Gegen–Gegen™ operates within contradiction. We do not seek neutrality in design — we find tension and let it speak. Our method is not linear. It does not pursue clarity as an end, but questions what clarity obscures. In this space between intention and interruption, we work.
The studio positions itself as both legitimate and illegible: legally recognised, emotionally disobedient. We register ourselves, but never settle. Against the demand for coherence, we offer care. Against the pressure of branding, we suggest presence.
We do not reject structure. We question who it serves. We do not abandon emotion. We ask where it hides. Every line we draw is a double gesture: to construct, and to undo. Oskar Schlemmer once said the body is a point in space.¹ We place the system in that same tension — not to discipline it, but to allow its edges to blur.
We exist between order and disorder. We do not rush to resolve. We design to remain inside that strain — not above it.
“We do not design for the marketplace. We design for the footnote. We think of Virgil Abloh folding Nike into theory.⁴ Of Helmut Ness structuring silence into motion.⁵ Of Kandinsky listening for colour before applying it.⁶ We think of the absurdity of Dadaism, not as rebellion, but as care without expectation.⁸ We quote Bayer not to follow, but to interrupt.⁷ We work in the legacy of those who designed with hesitation — not despite uncertainty, but because of it. There is no solution here. Only structure that breathes. Only gestures that attempt to mean something, and often fail beautifully.”
Typography is our architecture. But unlike Gropius’s rational walls,² we leave ours open, flickering, unresolved. We believe in Duchamp’s gesture — not the ready-made, but the refusal to be final.³ We carry this spirit not in mockery, but as method. To design is to choreograph friction. To communicate without collapsing. To make form that is not afraid to doubt itself.
We are not interested in timelessness. We are interested in the trace — the residue a design leaves behind after its use fades. We believe in work that shows its seams: alignment marks, editorial hesitations, visible corrections. Just as Schlemmer saw the stage as a space where body, geometry, and abstraction meet,¹ we see the canvas of design as a rehearsal space — where clarity is provisional, and form is always in negotiation. In this light, hesitation is not failure; it is the signal that something real is taking shape. We find power in the provisional, and meaning in the unfinished.