In Conversation: Nermin Moufti

Our Design Director on setting intentions and creating the conditions to collaborate well, communicate kindly, and design without ego.

 

 

Today is Nermin’s birthday—happy birthday Nermin! Besides being my co-founder, creative partner, and Design Director around here, she is my dear friend, soul sister, and role model. The beating heart of this practice.

 

© Photo by the wonderful Olivia Kohler

 

In the seven years we’ve been working together, I’ve learned so much from Nermin about generosity and grace, about trust in the process and in people, about speaking to and working with others in a way that makes everyone feel and do their best.

I know many others have learned so much from her too. Every Monday, she shares what’s been lighting her up over on Instagram—our Monday Morning Inspiration. Every day, she helps me figure out the difference between enough and too much. When Nermin’s in the kitchen, everybody eats.

So grab a plate.

I asked Nermin, whose name means softness, a bunch of questions, and asked our friends and followers for their questions too. She was good enough to share her mind. Dig in.

 

You just presented round two of a visual identity earlier this week, for our biggest FoP client to date! How are you feeling?

I can't remember the last time I used this word, but I’m going to borrow a word our client used: ecstatic.

This project has felt like a real big leap in my Career Narrative—a dream project and dream collaboration in every way. I can't wait to share it with the world and fully bask in gratitude once we tie a nice big bow around it by the end of year.

 

When, in the design process, do you feel most energized and creative? What helps you get and stay there?

When, after rigorous discovery and active listening, a brand is ready for its visual expression. It’s when all possibilities are ready to be tapped into—the early back-of-the-napkin sketches, envisioning potential, and shedding low-hanging fruit. It's the most imaginative part of the design phase.

Co-creation and conversation helps me get there—sharing early sketches in Slack or and wet-clay in Figma, letting the design "breathe" for a bit then coming back to it. Mid-day showers and strolls are key.You asked me this before, and I'd love to boomerang it back to you: what drove you to start Field of Practice? If you could go back to 2020 when we were scheming our unnamed business, what would you do more of?

I wanted to start this business, specifically with you Nermin, to test the hypothesis that skill, smarts, love, intention and a willingness to experiment might be sufficient to make a decent living in a world that has overcomplicated just about every aspect of existence. I don’t need much, just a partner-in-crime or two and a good idea now and then. It could be a nice little life. If I could go back to 2020, I would maybe learn to use QuickBooks sooner.

 

Here’s a question from your baby brother’s bestie, Tyler: What are your go-to songs to listen to when you’re crushing a big project?

A couple Spotify playlists that help me get and stay in the zone:

 

I know you to be a sensitive, thoughtful speaker—someone who’s noticed how much casual violence occurs in the English language. Five years ago, I might have said “You killed that presentation this morning.” Since working together so closely, I’ve found myself consciously trying to catch the violence of my own speech and reframe it in the moment. One of my favorite reframes I’ve learned from you is to replace “kill two birds with one stone,” with “feed two birds with one hand.” Can you talk a little bit about why it matters how we speak to each other? What’s important to you about language?

♥️

Words inform our world view. Our mental models start with language; we've seen over and over that the quality of our work is directly correlated to the quality of our conversations. I believe it was you who introduced me to this gem by Maya Angelou: “Words are events.” When we're fully remote and body cues aren't accessible, our words matter more than ever.

It's an on-going practice for me personally; I think in Arabic and speak in English often, so some things get lost in translation. But I do enjoy the mental gymnastics of finding the "right" words. And you, dear partner, have taught me everything I know about agonizing over words.

 

I’d like to stay with the idea of intention a little bit. What intentions do you bring to the design process? How has your practice evolved since you were a baby designer to become more intentional?

I like to start every project, presentation, call, or Focused Design Time with a little prayer—an intention setting—to ground us and our work in love and service.

It can be easy to get lost in self-indulgent design, especially when channels of inspiration are being algorithmically forced upon us. Remembering to keep the ego at bay is key—this ain't about me, us, the client, or the portfolio. The work we do is an act of service to the communities it's designed for. First and foremost, it needs to be responsive to those who'll interact with it.

 

Design won’t save the world. But sound hearts that design for change can help the world make sense, and in turn make it kinder, more tender even.

 

How has my practice evolved? It sounds counterintuitive, but the less I tied my sense of worth to my design practice, the better my work became. Design without ego, in a sense. I value design deeply, but that's not necessarily the same as my "productivity" or ability to constantly push out deliverables.

 

We’re always trying to be super intentional about how we show up for each other and our clients—it’s a constant work in progress. You are a mother to an almost 9-year old, a business owner, and a designer who expects a lot from herself. Nermin, how do you do it? Can you talk a bit about your experience trying to balance these roles, and all the other projects in your life?

It’s a cliché for a reason—it's not easy.

I multi-task more often than I like to admit, and sometimes it shows. I stay up more than I'd like, because I'd rather make time for play than be in bed early (and the suitcases under my eyes also show). That said, I am blessed with an incredible village—a chosen family that shows up for me and my child over and over in every way. We lean on each other and, in doing so, model to our children that community care is the only way forward.

I also make it a point to celebrate progress and every win, big or small, with my kiddo. Whenever possible, I involve him in the process. Kids are the OG creative directors, for every Figma file I create there's a "Sami version"–it's adorable. These small moments make the hard ones sweeter.

 

I know why I wanted to start our own practice, but what about you? When you think back to 2020, when you and I first began scheming on this business, what did you want to do differently? What kind of change did you hope to make, either in your own life, or in our industry?

I had always dreamed of starting my own design studio. Back in 2020, I was hungry to reclaim how I spent my time and days. The entire world was having a reckoning and I began revisiting that dream. We had a fateful stroll one fall night, six feet apart, masked, and it started becoming a reality. We were smizing at the potential of our future!

 

The industry was not designed by people like us, for us—it’s exhausting to be constantly told to settle for "a seat at the table," when we were meant to build a whole different table entirely.

 

I was hungry, both personally and for the field, to drop the 9-5 and adopt a 4-day work week, and to move towards a trusting, heart-filling, graceful practice that prioritizes spirituality over rapid growth.

 

Who are the artists, designers, thinkers, movers and shakers who have shaped your creative practice? Asked another way, how do you describe your creative lineage?

The work of Iranian graphic designer Reza Abedini got me obsessed with design in the Middle East and the region. A non-exhaustive list of big players in my creative lineage include: photographer Tarek Al Ghoussein, graphic design legend Jan Van Toorn, Arabic typographer Huda Smitshuijzen AbiFarès, poets Amir Sulaiman, Kristin Lueke, and Charif Shanahan, visual artist Burhan Karkutli, Deem Journal, writer and abolitionist adrienne maree brown, and of course, the moomins!  

 

Top left to bottom right: Reza Abedini, Untitled 2 by Tarek Al Ghoussein, Deem journal featuring adrienne maree brown, Typographic Matchmaking in the City by Huda Smitshuijzen AbiFarès, Design’s Delight by Jan Van Toorn, Amir Sulaiman, Trace Evidence by Charif Shanahan, Kristin Lueke, Burhan Karkutli, Moomin.

Let’s wrap this up with a lightning round of questions, sourced from our friends and followers. First up: What’s in your dream project bucket list?

I’d love to do more work like MO. I remember signing an NDA to watch the first Palestinian American sitcom on Netflix, months before it streamed for everyone, and feeling immensely humbled and honored to be helping tell such a wildly relatable and important story.

Oh and an ethical slow fashion brand would be fun!

 

What’s it like having a perfect roommate?  

I’d be in shambles without my Aquarius brother.

 

Top 5 must-haves for a fabulous dinner party?

Good people x 5. Everything else works itself out fabulously as a result.

 

How do you want to feel during this next year on earth?

Closer to being liberated from constricting thoughts and limiting patterns. There’s so much love in my life that manifests in different ways. More of that, and maybe 2-3 of Arabic's 24 degrees of love.

 

This last one is more of a comment than a question: “I just love her.” I agree.

 

 

Happy birthday Nermin! Thanks for talking to me all the time.

Kristin

 

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