Friendly warning — there’s no prepared list of questions for this conversation. Just a general direction that revolves around professional identity and related aspects.
It so happened that my professional identity as both a designer and an art director has blurred significantly over the past eight years.
Until 2022 I still had a teaching gig which allowed me to maintain my art direction skills and continue meeting with students, commenting on their work and brainstorming together. But at the start of the war I left Russia and I was asked to submit my resignation letter.
Why did you initially decide to take on the role of managing the studio?
I understood that no one in our group, except me, would take that on. I decided to do it simply because I wanted to create an amazing studio and help shape it into something more tangible. I thought it was part of growth, a necessary step to work with bigger clients.
Is it about becoming an adult or mature?
It’s hard for me to answer that. I’m not entirely sure what the difference is. I’ve somewhat figured out what it means to become an adult in relation to my child over the past four years. But what does it mean to become mature? That’s a good question.
Most likely there’s a picture in your mind of the trajectory your life in design has taken. And it had certain stages of maturity.
Yes. Aside from my interest in design, I always wanted to do it independently. To create a separate entity with a great team, good relationships and productivity. One could say it was the desire to shape a cosy small world where everyone feels great.
The aspiration to create such an ecosystem with people you gel with — does it extend to other spheres of your life like family and work? Or do you have a different explanation of this process?
It’s kind of a need that I manage to fulfil in various ways. At the studio this system came together largely due to unique circumstances. If I hadn’t studied with the guys and if we hadn’t organised ourselves into a creative team back then, things would have turned out differently. And since there were already the prerequisites for this union, I wanted to push it further and transform into something real. In practice it turned out that the idea was promising, that we really could do great design.
We share similar views. The education we received together shaped us similarly and our design values align too. At the same time, each has their own strengths and in the end we founded a multidisciplinary team. I was more interested in books and magazines. Stefan and Philipp were into branding. Violetta joined later and helped us with web design.
What emotions do you have regarding the work of maintaining this ecosystem? Does it feel like daily watering of garden beds, so to speak?
Not quite. Historically all responsibilities related to contracts and payments have been on me. Any crises involving clients and projects also fall on me. Surely the team helps me as well. But since I sign the contracts the final responsibility lies with me. The clients see it that way too. I can’t say I enjoy this part.
Does it flatter you sometimes?
No.
So it’s more of a source of frustration?
I feel like I’ve had enough of it and I’d like to delegate this work to someone else. I’m tired of constantly being seen as the director. It really annoys me when during calls the team introduces me as, ‘This is Valera, our director.’
What solution do you envision for yourself?
Right now I’d be more interested in focusing on graphics and printing. I don’t yet see how I can return to doing design quickly, efficiently and without mistakes. And I’m not sure I’m ready to go back to being a junior and follow the same path again. Though who knows, that thought crosses my mind too! I also want to focus more on the studio’s larger issues like strategy, planning, prototyping and working on international projects.
How important is the presence or absence of an idea in your professional path?
I feel like you can’t work without an idea. If you face a task, you need to find a solution for it. The most interesting tasks are the ones where you need to create a hypothesis or several ones.
So, an idea isn’t necessarily tied to ethics and values for you. Does it have more of a practical sense?
I have a very technical relationship with this word. To me an idea means a solution to a task. From an ethical standpoint I wouldn’t say I went into design to make the world a better place. But neither I nor we as a studio have ever done anything unethical.
Can design bring benefits, in you opinion?
I don’t believe it can bring any kind of benefit in the sense of ‘let’s defeat evil now.’
At esh we don’t really do a lot of social projects. We receive commercial orders mostly. So, does that mean we’re serving capitalism? We help someone sell something more effectively, find their audience and such. Those who live within the capitalist paradigm see cool high-quality products as a positive factor.
Say, I buy something that looks great, is well-made and serves a need I have. Then it all comes together in a ‘great product’ that meets my expectations. Overall I see that as a benefit.
Every day when I use a beautiful convenient thing brings me a bit of joy. This creates a positive experience. In that sense I think design can contribute to something good.
Valera's Favorite Music Albums
Yes, but what you’re describing sounds more about joy and pleasure than utility.
Aren’t they good for your health though?
Fair enough! So, joy and pleasure complement the category of beneficial, correct?
This notion is relative. Some might find a product beneficial while some may not.
When I visit a museum with great branding I expect it to be great inside as well. With a well-produced exhibition, beautifully printed handouts. When my expectations are met I go home satisfied and might keep that positive experience for a week. I think benefit manifests for a specific person, in a specific place, with specific values.
It’s pretty clear where you get your dopamine at work. But what kinds of things frustrate or upset you in your professional life?
What bothers me — even though I’m not directly involved in creating ideas, concepts or designs right now — is that I still get very frustrated when I see great ideas rejected because of a client’s whim or lack of understanding. When the client isn’t ready to see that this idea wouldn’t just solve their problem but would also be a great visual solution on its own. It’s a pity to settle for more conformist decisions, but that’s part of the job.
You can’t force your will onto the client, but when there’s mutual understanding, that’s great. It’s a joy when the client listens carefully, when they don’t just come to make an order but to hear what you can offer them. The opposite situation doesn’t exactly infuriate me, but it is irritating. After so many years, nothing really triggers strong emotions anymore.
Maybe your sadness now has matured and became rooted in the overall routinisation of the process?
No, that’s actually fine. Any changes depend on us. We could have built the team to only take on pro bono projects and go wild with designs.
Here’s a bit of the gloomy reality — our work isn’t set up that way because these past eight years we’ve been fighting for our survival. We’re not super successful businessmen. We’re more like amateurs trying to make something great.
It sounds like after eight years of the studio’s existence you’ve reached your zen. Have there been no intense experiences recently?
Zen was there from the beginning, actually. And no, there haven’t been any intense experiences lately. I do get annoyed when, as a studio, we mess something up. Like when a project drags out for too long or there is a chaos documents. But overall I approach all work-related matters with much calm.
What can really upset you outside of work?
Things related to close family members, illness or something like that. They can trigger a much stronger emotional reaction than work ever could.
It feels like work for you is a controlled environment.
Yeah, I agree. A long time ago I worked in a small print shop in a large supermarket. We printed price tags, banners and all sorts of trivia. At some point a former paramedic started working there and he’d tell stories all day long. They were gruesome, dark, full of death, decay, decomposition.
One of his stories was about an ambulance driver whose vehicle wasn’t working properly. He wanted a new one, and for that the old one had to completely break down. So he didn’t tell anyone about the issues.
Naturally, they got a patient who was dying, and the vehicle broke down on the way to the hospital. The patient died.
When you hear stories like that, you realise that this is real life. And something like sending a letter an hour late or misplacing a letter on a design is merely insignificant.
There’s the sphere you control professionally, but that doesn’t stop you from being present in reality. You don’t live at your desk, you live in a world where worse things happen than missing a deadline.
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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.
