Kraków, Poland. Additionally, I attended workshops in Hannover and Ljubljana, where I further expanded my professional experience and inspiration. In Hungary during the 1990s, amid the emergence of the market economy, university students had a tremendous opportunity to become directly involved in international commercial processes. With the arrival of the first multinational corporations in Hungary, the advertising market was still unsettled following the political transition. Although various media, marketing agencies, and advertising studios had already appeared, their numbers were still small. As a result, it was quite common for a young graphic designer to work directly for a multinational company without an agency intermediary. Additionally, university students could also work for different advertising agencies even before graduation, which I actively did myself.

I consider myself a traditional artist who believes deeply in the value of classical skills and techniques. I think it is much harder to create meaningful work without them. These are the tools and abilities I learned from classical fine and applied arts, long before the digital era. For example, during university admission, essential criteria included life modeling, study drawing, perspective drawing, portrait drawing, and full-figure drawing.
From my experience, those who master these traditional techniques and later embrace digital design tools gain a significant advantage. I count myself among them: I am capable of thinking and designing without a computer, using just a single sheet of paper and a simple line—much like Renaissance masters did. When it comes to refining the designs and the realization phase, I turn to digital tools to carry out parametric and computer-based processes.
The same philosophy applies to sculpture. Although today it is easy to 3D print figures based on digital models, we always handcraft the original forms first. For example, I model the handle of a fishing rod by hand in sculpting wax before it undergoes digital processing and final refinement.

In visual communication design, I fundamentally enjoy creating two-dimensional graphics, as it is an exciting task. However, many times I feel that this type of design doesn’t offer enough challenge for me. For some reason, life has led me towards creating three-dimensional objects, which is a very exciting field for me.
When I first imagine the core idea, it already creates a state of excitement. After the initial research and conceptual thinking, when I realize that my idea has validity and feasibility, it brings an even higher level of enthusiasm. Then the creative process begins, which, in my case, is very lengthy. I believe that whenever I create an object, I can only confirm its functionality through numerous tests. Therefore, the creative process for me is often long and persistent, requiring the production of many prototypes to be sure that the design truly works.
This is also true for something like an anamorphic fountain, where I create a plan for how a mosaic matrix will visually align on a cylindrical mirror surface. I first create a small-scale model and adjust the graphic in various ways to find the optimal solution.
In the case of a fishing rod, the process is especially exciting because, for example, developing a spring that forms the rod body cannot be done simply based on hand drawings or computer measurements. The spring needs to be tested by actually using it, catching fish, gathering feedback, and then modifying the design accordingly. This process often takes years.

I believe that a designer’s work is truly successful only when there is a strong drive for innovation. It is not enough to simply follow existing patterns or replicate trendy solutions. It is important to have the courage to seek out solutions that do not yet exist at the current moment — true, independent innovation.
To achieve this, one must be able to distance themselves from the current situation and envision things that have never existed before. However, the question is how big those dreams are. A successful designer needs to choose projects that are realistic in scale, both financially and in terms of the required work. If the dream is too big, no matter how fantastic the idea is, it will likely never come to fruition because it may be difficult to secure funding or to present the project convincingly enough to attract investors.
That is why I advocate for working on projects of a scale that does not depend on the skills or intentions of others, but can be realized solely through my own will and capabilities.

Some of my plans have already come to fruition, as I’ve had the opportunity to explore many areas throughout my life. Among them is one particular project that I’ve grown especially fond of, and which has become a central component of my long-term vision: the development of a compact fishing rod.
This is a type of innovation that is never truly finished. I’ve already developed a base system that is compatible with a wide range of reels and can be used for many different fishing methods — from casting from the shore or a boat, to ice fishing, and even underwater snorkeling-based fishing. I truly feel that this is my "dream project" — something I want to keep refining and evolving in the years to come.
My belief in this project is further validated by the success of its patenting process, which lasted eight years. In every country where I applied for protection, the patent was granted. The Wormy products are now protected with 20-year patents in the world’s largest markets. That means no one else can produce or sell them for two decades from the date of filing — and I still have about 12 years remaining under this protection.
I see this as the foundation of my long-term work — a project that I will continue to nurture with dedication, creativity, and care in the coming years.

My advice to younger creators is this: the younger you are, the more important it is to stay connected to where we come from — to remember that some of the world’s most beautiful and enduring works were created without any digital tools.
I often see young people trying to bypass traditional creative processes. They avoid working with physical materials, never pick up a pencil, don’t sculpt or draw by hand, and instead rely entirely on digital tools — and today, increasingly on artificial intelligence.
No one yet knows exactly where this will lead in the long term. It’s a fascinating new paradigm, but also one full of deep and unanswered questions.
Still, I believe that a truly good designer — even in the age of AI — must be capable of independent creation. Like AI, they must absorb the knowledge and achievements of their time, but then take one inventive step beyond, synthesizing those inputs into something entirely new, perhaps even something that never existed before. That’s what I believe defines true innovation.

I believe that anyone who is born with the ability to create something new — and who chooses to put that gift in service of humanity — has received one of life’s greatest blessings. My advice to young designers is to recognize the value of their talent and try to make use of it every single day. Every creation, no matter how small, is a contribution to progress.
At a young age, this may not always feel meaningful. But in the long run, we can begin to see how our work might actually influence the world — even within our own lifetime. And when that realization comes — that your knowledge and creativity have served a greater purpose — it is one of the most fulfilling feelings imaginable.
It’s also why I believe that every creative person should deeply value and continuously develop their abilities. Talent is a gift, yes — but it’s the dedication to growth, to practice, and to self-improvement that gives it true meaning.
For me, the act of creation is mostly a joy — I would say 75% enjoyment and only 25% difficulty. And that 25% is the part that excites me the most: the challenge itself, the search for solutions, the process of figuring things out.
It’s also important to understand that an idea is just the beginning — a spark. The real work comes after. A great idea alone doesn’t guarantee success; it takes time, testing, and determination to even prove its potential. But once that’s done, the creative journey truly begins — and for me, that journey is often more rewarding than the final result.
That fulfillment applies not only to the creation of a product, but also to the journey toward recognition. Winning an award is a wonderful experience — but often, it’s the path you take to get there that brings the greatest joy and meaninng.

My workday begins like most people's — with a cup of coffee and switching on my phone. Then I go through the most urgent tasks for the day and try to reach that point as soon as possible where I can focus on what I do best: design.
Since I have a family and run a business, I can’t dedicate as much time to pure design work as I would like. But that’s the nature of life — and I accept that. The key is to find those moments when I can fully immerse myself in the creative process.
Whenever possible, I try to signal to those around me that I need uninterrupted time to concentrate on tasks that only I can carry out. This is especially important for complex projects — such as my award-winning compact fishing rod — where so many small details are interconnected that only I, as the original creator, truly understand the full system. Whether it’s as a designer, a fisherman, an engineer, or a company director, I’m often the one who can give the most effective answers to design or construction challenges.
So my days are complex — a constant balancing act between design, operations, family life, and entrepreneurship. And to be honest, I may never have as much time for pure design work as I would ideally want. But that, too, is part of building something real — part of the process of creating and maintaining a brand.

I hadn’t really thought about this before, so I’m glad you asked—because I believe my answer differs from what most people might say. Of course, I follow design trends and observe the directions the field is heading in, but they have never been the source of my inspiration. I don’t aim to borrow elements from them or align my work with current styles.
My way of thinking is much more retrospective—I look to the past. I examine what design has produced over the years and seek to offer contemporary yet entirely personal answers to timeless questions. I’m not interested in integrating the current solutions of others into my work; rather, I aim to respond to enduring creative challenges in my own way.
A perfect example of this is my anamorphic mosaic. In that project, I combined classical, traditional techniques with modern technology. I created a four-square-meter surface made of tiny mosaic tiles that initially appears to form a chaotic, unreadable pattern. But when a person looks into the mirrored cylinder of the drinking fountain placed in the center, the mosaic transforms into a figurative image—a mounted royal figure arriving with his army.
The original composition was drawn by hand using graphite, and later I used digital tools to build the mosaic matrix from that image. So the piece is rooted in classical craftsmanship while being realized through modern means.
In essence, I’m always looking for unique solutions. I connect traditional methods with today’s technologies to create something new. This is my individual path—independent of any current trend.

In my view, design—whether it's product design, visual communication, or any other form—must always begin from a rational foundation, and that part must be fully resolved. As I’ve mentioned earlier in this interview in response to another question, it comes down to function and form.
If I’m designing an object for use, it must first and foremost function properly. The function is fundamental. But I must resolve it in a way that also results in a form that is aesthetically pleasing, one that is visually satisfying. I wouldn’t even speak so much about proportions as I would about balance.
If these two elements—function and form—are both fully present and in harmony, then we’re talking about good design. It doesn’t matter which comes first, because one cannot exist without the other. The essence of good design lies in the perfect balance between the two.
For me, a design truly works when I look at it and instinctively say, “Yes, that’s it!” Even if I don’t consciously analyze it in that moment, it’s the balance I’m sensing. That’s why I say “aha”—because it works, and I like it.

In my view, design is an infinite process – a design is never truly “finished.” Of course, there can be certain phases within the design process that represent temporary endpoints. These moments may result in an actual product or even lead to mass production, and the result may be an excellent product – but that doesn't mean the story ends there. In fact, it's much more likely that the life of a product stretches far beyond that initial phase.
I believe that reason, market conditions, and the surrounding business context always dictate when I raise my hand from the table and say, “This phase is now complete” or “This is ready.” But this “ready” only applies to the current state. From that point, it can become a product – but I’m absolutely certain that there’s always room for improvement. And even beyond that improvement, there’s always more to be done – development can continue endlessly.
That’s why I look at everything I do as a milestone, rather than a final destination. Whether it’s product design or brand identity, I design the entire visual communication of my own brands – from trademarks and visual identity elements to packaging and presentation. And here too, the same applies: it’s a continuous evolution with key milestones along the way.
Yes, sometimes a milestone may also represent a major goal achieved, and we may feel we’ve arrived somewhere meaningful – but I still believe the journey never truly ends.

My greatest design work, although it started small, eventually grew into something big because I put an enormous amount of energy, time, and love into it. This is my project called Wormy Compact Fishing Systems. The fundamental reasons behind how this came to be are as follows: I grew up by Central Europe’s largest lake, Lake Balaton, spending my entire childhood there until adulthood. Naturally, my grandfather introduced me to the secrets of fishing, so we fished together from a very young age.
Meanwhile, I pursued a career in design in Budapest, and a few decades later, I once searched for a particular fishing product I wanted to buy. I realized that there wasn’t a device on the market that met my expectations. Only some of my requirements for such a fishing system were fulfilled, so I was instinctively motivated to create one myself.
After I made the first prototype, I understood that there was much more potential in it, and a lot could be improved so that it would not just be a small, individual fishing tool but a complete system that could be used with many different fishing methods. Thus, my desires and skills came together and materialized in a concept that I then realized.
At first, selfishly, I made it for my own use, but I spent a lot of time testing it. It’s interesting with such developments that once you have a prototype, you need to test it continuously in various locations and with different methods. There are many pitfalls with a mechanical device, and this phase reveals how well the different expectations are met.
I had to manufacture and test many different prototypes, which took a lot of time. However, I enjoyed the process of designing and testing — basically, I was fishing the whole time. Of course, it wasn’t always enjoyable because not every prototype worked perfectly, but I kept moving forward and was always able to improve the product.
My original goal was just a single product for myself, but I realized that if it’s good for me, it could be good for others, too. So I started designing a broader system and developed a product line. Initially, the materials used were suitable only for small-series production, and I wasn’t prepared to produce large-scale, low-cost products. However, this changed over the years, and now I’m ready to launch fishing rods made from quality materials with modern CNC technology, featuring carbon composite injection-molded reel seats and cork handles replacing the former hardwood grips.
This manufacturing method allows cost-effective, large-scale production at a competitive price, so I hope the product will become available to a much wider audience.

I would gladly have a conversation with him, and fortunately, he is still alive. I would ask Dieter Rams about his philosophy of 'less but better' and the harmony between functionality and aesthetics.

My lifestyle and cultural identity — which I am deeply proud of — are closely intertwined with my family and the creative path we’ve chosen. I have two children, one of whom is already an adult. My partner is a sculptor, and for over 25 years, we’ve run a creative business together — so it’s fair to say we are a true artist family.
Our younger child recently began studying sculpture at one of Hungary’s most prestigious secondary art schools. In our household, this has become a family tradition: my partner’s parents were artists too, though I myself didn’t come from an artistic background. Yet today, creation is part of our everyday life.
We live in a small town just outside Budapest, nestled in the Danube Bend, surrounded by the beauty of the Pilis mountains. The closeness of nature, a vibrant local cultural scene, and especially the presence of water are deeply important to us. Water, in fact, has always played a key role in my life — I grew up by Lake Balaton, the largest lake in Central Europe, and now we live near the Danube River.
At the moment I’m giving this interview, I’m in Rovinj, Croatia, on the Adriatic coast — one of the dearest places to my heart. I purchased a small apartment in the old town about twenty years ago, and it’s since become our family’s summer retreat. I spend as much time here as I possibly can.
Rovinj (or Rovigno, in Italian) is a thousand-year-old coastal town that was once a humble fishing village. It carries a rich Venetian heritage, and its winding alleys, Mediterranean charm, and historic architecture offer endless inspiration. The climate, the food, the pace of life — all these elements deeply shape how I live, think, and create.
Additionally, one of my partner’s siblings married and settled in Italy over thirty years ago, and we now have a large Italian family with whom we maintain a very close relationship. Their influence, and this inherited Mediterranean sensibility, continues to shape our lives — both personally and artistically.

Is it easy to work with me?
I believe it is. At heart, I’m a mediator-type person who values collaboration based on mutual respect. Honestly, I don’t feel very comfortable within rigid corporate hierarchies — probably because I’m not really a businessperson. I’m a designer. And in structures where roles are clearly divided — owner, CEO, lead designer — I often feel out of place. Yet in my own company, I have to take on all of those roles myself, which can be overwhelming. Ideally, I would spend most of my time designing — that's where I truly feel at home.
Operational tasks, financial responsibilities, delegating work, team building — all of these are challenging for me. Still, I try to create a working environment where people are treated as equals, where collaboration is key. I’m not interested in lecturing or instructing others; I want to work alongside people and learn from them as well. That’s why I naturally gravitate toward studio environments built around mutual creativity and shared ownership.
At the same time, when developing a product of my own for the international market, I can’t ignore the need for professional growth in business areas too. Brand-building, business strategy, and understanding the operational side of running a company are just as important — and I’m still learning those skills.
I like working with people whose strengths complement mine — people with whom I can "merge" ideas and co-create something new. I also value team members who may not focus on creativity but are reliable in execution and consistency.
To me, one of the most important qualities in a good designer is that the materials they deliver should be of such high quality that even those less experienced can confidently use them as a solid foundation for their own work. But this only comes with a significant investment of time and attention.
I consider myself a thorough and detail-oriented person. Not only because it’s my nature, but because I’ve come to understand that in design, many of the subtleties simply can’t be handed off to someone else — unless they’re fully thought through and worked out in detail. That’s why I often feel the need to dive deep and complete those parts myself.

As much as my possibilities allow, I try to take an active role in the smaller communities where I live, particularly by contributing my artistic, curatorial, and professional perspective to support the preservation of the town’s visual identity and to assist the work of the local arts council. I take on this role entirely voluntarily, without financial compensation, because I believe it is important to contribute to the cultural development of the community with my experience, taste, and skills.

As part of this work, we initiate and manage various art competitions, establish local art prizes, and participate in the jury process. I see this as a meaningful, non-profit activity that serves the public good.

In addition, we operate a public community space called “Szabadság Tér” (Freedom Square) in our property, which also houses our studio. This venue is dedicated to showcasing artistic content. We organize exhibitions for local and regional artists, provide a platform for emerging talents, not only in design, fine arts, and applied arts, but also in musical performance.

I believe international design competitions hold incredible significance for the advancement of designers. It is extremely important that anyone capable of creating a high-quality intellectual product shares it on the right platforms to reach a global audience. However, I think many creators still haven’t realized this or hesitate—or simply don’t want—to submit their work to these awards. Meanwhile, with the incredible expansion opportunities provided by the internet, this is arguably the best way for a designer to gain recognition, respect, and achievements.

Winning an award is flattering on its own, but I believe that for an international design prize—such as the A’ Design Award—this is especially true. Receiving such recognition is a wonderful experience, as is attending a Mediterranean evening gala, which remains a beautiful memory. Yet, the true significance of such an award lies primarily in its promotional and marketing value.

For someone like me, who not only participates in these competitions but also has their own product, winning a credible international award is invaluable—not only for raising my personal profile but also for strengthening the recognition of my brand.

Curiosity. I have always enjoyed solving problems. Design, for me, is simply a structured way of making everyday life a little better. I don't design because I want to create objects. I design because I want to remove frustrations.

I don't think I ever had another option. Looking back, it feels less like a decision and more like discovering who I already was.

I enjoy creating products that combine mechanics, usability and emotion. I would love to spend even more time designing products that help people reconnect with nature and encourage real experiences instead of screen time.

Forget about becoming a legend. Become genuinely curious instead. Observe people. Listen more than you speak. Learn engineering, psychology, manufacturing and communication. And don't give up after the first hundred failures.

A good designer solves problems. A great designer discovers problems nobody noticed before.

Good design feels inevitable. When people see it, they think, "Why didn't this exist before?" Simplicity is usually the result of enormous complexity behind the scenes.

Good design saves time, reduces frustration and often lasts much longer. It improves everyday life quietly, without asking for attention.

More products that make outdoor activities simpler and more accessible for families and beginners.

A complete ecosystem of compact outdoor products sharing the same design philosophy as Wormy.

Persistence. Most people underestimate how much can be achieved simply by refusing to quit.

Dieter Rams, Naoto Fukasawa, James Dyson, Jony Ive, Luigi Colani and many anonymous engineers whose names most people never learn.

I admire products that disappear in use. The best designs don't constantly remind you they were designed.

Without question, Wormy. It represents more than ten years of development, patents, countless prototypes and an entirely new way of thinking about fishing equipment. What makes it special is not only the product itself but the philosophy behind it.

Keep learning outside design. Read engineering books, study biology, observe nature and build real prototypes. Reality is the best teacher.

Probably something involving nature, craftsmanship or engineering. I need to create things.

Design is empathy transformed into reality.

My family. They believed in projects that often seemed impossible. Without their patience and encouragement, many of my ideas would never have become reality.

Thousands of failures. Every unsuccessful prototype contained valuable information.

Limited resources, limited manufacturing possibilities and years of uncertainty. Independent innovation often means doing the work of an entire company alone.

Tell the story behind the solution, not only the appearance of the object.

Several new developments are already underway, all following the same philosophy: making outdoor experiences simpler, smarter and more enjoyable.

To create products that people still enjoy using decades from now.

Hopefully honesty. I don't want to surprise people with complexity but with thoughtful simplicity.

Every good design removes a small daily frustration. Millions of small improvements eventually shape a better society.

Expanding the Wormy ecosystem and developing digital services that connect users and their outdoor experiences.

Wormy, because it required every skill I had learned during my career. It became much more than a product—it became a personal journey.

Less disposable products. More durability, repairability and genuine innovation.

Toward more sustainable, modular and adaptable products supported by intelligent digital services.

Sometimes months. Sometimes more than a decade.

By identifying what people silently accept as unavoidable.

Never stop asking, "Could this be simpler?"

Great design creates trends. Everything else follows them.

Technology is a tool, never the goal.

I use a combination of CAD software, Adobe Creative Cloud, 3D printing, CNC manufacturing and traditional hand-built prototypes. Digital tools are important, but many ideas are still born with pencil and paper.

Materials communicate honesty. Color communicates emotion. Together they shape the entire experience.

Not "What does it do?" but "Why was it designed this way?"

I immediately start wondering what compromises had to be solved to make it look so effortless.

Absolutely. The best partner is someone who respectfully challenges your assumptions.

Users. Real feedback from everyday people has influenced my work more than any theory.

Rather than one specific book, I have learned from engineering, biology, psychology and product development literature. Nature itself has been my greatest textbook.

By continuously designing, building, testing, failing and starting again.

Leonardo da Vinci. I think our conversation would last for days.

Awards are deeply appreciated because they confirm years of invisible work. They are milestones, not destinations. Recognition brings responsibility more than fame.

Color: Black.
Place: The Adriatic coast and Lake Balaton.
Food: Traditional Hungarian dishes.
Season: Summer.
Thing: My sketchbook.
Brand: Patagonia, because of its philosophy.

After years of developing Wormy, I eventually realized I was carrying more prototypes than actual fishing equipment. Somewhere along the way I became the person testing inventions instead of catching fish. Fortunately, both turned out to be enjoyable.

A single successful prototype can justify weeks of failures. Small progress is enough motivation.

Not at all. But it was obvious that I couldn't stop taking things apart to understand how they worked.

Technology will change dramatically, but human curiosity and creativity will remain exactly the same.

Behind every award-winning product are years of invisible work, uncertainty and persistence. If my work inspires anyone, I hope it is not because of the awards, but because it shows that one determined person can still build something meaningful from a simple idea.

For more than twenty-five years I have been working in my own independent design studio. Unlike large design consultancies, I often manage every stage of development myself—from the original concept through engineering challenges, prototyping, branding, communication and manufacturing.

I sometimes call this approach "backyard design." Without a large engineering team or marketing department, one person has to wear many hats. It is demanding, but it also creates complete creative freedom.

Design is empathy transformed into reality.

It begins with observing people, identifying frustrations they often accept as normal, and then creating something that quietly improves everyday life.

Beautiful form is important, but meaningful function always comes first.

Products that genuinely improve everyday experiences.

I particularly enjoy projects where engineering, ergonomics and emotional value come together naturally. Outdoor products and equipment connected to nature are especially close to my heart.

Without hesitation, Wormy.

It represents more than ten years of continuous development, hundreds of prototypes, international patents and countless lessons learned through testing.

What makes it special for me is not simply the final object, but the philosophy behind it: questioning assumptions that had existed in fishing equipment for generations.

During my early career I designed visual identities, printed materials and exhibition projects for various clients before gradually moving toward industrial and product design.

Materials that honestly express their function.

I enjoy combining stainless steel, aluminum, technical polymers and natural cork. Technology should support the experience, not dominate it.

Usually after observing a problem for a long time.

Ideas rarely arrive instantly. They emerge slowly after collecting many small observations until everything suddenly connects.

Usability comes first.

Then simplicity.

Only after those do I focus on visual refinement.

Curiosity.

Designing feels less like creating something and more like discovering something that was already hidden inside the problem.

Relief first.

Then excitement when people begin using the product in ways I had hoped they would.

When people stop thinking about the product and simply enjoy using it.

The best design quietly disappears into the experience.

Does it solve a real problem?

If not, everything else becomes secondary.

Designers should create products that people keep, repair and enjoy for many years instead of replacing frequently.

Good design is sustainable because people do not want to throw it away.

Products will become increasingly modular, connected and adaptable.

However, timeless simplicity will always remain valuable.

My latest international presentations have been connected to award exhibitions and design events, including A' Design Award and several international design competitions.

I look forward to exhibiting future projects at international design and outdoor industry events.

Nature.

Real users.

Engineering.

Long conversations.

Failures.

Most inspiration comes from observing everyday situations rather than searching for inspiration directly.

Quiet.

Functional.

Honest.

I try to remove everything unnecessary until only the essential remains.

I live in Hungary.

Hungarian designers traditionally learn to solve problems creatively with limited resources. This mindset has had a strong influence on my work.

Sometimes limitations become advantages.

As a collaborative partner.

I like understanding not only what a company wants to build, but why.

Choose designers because they ask good questions, not because they promise quick answers.

Observe.

Question assumptions.

Sketch.

Prototype.

Test.

Fail.

Improve.

Repeat.

• My sketchbook

• A well-balanced kitchen knife

• A mechanical pencil

• A classic camera

• My Wormy prototype collection

A typical day may include sketching ideas, machining prototypes, meetings, photography, writing, testing products outdoors and answering questions from users around the world.

Prototype earlier.

Listen carefully.

Stay humble.

Never fall in love with your first idea.

The greatest advantage is turning ideas into reality.

The greatest challenge is that truly innovative ideas usually require enormous patience.

If something can be simplified, it probably should be.

Curiosity.

Persistence.

Observation.

Communication.

Empathy.

Sketchbook.

CAD software.

Adobe Creative Cloud.

3D printers.

CNC machining.

Photography.

Most importantly: prototypes.

By focusing on priorities rather than urgency.

Long projects require consistency more than speed.

Anywhere between several months and more than ten years.

Wormy itself required over a decade.

"Why hasn't anyone thought of this before?"

That is probably my favorite question.

Developing Wormy from an idea into an internationally patented, award-winning product taught me more than any single project ever could.

Alongside private clients and companies, I also develop my own independent products under my own brand.

Projects that require inventing something genuinely new rather than improving existing solutions.

Expanding the Wormy ecosystem and continuing to create products that encourage people to spend more time outdoors.

Many concepts originate with me, but successful products are always the result of collaboration with engineers, manufacturers, photographers, filmmakers, testers and many dedicated partners.

Several exciting developments connected to Wormy are currently underway, though it is still too early to reveal details.

Through my official website, LinkedIn or the Wormy online platforms.

Design is often associated with talent.

I believe it is much more closely connected to persistence.

Behind every award-winning product are years of invisible work, failed prototypes, difficult decisions and countless small improvements. If there is one thing I hope people remember about my work, it is that meaningful innovation is rarely the result of a single brilliant idea. More often, it is the result of refusing to give up until the idea finally works.