Is it sexy design? That's the question we ask before anything else leaves the studio. Not as provocation — as a filter. We've built 80+ awarded projects around this single, uncomfortable standard: if you can't feel it, it isn't finished.

Time in design is the one resource studios consistently undervalue, including us. We've spent twenty years learning that the pressure to compress it rarely produces better work — it produces faster work, which is a different thing entirely. Time in design shapes every decision, from the first sketch to the final output.

What you buy with a designer is rarely what appears on the invoice. The file is the last thing — what precedes it is accumulated judgment, pattern recognition sharpened across decades, and the discipline to reject work that almost works. We've built 81 logos and won over 80 awards not by delivering what clients asked for, but by understanding what they actually needed.

Black and white design is where we start every project — not as a stylistic preference, but as a structural test. If a mark, layout, or identity doesn't hold in two tones, it won't survive color, scale, or time. Black and white design is the first filter, and for us, it's often the only one that matters.

Hell yes creative approach is how we decide what to make — and what to walk away from. If a project doesn't produce that immediate, visceral pull, we don't take it. That filter, applied consistently since 2004, is the reason our work holds together as a body rather than a portfolio of compromises.

Design ethics and sustainability aren't a policy we wrote to hang on a wall — they're the criteria we use before we say yes to a project. We've been running this studio since 2004, and the framework hasn't changed: if the work can't be defended on ethical grounds, it doesn't leave the desk. Design ethics and sustainability, in practice, means turning things down as often as taking them on.

Everything beautiful is analog — that's not nostalgia, it's a working method. We've spent two decades in Ljubljana making things by hand first, screen second, and the difference shows up in the work. Analog design philosophy isn't a romantic detour; it's where the real decisions get made.

Artists vs designers — it's a question we've been asked at every client meeting, award jury, and late-night studio argument since 2004. The honest answer is neither, or both, depending on what the brief demands. What we've learned after 81 logos and 80+ awarded projects is that the real distinction isn't about medium or ego — it's about intent and accountability.