Laze Tripkov, a Macedonian alchemist of design, crafts art that sets the imagination ablaze. His creations thrum with emotion, fusing instinct with purpose to shape posters that echo in the soul. From sparking global design festivals to weaving new realms of visual storytelling, he beckons us to pause, question, and feel the pulse of art’s transformative power. His voice, raw and luminous, pulls us into a dialogue where design becomes a vibrant reflection of human wonder. Ready to unravel his vision? Let’s plunge into the heart of this interview!
1. Could you begin by introducing yourself, not as an artist, but as a human being who creates?
My creative path began in Poland, where I studied at the Warsaw Academy of Fine Arts in the poster design studio. That was a defining chapter, where I first understood design not just as a skill, but as a way of thinking and perceiving the world. Over the years, I’ve experienced several turning points that shaped me both personally and professionally. The first was my formal education. The second was initiating the International Student Poster Competition in Skopje in 2007, which later grew into the Skopje Poster Festival, an initiative that brought fresh curatorial and conceptual approaches to the format and helped reshape how poster festivals are organized internationally. The third turning point was stepping into academia. Becoming a professor taught me that teaching is a form of learning, one that invites constant reevaluation of values, priorities, and emerging generations. But I’ve always felt the need to push boundaries further. To question and expand the role of the poster in contemporary society. That drive led me to explore the poster in new contexts, including digital and immersive environments, and to begin a PhD research project. For me, creating is not a static act; it’s an evolving practice rooted in curiosity, critical reflection, and a desire to connect what we see with what we often overlook.
2. In your creative process, do you trust intuition more or structure? Why?
Intuition is where it starts, but structure is what sustains it. My foundation was formed in the Polish School of Poster, where I had the privilege of learning from masters like Mieczysław Wasilewski and Lech Majewski. They instilled in me a profound respect for the balance between spontaneity, experimentation, and discipline. Design, they taught me, is a form of play, but purposeful play. Even now, as I work with what I’ve come to call “Virtual Posters”, a term I define and defend through research, my process always begins with an instinctive, emotional impulse. From there, I build a framework around it using design thinking, spatial reasoning, and principles of holistic and haptic communication. Intuition brings life; structure brings clarity. It’s like jazz – you can only improvise well when you’ve mastered the scales.
3. What do you think gives a poster its lasting impact—the message it carries, the form it takes, or something in between?
A powerful poster exists in the space between message and form, but its real impact lies in how it connects to the inner world of the viewer. It’s not just what is said, or how it looks, it’s how it stays. What I learned through the Polish poster tradition is that metaphor, image, and message don’t function separately; they move together, like a visual sentence. But in today’s visual culture, lasting impact comes from resonance. A poster should offer more than answers; it should invite a personal response, a reflection. When that happens, the poster becomes more than a surface of medium; it becomes an experience. That’s the essence of design with impact: to echo in the viewer’s mind, quietly and persistently.
4. How do you define “truth” in visual communication, and has your definition changed over time?
Early in my career, I approached truth with conceptual clarity, a distilled idea expressed with precision. Over time, I’ve come to understand truth as something more layered. It’s not always immediate, and not always logical. Sometimes, it emerges in the emotional space between symbol and silence. Truth in design today feels more fragile but also more necessary. It is not a single statement; it’s a process of honest engagement. The images we create should not just communicate; they should ask questions, reflect contradictions, and remain open to interpretation. For me, that’s a more enduring and authentic kind of truth.
5. Do you believe that visual design can change the way people think, or only the way they feel? Where do you place its true power?
Design can, and does, change, both. But we must acknowledge that the environment has changed. Content is everywhere, and very little truly disrupts us anymore. We no longer measure progress through ideas, but by the speed at which something gets attention. The scroll is endless, the response instant, the reflection brief. In this culture, design’s true power lies in its ability to slow us down. To create a pause, a friction that interrupts our habits of consumption. Good design catches the eye. Great design invites a second look. It rewards engagement. Its emotional power is still the gateway, but it must carry intellectual depth to sustain impact. Today, design must be immediate yet layered. It must be both intuitive and intentional. That’s where its transformative potential lives.
6. What role do you think mystery should play in visual art? Should every message be understood—or is misunderstanding part of the experience?
Mystery is essential, especially now. In a world oversaturated with visuals and dominated by algorithms, we risk replacing depth with volume. Poster festivals multiply, yet many works begin to echo each other. The creative process risks becoming formulated. But real art isn’t about providing answers, it’s about provoking the thought. The poster is one of the most distilled forms of visual communication; it’s thinking made visual. Misunderstanding, in this sense, is not a problem; it’s part of the journey. It allows room for imagination. And that’s where creativity enters: as a transitional stage between what we see and what we feel. When a poster doesn’t give you all the answers, it respects your intelligence. And in that space of uncertainty, something real begins to happen- you start to ask yourself: what do you feel? What do you see? What does this mean to you?
7. If you could remove one visual cliché from global design forever, what would it be—and what would you replace it with?
Probably a lot, but if I have to choose for the answer, then it would be the lightbulb not only as a starting point, but as a revelation. What concerns me more than the symbol itself is what it represents: a loss of depth, a dependency on safe visual shortcuts. We use it instead of investigating the real nature of the problem. Design today is becoming less exploratory, more reactive. We jump to what’s recognizable, not to what’s meaningful. Less organic, more automated. And in doing so, we risk turning design into noise. I wouldn’t replace the lightbulb with another fixed icon. Instead, I would insist for a return to visual curiosity, symbols in flux, metaphors in motion, forms that invite discovery. Design should not wrap things up. It should open things out. Not to impress, but to inspire.
8. How do you navigate the tension between personal expression and social responsibility in your work?
I believe this tension defines what it means to be a designer today. Design is social by its nature; it solves problems, proposes directions, highlights issues, and carries values. As designers, we are not neutral. I come from Macedonia, a region full of deep cultural layers, complex identities, and many stories left untold. Those stories are part of me. And they shape my work. As an educator, I teach that creativity must be personal, but also accountable. Not every project demands a statement, but every work carries a consequence. We’re living through a critical shift – AI is transforming not only how content is made, but how meaning is perceived. We are gaining speed, but losing depth. If we don’t act responsibly, if we don’t reconsider the role of design thinking as a human-centered, conscious process, then we risk creating a future shaped by convenience instead of care.
9. If your work could whisper something to the future—quietly, beyond words—what would it try to say?
Protect the emotion. It is the universal language of healing, of memory, of connection. When translated into form, color, rhythm, it becomes design’s most enduring strength. In a future overwhelmed by automation, my work would whisper: slow down. Feel. Observe. Question. Let images carry intention, not just style. Let meaning emerge, not be imposed. Because without emotion, design becomes noise. But with it, it becomes a trace of memory, power, endurance, humanity.
10. Finally, is there a thought or truth you’ve never spoken publicly—something you’d like to express here, for the first time?
Yes. I’ve never fully admitted that sometimes, I design to challenge myself and to explore parts of myself. The poster, and now the broader virtual space, is both a mirror and a shelter. It allows me to deepen, to play, to question, to connect without needing resolution. It’s a way to imagine a future, and at times, to quietly predict change, both around me and within me. That’s a truth I’ve carried in silence for a long time. But maybe now is the right moment to say it out loud: Design is how I try to understand the world, and how I try to understand myself.
To learn more about the artist, explore the links provided below.
The Official Website of the Artist
Facebook | Behance
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