Handling tricky design requests from clients

If there were a golden rule in design, it might be: “The client can be wrong, but you still have to make it work.” So how do you deal?

We asked several design studios how they handle tricky client situations—and dug into some real-life examples.

Meet the experts:

Louise Masson and Arthur Mirat of mirat-masson, a graphic design studio and an independent publishing house from France.

Giuliano Garonzi of Studio Garonzi, a graphic design studio from Sweden.

Stephen Hero of Studio Monstro, a multidisciplinary design studio from the USA.

Alberto Stangarone of Ochodias Studio, a creative branding studio from Mexico.

Anthony Nitkowski of 104 nickels, a CG storytelling studio based in New York and Dubai.

Artem Matyushkin and Katya Sikacheva of Non-Objective, a studio developing conceptual and visual languages with a globally dispersed team.

How often designers need to push back

Giuliano Garonzi: It doesn’t happen to me often. Over the years, I’ve developed a working method that relies heavily on dialogue. It helps me present ideas with an open mindset and encourages me to really listen to the client—though that doesn’t mean I always agree with them. 

That said, if I ever walked into a presentation thinking I was unbeatable, or assuming I was the only one capable of a good idea, I’d definitely be in the wrong place. If the client’s intentions are clear, their ambitions shared, and their decision to work with my studio a deliberate one, things tend to go smoothly.

One of the core principles in my studio is to research and experiment until we’re sure we’ve pushed things as far as they can go. Sometimes, that certainty comes from giving the client’s ideas a real chance—instead of dismissing them too quickly or without testing.

Louise Masson and Arthur Mirat: We rarely oppose or reject a client’s idea outright. Instead, we often work around it by suggesting a better alternative, which lets us keep creative control of the project.

Stephen Hero: We’re pretty open to input. That said, it’s rarely an issue—most of our partners come to us precisely because they need something they haven’t been able to realize on their own. A lot of what we do is about solving business problems creatively.

Once we’re aligned on the core objective, it becomes a team sport—we’re wearing the same uniform.

If we’re missing something, it’s not just welcome, it’s often a real advantage when the client calls it out. But we always stay anchored to the central challenge, keeping ourselves and our partners honest about what we’re here to accomplish together.

Alberto Stangarone: We rarely have to reject client ideas because we focus on working with people who are genuinely open to our process. If a project feels forced or doesn’t align with our expertise or approach, we’d rather pass on it. Being selective isn’t about ego—it’s about making sure both sides get the best possible outcome.

When a client brings us an idea, we know it’s already taken shape in their mind, even if it’s just a rough sketch. Our role is to refine it in a structured, valuable way. That’s why we follow a clear process: understanding, questioning, conceptualizing, and involving the client before we even start designing.

If there’s a concept, we build on it—sharpening, expanding, and presenting it back with fresh depth and clarity. And if differences come up, they usually do early on, which isn’t just normal—it’s a vital part of the process.

Anthony Nitkowski: Most projects we work on require us to tactfully challenge our clients, with the goal of improving the final product. These challenges are usually subtle—small details that, in our view, can make or break how a project is received. And while those conversations may seem uncomfortable, we welcome them. They’re a sign that every stakeholder cares deeply about the creative outcome.

Artem Matyushkin: We’ve got a pretty solid filter at the very first stage. Based on the first call, early communication, and our past experience with all kinds of clients, we usually get an immediate sense of what to expect. If something feels off early on, we often won’t take the project—our own peace of mind and the team’s outweighs a lot.

That said, there are times we have to push back or just say no.

We’re not about ultimatums or one-sided decisions—we build through dialogue.

“Why this way?”, “Why not another?”, “What’s the thinking behind this?”—these are natural, even necessary questions. But if a client insists on something we believe goes against common sense or the core needs of the project, we’ll try to reason it out. If that doesn’t work, we simply won’t implement something we can’t stand behind.

We're a project-centric studio, not a client-centric one. Every decision goes through our own lens of expertise—what’s right for the project, not just what someone wants.

If personal preferences start outweighing usability, design, or basic logic, that’s when problems start.

And in those moments, our rule is simple: we don’t do what we don’t believe in. Whether it’s a poster, a site, or a book—if we’d be ashamed to show it, that’s a red flag. 

Design requests that never quite work

Giuliano Garonzi: I don’t believe any idea or request isn’t feasible by default. If a client’s suggestion has even a hint of merit, it’s worth exploring. Testing ideas means that when we reject something, we do it with a clear understanding of its strengths and limits—not just on instinct. But lack of time is the greatest enemy of any good work.

Last year, I worked with an American tech client. We kept presenting ideas, but nothing clicked. A few times, they offered double our rate to work weekends. Financially, it was fair—but honestly, I would’ve traded that for four more weekdays. Because time—real time—is usually what makes the work better.

Stephen Hero: Brands are built to move—but too often, they’re managed to stay put. The craft isn’t the hard part—the alignment is. If we can’t bring everyone along, you end up with stakeholders rowing in different directions. That kills momentum and weakens the work. The most impractical requests aren’t technical—they’re political. We spend a lot of time making sure the room moves together.

Alberto Stangarone: I‘d say there are two main challenges. First, projects where a rebrand is expected to single-handedly transform a company’s culture and practices. We know our job isn’t just to redesign—it’s to provide tools that help articulate those aspirations realistically, factoring in timelines, budget, and brand context. But for it to work, the client has to be actively involved and willing to put in the effort. When that’s missing, things get difficult.

Second, skipping steps in the process usually creates more problems than it solves.

Clients who rush through the conceptual and strategic phases often hit more roadblocks and revisions later.

That’s why we stress that our process isn’t just a formality—it’s essential to a successful outcome.

Anthony Nitkowski: When there’s enough time left in the production schedule, most requests are technically doable. But some can feel creatively off-strategy for the medium or tactic—or a bit out of sync with the campaign’s overall tone and goals. These requests call for finesse and a thoughtful approach to help refocus the client. 

Katya Sikacheva: Most unsuccessful requests fall into the irrational-emotional category. They’re not clear technical edits or logical feedback—they come from a feeling. But those feelings are rarely articulated as actual requests—they just hover: “Add something,” “Make it more fun,” “It feels conservative now...” And when you ask why, there’s no answer. It’s not that the work is conservative—it just feels that way to someone, and that’s normal. Design is a subjective space. We say it all the time: 99% of decisions are subjective. But when feedback is only a vague gut feeling with no explanation, it leaves the team stuck. You literally can’t work with that.

That’s why we tackle it early—through research, workshops, and lots of definition work. What does “bold” mean to you? What does “dark” mean? It sounds obvious, but the answers are usually unexpected. We also try to understand what the project means to the client emotionally, because often, people don’t separate themselves from their work. When you get to know the person, their feedback makes more sense—and becomes something we can actually use. Even comments like “It doesn’t feel right emotionally” can be totally valid—as long as we figure out what we’re aiming for instead. “This isn’t it” doesn’t help, but “Here’s what it could be”—that’s something we can build on.

What to do when you’re stuck with a mess

Giuliano Garonzi: I rely on one key strategy: taking time. I never give a definitive answer during presentations. If a client suggests an idea that challenges mine or offers what they see as an improvement, I listen, take notes, ask questions—then return to my studio and reflect before responding. Replying outside the moment often leads to wiser choices. Whether by email, phone, or in a follow-up meeting, even a “no” lands more respectfully when it’s clearly been considered.

Until October last year, I also taught visual storytelling at the Umeå Institute of Design, one of the world’s leading industrial design universities. There, I had to respond on the spot—offering feedback and suggesting changes, sometimes major ones. Students appreciated the fast exchange, and I got good at quick judgment. But my relationship with clients is different. Teaching showed me the value of thinking fast, but creative work benefits from slowing down.

Taking time to reflect and refine leads to clearer, stronger decisions—and makes sure my advice is persuasive and grounded.

Louise Masson and Arthur Mirat: We start by creating our ideal version of design—the one we’d dream of making. Then we make the client’s version, deliberately exaggerating any inconsistencies or poor aesthetic choices. Finally, we present both versions, along with a hybrid that meets the client’s expectations but reflects our ideas and aesthetics. Clients usually end up choosing the middle-ground option.

Stephen Hero: Our partners know we’re not here just to make things look nice—we’re here to add real value. It’s rarely about convincing; it’s about clearly communicating the “why” behind our choices. Difference is a prerequisite for success, and anything truly new will always get mixed reactions. Our job is to make sure that newness still falls within the window of what's strategically sound and creatively compelling.

Alberto Stangarone: For us, it’s essential to understand what drives our clients’ ideas. What are they looking for? What do they want to achieve? What do they hope to communicate? This helps us grasp their vision and guide them effectively. If we believe an idea might not be the best way to reach their goal, we don’t dismiss it. Instead, we show that we understand their intent and suggest an alternative we believe fits better.

Anthony Nitkowski: Referencing key insights or learnings from past projects is often an effective way to gently—but persuasively—guide a client in the right direction.

No two projects are the same, but it’s hard to argue with a proven approach.

Facts and data can help ease some of the emotion that comes with the creative process.

Katya Sikacheva: When something doesn’t work, we try to explain it openly and clearly. That’s often where a fork in the road appears: some ideas are rational and functional, others are more emotional or subjective. The key is recognizing which kind you're dealing with—and responding in kind.

If the idea is rational, you can respond with logic: clear reasoning, functional language. But if it’s more personal, or more intuitive, then you need to understand the deeper motivation—what this idea means to them. Sometimes, it's just about contributing, being part of the process. Other times, it’s tied to something much more personal. 

People respond differently. Some need examples from familiar projects, and others prefer counter-examples or case studies. Sometimes, it’s about reading between the lines and finding the real request. And sometimes, it’s about offering a compromise—"If you want something bold and bright, let’s save that for the shoot, and keep this moment more balanced."

Real examples from the field

Giuliano Garonzi: I’d rather talk about a time I almost rejected a client’s idea, because in recent years, I haven’t had any major conflicts. Between late 2022 and early 2024, I worked with the Swiss watch brand Tissot, part of The Swatch Group, on a global rebranding project. The goal was to reposition the brand closer to the world of luxury—both in strategy and image. One of the most demanding parts was designing a bespoke typeface in eight styles: Regular, Medium, Semibold, Bold, and their italics. Being Italian and working with a Swiss brand, I drew inspiration from the Italian-Swiss collaboration of Nebiolo’s Studio Artistico, which led to the Forma typeface.

In one of the early presentations, I showed the character sets and numerals. Damien Brissat, the client who worked with us for 14 months, was happy, but asked if I could personalize the typeface further—maybe by modifying the terminals. I’d designed them flat, and that’s how I saw them. Still, I said I’d run some tests. The creative director at Publicis LePub in London, who was also on the project, suggested I find a narrative—a detail simple but magical enough to make me believe in the change.

That’s when I thought of the company’s founding year, 1853, and used an 18.53° angle to cut the terminals of letters like ‘c,’ ‘e,’ and ‘r.’ The result worked beautifully. My response wasn’t immediate or dismissive—I gave myself time to explore, sometimes with frustration, sometimes with excitement, but always with the belief that pushing ideas is essential.

Louise Masson and Arthur Mirat: We recently refused to use a certain typography style for a logo design. The client wanted a brush script typeface—the kind you see on low-effort influencer Pinterest boards or poke bowl menus. It’s an aesthetic far removed from ours, so we put our foot down and vetoed it.

Stephen Hero: We had a client once who really got what we were doing and actually made the work better by speaking up. They thought the creative felt too elevated—too pretty—and honestly, they were right. Their specific idea, pasting newspapers everywhere, didn’t work visually or conceptually, but the instinct behind it—wanting more grit, more life—was spot on. We’d assumed they wouldn’t go for something bolder, and we were wrong. Once we brought in something more visceral and textural, the whole thing transformed. It started to feel special in a deeper, more resonant way.

Alberto Stangarone: One instance stands out—after establishing a strong creative direction, the client suddenly proposed a typographic style that was completely at odds with the visual universe we’d built. It didn’t align with the original references or the project’s goals. Instead of flat-out rejecting it, we paused, revisited the project’s foundation, and walked through the reasoning behind each decision. That step back helped us reconnect with the original intent and ultimately strengthened the narrative.

Artem Matyushkin: Once we worked on a festival identity. We did the research, aligned on the tone—smart, intellectual—presented the concept, and suddenly they wanted “more audacity.” We genuinely couldn’t see how this festival was about audacity. We asked, offered options, tried to understand. But all we got back was: “You just don’t want to do what we’re asking.” The problem wasn’t unwillingness—we just didn’t understand how to visualize something that, frankly, only seemed to exist in the founders' heads.

Another time, we had to abandon a gallery identity we’d already developed. The old logo was supposedly off the table—even they said, “Let’s change it.” Everyone loved the new concept. But, then came: “This is perfect! But let’s keep the old logo.” This made no sense, since the redesign started because the old logo didn’t work. We tried to find compromises for weeks. In the end, we regretfully walked away, but we knew the project couldn’t go forward.

Sometimes it’s not that dramatic. There was a beauty store project where one of the owners just really wanted green and kept showing us examples: “Look at this green. This one too. Such a cool green.” We hadn’t planned on using green, but it wasn’t critical, so we added it. She was happy, and it worked out. Color’s often like that—super emotional, wildly subjective.

People can’t always describe how they feel about fonts, but with color, everyone’s got opinions.

And yeah, sometimes we push back, and sometimes we give in. It depends on the fight—and whether it’s worth having.