Did I Forget How to Make Boxes?
You know that feeling when you wonder if you've forgotten how to ride a bike? That hit me recently—except with design. Specifically, angular, boxy, sci-fi design languages.
Let me rewind.
Back When Boxes Were Life
When I first got into 3D design over 10 years ago, it was all boxes. Cut, chamfer, bevel, repeat. I got pretty good at it, even though I always felt limited. It never came close to how free I felt drawing on paper.
I always knew I wanted to be able to design any object, but at the time, introducing 3D created more problems than it solved. Still, I kept at it. I made boxy stuff for clients, made some for myself, and for a while, I didn’t think much about it. Eventually, though, that inner feeling of “not enough” kept creeping in—and I had to do something about it.
Breaking the Mold
Faced with a creative wall, I gave myself two choices: retool or push through. I chose the latter. After all, it worked with the boxes, right?
Over the next four years, I focused on grounded but organic art styles—forms that were unfamiliar and challenging at first.
Eventually, I reached a point where I could open up a 3D tool and work on an idea as fluidly as I did in 2D. Organic shapes became second nature—easier to design, easier to light and present, and much more aligned with the creative direction I wanted to pursue.
For the first time, I could confidently say: the tools weren’t holding me back.
One of the designs from the time when i was exploring more organic forms. This one was done for the project called Concord
The Fear of Forgetting
But then a strange realization hit me: had I forgotten how to design with sharp edges and rigid forms? Could I still do it?
At that point, I had plenty of experience across different projects, and I could clearly see the flaws in my old boxy work. It lacked a lot.
There’s a common misconception that boxy designs are easier than organic ones. In reality, they’re often harder—harder to light, harder to transition between forms, harder to make dynamic. Especially when you try to combine them with organic elements. (Try connecting a cylinder to a rectangle in a visually interesting way—it’s not trivial.)
The Skill Check
To find out if I still had it, I challenged myself: build something boxy, heavy, and unapologetically angular. Not for a client. Not for a brief. Just for me—to prove that I could still do something I hadn’t touched in years.
After completing this project, not only did I confirm that I can indeed still do it, but also that it’s far easier than it has ever been before. Persistence, along with exploring new art styles, has only enhanced my boxes.
The Takeaway
While this all might sound or look a bit silly—after all, "it’s just a tank"—I’m sure many designers go through similar phases. We usually only see the final results, not the struggles behind them. Design is emotional. It doesn’t matter if you're creating a tank or a flower pot—there’s always a layer of emotion behind the work. For some, it’s the fear of losing a job. For others, it’s the anticipation of gaining likes or followers . For many its the simple joy of creating something. For me, in this case, it was the fear that I couldn’t design something to the same level as I could with my other work or styles.
So I encourage you: constantly evaluate what you're doing, why you're doing it, and how you feel about it. Always challenge and question your own skills and vision.
That doesn’t mean you need to learn everything or master every style. I don’t do characters—and I’m totally fine with that. But when it comes to hard surface design? I want to be able to do it all—realistic, stylized, round, or boxy.
