Meet KANIKA TRIVEDI | Designer, Writer & Creative Storyteller

We had the good fortune of connecting with KANIKA TRIVEDI and we’ve shared our conversation below.

Hi KANIKA, what role has risk played in your life or career?
Growing up, I never really thought about risk. I just did what I enjoyed, and that was the most important thing to me. I wanted to find joy in whatever I was doing. But as I started “adulting”, I found myself playing it safe. And honestly, I wasn’t happy.

Pursuing Furniture Design felt like a safe, logical choice. In hindsight, I don’t regret it. No knowledge ever goes to waste. But when I discovered how much Graphic Design lit me up, I stopped overthinking and just went for it. I wasn’t thinking about where it would lead or what people might say. I just knew it felt right.

Looking back, I think risk-taking has quietly shaped my multidisciplinary path. I never sat down and said, “Let me take a big risk today.” But choosing what made me feel alive always meant stepping into the unknown. And strangely, that didn’t scare me. It excited me.

I’ve realized that not wanting to choose just one thing was, in itself, a bold decision. There was a time when someone asking, “So, what do you do?” used to make me nervous. I didn’t want to sound like I was invincible or trying to do everything, because honestly, I’m still figuring it out. But I also didn’t want to undersell myself. Now, I’ve come to believe that owning what makes me me is the real answer, even if that path isn’t the standard one.

And that’s where the risk comes in. There’s no roadmap for this kind of journey. It confuses people sometimes, and that can be hard. It’s risky because not everyone understands it, and that uncertainty can make it harder to build trust or define a clear career path. But at the same time, that’s also what makes it so fulfilling.

So whenever I start to doubt, I go back to the one thing that’s never failed me: If it makes me happy, it’s worth it.

Alright, so let’s move onto what keeps you busy professionally?
I’m a multidisciplinary creative, which I know can sound like a vague label. But for me, it’s the most honest way to describe the journey I’ve taken. I began with a degree in Architecture, fully committed to the idea of shaping spaces. But during architecture school, I fell in love with writing. It wasn’t something I pursued professionally at the time—it was more like a companion, something that helped me process and reflect as I navigated my creative education.
After two years of working in the field, I decided to pursue a Master’s in Furniture Design. It felt like a natural extension, zooming in from buildings to the intimate scale of objects. But once again, the universe nudged me in a different direction. I found myself gravitating toward visual storytelling, participating in design writing, research, and visual communication projects. What started as an elective in Graphic Design soon became a second Master’s degree in Graphic Design and Visual Experience.
For a while, it felt like I had to choose: architecture, furniture, or graphic design. Writing remained a constant, threading through all of them. That pressure to pick one discipline left me feeling lost and frustrated. I kept asking myself: Why do I have to choose? Why must I fit into a single box?
I often talk about this struggle period of mine, this internal tug-of-war, as a time when I deeply questioned societal norms and the narrow definitions of success and identity that we’re expected to conform to. It was hard, but necessary. It forced me to rethink my relationship with creativity and to embrace a more fluid, evolving understanding of who I am and what I create.
Eventually, I stopped trying to restrict myself to the categories society expects. Today, I see each discipline—space, object, image, word—as a medium of expression. Each is a different lens I can use to tell a story. And storytelling is really at the core of what I do. Whether through design, writing, or a combination of the two, I’m always trying to evoke emotion, create connection, and spark curiosity.
Some of my favorite projects have been the ones rooted in deeply personal or cultural memory. I once designed a furniture piece inspired by the summer days I spent at my aunt’s house as a child. In many Indian households, swings are cherished—symbols of joy, rest, and nostalgia. My aunt had a beautiful wooden swing that she only brought out when I visited. The rest of the year, it stayed tucked away in her garage, waiting. That memory stayed with me. Years later, I designed a multifunctional swing that could be repurposed as a tabletop when not in use. It rested on a small stool, transforming it into a side table. It was a swing, a table, and a story—one that held the essence of those long, golden afternoons from my childhood.
In another project, Shaadi Ke Ladoo (“Wedding Sweets”), I explored the paradoxes of modern Indian arranged marriages through data storytelling. The project took the form of a sweet box, divided into compartments representing the different factors brides consider when choosing a partner, based on research findings. Each compartment revealed a deeper, often uncomfortable truth: “Family background” masked casteism, while “physical appearance” often meant colorism. Each box contained a chocolate ladoo, an Indian sweet symbolizing not just tradition, but the weight of hidden social codes. It was my way of using form and flavor to unbox the subtle forces shaping women’s choices.
I often like to mix these fields, blurring the lines between disciplines to tell more layered stories. Once, I designed a brand identity for a furniture collection I had created, with a visual narrative that emphasized the need to build sustainable habits around consumption. It wasn’t just about the product—it was about inviting people to reflect on their relationship with the objects they live with. That’s where I feel most alive as a designer: in the space where form meets story, where function carries meaning.
These projects remind me that design is more than problem-solving. It’s storytelling in its most immersive form. It’s memory-keeping, reflection, protest. It’s a way of translating lived experience into something tactile—something others can feel, question, and connect with. Whether it’s through a piece of furniture or a piece of visual communication, I use storytelling to unpack identities, honor emotions, and bridge the personal with the universal.
Right now, I’m working on a self-initiated series of articles documenting my experience with creative burnout, something many of us go through but don’t often talk about honestly. Before that, I wrote about the myth of the creative niche, and how designers shouldn’t feel pressured to narrow themselves down to one thing.
What I want the world to know is this: creativity isn’t linear, and your path doesn’t need to be either. Embrace the pivots. Let your curiosity lead. And never feel guilty for being more than one thing.

Who else deserves some credit and recognition?
I owe so much of who I am today to my incredibly supportive parents. They’ve stood by me through every chapter of my creative journey — from studying architecture to shifting into furniture design, and eventually finding my voice in graphic design and storytelling. Each transition came with its own uncertainties, but they never once hesitated. They believed in my vision, even when it didn’t fit the mold. Their encouragement gave me the courage to pursue what felt true to me, not just what was expected.

I’m also lucky to be surrounded by an incredible group of friends who thrive on creativity. Their energy, honesty, and shared passion have been instrumental in shaping the person and designer I am today.

Website: https://www.kanikatrivedi.com/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/kanicss/

Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/kanika-trivedi/

Twitter: https://x.com/kanicss?s=21&t=nxan2zItEiBFjxDb1eoLvA

Other: https://medium.com/@kanika3

Image Credits
None