The North Star
Srikanth, our Creative Head, often points out a quiet pattern when speaking with young designers who claim to possess a distinct philosophy on day one.
“You do not have a philosophy on day one,” he says. “You either pursue one independently over years, or you look at a north star and say, ‘That is what I want.’ To shorten the distance, you begin by thinking like that person.”
In a culture shaped by social media, young minds are encouraged to curate an identity, a polished set of tastes and opinions, long before they have had the chance to test themselves against real constraints. We confuse instant curation with lived understanding.
Creativity rarely arrives in a vacuum. We mimic, knowingly or unknowingly, borrowing traits until they become our own. This is the true nature of mentorship, one of our most misunderstood relationships. It is not a teacher feeding answers to a student, but someone showing you how to think rather than what to think. A mentor’s instincts serve as training wheels until you build your own balance.
Srikanth often speaks about his early years in design, a period filled with ambition, and the mentors who guided him. One figure stands out: Gaurav, his mentor in Goa. Gaurav was the sort of builder who never complained about a lack of opportunities because he was too busy creating them. In unfamiliar or demanding situations, a younger Srikanth began asking a simple question: What would Gaurav do?
He borrowed someone else’s lens to develop his own problem-solving instincts. He applied that way of thinking until it stopped feeling borrowed and became his own.
Originality is not the absence of influence. It is an influence that has been questioned, refined, and lived with long enough that it becomes inseparable from your own voice. And in moments where our own path isn't clear yet, there is immense value in looking to a north star and asking: What would they do?
