Let me start by asking you to define your place in the design universe. Or to start, which design universe you’re in? Is it Marvel, or maybe something like Cheburashka and Gena the Crocodile?
Definitely not Marvel. I feel like my design universe is always about communication with people. So, it’s more like Cheburashka, more about finding something shared, empathetic. If I can communicate something well, that makes me a good designer.
For me, the importance of communication became even more prominent as I was transiting from graphic designer to art director. Because the role of an art director — or any good designer, really — is to listen to the client, understand their motivation, and offer the right solution. And that only happens through an emotional connection. When someone feels like you truly get them, when it really clicks, that’s when your collaboration can be a huge success.
So, what exactly is that “click”? What factors would you highlight?
For the click to happen you need to be emotionally invested in both the process and the people involved. Often, it’s about reading between the lines, listening between the words. We meet clients, hop on calls, write briefs — on the surface, it might seem like we’re discussing very formal stuff.
But the real magic lies in the small details, the offhand remarks. Maybe I catch a person saying they like something particular, some personal detail, and that becomes important because design is always tied to self-representation. When you design for someone, it’s like tailoring a suit for them. When we work on someone’s visual identity, we need to understand who they are inside to perfectly reflect that.
Do you, as a professional, ever have to choose between following a person’s own vision of how they want to present themselves or portraying them as you perceive and interpret them?
These can be two very different things. The solution usually lies somewhere in between, depending on the client. Some people have a clear understanding of themselves — in those cases, it’s a pleasure to work with them, because they’ve already figured out who they are, and my job is simply to translate their concept into the language of visual communication.
But more often, a client comes with a sense that they know something, and asks us, “Am I seeing this the right way?” They’re seeking advice. It turns into a bit — and in some cases a lot — of design therapy! When someone comes to us for design, they often end up uncovering a whole bunch of other issues in their business — and beyond. It turns out they don’t just need design, they need a full reevaluation of their goals.
When this process works, it’s amazing — it turns the work into a true collaboration, rather than just working for someone else.
And what kind of work dynamic is unbearable for you?
That’s an easy one. You know that design meme about a price list? It goes something like: “I design everything — it’s $50”, then other options, and at the end: “You design everything — that’s a million bucks.”
That’s the worst type of communication, when a client tells you exactly what to draw: "I need a red logo, with these specific letters, and move the letters a little." I guess, tasks like that could probably be done by ChatGPT or MidJourney these days.
We rarely get such requests though, probably because we’re not a mainstream studio.
So, people who come to you just for a service probably won’t find it. Or is there some middle ground between collaboration and service?
Of course, collaboration is at the heart of what we do. It’s the only way to build a strong connection with people and achieve something unique, something alive that truly meets their needs.
Right now, we’re working hard to turn it into a great service. We want to avoid situations where you walk into an artist’s studio, but miss out on an amazing portrait just because communication wasn’t smooth. Like, the artist might go on a bender and end up painting nothing at all.
In my view, you don’t go to a service provider for advice. But people do come to us for advice, so in a way, we’re doing consulting. We need to understand what the client truly needs, and if they don’t need anything, we should feel free to say so.
At some point, a big client might come to us with a large budget, and we might tell them,“Hey, you don’t need any design. You’re good. Goodbye.”
Let’s talk compromises. What kind of compromises are you, as a studio, willing to make together?
Honestly, it’s pretty funny when you think about it — there are four partners who started the studio. We laugh about it all the time, and others are often surprised too because it seems counterintuitive, like a “Swan, Pike, and Crawfish” type scenario. If one of us had been the sole founder, the company’s path would probably be much more basic and straightforward. Instead, we’re like a four-headed dragon — sometimes pulled in different directions, but in a way, we balance each other out.
When it comes to compromises, we’ve set some ethical guidelines that we all are comfortable with. Every project gets an “evilness check.” If the project is some insane trash that’s harmful to people, we make a firm decision not to work with that client.
We’ve had plenty of these offers, especially in the last two years, but we’re absolutely not willing to cross certain lines.
We also don’t want to turn into a cold, cutthroat business. We talk about it constantly, because once you start standardizing every process, it’s very easy to become detached and start treating people as cogs in a machine, and not the cool individuals that they are.
Do you have a professional philosophy? Where do concepts of good and evil fit into it?
I’d sum it all up in one word – goal-setting. When you’re doing something, and you try to understand why, that’s when the question of good and evil comes into play. Because you have to think about who it helps or harms.
I’m always trying to stay mindful, aware of where I am, who I’m doing this for, and why.
However, I’m drawn to people who think irrationally, who balance both good and evil, whose thoughts contradict each other. I love that kind of thinking because it’s less confined, less black-and-white. You might consider these categories, but you don’t stop there. It’s like a restless mind, when you never quite finish the thought – and that’s where I think some valuable activity happens.
Is that a personal trait or a professional one? Broader or more specific?
I think they’re inseparable.
So, you don’t separate personal from professional?
Yes, I’m the kind of person who doesn’t draw that line. I feel like the moment I start separating them, I’ll stop being a living designer. Someone who reacts strongly to things, who disagrees with something. For me, that emotional connection is crucial — like when something frustrates you so much that it pushes you to do better. Sure, there are times I wish I could go into autopilot like a robot, but I can’t. I guess that’s my internal engine that keeps me going.
Does that make things harder for you?
Not really, I’m working on optimizing it — it’s a very slow process and maybe not the most effective. It’s about finding balance and understanding myself more deeply. Maybe it comes with age, when you realize that if things get really tough, it’s okay to just hit the brakes!
Do you discuss this with the team? Like, how it gets tough for you when you’re overloaded with work?
I feel like this is a pretty new topic — we’re not constantly discussing it or anything, but we’re aware now that as people get older, they need more time with family and stuff like that.
I think we’re moving from this chaotic way of creating things to a more structured and experience-based approach, while still keeping it collaborative.
Are you not tired of this format?
Well, sometimes, but I can feel it shifting. Before, it was this shared chaos, like a neverending brainstorm.
Now, with more tasks, there’s more individual responsibility for specific things. Independence feels really valuable at this stage, when you take on more responsibility and feel that nice sense of accomplishment, handling something entirely on your own. And the team being supportive, just giving approval without stepping in.
Can you tell me about the feeling of fear in your work? Do you experience it, and do you know of any common situations where it happens? What do you fear?
I fear miscommunication in any form, whether with the client or the design team. Both are equally disastrous. I say this as a design manager who is focused on fostering conversations and understanding.
I always emphasize verbal communication because it’s a natural extension of the visual communication we work with.
A project that lacks proper, organic discussion ultimately ends up looking like a disjointed Frankenstein’s monster. And that’s where empathy comes in. You’re bound to fail if you approach anything without truly understanding the person you’re talking with. The same applies to clients when they come and make one-sided demands. It’s all about equality in every kind of relationship, really.
Have you ever had situations where the relationship between the client and designer started out unequal? And you had to put in extra effort, care, and empathy to level things out, and it actually worked?
I really wish I could say yes, but honestly, I don’t recall such cases. It’s impossible to change people — and their attitudes — just like that.
Sometimes, understanding the client means realizing early on that things won’t work out, and parting ways quickly. I think that’s also part of a healthy relationship. You know, most project failures happen because you didn’t break things off soon enough.
Favorite ESH projects
How quickly do you realize the situation can’t be leveled out?
There are two types of situations that come to mind.
The first is the initial call. You can sense it immediately — by their body language, by the dynamic of the conversation. In 99% of cases, nothing moves forward after that, simply because we’re not getting along from the start.
The toughest situations are when the people are great, and things start off well, but cracks show up midway through the project. I think it often comes down to how the project is organized — like, maybe something wasn’t communicated clearly upfront.
Let’s say we’re working on project N, the team is fantastic, everything’s going smoothly, we’re iterating and getting approvals from them.
Then, suddenly, we find out the decision-makers are actually someone else entirely. And the team we’ve been working with hasn’t been sharing the results with those people at all. We didn’t have the full picture — in those moments, things usually quickly fall apart.
We can usually tell right away who will be a good fit emotionally and relationally. But when it comes to their internal organization, it’s always a bit of a gamble. That’s why it’s the hardest part.
How do you protect yourself or prepare for that?
It’s our shared struggle, and we’re constantly trying to figure it out.
I think it’s part of the game, to some extent.
At the same time, it’s about having empathetic, hands-on management. Staying closely connected with the client can help prevent these issues.
There’s a quote from designer Alexander Vasin that’s stuck with me, and we often repeat it in the studio: “Working on projects is 70% conversations with the client and 30% actual design.”
Where do you find comfort after a breakdown in communication? What helps you cope with the loss?
I tend to take everything really personally. I still feel a sense of authorship, like an artist of sorts, but not as strongly as before. At one point, it becomes painful. After all, I’m designing for people, which means I’m giving it away — it’s no longer mine. It’s almost a craftsman’s view of the work. Like when I make shoes for someone, and they start walking in them — those shoes aren’t mine anymore. Of course, I’d love to point things out: “Hey guys, you’re using this a little wrong here, not quite right there.” But eventually, you learn to let it go, to separate.
Did you ever have a moment, when you wanted to make all the money in the world as a designer?
Sometimes I regret not going through that phase. It would’ve been valuable to have that experience, something like, “I tried to make all the money in the world and realized it’s not the most important thing.” Or maybe “died trying.”
At times, I feel like my way of life is “too correct”. I wish I’d made more mistakes.
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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.
