With a two-decade hybrid career spanning old-school print and immersive digital, Ian Coles has been exposed to two very different worlds. Here, he reflects on his unconventional path into the industry, the underlying principles guiding his work, and why a good coffee process might be just as important as a good creative process.
Let’s start at the start. What first drew you to creativity and design?
There wasn’t one specific ‘aha’ moment, it’s just always been something I’ve done. Some of my earliest memories are scribbling crayon masterpieces on the wallpaper back home, something my parents have just about forgiven me for, but mostly it’s just who I am.
I didn’t have the most ‘traditional’ route into the industry. Whisper it, but I’ve never actually studied traditional Graphic Design. I graduated from a ‘New Media’ course with a mix of design and development, back when digital was still finding its place. This was usually on a CD-ROM, as the Internet was little more than low-bandwidth dial-up, but when the dot-com bubble burst, I ended up moving quickly into print.
That pivot, as strange and almost scary as it felt at the time, ended up grounding me in the discipline. In focus, specificity, and craft. It also meant that when digital finally came roaring back a few years later, I was in the perfect place to straddle both worlds.
How did working across both print and digital shape your creative leadership?
It’s helped me avoid the ‘hammer and nail’ trap. You know, when you’re a hammer, everything starts to look like a…? It’s the creative kiss of death when you start thinking that one solution fits all. Perhaps because I grew up ‘multidisciplinary’ I’ve always been interested in finding out what the problem is first, then figuring out the most effective medium to solve it.
That open-mindedness is part of what I love about We Are Collider. Digital trained me to think iteratively. To map the journey, anticipate interaction and grab attention. Print taught me discipline and intentionality: if something’s going to live in the real world, every choice matters. Together, those mindsets keep me focused on clarity and connection.
How would you describe your role now?
At heart, I help people connect with people. I translate ambitious briefs into something emotionally resonant and clear. I care about the craft, but I’m always thinking about the audience too. Whether it’s a product, a campaign, or an experience, it’s about finding the core story and bringing it to life in a way that feels both honest and inspiring.
Beyond execution, I prioritise process. Collaborating with clients, nurturing internal talent, and maintaining an open, iterative mindset. Ultimately, I see my role as building a space where creativity can thrive, both in the work we produce and the team we grow.
What’s your philosophy when it comes to the creative process?
Curiosity, curiosity, curiosity. It really is everything. If you stay curious, you stay open, and that’s where the good stuff lives. I also love the Japanese idea of kaizen: continuous improvement. To me, creativity isn’t only about lightning bolts; it’s iteration, grinding, showing up every day to push the work a little further. And finally, simplicity. People undervalue it, but a simple idea, well executed, hits harder than a clever one that’s hard to access. You can layer meaning underneath, that’s often where the magic is, but the surface has to be clear.
At Collider, we’re a tight-knit team, and I love getting stuck into the creative process myself. Sketching, noodling, finessing. That part of me hasn’t changed, but I also get a real buzz from watching others grow, in seeing someone take an idea and run with it, developing their voice. So, I try to support in whatever way the project needs: sometimes hands-on, sometimes hands-off. The goal is always to help the team do their best work.
You’ve been at We Are Collider for over a decade now. What keeps you excited?
When I joined permanently in 2012, the studio felt exciting, edgy, hungry to punch above its weight. I’d freelanced for a while and knew I wanted to be part of something that took risks and cared about craft. Since then, although the work has grown in scale and sophistication, we’ve managed to retain our spirit. From award-winning launches like Arcane to ongoing collaborations with Riot Games and Red Bull, we keep pushing the creative boundaries. And on a personal note, as a lifelong sci-fi and gaming nerd, seeing sold-out arenas filled with fans engaging in something we helped build? That’s magic.
How do you keep your creativity fresh?
London helps. It’s a cultural melting pot. Art, music, people, conversations. I try to soak it all in. I’m always learning, whether it’s from younger designers, other disciplines, or weirdly specific rabbit holes. Music is a big one too: anything from ambient electronic to old-school hip hop to black metal. It shifts your mindset. Then sketching. Doodling. Taking notes. Even just imagining side projects I haven’t started yet. It all helps stretch the creative muscles.
And finally, there’s coffee. The ritual of measuring, grinding, tamping. That quiet craft sets the tone for the whole day. I genuinely couldn’t survive without it.
People often see the final visual but not the process behind it. What’s something about the design process people often overlook?
Typography. More specifically, kerning. That tiny space between letters? It matters. Done well, no one notices. Done badly, it throws everything off. More broadly, I wish more people understood that great design is rarely a single “POP!” moment. It’s a process, exploration, iteration, conversation, trust. Some of the strongest work I’ve been part of came from involving the client in the journey, not just delivering the final bit of work.
We hear you’re handy on a bike. How does cycling feed into your creativity?
Forgive the pun, but it’s about balance. Literally and metaphorically. Cycling gets me out of my head and into a different rhythm. That’s often where the dots start connecting.
There’s a story (though possibly one that’s entirely made-up) about the painter Wassily Kandinsky seeing a painting upside down and suddenly getting it. That kind of shift happens when you’re on a bike. You notice things, street signs, light patterns, bits of texture, and they all go into the creative pot. Plus, stepping away from the pressure and giving your brain space? That’s often when the best ideas show up.
You’re stranded on a desert island with three oddly specific things. What’s coming with you?
First up, Jack, my acoustic guitar. Life without music isn’t a life at all. Then my iPad, which will be purely for sketching, not browsing. Promise. And finally, the aforementioned coffee machine. I’m assuming the island is plugged into the grid, or if not, that I’ll be able to rig up a delightful little solar-powered contraption. Otherwise, this is going to be a very jittery and creatively blocked few weeks.
