I don’t try to please everyone. And there’s nothing wrong with that.
In the beginning, I thought it was important to please everyone. To make something that everyone would like. But over time, I realized that doesn’t always work.
If you try to please everyone, you lose yourself. The work loses its character, and the process becomes hollow. And then you’re faced with a choice: either stay true to yourself or become a product that leaves no trace.
I realized that not everyone needs what I create. And that’s okay. It’s not about rejecting people, it’s about accepting myself. I don’t want to create things for everyone — I want to create them for those who understand them at first glance.
There are things that aren’t understood at first sight. They need to be felt, understood, and seen for what they truly are. And those things aren’t always clear to the masses.
I don’t create for everyone because I don’t want to be part of the mainstream. My creations are made with a certain purpose, and that purpose is not to be accepted by everyone.
When I first started, I thought I should make universal things that would suit everyone. But over time, it became clear that while such things are practical, they lack depth. And the more I tried to create “for everyone,” the more I lost depth.
I decided that it’s more important to create something genuine than universal. Something that will speak to those who are ready to understand it.
Not for everyone — but for those who listen.
Every choice I make is aimed at a specific audience. And this isn’t about excluding people, it’s about choosing quality.
The world is full of “popular” solutions that barely reflect uniqueness. And that creates an illusion of accessibility, but leaves no trace.
When I create something for everyone, I know it will be faceless. When I create something for a specific person, I can put my soul into it.
I’ve learned to understand that not everyone will grasp the meaning of my work. That’s not a problem. It’s a choice.
An object made not for everyone carries something more than just function. It might not be perfect in the eyes of the “mass consumer,” but it has something you can’t just buy — character, history, meaning.
Over time, I realized that creating for everyone is work that leaves no trace. But work created for a few has the chance to leave something important.
I’m not afraid to create not for everyone. I’m afraid of being forgotten.
When you create not for everyone, you’re creating something more meaningful for those who will see, feel, and understand.
And that’s where the meaning lies.