As design festivals around the world compete for scale, visibility, and cultural relevance, Iceland has taken a quieter route. Rather than building spectacle, Reykjavík has become a testing ground for a different proposition: design's future may depend less on attention and more on connection.
At the center of that proposition is Helga Ólafsdóttir, Festival Director of DesignMarch, an annual celebration of Icelandic Design. Since assuming leadership, she has helped reposition Iceland's largest design festival not as a showcase of objects but as a platform for exchange between disciplines, communities, industries, and cultures. The shift is subtle but significant. In a global design landscape increasingly shaped by algorithms, content cycles, and visual saturation, DesignMarch has doubled down on conversation, proximity, and participation. The result is a festival that feels less like a trade fair and more like a civic framework one that reflects broader questions facing contemporary design, such as how do creative ecosystems remain locally rooted while engaging globally?
What role can design play beyond aesthetics? And how might small nations offer models for larger cultural systems? For Ólafsdóttir, the answers are inseparable from Iceland. The country's geography, resourcefulness, and evolving cultural identity continue to shape a design culture grounded not in style but in values. I spoke with her about that authenticity, sustainability, collaboration, and why the future of Nordic design may have less to do with minimalism than many people might assume.
Rylé Tuvierra: DesignMarch feels more personal and thoughtful than many design festivals today. What kind of experience do you hope people leave with?
Helga Ólafsdóttir: I hope people leave feeling inspired, of course, but also feeling connected. DesignMarch has never been about scale or spectacle for its own sake. There is something quite intimate about Iceland and about our creative community, and I think people feel that when they come here. We want visitors to experience design not as something distant or exclusive, but as a conversation, something human, emotional, and deeply connected to everyday life. With more than twenty-five years of experience in design, as a fashion designer, creative director, founder, and now also Director of DesignMarch, I have a deep respect for the creative process behind the finished work.
RT: Icelandic design is often simple and quiet, yet very powerful. Why do you think this approach connects with people around the world today?
HÓ: I think people are longing for honesty. Icelandic design often comes from necessity, from closeness to materials, nature, and limited resources. It is rarely about excess. There is a certain calmness and sincerity in that approach, and perhaps that feels refreshing in a very noisy world. Simplicity, when it is meaningful, can be incredibly powerful.
RT: As DesignMarch grows internationally, how do you keep Icelandic design authentic and true to its roots?
HÓ: For us, authenticity comes from supporting the local creative community first. DesignMarch is built by Icelandic designers, architects, artists, makers, and thinkers. Their voices shape the festival. International attention is wonderful, but we never want to become a copy of larger global fairs. The strength of DesignMarch lies precisely in its distinct perspective, its closeness, and its openness. Having worked internationally throughout my career, I see how important it is to build bridges without losing our own voice.
RT: In a world driven by fast trends and constant content, why do you think design festivals still matter?
HÓ: Because people still need real experiences and real encounters. So much of our world now is mediated through screens and algorithms, but creativity grows through human interaction. Design festivals create spaces for unexpected conversations, collaboration, reflection, and curiosity. They allow ideas to breathe outside the speed of digital culture.
RT: How has Iceland’s nature and environment shaped the way Icelandic designers think and create?
HÓ: Nature in Iceland is impossible to ignore. The landscape constantly reminds us of both beauty and fragility. Living in such close relationship with powerful natural forces creates a certain awareness of sustainability, materiality, and restraint. Many Icelandic designers work intuitively with light, texture, weather, and the emotional atmosphere of the environment because these elements are part of daily life here.
RT: Was it important for DesignMarch to focus more on conversation and connection rather than spectacle?
HÓ: Yes, very much so. Of course visual experiences matter, but we have always believed that the most meaningful moments often happen in conversations between designers, guests, students, industries, and cultures. DesignMarch is intentionally open and accessible; the city becomes part of the experience, and people can move quite naturally between exhibitions, studios, talks, and informal meetings. We want people to feel welcome to engage, ask questions, and exchange ideas rather than simply observe from a distance.
RT: Do you think the future of design depends more on collaboration between different creative fields?
HÓ: Absolutely. The challenges we face today are far too complex to be solved within isolated disciplines. The future of design lies in collaboration between designers, scientists, technologists, craftspeople, environmental thinkers, policymakers, and communities. Creativity becomes much more powerful when different perspectives meet.
RT: Sustainability is deeply connected to Icelandic culture. What do you think the global creative industry can still learn from Iceland?
HÓ: Perhaps the value of working with limitations rather than against them. In Iceland, scarcity historically shaped how people created, built, repaired, and reused. Sustainability here was never originally a trend, it was simply survival and common sense. There is wisdom in slowing down, using resources carefully, and creating things meant to last emotionally as well as physically.
RT: What inspires you most about the younger generation of creatives today?
HÓ: Their openness and fearlessness. Younger creatives are often much less interested in rigid categories or traditional hierarchies. They move naturally between disciplines and are deeply engaged with social and environmental questions. I also admire their willingness to challenge established systems and redefine what success and creativity can look like.
RT: Nordic design is admired globally, but what do you think people still misunderstand about it?
HÓ: I think people sometimes reduce Nordic design to a visual style: minimalism, neutral colours, clean lines. But at its core, Nordic design is really about values: functionality, accessibility, sustainability, social responsibility, and quality of life. It is much more philosophical than stylistic. Iceland adds another layer to this, something more raw, intuitive, and shaped by island life and natural forces.
RT: Beyond aesthetics, what role should design play in shaping culture, empathy, and human connection today?
HÓ: Design shapes how we live, how we feel, and how we relate to one another. Beyond aesthetics, design has the ability to foster empathy, create dignity, accessibility, and belonging. At its best, design helps people feel seen and connected. I believe that is one of its most important responsibilities today.
RT: After years of leading DesignMarch, what still excites or challenges you creatively, and what vision do you still hope to achieve for the festival?
HÓ: What still excites me most is seeing new ideas, new voices, and new collaborations come together every year. There is always a moment during DesignMarch when the city feels different, more open, more curious, more alive. That energy continues to be a driving force for me. The challenge is to keep evolving without losing the intimacy and authenticity that make the festival special. As a designer myself, I know how important it is that a platform like DesignMarch does not only present finished work but also supports the people, processes, risks, and ambitions behind it. My vision is for DesignMarch to continue growing as an international meeting point for design, architecture, craft, fashion, innovation, and culture, while remaining deeply rooted in Iceland. I want it to be a place where Icelandic creativity meets the world, and where meaningful conversations can lead to real opportunities for designers and the wider creative community.
In an era where design is often measured by visibility, Ólafsdóttir argues for a different metric, value. Under her leadership, DesignMarch has become less a stage for objects than a platform for relationships between disciplines, communities, industries, and ideas. Her vision challenges a prevailing assumption within contemporary design culture: that innovation must always be louder, bigger, or faster. What emerges from Reykjavík instead is a quieter proposition. That design's greatest contribution may not be aesthetic at all, but social. Not simply shaping what we see, but influencing how we connect, collaborate, and imagine collective futures.
For Ólafsdóttir, the future of Nordic design is not defined by minimalism or visual identity but by a deeper commitment to responsibility, accessibility, and human connection. In that sense, Iceland's design community offers more than a regional perspective; it presents a working model for how creative ecosystems can remain globally relevant without sacrificing authenticity. As DesignMarch continues to grow, its most compelling export may not be Icelandic design itself, but the method behind it: a belief that meaningful progress begins not with spectacle, but with conversation.
