Interview with Tiravy Guillaume

I have been drawing since I was very young. It was the simplest way for me to escape my surroundings. It was a silent activity that required only a piece of paper and a pencil, resources that were always accessible to me. It was also a way to reflect on my environment. Literally, I would transpose what I saw. Figuratively, I learned by reproducing. I seriously started drawing at the age of 4 and have never stopped.

My first academic aspiration was not design but animation. At 6 years old, I discovered the concept of animation through a sequence of drawings and was immediately fascinated by the process. As a teenager, I produced a few basic animations, both traditional and stop-motion. These were made with limited resources. I had restricted access to computers and had to make do with software that was not designed for animation.

I didn't have the opportunity to pursue the studies I initially wanted, but today I realize that design offers me much more than animation could have. The greatest advantage of design is being able to see your work around you and live with it. I feel useful because I genuinely help people. By using my passion to provide a service and earn a living, I have found my place in society.

A well-prepared job is already half done. I don't have a technique or style in the sense that I don't just apply a ready-made recipe or formal language. For every problem, there's a solution, so the first step is to problematize. This is my top priority in every new project. It's rare for a client to truly express the problem they're facing in the request they send me. Once the problem is identified, the solutions it suggests will guide my approach. There have been instances where a client asked for a label, but after dissecting the problem together, I convinced them that they actually needed a stamp. I will thoroughly study the request with the client from start to finish. Then, I'll determine the appropriate means to address it effectively.

The initial phases of a project are exhilarating. Everything is possible, and ideas come rushing in. I see everything in black and white. I think one thing and then its opposite without any transition. The development phases then bring all the shades of gray. It’s a thoughtful period that requires a strong capacity for learning. It’s also the time when one must be inventive to bring ideas that will unlock each new challenge that arises. Eventually, there comes a point where the path is clear. Everything has been thought through, and it's time to produce. This is when everything solidifies. It’s the culmination of a process that can be lengthy, so I experience this final phase as a form of reward. It is the tangible result of the previous planning. It’s also the critical moment where we see if the initial hypotheses were correct.

During my studies, I had the opportunity to learn object design, graphic design, and architecture. This diversity enriches my approach. My expertise in one field often influences the others. Each project is an opportunity to prove my legitimacy in my profession and demonstrate my relevance in addressing subjects that are often unfamiliar to me. For example, I would love to immerse myself in the world of a pizzaiolo if I were to structure the branding of a pizzeria. However, I would hate to perform this exercise repeatedly because I wouldn’t know how to innovate. Ultimately, I would end up proposing the same strategy to all my clients.

It's the necessity to constantly refine my work, question everything, and learn that drives and motivates me.

With a portfolio of several brands developed as a freelancer, I now operate under my own brand, WA, for all visual communication work. I aim to grow this branch by adding new references. I also hope to develop more personal projects by designing objects and spaces. You will soon be able to find these works on tiravy.studio, my company, and its eponymous website. If I were to mention a type of project I would like to undertake in the medium term, it would undoubtedly be a metaverse, one or multiple architectures dedicated to virtual reality.

Without much originality, I reserve my mornings because that’s when I am most productive. This time can be spent working alone, collaborating with a supplier, or visiting a construction site. Client meetings are scheduled for early afternoon. The rest of the day is more flexible.

What matters most to me is learning something new every day. This could be a software function, a skill, or any piece of knowledge I find relevant. I believe that what I learn each day is what fulfills me.

I am wary of trends. Fashion is cyclical; the codes of the 90s are making a strong comeback right now. This is evident not only in the clothes we wear but also in object design. Manufacturers are bringing back beige, a color that I thought had been forever banished from the realm of computing, for example. It's sexy until it's not anymore. However, there are underlying trends that I fully embrace, such as the growing ecological awareness that translates into more environmentally friendly materials and manufacturing processes. The final decision is often made by the consumer, and fortunately, environmental impact is increasingly influencing our choices.

An object, a space, or a graphic design can be good for one person and not for another. Its validity is also tied to time. A design is often associated with its era because our needs, habits, concerns, and production methods evolve. Most importantly, it is crucial to understand what problem a design addresses.

In contemporary design and architecture, the most well-known works are Philippe Starck's Juicy Salif and Frank O. Gehry's Guggenheim Foundation. Fortunately, there is not just one citrus juicer, and it is not Starck's, or we would hardly drink any fruit juice. As for the Guggenheim Foundation, it is a building that is practically unlivable. These two examples have made an indelible mark on design history, yet they hardly fulfill their primary functions. Their utility is significantly limited. However, they are icons, and in that lies their utmost importance.

Each problem has its solution.

It is undoubtedly the most difficult decision to make. A design is never truly finished. There is an ontological impossibility in our profession because the perfect formula, like solving a mathematical problem, does not exist. However, there is an intuition of achieving a form of correctness when a solution seems to satisfy both the body and the mind, to paraphrase Le Corbusier. If a design can be explained logically, is well-reasoned, and also brings pleasure, then that's already quite good. One might consider that when our reptilian brain, limbic brain, and neocortex all agree in liking a solution, there is nothing more to modify.

Design involves embracing the complexity of our world to better find the appropriate place for a new object, graphic, building, etc. When making a decision, I always try to consider what Edgar Morin would have decided. The guiding thread of my projects is often based on his writings. He is my favorite designer in the sense that he has the best approach to problematizing a situation, offering one of the most relevant angles of design thinking.

The exposure to the world and its cultures that Geneva, the city where I live, provides is a great source of inspiration for me. It is a very sporty region with varied landscapes, ranging from lake beaches to alpine activities in the mountains. This lifestyle suits me perfectly.

The national culture, with its very Swiss demand for excellence, drives me to surpass myself in my work. If Switzerland is often ranked as the most innovative country in the world, I believe it is due to the unwavering pragmatism of its inhabitants. I don't think it's a coincidence that it is the only direct democracy in existence, and thus, the only true democracy.

While design may not have much to do with this directly, I feel that I am imbued with this culture that aims to break down all biases and intellectual scoriae that might ordinarily hinder a line of thought.

I tend to do everything to make my clients happy; I belong to them for the duration of a project. However, I know that I need to work on this and be more pedagogical and firmer, in the interest of the project. I also need to refine my business philosophy. I don't always know how to sell myself, and I find it difficult to evaluate the price of my work. Yet, design is not incompatible with business. There are many creatives who have achieved exceptional entrepreneurial success. The founders of Apple, Pinterest, Kickstarter, and Airbnb owe their success to design, and all have studied in related fields. In Silicon Valley, investors value designers. It is the very milieu of entrepreneurship that now declares designers make excellent entrepreneurs.

I am very happy to provide services to associations or small independent individuals who usually cannot afford my services, and it is often this work that I highlight. It is almost always related to branding, and you can see some examples on my website, wa.media.

However, this generosity has its limits. The danger with providing free work as a creative is that your work may be undervalued. When people do not pay, they may not always consider the work as such but rather as a hobby. The value of something is often associated with its price.

As a designer, I am constantly seeking recognition. When I provide a solution, I know it's not the only one; there are infinite possibilities, and therefore, it's highly likely that there is something better out there. My goal is to strive for that improvement. Alone, I can not objectively evaluate my work. Submitting it to my peers provides me with the assurance I need to remain motivated.

Beyond the award itself, there's an entire ecosystem we're connected to. This allows designers to expand their online presence and reinforce existing connections with qualified links, thereby improving their SEO. Personal branding is increasingly important, and creators may be among those who need it the most.

Professional recognition also helps establish legitimacy, which clients find reassuring. Interviews, like this one, made possible by awards, allow people to learn more about us. Design professionals are not always the most communicative. Being compelled to share our stories opens us up a bit more, and that's what some clients seek before they can trust us.

It is the practice of drawing with purpose. "Design", "dessin" (drawing), and "dessein" (intention) share the same etymological root: the Latin verb "designo" which means both "to draw", "to mark", "to trace", "to designate", "to indicate", "to project", "to anticipate". Paradoxically, despite its explicit Latin root, this word is most aptly used in Germanic languages. Before becoming a field of its own, design encompasses a very broad practice that extends to engineering design. Therefore, initially, there is no direct relationship with any aesthetic pursuit.

What I love most to draw is what I have not yet drawn. That is where the field of possibilities is the widest. I can bring a fresh perspective to what I do. The most surprising solutions are sometimes the most ingenuous.

My favourite design is yet to come. I am never satisfied with what has been done. This is probably a typical trait of my profession. If, as designers, we were content with what surrounds us, with what makes up our artificial environment, then why would we want to redesign it? Without this constant discontent, I probably couldn't do my job.

I was 4 or 5 years old. I drew all day long. This impressed my classmates and even my teacher. She asked me to draw the school. I did it right away. She took the drawing and sent it to the graphic designer who was designing the school's brochure. I unknowingly signed my first illustration. When I saw my drawing reproduced, I was devastated. I was terribly ashamed of it. I remember begging my teacher to let me redo the drawing. Today, I am obviously very happy about it and I am grateful to her.

I don't think I have a preference. This is probably both my greatest strength and my greatest weakness. What I love above all is learning. The projects I am most passionate about are those that immerse me in a completely unfamiliar field. I often manage to find different solutions because I draw my inspiration from elsewhere. As a result, however, I am not a specialist in anything, which makes it much more difficult to sell my work.

It is with a pencil in front of a blank page that I feel the most creative. This setup gives me the same sensations as being wrapped in a blanket in the fetal position. I snuggle into my first refuge, the one from my childhood, as if returning to the past. It is also the moment when I dream, idealize, and project, as if transported into the future. It is an aporetic phase of pure discovery where I no longer feel the passage of time.

Creation involves creating something from nothing, often disconnected from reality. This intoxication is mostly unproductive, and the little that remains is prospective, thus unusable in its current state. Where I feel the most relevant and am told I am the most creative is when I find solutions. However, in these moments, I am more inventive than creative.

My design activity tends to embrace the complexity of our world and our relationship with it. This means trying to resolve a multitude of constraints and parameters. To choose is to give up, so focusing my design work on one particular aspect would mean making concessions. It is easier but also less intellectually honest. I believe that if I must pay attention to one thing, one more than the others, it would be to ensure that I do not favor one aspect over another.

The exercise of my profession is multifaceted, just like the emotions it evokes in me. I feel shyness when prospecting clients; shame during contractualization; curiosity at the start of a project; excitement in the search for solutions; dismay during iterations; stage fright during presentations; disorientation during financial feasibility studies; frustration during submissions/awards; relief when everything aligns perfectly; immense pride when the client says "wow" upon delivery; and a lot of uncertainty throughout all these stages.

A design can be excellent, seemingly perfectly meeting all needs, but in reality, once implemented, it may turn out to be flawed. A small error can tip the balance. There are defects that are difficult to anticipate. If this happens with an object, the production doesn't sell and eventually gets destroyed, so we don't hear about it. It's very different with architecture. We won't destroy the building but modify it because, firstly, it's possible, and secondly, the financial stakes are much higher. In London, a building was melting the cars parked beneath it. In Rennes, the whistling produced by the cladding of a building was driving the neighbors crazy. As an architect, I know dozens of less spectacular but similar stories. It's my nightmare. I always try to imagine the worst-case scenario possible. But there are also, fortunately, happy accidents. It's often the specifications, combined with the adequacy of the means compared to the ambitions, that determine the success of a design.

Fortunately, there isn't just one marker of success. The first, the most obvious, is a happy client. The client is always right, so if I satisfy them, I've fulfilled my contract. If the client isn't the most expressive but my work resonates with the public, that's a win too. Commercial success remains the easiest metric to attain. If consumers buy, it means the product is good. We primarily work to satisfy humans, so I judge the success of my work by how it is received by my peers.
Other markers are more unexpected. If an object elicits contradictory reactions, in a way, that's a win too. It means the design touches on a form of radicalism and disrupts the established order. The divide can be beneficial; there's nothing worse than being indifferent. This was the case, for example, with the design of the 50cl Maquèra bottle from 2023. The bottle was commercially successful, but the asymmetrical label was either loved or hated.

An elephant is eaten one bite at a time, and I do my part. I see my career as I see my life, more as a marathon than a sprint. Whenever I can, I will always choose sustainability; I will always prefer efficiency over effectiveness. That's why I will never work for the tobacco industry, for example.
However, I am realistic about the impact of my work in the face of current challenges and do not claim to want to save the world. Our societal responsibility as designers is relative. We don't wake up in the middle of the night to save lives like an emergency surgeon.
As for our environmental responsibility, it is proportional to our power, so also very relative. The final decisions belong to publishers, developers, and clients.
It's a good sign to see the profession addressing the ethical crisis our civilization has faced in recent decades. But by asking these kinds of questions, we sometimes try to wear a coat that's too big for us.

Switzerland is a country where a culture of excellence prevails. Our standards are among the highest in the world, as are our salaries and quality of life. The country is very concerned about its reputation, a concern materialized by the concept of Swissness. There is a social pressure here that pushes everyone to elevate the quality of service provided.
Geneva is an international city but relatively small. Therefore, I have direct access to the rest of the world through transportation links, but also direct access to nature. I live between the beaches around the lake in summer and the mountains in winter, all while encountering cultures from around the world. The richness of this environment shapes the open-mindedness I need to move from one project to another.

The client often holds the adequate answer to solve the difficulties they encounter. My role is to gather as much information as possible, organize these insights, and finally, to problematize the situation. If the problem is well articulated, then it points towards a solution. It is this mechanism that gave rise to the discipline of Design Thinking.

I believe a designer is akin to a doctor or a lawyer; nothing should be kept from them. I advise companies to embrace openness, communicating freely. Select the designer who is eager to understand every aspect of your needs, even if it seems intrusive. This designer will not only meet your expectations closely but also possess a thorough mastery of your product's manufacturing process from inception to completion.

It's a cliché, but I find myself in front of my computer very often. One of my biggest regrets is not having had a personal computer during my childhood. Beyond the capabilities afforded by the device, it's also, thanks to the internet, a window to the world. The access to information we have is unprecedented, and I try to take full advantage of it.

The other object I spend the most time with is my bed. It's the largest piece in a house, so I believe it's only fitting to customize it, considering the space it occupies and its user, like a piece of architecture. I designed and built my bed myself. It's minimalist but perfectly meets all my needs and those of my partner.

Another object that takes up a lot of space is my bike. It's the best mode of transportation for my area. Humans have produced incredible objects that allow us to merge with the features of nature. I love all sports that involve riding, flying, or surfing. Cycling is one of them.

Next comes the rest of my bike collection. I know them inside out as I've practically assembled each one from scratch. My favorite is a 1977 PY10 gold. Perhaps one day I'll switch to automobiles.

My other favorite objects are my pieces of art: books, paintings, sculptures.

Everything is to be done. The only right way to do it is to do it. Nothing is ever truly done.

The mandatory faculty for any designer is curiosity. Having an insatiable thirst for learning is essential, even if it means developing obsessions.
For graphic design, object design, and architectural design, drawing is fundamental.
Empathy is arguably the most underestimated yet essential faculty for understanding the challenges a client faces and thus better addressing them.
A good ability to adapt allows one to cope with the inherent uncertainties of any large-scale project.
Lastly, sociability is necessary for any human endeavor. It's a rare quality among introverted personalities, which is often the case for designers.

I have worked on a flyer that had to be completed in less than a week, including printing. I also have participated in the reconversion of a mall located in a Swiss city center. This particular project began over a decade ago and, remarkably, is still ongoing, yet to reach completion.

As an architect, I ascended through every level to ultimately become the head of the department. However, I consider my most significant professional experience to always lie ahead. I remain firmly oriented towards the future.

For inquiries, please feel free to reach out to me at office@wa.media or contact@tiravy.studio.