I am opening my kimono and showing you my battle scars so far...

I am feeling emotionally naked but free as a bird. Written by me, edited by ChatGPT

All my life I wanted to be an architect.

Ever since I can remember, architecture has been my dream. Inspired by my father, also an architect, I imagined us creating the top studio in our country. Quite naive, wasn't it?

As a child, my playground was a mix of toy soldiers, Lego blocks, chess pieces, wooden planks, and electro-motors from old battery-powered cars. I'd build houses, castles, machines. They were masterpieces to me, though destined for the trash after each session. But the joy in creating them was all that mattered.

At nearly two years old, I sketched my first drawing - a car, sort of. Therapists later in my life pointed out the rarity of such eye-hand coordination and abstract thinking at that age. Wow, smart me!

Architecture was my world. At the age of eight, I was so passionate that I cried when my father drew blueprints better than me.

I hate losing!

My school of architecture was a joke!

Studying architecture came easily to me, despite my high school gymnasium background where architecture and construction were not on the curriculum. My father was my go-to for insights and guidance on any topic.

Studying at the Faculty of Architecture in Novi Sad, Serbia was a joke, it felt more like a kindergarten than a hardcore architecture school. They taught us to be mediocre.

To be more than average, and to stand out, we had to drive ourselves and dive into side projects beyond university walls. That's where the real learning happened.

I was lucky enough to find like-minded friends. Ambitious, crazy, smart people who loved to experiment, get blackout drunk, and take risks. We worked on competitions, in the real world, not in this imaginary safe place called university. This is where the real learning happens. Of course, our initial work was crap, but soon we started getting awards which for us was like winning a Pritzker Architecture Prize (Oscar for Architecture). During this period we were learning CAD and Adobe software on the go. On real projects, because the faculty didn’t teach us to adopt any new software.

One man show

Right after earning my bachelor's degree, I immediately launched my company. It felt natural to help my father who had a construction company. I just needed a diploma so I could start working and be in real architecture.

I opened a one-man show while preparing for my master's degree. This leap into business came in 2011, a few years after the global financial crisis which had severely impacted the construction sector.

Concurrently, a drought of projects was straining my father's finances. Instead of watching him file for bankruptcy, I stepped in with my fledgling architecture practice. Starting my company was partly out of necessity, yet it was driven by a strong sense of ambition.

My architecture practice found its niche in the less glamorous side of the industry: agricultural buildings, storage facilities, farms, and legalizing unauthorized constructions. This monotonous work drained my spirit, leaving me feeling downcast and hollow. My wallet was filling up, but my soul felt empty.

All this emptiness led me to panic attacks and excessive use of caffeine and alcohol that spiraled into the depression rabbit hole that looked like a Ferris wheel. I was not smart enough to listen to 3 different psychotherapists and one psychiatrist telling me I needed to change my miserable yet very lucrative work and start doing some more creative stuff, and of course, quit drinking!

Exploring Beyond Architecture: Hardware, Furniture, Interiors, and Outsourcing

By 2015, I shifted our focus to outsourcing our services to Germany and Sweden. The financial returns were promising, yet our role was limited to executing tedious, repetitive drawing tasks with no say in decision-making. We were cheap Serbian labor and they liked it.

I found myself on call for clients nearly 24/7, handling changes, additions, or revisions. Late-night calls at 11 PM to adjust some lines became routine. Since my team wrapped up by 5 PM, all after-hours work fell on me. The outcome? A familiar cycle of depression, drinking, and deep-seated unhappiness... again.

Seeking an escape from the stress, I immersed myself in various facets of design. With a deep-seated love for technology and high-quality product design, I experimented with crafting furniture, delving into hardware possibilities, and exploring the intricate world of interior design.

A dumb phone for smart people called Offone

Right at that time, I felt the need to design an iPhone-like phone in the dumb phone segment. This niche is highly underrated and worth the try, especially now in the always-connected, insane-paced, 30-second-attention world.

The idea came out to scratch my own itch by being annoyed with people staring at their smartphones while talking to me. The year was 2016.

The process was simple: if I desired a phone just for calls and texts, but with the design and quality of an iPhone, why not use an E-ink paper white display instead of OLED? And why not a ceramic body for elegance instead of cheap plastic? Keep it simple and strip away all that's unnecessary.

I created a rough prototype: a 3D model crafted in 3DS Max, which I then 3D printed at a friend's workshop. With the help of another friend, I photographed it and used Photoshop to make it look like a fully functional, ready-to-use product. The result looked like magic.

I reached out to Dezeen.com, a major architecture and design magazine, and the story took off spectacularly. It was then featured on Yanko Design, a leading product design website, and from there, dozens of other medium-sized publications picked up the story.

The response was overwhelming - it went so viral that I received nearly 9000 inquiries about where to buy the phone. It was a fake mockup for God's sake!

Caught by the startup fever, I decided to blend my two greatest passions: architecture and technology. Riding the wave of this unexpected virality, I saw an opportunity to monetize it. So, I embarked on the journey to develop that 'dumbphone', which I playfully dubbed 'wisephone' - because why not?

In addition to the E-ink paperwhite display, similar to what's found in a Kindle, I aimed to eliminate language barriers in its use. This meant the entire user experience was based on universal symbols and icons.

It's common knowledge what a 'letter' icon signifies or what the 'call' symbol looks like. You only encounter text when typing a message or entering a contact's name. For these simple actions, there's no need for a device to support multiple languages.

During my startup journey, I encountered a mix of missteps and successes:

Mistakes:

• I teamed up with two developers as co-founders without vetting their backgrounds or testing their skills.
• We all worked part-time. While I managed a small architecture studio, they were comfortably employed as software developers. For them, the wisephone project was more of a side hobby.
• I underestimated the complexities of a hardware startup – it's called HARDware for a reason.
• I lacked an understanding of MVPs (Minimum Viable Products), rapid prototyping, and proof of concept development.

Successes:

• I admitted my inexperience in this field and sought help.
• I reached out to over 30 individuals in my region who had embarked on similar ventures and requested meetings. All but one offered their assistance.
• Following these discussions, I would ask, "Who else can I talk to about this?" This approach opened doors to an extensive network in the startup and tech world, providing me with invaluable advice.
• I immersed myself in reading a plethora of books on business and entrepreneurship, which became a form of mental yoga or meditation for me.

We dragged our startup for over three years until we finally encountered a potential investor from the U.S. Our big break came in Berlin, where we struck a deal to build two working prototypes, ship them to the States, and prepare for a large order of 5,000 units if everything goes well.

Spoiler alert! We failed!

1. The first prototype was built for EU frequencies and failed to function in the U.S.
2. The second prototype had a malfunction; its screen was unresponsive. Predictably, the investors pulled out of the negotiations.

The fallout was tough:

• Personally, I invested a significant amount of money.
• I experienced burnout.
• Depression hit hard, and I found myself turning to alcohol more than ever.

Keep in mind that parallel to this endeavor, I continued designing buildings. Projects in industrial and agricultural sectors, along with legalizing unauthorized constructions, were financially rewarding but lacked any creative spark. Despite the impressive income, I was engulfed by a sense of unhappiness and boredom.

Moving to Berlin

Tired of being broke after spending money on the dumb phone, burned out from all of this startup shit and doing uncreative architecture work, I decided to quit all of it, merge my small studio with my father's, now recovered, construction company, quit drinking cold turkey (sober for 5+ years now), take some cash and find the job abroad.

My choices were clear, each with a personal connection:

1. Stockholm, where one of my closest friends was thriving as an architect.
2. Frankfurt am Main, home to another best friend who was also building a career in architecture.
3. Berlin, where my cousin resided.

In a broad and hopeful effort, I sprayed and prayed with my CV and portfolio far and wide, crossing my fingers for a positive response.

Job #1

At last, one architecture studio in Berlin reached out with an offer. Intriguingly, they were involved in project development in collaboration with Daimler and Panasonic. This opportunity seemed like a perfect match for my interests and skills.

Coming from a shithole called Serbia I needed to obtain a working permit, so after 3 months of paperwork, I was good to go. My German was A2 on the paper but I soon realized that it’s as good as A0.

After only 9 months of working there, and my toddler-like German-speaking, I was fired on the 2nd of January 2020 VIA E-MAIL! Thanks, Andreas.

The Reason: my German speaking skills of course.

Job #2

Fortunately, my experience played in my favor, allowing me to secure a position at another office within just two weeks. Holding a visa, I needed not to be unemployed for long, so I wasn't in a position to be picky. I landed the role of project manager for a high-end villa project on a lake outside Berlin. However, there was a catch: my salary was only 3,000 euros gross per month. The boss was a German cheap fuck.

I spent just over a year at that job, but my unhappiness kicked in again and it wasn't about the money; it was the nature of the work. Managing architectural projects was boring, and full of paperwork, calls, and emails. There was a complete lack of creative input when I joined, the process felt archaic, with other engineers barely proficient in CAD software.

The company culture, or lack thereof, was another major issue. The boss operated under the belief that he was always right, the smartest, and his designs were the best thing ever. This environment came to a head during a heated argument where I suggested an improvement, only to be met with rudeness and arrogance.

I said, “Fuck it”. It was time to leave. Ironically, when I decided to leave, my boss suddenly changed his tune. He offered me a higher salary, saying, "Name your price.". At the time I was thinking what Elon recently said: GFY.

Job #3

It was fortunate that I already had another opportunity lined up, thinking to myself, "Third time's the charm." This new company was a good fit, and the pace was manageable, but the shadow of depression still loomed over me. I enjoyed working on conceptual designs, yet I consistently felt a sense of sadness and a cloud hanging over me during office hours. Strangely, the moment I stepped out of the office, I could engage in various side projects with happiness and fulfillment.

There was something peculiar about being in the office. It felt as if my intelligence dipped and I lost track of my tasks. Tasks that should have taken an hour stretched over days. I began to feel like the least effective employee there. I felt so dumb.

Seeking a solution, I asked my boss for a few months of unpaid leave to clear my head and regain my focus, but he refused. Whether it was a lack of understanding or concern, I couldn't tell.

So, I chose to resign, again. What's amusing is that right after I announced my decision, my boss offered me a higher salary. It was clear he knew I was underpaid and recognized my value, especially compared to the cost of hiring a new architect. Meanwhile, I was growing increasingly frustrated with being directed by other people less smart than me telling me what to do.

Love and hate relationship with architecture.

When I found myself officially jobless, I had to apply to the Job Center. Surprisingly, their solution was yet another architecture gig, even though I had clearly expressed my burnout, depression, and inability to focus on it.

My hatred for architecture had grown to such an extent that I had to consult a therapist to evaluate my fitness for the field I once embraced. After getting the evidence from the therapist, the Job Center people gave me a break.

I could finally recharge and do nothing for a while - I made it to the third day. I was dead bored. It was clear I had the energy and drive to build something but not in the field of old school architecture. Couldn’t wait any more.

Moving to tech

I embarked on a journey to learn coding, but it didn't go as planned. I quickly realized that it wasn't my forte – perhaps I was just not cut out for it. Or I am just too dumb? However, this attempt wasn't entirely fruitless. It gave me a basic understanding of coding.

Then, I turned my attention to UX/UI design, hoping to find my niche there. But again, I faced a challenge. Too boring and couldn't sustain my interest. Yet, this experience wasn't a total loss either. Through this process, I managed to learn how to use Figma.

These learning experiences, although they seemed like setbacks at the time, proved to be crucial for my next venture. The basic coding knowledge and familiarity with Figma turned out to be invaluable skills that would significantly contribute to my future project.

I concluded that I wouldn't return to traditional architecture. Although I loved the field, the prevailing people's mentality and the outdated use of technology stuck in the 20th century made my decision easy.

Determined to make a change, I set my sights on bringing the architectural profession into the 21st century with innovative approaches and modern technology.

Energized and eager to create something new. Inside me, there was a storm of ideas and ambition brewing, and I felt prepared to make an impact in an industry ripe for disruption. It was a moment of perfect timing and opportunity, and it was in this charged atmosphere that the concept of Luccid came to life!

Here's to embracing the rollercoaster of highs and lows, and to creating many more stories like this worth sharing. Happy New 2024!

P.S. I'd love to hear from you! If you're interested in the next chapter of this story, about the inception of Luccid, please let me know. You can express your interest through likes, comments, or direct messages. Your feedback is invaluable and will guide the continuation of this journey. Looking forward to hearing your thoughts!