Some designers describe the woman they design for. Hayk Ananyan simply knows her. She is not a demographic, not a mood board, or a silhouette cut from a magazine. She is an energy – controlled and visceral, strong and acutely sensitive, the type of woman whose presence arrives before she speaks. And he has translated that energy into physical form: a pair of shoes that stays with you long after you have taken them off. Ananyan is a House that began from a sketch – the same shoe, drawn obsessively throughout childhood, again and again across notebooks, as if the hand already knew what time had not yet caught up to. Handcrafted in Armenia, each pair is an object of conviction that makes it impossible to stop at owning just one.
A decade since its inception, the House is becoming something the world is only beginning to reckon with. MOJEH sat down with the Armenian designer to talk instinct, identity and why the hardest element of design has nothing to do with designing.
MOJEH: Who is the woman you have in mind when you design, and what do you understand about her that guides your decisions?
HAYK: I don’t design for one specific woman. It’s more an energy or a presence I feel. She is confident without trying to prove anything. There is a certain tension in her strength mixed with sensitivity, discipline mixed with instinct. For me, the shoes are an extension of character, something that reveals presence, attitude and individuality without explanation.
That understanding guides almost every decision I make: proportions, sharpness, balance, even the way a heel touches the ground. I’m interested in creating something that feels defining without being loud.
Can you take me back to a specific moment or place where your design journey began feeling real for you?
I think people are born with a certain inclination toward something, and very often it reveals itself early. The more aware a person becomes, the easier it is to understand who they are meant to be, whether that’s a writer, an astronaut, or something else.
I understood very early in childhood that I was a designer. So for me, the journey did not suddenly begin at one place or one moment. It was more the gradual realisation of something that already existed inside me.
When you start a new piece, what usually triggers the first idea and how does that idea evolve in the studio?
I am always working on several things in my head at the same time, so it’s difficult for me to say when something truly begins. It’s more like a continuous cycle that is always happening inside. Every idea becomes a mixture of many different things.
I can be inspired by absolutely anything, even by someone else’s bad idea, and immediately begin building a project around it in my mind. Since I have a deep understanding of construction, assembly, production, craftsmanship and different techniques, I automatically visualise the entire process very quickly.
After that, the only thing left is to make it real.
Can you walk me through the story of one design that taught you something important about your work?
In many ways, the entire brand began with one design. Since childhood, I was constantly sketching shoes, and in probably ninety percent of those sketches, it was almost the same pair again and again.
Later, during my student years, I developed a strong need to finally make that shoe real. In many ways, that became one of the main reasons Ananyan was born. However, the pair itself was realised much later.
The time between the idea and its realisation taught me an enormous amount not only about design, but about life, patience, timing, discipline, strategy and how to approach things in the right way.
The hardest thing in design is not designing. The hardest thing is reaching the exact point you are searching for. That takes years of discipline and patience.
What part of the creative process feels most instinctive for you, and what part requires the most discipline?
For me, the creative process itself is entirely instinctive. In fact, I don’t really believe another kind of creative process exists. Ideas, proportions, shapes, tension – all of that happens naturally and almost automatically.
What requires discipline is everything that comes after. Turning an instinct into something precise, functional, and real takes enormous patience, control and consistency. That is the part people usually do not see.
Was there a moment when your design language or taste shifted significantly? What led to that change?
Of course, life always brings circumstances that can pull you in different directions, sometimes away from yourself. But for me, the important thing has always been the ability to return to my own instincts and not betray what feels truly mine.
Maybe certain things become more refined with time, more precise or more disciplined, but the core has remained the same.
What does a design need to have for you to feel it is truly finished?
That is probably the most intriguing part of the entire process, and maybe one of the clearest reflections of what a real artist is. It happens on such an instinctive and sensitive level that it’s impossible to give a formula for it. It’s not something you can define logically, like saying: if this and this are correct, then the design is finished.
As I said before, the hardest thing in design is not designing. Very often, the most difficult decision is understanding when not to continue. Sometimes a piece becomes complete because you stop before over-finishing it.
Do you think about where your work comes from and what it represents? How does Armenia, as part of your background, influence or appear in your creative outlook?
I think my work is a synthesis of many different influences and experiences, but of course Armenia exists at the very root of it. Especially Armenian architecture and Armenian design thinking, and I do not mean this in a folkloric or decorative sense.
I mean something much deeper in the structure of the lines themselves, in the way forms are constructed and balanced. If you remove the function and look only at the essence of the construction, then Ananyan becomes very close to Armenian architecture.
How does it make you feel that people might discover Armenia through your brand, even indirectly, and have you experienced moments where that has happened?
That is probably one of the most emotional parts of this entire journey for me. The idea that, in my own way, I can also do something meaningful for Armenia through my work means a lot to me.
I have experienced moments where people discovered Armenia through the brand. That is always very special, because it creates a different kind of connection, not through politics or history, but through culture, aesthetics and emotion.
How do you balance building a recognisable brand identity with the need to keep evolving creatively?
For me, it feels like a very natural process. I don’t think I need to consciously balance those two things, because the identity of the brand is not something artificially constructed. It is a reflection of my own creative impulse.
In a way, one naturally evolves through the other. As I evolve creatively, the brand evolves with me while still remaining itself.
When you see your work worn by women around the world, what stands out to you most about that experience?
What stands out to me most is the feeling that my intuition was right that this was something women were genuinely missing.
Not physically, but emotionally as well. I think certain forms, proportions, or attitudes can awaken something people were searching for without fully realising it themselves. Seeing that connection happen across completely different women and cultures is probably the most powerful part of the experience.
What do you hope people feel or understand about your work?
I am one of those people who does not like explaining too much verbally. I try to create work in a way where there is almost nothing left to explain.
If something is truly honest and precise, people feel it intuitively. Maybe not everyone in the same way, but they still feel it. I think the strongest design communicates before words do. Shop now
