Sinem Halli

LEGENDARY INTERVIEW

Design Legends ("DL") had the distinct honour to interview legendary designer Sinem Halli ("SH") for their original perspective and innovative approach to design as well as their creative lifestyle, we are very pleased to share our interview with our distinguished readers.

DL: Could you please tell us a bit about your design background and education?

SH : I studied Industrial Design at Istanbul Technical University, where I built a strong foundation in both creative thinking and technical execution. Even before university, I was already curious about how things are made—I used to sketch furniture for our home or reimagine everyday objects just for fun. During my undergraduate years, I also spent a semester at Politecnico di Milano, which offered valuable international exposure. While it was a challenging experience, it helped me reflect more critically on design education and cultural perspectives—especially regarding marketing and communication. Later, I pursued a Master's degree in Brand Communication, allowing me to understand how design aligns with storytelling, identity, and consumer behavior. Now, I’m working toward a PhD focusing on sustainable design strategies and design thinking in cultural and social contexts. My design journey has included in-house work with large corporations like Sisecam Group (Pasabahce), freelance collaborations, and academic teaching. These diverse roles gave me a holistic view of how design can function not only as form-making, but also as a cultural and strategic tool.

DL: What motivates you to design in general, why did you become a designer?

SH : I’ve always been drawn to observing people—how they move, what they need, and especially what they don’t even realize they need. That quiet layer of unmet expectations always fascinated me. Design became my way of responding to those moments—not just with ideas, but with tangible, thoughtful outcomes. Even as a child, I was constantly building, sketching, modifying things around me. I was curious about alternative ways of doing ordinary things. I loved reversing perspectives—sometimes literally, like wearing my glasses upside down just to see how the world would look. Design felt like the most natural extension of this mindset. It combined curiosity with empathy, creativity with problem-solving. What still motivates me today is the chance to turn small insights into meaningful, physical experiences—ones that respect both people and resources. Design isn’t just my job; it’s how I think. It’s how I connect with the world.

DL: Did you choose to become a designer, or you were forced to become one?

SH : Growing up, I was naturally drawn to colors, composition, and visual thinking. I had a strong sense for aesthetics and loved expressing ideas through images and forms. But at the same time, I was also quite analytical—which meant people around me assumed I’d pursue something “more practical” or “safer” for the job market. In fact, I was gently (and sometimes not-so-gently) pushed away from design. I was told it might not be sustainable, that I’d be better off in another field. But I resisted—because I knew deep down that the only way I could thrive was by doing something I truly loved. So no, I wasn’t forced into becoming a designer. If anything, I was pressured not to become one. But I chose it anyway—and I’ve never regretted it.

DL: What do you design, what type of designs do you wish to design more of?

SH : I design across disciplines—primarily within product and experience design. My work ranges from decorative objects and homeware to packaging and food-related design. I’m especially drawn to projects that engage the senses and offer more than visual appeal. In the past, I focused heavily on glass, which still influences my material thinking. Recently, I’ve been exploring edible design and tactile experiences—like a chocolate series I’m currently working on, where form, ritual, and taste come together. What I wish to design more of are projects that blend disciplines and cultures, that tell a story and invite emotional connection. Whether it’s a daily object or an interactive experience, I want it to feel intentional, rooted, and quietly surprising. I’m also deeply interested in systems thinking—rethinking not just the object itself but the process, context, and behavior around it.

DL: What should young designers do to become a design legend like you?

SH : “Legend” might be a bit too generous—but if I were to offer advice to young designers, I’d say this: Try everything. Join as many competitions as you can. Design furniture, a wearable, a toy, a digital app—step outside your comfort zone. Every brief will stretch your thinking in a new direction, and each experiment brings you closer to your voice. Get real-world experience early. Intern, collaborate, freelance—do whatever it takes to see how design actually lives in the world. Sometimes the company you admire from afar may not feel like a good fit when you’re inside it—and that’s okay. You’re learning. Observe quietly and ask big questions. The best designers don’t just draw—they notice. They look where no one’s looking. They ask, “Is this necessary?” or “Could this be more human?” And above all: Design because you care. Not just about form, but about impact.

DL: What distinguishes between a good designer and a great designer?

SH : A good designer solves problems. A great designer notices them before anyone else. Great designers see what’s not said, what’s not obvious. They don’t just respond to a brief—they question it. They listen before they act. And they don’t get attached to their own ideas too early. What separates a great designer is often invisible: empathy, curiosity, and clarity. It’s the ability to observe quietly, to connect the dots across disciplines, and to simplify without losing meaning. Also, great designers know when to stop. Not because the design is perfect—but because it’s meaningful enough to live in the world.

DL: What makes a good design a really good design, how do you evaluate good design?

SH : A good design looks good and works well. But a really good design does something more: it quietly changes behavior. It makes people feel something. It adds value without adding noise. It respects both the user and the environment. It doesn’t try too hard—but it doesn’t disappear either. For me, great design is intentional. You can feel that every detail was considered—not just aesthetically, but emotionally, functionally, and ethically. Good design creates clarity, not confusion. It solves, simplifies, and sometimes surprises. Also: it lasts. Not just physically, but in memory.

DL: What is the value of good design? Why should everyone invest in good design?

SH : Good design isn’t about luxury—it’s about lasting relevance. Take the classic BIC ballpoint pen. It hasn’t changed in decades. It’s simple, affordable, mass-produced—and still, nearly perfect for what it’s meant to do. That’s the value of good design: it becomes invisible in the best possible way. It slips into people’s lives so naturally that they stop noticing it—until they miss it. Everyone should invest in good design not because it’s trendy or expensive, but because it creates quiet efficiency, emotional ease, and long-term trust. From a business perspective, good design pays off. You may earn through scale, not premium pricing. And you win loyalty, not just attention. Design doesn’t have to be expensive. But it has to be thoughtful.

DL: What would you design and who would you design for if you had the time?

SH : If I had more time—or better yet, the right ecosystem—I would focus on bringing my PhD project to life, not just as a theory but as a functional system. It’s a project that explores how we can evaluate and manage existing products more mindfully—shifting focus from constant production to responsible re-evaluation. It’s not about creating more, but about creating clarity around what already exists. I believe we need design tools that help companies, institutions, and even consumers pause, reflect, and clean the shelf—ethically, sustainably, and intentionally. This project could be a first step in that direction.

DL: What is the dream project you haven’t yet had time to realize?

SH : If I had the time—and the space—I would love to travel city by city, exploring traditional materials, local crafts, and region-specific techniques, and turn them into thoughtful, contemporary design collections. Each collection would be deeply rooted in its place—reflecting its textures, colors, forms, and stories. Not for nostalgia, but to keep cultural heritage alive in a modern, relevant way. Türkiye has an incredibly rich and diverse craft culture, but we rarely communicate its depth through today’s design language. My dream is to become a bridge between past and present—quietly preserving, respectfully translating. This wouldn’t be about designing for trends or mass production. It would be about creating pieces that deserve to be kept, used, and remembered.

DL: What is your secret recipe of success in design, what is your secret ingredient?

SH : I think my “secret ingredient” is actually quite simple: I listen before I design. I pay attention to the unspoken needs, the overlooked details, and the quiet signals people give when words aren’t enough. That’s often where the real brief is hiding. Then I try to create something that doesn’t scream for attention—but settles into life gently and stays there. Also, I don’t believe in forcing creativity. I believe in living with a question long enough that the answer slowly begins to shape itself. So if there’s a recipe, it’s this: Observe quietly. Design respectfully. Deliver meaningfully.

DL: Who are some other design masters and legends you get inspired from?

SH : Of course I admire global designers like Naoto Fukasawa, whose subtle attention to everyday behaviors inspires me, and Ilse Crawford, who places human wellbeing at the heart of her design language. But if I’m being completely honest, the person who has influenced me most—both professionally and personally—is Dr. Oya Akman. She’s been a mentor, a role model, and a true design leader in every sense: not just through her patents and awards, but through her commitment to education, her hands-on approach, and the integrity she brings into everything she does. In a world where titles and fame often overshadow substance, her way of working reminds me what meaningful design really looks like.

DL: What are your favorite designs by other designers, why do you like them?

SH : I don’t fall in love with designs I’ve only seen in books. Admiration, for me, comes from experience—from touching, using, living with a design. I love designs that make you smile in daily life. Sometimes it’s a clever packaging from the past, a tea glass shaped just right, or a public object that does its job so well, you don’t even notice it. Those are the ones I respect most. It’s not always about aesthetic perfection or high-end innovation. It’s about usefulness, timelessness, and the feeling that someone truly cared when designing it. I admire design that doesn’t need a caption to prove itself.

DL: What is your greatest design, which aspects of that design makes you think it is great?

SH : My greatest design so far is the Parawood Collection, not just because it won an international award—but because it reflects everything I believe in as a designer. It’s a modular wall piece with a circular logic—each unit is designed from the offcuts of the previous, forming a self-sustaining system. It’s a quiet object, but layered with meaning: waste-conscious, rhythmically structured, and emotionally calming. But if I zoom out, I’d say the greatest design I’m working on is my life itself. After years in the corporate world, I’ve shifted into an independent path where I teach, design, collaborate, and raise my child. Rebuilding that ecosystem—financially, emotionally, and creatively—might just be my most complex design to date. In both cases, what makes a design “great” to me is not just how it looks, but what kind of life it makes possible.

DL: How could people improve themselves to be better designers, what did you do?

SH : To become a better designer, I believe you have to step outside of design. I’ve always learned the most when I reached beyond my own discipline—studying brand communication, diving into child development, even experimenting with AI tools. These experiences gave me new ways of seeing and thinking, not just new skills. Observation is another key: not just seeing objects, but understanding people, behavior, culture. Being a quiet observer has taught me more than any software ever could. Design isn’t just about creating; it’s about connecting. So to improve, I keep asking questions—about context, relevance, and responsibility. That’s what keeps me evolving.

DL: If you hadn’t become a designer, what would you have done?

SH : Honestly, I can’t imagine not being a designer. It wasn’t a role I chose—it was simply the only way I made sense of the world. Even when I explored other disciplines like psychology or marketing, it was never to shift direction. I studied them to become a better designer—to understand people, to read behaviors, to navigate systems. They were tools, not destinations. If I had to imagine a life without design, maybe I’d be traveling the world, collecting stories and textures—somewhere between a researcher, a storyteller, and a wanderer. But even then, I’d still be curating, combining, and creating something meaningful. So the truth is: I would always end up designing—whether I called it that or not.

DL: How do you define design, what is design for you?

SH : For me, design is not just about solving problems—it’s about asking the right questions. It’s the act of noticing what others overlook, and responding in a way that’s respectful to both people and the planet. Design is a language I use to connect: between disciplines, between cultures, between the past and what’s next. Sometimes it’s about beauty, sometimes function. But above all, it’s about intention. A good design listens before it speaks. That’s what I try to practice in every project.

DL: Who helped you to reach these heights, who was your biggest supporter?

SH : If I had to name two people who truly shaped and supported my path, they would be my mother and Dr. Oya Akman. My mother, though no longer with us, was the one who encouraged me to follow my heart—even when the world suggested I take safer, more conventional routes. Her faith in me still echoes in my choices today. And Dr. Oya Akman has been more than a teacher—she’s been a compass. I find myself walking a path she once carved, sometimes knowingly, sometimes by beautiful coincidence. Her approach to design, her way of mentoring, and her presence in the field continue to inspire how I work, teach, and think. Of course, I’ve had other teachers and colleagues who offered guidance, especially in my academic journey. But these two women stand at the heart of who I am as a designer. I hope I can carry their legacy forward in my own way.

DL: What helped you to become a great designer?

SH : I think what helped me most is a constant curiosity and an ability to see connections where others might not. I’m deeply observant—sometimes quietly so—and that allows me to pick up on nuances in people, places, and systems that others might miss. I’ve never believed that beauty alone makes a design great. I care about what it communicates, what it respects, and how it lives in someone’s life. That mindset has pushed me to explore beyond form—into culture, sustainability, and experience. I also learned to be patient. Some ideas need time. Some don’t arrive fully formed. I had to train myself to stay with the question long enough until the answer felt right—ethically, emotionally, and practically. And above all, I’ve stayed multidisciplinary—because no good idea lives in isolation.

DL: What were the obstacles you faced before becoming a design master?

SH : Building a career in design has meant navigating some real challenges—especially in environments where design is not yet fully understood or embraced for its strategic value. In earlier phases of my career, I worked in corporate settings where recognition for designers was limited. Much of the focus was placed on production and brand visibility, while the creative minds behind the work remained in the background. That was difficult—not just professionally, but emotionally. As someone who believes design deserves authorship, it took time and persistence to carve a space where my voice could be heard. Opportunities to grow independently—through competitions, publications, or public speaking—often required resources and support structures that weren’t always available. That, too, became a quiet but ongoing battle. Like many creatives, I’ve faced skepticism, gatekeeping, and resistance to change. But instead of turning away from the field, I chose to invest in building a design practice rooted in meaning, resilience, and quiet transformation.

DL: How do you think designers should present their work?

SH : Design should never be presented as just a visual outcome. I believe designers have a responsibility to communicate not only what they created, but also why and how they created it. A good presentation starts with intention—what problem did the project aim to solve? What values guided the choices? What constraints were turned into opportunities? Of course, strong visuals help, but I believe it’s the clarity of narrative, material honesty, and cultural awareness that make a project resonate. Personally, I try to show both the thought process and the tactile experience—even if the viewer can’t physically touch it, they should feel the logic and emotion behind it. Above all, designers should present their work with humility and curiosity, knowing that each project is a step in a longer, evolving journey.

DL: What’s your next design project, what should we expect from you in future?

SH : Right now, I’m working on several projects that reflect the multi-layered way I approach design—spanning from food objects to home accessories, all with a deep attention to sensory experience and material logic. But perhaps my most meaningful ongoing project is my PhD research, which focuses on evaluating existing consumer products through a sustainability lens. It’s not about designing more—but about designing better, and helping existing designs fulfill their potential in more mindful, less wasteful ways. In the future, I hope to bring this thinking into collaborative systems—where design is not just about objects, but about creating frameworks for longevity, care, and cultural relevance. My dream is to form a design studio—or perhaps a design lounge—where thoughtful products meet thoughtful conversations. So what to expect? Quiet, layered work that lives slowly in people’s lives. Design that doesn’t shout—but stays.

DL: What’s your ultimate goal as a designer?

SH : My ultimate goal as a designer is to leave behind a body of work that feels thoughtful, human, and quietly transformative. I don’t aspire to overwhelm the world with more things—but to create fewer, better, and more meaningful ones. If I can design objects and experiences that gently shift perspectives, inspire care, or reconnect people with culture and place—then I’ve done what I came to do. Design, for me, is a language. And I want to use it to speak with clarity, respect, and purpose.

DL: What people expect from an esteemed designer such as yourself?

SH : People often expect consistency, clarity, and depth from someone who has been in the field for a while. As an experienced designer, I think there’s an unspoken responsibility—not just to create good work, but to uphold certain values in the way we think, collaborate, and communicate. They expect me to bring vision to the table—not only for how something should look, but for how it should feel, function, and endure. They may also look for mentorship, a broader perspective that combines practice with ethics, sustainability, and culture. It’s not about knowing everything. It’s about being attentive, reflective, and willing to ask better questions.

DL: How does design help create a better society?

SH : Design shapes how we live, what we value, and how we relate to one another—even when we don’t realize it. That’s why I believe design has a quiet but powerful role in creating a better society. When we design with empathy, we help people feel seen. When we design with care, we minimize harm to the planet. And when we design with cultural awareness, we preserve stories that might otherwise be forgotten. Good design doesn’t just solve problems—it asks better questions. It makes space for diversity, dignity, and connection. That’s how it quietly shifts behaviors, and eventually, systems.

DL: What are you currently working on that you are especially excited about?

SH : What excites me the most right now is not a product, but a possibility. I’m currently developing a doctoral thesis that explores how existing consumer goods can be assessed and reimagined through a sustainability lens. If realized beyond academia, this research could serve as a framework to rethink how we define value—not by producing more, but by understanding better what already exists. The thought of turning this into a real-world model is deeply motivating. At the same time, I’m designing something less tangible but equally complex: a new version of my own life. After years in the corporate world, I’m now shaping an independent path that brings together research, collaboration, and self-initiated design projects. It’s a transition filled with uncertainty, but also purpose—and that, too, is design. I’m open to meaningful collaborations—especially with those who see design not only as a solution, but as a question worth asking deeply.

DL: Which design projects gave you the most satisfaction, why?

SH : Several of my projects have given me deep satisfaction—but for different reasons. One is a cufflink I designed early in my career, made from meerschaum stone. It was a competition piece, not a commissioned product—so I had complete creative freedom. The design brought together cultural heritage, traditional silversmithing techniques, and a modern reinterpretation of material. It won an award, yes—but more importantly, it gave me the first real taste of what it means to express identity through design. It made me feel like a designer, fully and independently. Second one is Roots, a self-watering pot I designed that has become both a personal favorite and a user success story. It’s quietly functional—solving a small but universal problem—and it genuinely works. I still use it at home, and it brings me joy every time I see thriving plants that I’ve forgotten to water. It had won IF and German Design Awards. Another is Helio, a glass table lamp I created during my time working with glass as a primary material. The entire structure—excluding the electrical components—is made of glass, with no added materials or adhesives. It’s elegant, minimal, and highly sustainable in its own way. Designing something so pure, both in form and in construction, was incredibly rewarding. That one also won IF Design Awards. Of course, I can’t leave out Parawood Collection—a modular, zero-waste wall piece that reflects a mindset I’ve been refining for years. It brought international recognition, but more importantly, it affirmed that sustainability and aesthetics don’t have to compete; they can elevate each other. Each of these projects taught me something different—but all of them align with how I want to live and design: consciously, usefully, and beautifully.

DL: What would you like to see changed in design industry in the coming years?

SH : I’d love to see more depth in the design industry—less rush to produce, more time to observe, reflect, and truly understand what’s needed. Too often, design is used as a cosmetic layer rather than a strategic tool. I want to see more designers being invited into the conversation earlier—not just to beautify, but to shape ideas from the start. Another change I hope for is in the perception of design. In many markets, especially where I live, people still see design as a luxury or decoration. But good design is not about luxury—it’s about thoughtfulness, relevance, and long-term value. I also hope to see a shift away from constant production toward more meaningful evaluation of what already exists. Designing doesn’t always have to mean adding something new—it can also mean rethinking what’s already there, and doing less but better.

DL: Where do you think the design field is headed next?

SH : I believe design is moving toward a more integrated, systems-based approach—less about individual objects, more about interconnected experiences. The future of design will be defined by its ability to work across disciplines: combining craft with tech, culture with innovation, aesthetics with data. Designers will increasingly need to speak multiple “languages”—not just visual, but technological, social, and even psychological. AI, for instance, is changing the way we ideate and iterate. But to truly use it meaningfully, we must pair it with human sensitivity and critical thinking. I also think regeneration—not just sustainability—will be the next big wave. Designing not just to do less harm, but to actively heal and restore. That applies to the environment, to communities, and even to the way we consume. And hopefully, design will also become more localized and context-aware. Less trend-chasing, more rootedness. Because the most powerful design in the future may not be global—it may be deeply, meaningfully local.

DL: How long does it take you to finalize a design project?

SH : The time it takes to finalize a design project can vary greatly depending on many variables—especially the nature of the brief, the collaborators involved, and the production constraints. While I’m generally known to work fast once the direction is clear, clarity itself takes time. Sometimes the ideation phase is long and exploratory; other times, a concept clicks instantly. For example, my award-winning Parawood Collection took a considerable period due to its layered development process and material experimentation. Yet a follow-up piece in the same collection came together in just two days—including design and production—thanks to clear intent and agile collaboration. Ultimately, timelines are shaped not just by me, but by the design ecosystem around the project: shared vision, communication, and decision-making all play crucial roles.

DL: When you have a new design project, where do you start?

SH : It really depends on the project, but I usually begin from one of three points: observation, context, or a key question. Most often, I start by quietly observing—trying to listen to what people, brands, or systems are saying without words. I look for the unspoken needs, the patterns in behavior, or the subtle gaps in experience. Good design often begins in the silence. Next, I dive into the context. Who will use this? Where? In what cultural, emotional, or physical setting? I try not to see constraints, but possibilities. Understanding context helps me shape the tone, form, and relevance of the design. And then comes the core question. Every project needs one: a simple but sharp idea that everything else can orbit around. This question drives not just the concept but also the production logic, the user experience, even the storytelling. I rarely start with sketches. Instead, I use concept maps, visual references, and even AI-supported ideation tools to collect, expand, and connect thoughts. The tools vary—but the real beginning is always about clarity.

DL: What is your life motto as a designer?

SH : “Design that listens before it speaks.” It’s about creating with awareness—of people, of culture, of the environment. Not rushing to impress, but taking time to understand, connect, and then express—with purpose, not noise.

DL: Do you think design sets the trends or trends set the designs?

SH : Design and trends have a reciprocal relationship, but truly impactful design often leads rather than follows. While trends can offer valuable cultural signals and guide aesthetics momentarily, I believe the strongest designs emerge from deeper observations—of human needs, behaviors, and context. Sometimes, the role of the designer is to quietly respond to existing trends with refinement. But at other times, it’s to question, resist, or even completely reinvent the path forward.

DL: What is the role of technology when you design?

SH : Technology is a powerful enabler in my design process—but it’s never the goal, always the tool. I use digital tools like SolidWorks or Illustrator for precision, and increasingly turn to AI for visual exploration, scenario generation, and even market insight. It speeds up iteration and allows me to explore a broader range of possibilities in a shorter time. But just as important are the non-digital technologies: material knowledge, production techniques, and the embodied know-how passed down through craft. These are often underrated, yet they define the feasibility, sustainability, and feel of a design. In short, I embrace technology where it serves clarity, creativity, or conscience—but I never let it replace intuition or critical thinking.

DL: What kind of design software and equipment do you use in your work?

SH : I approach tools the same way I approach materials—intentionally. I don’t believe in overloading my workflow with tech just because it exists. But I do use digital tools when they help me think better, visualize faster, or communicate more clearly. I use SolidWorks for more technical product modeling, especially when precision is key. Illustrator has been my go-to for creating clean visual plans and experimenting with layout and surface patterns. Photoshop and KeyShot help bring the visuals to life during presentations. Recently, I’ve been integrating AI-based tools into my creative process—not to replace thinking, but to challenge it. Sometimes they offer unexpected sparks of insight. I still take notes and scribble ideas by hand (even if they’re only legible to me), and I often revisit physical materials or textures before making final decisions. When needed, I prototype—sometimes digitally, sometimes with simple hand-made models. It’s less about having the perfect toolbox, and more about staying flexible and choosing what the project needs. Every tool has its moment, but the thinking always comes first.

DL: What is the role of the color, materials and ambient in design?

SH : Color, material, and ambient aren’t just stylistic choices in my design process—they are emotional and psychological triggers. Color has always been a personal fascination. I’m deeply drawn to its emotional power, and how subtly it can influence behavior, mood, or memory. It’s not just aesthetic; it’s communicative. Material, for me, is the bridge between idea and reality. It dictates not only the form but also the feel, the weight, the aging process. I choose materials that are honest, tactile, and often carry a cultural or sustainable significance. Ambience is context. And context is everything. How a product lives in its environment—how it's lit, what surrounds it, what story it's part of—can dramatically shift its perception. But beyond the physical, I’m currently researching how these design elements interact with temperament and personality—particularly in children. My doctoral research explores how specific color, texture, or spatial qualities might align with a child’s temperament, potentially opening the door to more emotionally attuned, individualized design. It’s an emerging area, but I believe the more we understand the link between sensory design and personality, the more meaningful our work can become—not just beautiful or functional, but truly resonant.

DL: What do you wish people to ask about your design?

SH : I wish people would ask: "What kind of thinking or emotion led you to this form?" Because behind every material choice, every curve or surface, there’s usually a deeper question I’m exploring—about behavior, sustainability, or meaning. Or: "What’s the story behind this design?" Because I rarely design things just to look nice. I’m more interested in what they quietly do—how they shift habits, trigger memories, or connect to cultural layers. Too often, we talk about what something is, not why it is.

DL: When you see a new great design or product what comes into your mind?

SH : When I see a truly great design, my first thought isn’t just “I wish I had thought of that”— It’s “How did they even see the world like that to arrive here?” What kind of lens do you need to look through to find such an idea? What were they observing, questioning, or reinterpreting? It fascinates me—because great design isn't just about form or function, it's about perception. A powerful design makes me want to go back to the world with new eyes.

DL: Who is your ideal design partner? Do you believe in co-design?

SH : I believe the best co-design happens when perspectives truly collide. My ideal design partner is someone who sees the world completely differently than I do. Sometimes, that’s someone deeply grounded—a psychologist, a child development specialist, an engineer, or even an AI researcher. People who can challenge my assumptions with structure and logic. Other times, it's the exact opposite: someone wildly imaginative, even irrational at first glance. That could be an artist, a child, or someone who dreams big without worrying about feasibility. And I love taking on the role of grounding those ideas, shaping them into something tangible and real. In both cases, what excites me is the friction—the dialogue between minds that would never think the same way alone. That’s where the magic happens.

DL: Which people you interacted had the most influence on your design?

SH : The people who shaped my design journey most were those who truly believed in me. First and foremost, my late mother—she gave me the emotional permission to follow a creative path, even when others suggested more 'secure' careers. Her support still fuels me. And then, there’s Dr. Oya Akman, who has been both a mentor and a role model. Her integrity, her multidisciplinary approach, and her ability to bridge academia with real-world impact deeply influenced how I see design—not just as a craft, but as a cultural and intellectual responsibility. Beyond that, countless collaborators, engineers, artisans, even students I’ve worked with have helped me stretch and refine my perspective. Every interaction leaves a trace.

DL: Which books you read had the most effect on your design?

SH : Rather than being shaped by specific design theory books, I’ve always been more inspired by books that explore behavior, perception, and the ways people experience the world. Books on psychology, user experience, and sensory perception often leave a deeper mark on me than technical design manuals. I’m especially drawn to titles that connect the emotional and functional layers of interaction—how we make decisions, how memory and meaning are tied to objects. That said, I also enjoy reading about cultural heritage, material culture, and semiotics, as they help me understand the symbolic and historical layers that influence how design is interpreted. Design, to me, is not just about aesthetics or trends—it's about decoding what people need but can’t always articulate. And the books I value most are the ones that help me do that better.

DL: How did you develop your skills as a master designer?

SH : I developed my design skills not just by doing, but by constantly reflecting. I’ve always been driven by curiosity, but not in the surface-level, trend-chasing way. I dive into things — whether it’s the cultural background of a material, the behavioral aspect of users, or how a certain object makes people feel and act. My skills evolved through a mix of hands-on experience, academic exploration, and interdisciplinary exposure. I’ve worked in corporate design environments for years, collaborated with international designers, and now I also teach and do a PhD — which pushes me to connect theory with practice. But the real key? I observe. I pay attention to what people don’t say, to what habits tell us, to the silent signals. I also challenge myself to work across different domains — from packaging to lighting, food design to toys — and I take each challenge as a chance to shift perspective, learn fast, and refine my intuition. Design mastery is not about knowing everything; it’s about knowing how to look deeper. And keep learning — always.

DL: Irrelative of time and space, who you would want to meet, talk and discuss with?

SH : If I could speak to anyone, regardless of time or space, I’d want to meet the first person who didn’t just discover fire — but understood what it could mean. Not the one who sparked it by accident, but the one who imagined how it could transform life: cook food, bring people together, create safety, ritual, even community. That kind of mind — that leap between raw discovery and meaningful application — is what inspires me most as a designer. Because design is not just invention; it’s insight. It’s about seeing potential and giving it form, purpose, and place in life.

DL: How do you feel about all the awards and recognition you had, is it hard to be famous?

SH : To be honest, I don’t think of myself as “famous.” I see the awards and recognition more as milestones — not end goals. They’re incredibly motivating, of course, and I’m grateful for every one of them. But what excites me most is when a design I worked on genuinely touches someone’s life — when someone uses it, connects with it, or tells me it made something easier or more beautiful for them. Recognition can bring visibility, but it also brings responsibility. I try not to carry the pressure of being “known,” but rather the commitment to keep designing with purpose, curiosity, and care.

DL: What is your favorite color, place, food, season, thing and brand?

SH : Color: I’m deeply drawn to vibrant, lively colors—hues that stir the soul and spark joy. The kind of tones that feel like spring in full bloom. Season: Definitely spring. The season of transformation, renewal, and new beginnings—it reflects my inner drive to evolve and create. Place: Turkey as a whole inspires me endlessly. Every corner offers a different mood, climate, and cultural layer. It’s a living, breathing collage of stories. Food: I cherish local flavors. Whether it’s a humble vegetable stew or a rich regional dish, Turkish cuisine has a depth and diversity that continues to amaze me. Thing: My phone might be my most-used item—it's where I document, connect, create, and even debate, often with a little help from AI. Brand: I’m not a brand follower per se. I care about durability and smart thinking. I gravitate towards brands that demonstrate quality with intention rather than hype.

DL: Please tell us a little memoir, a funny thing you had experienced as a designer?

SH : People often expect a funny or light anecdote from a designer’s journey. But honestly, design for me has never been a comedy show—it’s a deep, demanding, sometimes lonely craft. I don’t have a story that makes people laugh out loud. But maybe that’s okay. Sometimes the most honest answer is: I haven’t had that moment—yet. And I’m still designing, still hoping, still believing one day I will.

DL: What makes your day great as a designer, how do you motivate yourself?

SH : What makes my day great is when a small idea suddenly clicks into place—when I feel that tiny spark that says, “Yes, this could work.” It might be during a quiet moment with my sketchbook, or while watching my child play, or even mid-conversation with someone from a completely different field. That sense of possibility is what keeps me going. I’m motivated by the idea that design can create change—sometimes big, sometimes subtle, but always meaningful. And in days when nothing flows, I remind myself that even being stuck is part of the process. Even pause has purpose.

DL: When you were a little child, was it obvious that you would become a great designer?

SH : Looking back, the signs were all there. I used to design furniture for fun, repurpose radio covers into witch hats, and ride imaginary broomsticks around the house. I’d take apart my dolls—not to play house, but to explore how their joints moved and how their clothes could be reimagined. I never played with things the “normal” way; I always wanted to see what else they could become. But here’s what I truly believe: all children are natural designers. They touch, test, twist, and question the world. The trick is not to forget that. I guess I never did.

DL: What do you think about future; what do you see will happen in thousand years from now?

SH : Thinking a thousand years ahead feels surreal, but if I let my imagination wander—perhaps we’ll live in a world where design is no longer a separate discipline, but simply the way we live. Everything—from our cities to the objects we touch—might be designed in real-time, adapting constantly to our needs, behaviors, even emotions. I imagine a future where technology dissolves into the background, and materiality regains value. Maybe handmade and local will be the new luxury. I also hope sustainability won’t be a “theme” anymore—but the default. And maybe, just maybe, we’ll finally realize that designing better doesn’t always mean creating more—but creating wiser.

DL: Please tell us anything you wish your fans to know about you, your design and anything else?

SH : If there’s one thing I’d love people to know about me, it’s this: I design not to impress, but to connect. Every piece I create carries a story—rooted in materials, shaped by context, and made to be quietly meaningful. I don’t believe design should shout. I believe it should whisper something honest. Whether I’m working with wood, glass, or speculative ideas, my goal is to make something that feels real, responsible, and resonant. And while I may work independently, I’m never alone in spirit. I carry the wisdom of mentors, the curiosity of a child, and the belief that design can be a gentle force for cultural and emotional continuity. This is just the beginning. I hope to keep designing with purpose, with depth—and with others who believe in the same values. If you're looking for a creative collaborator who blends sensitivity with strategy, feel free to reach out. I'm open to meaningful partnerships and new design opportunities world wide.