My backstory

When I was 12 years old, I set a career goal: to become a Creative Director at Pearson Longman Publishing House.

I figured out that the Design Academy, with its traditional graphic education, wouldn’t get me there. In my family of engineers by trade, everyone believed in technology as a way forward, even in the creative field. I believed in it too. So, I did my best to get a scholarship to study Media Systems in Publishing at the Kharkiv University of Radio Electronics.

While studying, the question remained: How do I get to London after graduation? Back then, the direct path — a UK visa for a Ukrainian — seemed impossible.

So, I took a detour.

During my studies, I completed two summer internships at RR Donnelley in Kraków. They printed all the glossy magazines you can name. With hundreds of printing facilities around the world, they had 7 design studios. One of them was in Warsaw and one… in London.

Here we go!

I applied for one more internship in their Warsaw-based studio, and after graduation, got a job there as a graphic designer. My plan was: in 2 years, they would relocate me to their studio in London. From there, the road to Longman would be easier.

Little did I know that life had another plan for me.

I moved to Warsaw with no social connections. My new colleagues were young parents and did not have time to hang out after hours. I desperately needed friends.

Guess what I did? I attended my first hackathon ever — Open Data Hack.

It opened a new world for me.

I met my first friends there. All were software developers. They introduced me to their friends who were developers too. Together, we participated in all the local hackathons and Startup Weekends.

As I had planned, two years later my company offered me a new contract. I still wanted to go to London, but I was tired of corporate politics, frustrated with the resistance to innovation among our global clients, and was already drawn to the startup world. I knew I could find Plan B to London.

I declined the offer and got a job in a software development agency. The dev-agency life was fabulous. But after 3 years of design sprints for Nordic startups and R&D projects for German tech giants, I reached the point where I wanted to own the entire brand, from rebranding to acquisition. Which meant: I should go in-house.

By then, I was already madly in love with Berlin — the European capital of typography and the next Silicon Valley. I took every opportunity to go there for a conference or a Startup Weekend.

Soon, two job offers, both at series-A startups, were in front of me: fintech in London and fashiontech in Berlin.

And here it was, my Dear Old Dream, emerging like a ghost from my past: "Well, well, well, all these years of work… Damn, girl, take the London offer!"

But something was holding me from following it: Berlin was calling me. Louder than ever before.

Am I abandoning my dream?

"Ira, it's not that you are abandoning your dream. It is your dream that changed," my mentor, Kristina Mausser, opened my eyes to what was truly happening.

She was right. The dream of becoming Creative Director at Longman Publishing House faded. Instead, a new dream emerged: a design school. Not for designers, but for startup founders. For bootstrappers. For builders. For developers-turned-founders.

I moved to Berlin — straight into the unexpected hell of a new job. (I don't even mention that startup on my LinkedIn.) By the end of the fourth month, I thought I had made the biggest mistake of my life.

My only buddy in that toxic team shared my frustration and left. Within a week, he messaged me: "Hey, my wife got a job at a blockchain startup, and they're looking for a designer."

It was January 2018. I knew nothing about blockchain. I didn't care about the industry I'd be working in, either. The only thing I was looking for was a dream team to work with, just like the amazing dev team I had left in Warsaw. When I stepped into Jolocom's office for the job interview, I felt that electric vibe I was looking for. Before the interview was over, I knew these were my people. Fortunately, the team felt the same.

Almost all were software developers. They introduced me to the decentralized web from the right side — not from the get-rich-quick crypto side, but from the side of privacy and data sovereignty. This reshaped my attitude toward digital life and the criteria for projects I contribute to. Forever.

It was the second time developers showed me a path I might not have found on my own.

In return, I dedicated my work to guiding them (link). One project at a time. One workshop at a time. And through everything I write on EV.

So, when D.E. asked me during the launch of Embrace Variety, "Why developers-turned-founders?", I replied: "I'm giving back to my people. One day I'll tell you the backstory."

This is my backstory.

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ⓒ Ira Nezhysnka, 2025

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ⓒ Ira Nezhysnka, 2025