Please tell me, how would you define yourself in the world of design?
I prefer to take a more relaxed approach to this question, without rigid boundaries or fixed points. The key is to maintain a sense of play, experimentation, and excitement. When I start defining myself too rigidly, I end up losing interest. Today I might be a designer, tomorrow an art director, and the day after a producer. For me, it’s like switching social roles: for my parents I’m a daughter, for a doctor a patient, for a cashier a customer. It isn’t about finding one correct label, but about multidisciplinarity – the freedom to be different. In one persona I could feel confined, melancholic, confused, or even slighted. To be honest, I still can’t bring myself to call myself a designer. Perhaps it’s simpler to list what I enjoy doing – those are the things that define me.
What still stops you from calling yourself a designer?
I suppose it’s my belief that a person embodies far more than just one definition. I don’t want to forsake that richness for the sake of a single label. And, perhaps, the imposter syndrome – where would we be without it?
Backstage at the Avito Design Team merchandise shoot, 2025
What still stops you from calling yourself a designer?
I suppose it’s my belief that a person embodies far more than just one definition. I don’t want to forsake that richness for the sake of a single label. And, perhaps, the imposter syndrome – where would we be without it?
Which path led you towards design?
Certainly not the most straightforward one. It all began with organising – I’ve always been the person who came up with and initiated enterprises. In my childhood at camps, later in my education, and then at work, I naturally gravitated towards it. So, it felt very natural to pursue an education in cultural management and work in that field.
I believe it was the third year of our concert work when we suddenly found ourselves without a designer. And my “superposition” as an organiser was always like this: if someone was missing, I would be the one to step in. That’s how the first concert poster was created – made in PowerPoint. Then came the event programme (also made in PowerPoint) and some other pieces of handout material. Over time, I realised that for me it was more than just “patching holes”. And that’s when I decided to do further studies. I thought I would become a project manager who “gets design”, but it turned out that design wasn’t merely an ancillary function for me – it was a distinct, independent passion. That’s how I began to pursue it professionally.
What does passion mean to you within your working philosophy?
It’s like an eternal engine that never stops running. It’s that restless feeling that you could always do more, more, and more. It’s like a game where every new level is a fresh challenge you’re eager to tackle. It’s a bit like a bonus question marked with an asterisk that demands a special approach.
How do you manage your relationship with this ultra-dynamic pace of life? Do you ever feel burnt out? How do you put the brakes on?
Both burnout and frustration are inevitable companions in such a regime. I usually burn out when I can’t keep up with the sheer number of exciting challenges I’ve piled on myself. And when I feel that my resources are exhausted, an unbearable sadness sets in. Along with that sadness comes a feeling of complete emptiness. I realise that I cannot – and indeed do not want to – carry on. When this “I don’t want to” kicks in, it becomes especially overwhelming, and that’s when I need to take a break.
What is it about design that particularly fascinates you?
For me, design is about creating an image and imbuing it with meaning. When I was a child I wanted to be a stylist for celebrities; now I see myself as a stylist for brands. A brand is like a person whose character must be revealed through a visual language. First, there’s the striking debut on the red carpet, where it’s crucial to make an impact and be remembered. Then, there’s the interview on an evening show, where depth and history come through. This process is all about exploration – about finding the precise accents that make the image work in any scenario.
Do you experience frustration or weariness from working constantly in the digital space? The dismay that certain things can’t be touched, that they’re too ephemeral?
I wouldn’t call it frustration, but rather a quiet sadness – a gentle longing. Over the years in design, I’ve realised that if my eyes grow tired and a melancholy overtakes me, it means I’m missing a sense of tactility, a connection to the real, physical world. In such moments I throw some clay, seek out and photograph rough walls, hug trees, or simply gather stones. As if every sadness should have an answer – something warm and tangible. It’s a way to approach oneself, to embrace, and to console oneself with a quiet “Don’t be sad, here you have some stones.”
And how do you manage your relationship with sadness?
We haven’t known each other for that long – consciously, perhaps, for about two years (the same duration I’ve been in therapy). And it has turned out to be an amazingly fruitful friendship. Once you accept your sadness, you begin to understand how to live with it. And if you can influence it, then you can also have an influence on your other emotions. With sadness it’s important not to fight, but rather to learn to feel, to respect, and even to love it.
What forms does your sadness take?
The best form is tears. Sometimes, you simply need to have a good cry and let it all out, allowing the emotion to run its course. There’s also the mode of “lying on the floor and staring at the ceiling”. Around the twentieth minute, Radiohead comes on – not because it’s a cliché, but simply because I genuinely love them, and sometimes they truly capture the mood. Then there’s “unexplained” sadness – one that needs to be examined, felt, and understood in terms of its origin. Often it conceals something important that had previously been left out of the frame. And then there’s fleeting sadness – arising from disappointment or unmet expectations. It’s sharp, but it dissipates quickly.
Favourite albums
And do you ever feel anger and rage at work?
Yes, I absolutely love to let myself get angry when the moment permits. Especially when I spend a great deal of time explaining, breaking everything down into details, yet fail to achieve the necessary understanding. In those moments, something seems to short-circuit inside me, and sparks fly in all directions… Then I take a pause, breathe in and out, and try once again to find the right words. But the angriest I feel is when I can’t understand what is being explained to me.
When is it acceptable to get angry?
You can get angry at any time; it’s just that not every form of anger is acceptable within the boundaries of communication. For me, anger is an emotion I haven’t yet fully learned to manage. I still harbour the notion that sometimes one shouldn’t get angry, or that it’s wrong. But that’s more a matter of accepting and working through this feeling. We’re still not on the friendliest of terms, but I understand that in the future our relationship will be more productive.
What role does “achievement” play in your outlook on the world?
For me, it’s a very dualistic concept. It’s like walking a tightrope: at any moment, you could lose your balance and tumble into one of the two extremes. On one side, there’s endless achievement-chasing – that constant drive to win and accumulate accolades; on the other, there’s a complete renunciation of achievement and a refusal to take part in the race. It’s important for me to refer to my own system of values and orient myself by it, rather than by external criteria. I’m still in search of the right balance and learning to walk straight.
How do you manage your relationship with validation and feedback from your colleagues?
At present it’s not too bad, though initially I found it difficult to take in. I often encountered feedback that was subjective and lacked clear rationale, which led to a feeling of uncertainty. Over time, I began to understand that feedback can be different – more constructive. Now, I greatly value this process, provided it is both harmonious and safe for all involved. The key, I believe, is that feedback shouldn’t be reduced to mere categorical statements like “I like it” or “it isn’t pretty”, but should be substantiated with specific points.
I listen to you and can’t imagine that you might have an emotional outburst at work. Or do something impulsively! Can you?
I can! I’m often impulsive, but now I try to control those moments. I don’t hide my emotions; rather, I strive to find a balance by understanding where it’s appropriate to express them and where it’s better to pause and reflect. Sometimes my impulsiveness gets the better of me, and my emotions outpace my thoughts. In those moments I worry that I could have acted or spoken differently if I hadn’t rushed. This makes me anxious, and sometimes even brings me to tears.
How often do you discuss this directly with your colleagues?
I’ve made it into a habit to talk openly with people about how I feel. I believe it’s mutually beneficial – sharing one’s emotions openly helps establish honest communication and avoid misunderstandings.
What balance have you found for that in your work?
Of course, I don’t write about my feelings in every message. It’s important to understand when a personal conversation is appropriate and when we’re discussing work. Depending on the context being open about one’s emotions can be very helpful. It’s simply a matter of seizing the moment and knowing when and how best to express oneself to maintain professionalism while still remaining genuine.
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This interview is part of the documentary project Insights about the people of the ESH design studio. The interview was conducted by Polina Drozhkova.
More information about the project can be found on the website insights.eshgruppa.com.
