A small confession: I didn’t plan to be a designer. The first sign came when I was running a small ceramics business — I somehow spent more time obsessively tweaking my website, testing layouts, agonising over fonts, than I did making ceramics. I didn’t know what it meant yet.
The click came later, in a software dev bootcamp, after a hundred-odd junior dev applications went nowhere: I realised I didn’t actually want to code other people’s products. I wanted to design pretty websites. So I built Atelier Chiec in Barcelona to do exactly that — and today, I take on a small handful of brand and web design projects a year, for women building businesses I genuinely believe in and want to see translated properly.
For the record: wine over coffee, the gym four mornings a week, and I will absolutely ask to see your Pinterest before our first call.
A small confession: I didn’t plan to be a designer. The first sign came when I was running a small ceramics business — I somehow spent more time obsessively tweaking my website, testing layouts, agonising over fonts, than I did making ceramics. I didn’t know what it meant yet.
The click came later, in a software dev bootcamp, after a hundred-odd junior dev applications went nowhere: I realised I didn’t actually want to code other people’s products. I wanted to design pretty websites. So I built Atelier Chiec in Barcelona to do exactly that — and today, I take on a small handful of brand and web design projects a year, for women building businesses I genuinely believe in and want to see translated properly.
For the record: wine over coffee, the gym four mornings a week, and I will absolutely ask to see your Pinterest before our first call.
At some point I turned the habit into a small business — handmade pieces, my own little brand, a tiny website I rebuilt approximately every six weeks because I couldn't leave it alone. I ran it for a year, loved it deeply, and quietly burned out (the part nobody warns you about with passion projects). The thing I never tired of, in hindsight: the website.
no.02 — Ran a small ceramics business
After ceramics, I had no idea what I was doing. I enrolled in a software dev bootcamp because I'd convinced myself the answer might be tech, a traditional path — that maybe I was supposed to be coding things for a living. I learned a lot. I also realised, slowly, that I cared way more about how a page looked than how clever its functions were.
no.03 — Tried to become a developer
What I thought would happen post-bootcamp: I'd land a junior dev role and figure things out from there. What actually happened: about a hundred applications and basically zero offer. It sounds bleak — and at the time, it was — but somewhere in that silence I worked out the obvious thing. I didn't want to code other people's products. I wanted to design pretty websites. The whole time, that was the thing.
no.04 — The 100 applications
So I started Atelier Chiec, here in Barcelona, to do exactly that. A small studio. The kind I'd quietly wished existed back when I was running my ceramics business and didn't have anyone to talk to about what I actually wanted my brand to feel like. Romantic, considered, slow, a little editorial. The studio I would have hired.
no.05 — Built Atelier Chiec
I take on a small handful of brand and web design projects a year, for women building businesses I genuinely believe in. The work moves slowly on purpose. The studio stays small on purpose. And the goal hasn't really changed since the moment I started — to build the kind of romantic, considered design I'd been quietly looking for, and never quite found.
no.06 — Now ♡
Long before any of this, I was an art kid. I spent years making things with my hands — drawings, paintings, ceramics — and quietly falling in love with colour, composition, and the slow craft of getting something just right. I had no idea any of it would eventually lead to brand and web design.
no. 01 — Started in fine art
Long before any of this, I was an art kid. I spent years making things with my hands — drawings, paintings, ceramics — and quietly falling in love with colour, composition, and the slow craft of getting something just right. I had no idea any of it would eventually lead to brand and web design.
no. 01 — Started in fine art
At some point I turned the habit into a small business — handmade pieces, my own little brand, a tiny website I rebuilt approximately every six weeks because I couldn't leave it alone. I ran it for a year, loved it deeply, and quietly burned out (the part nobody warns you about with passion projects). The thing I never tired of, in hindsight: the website.
no.02 — Ran a small ceramics business
After ceramics, I had no idea what I was doing. I enrolled in a software dev bootcamp because I'd convinced myself the answer might be tech, a traditional path — that maybe I was supposed to be coding things for a living. I learned a lot. I also realised, slowly, that I cared way more about how a page looked than how clever its functions were.
no.03 — Tried to become a developer
What I thought would happen post-bootcamp: I'd land a junior dev role and figure things out from there. What actually happened: about a hundred applications and basically zero offer. It sounds bleak — and at the time, it was — but somewhere in that silence I worked out the obvious thing. I didn't want to code other people's products. I wanted to design pretty websites. The whole time, that was the thing.
no.04 — The 100 applications
So I started Atelier Chiec, here in Barcelona, to do exactly that. A small studio. The kind I'd quietly wished existed back when I was running my ceramics business and didn't have anyone to talk to about what I actually wanted my brand to feel like. Romantic, considered, slow, a little editorial. The studio I would have hired.
no.05 — Built Atelier Chiec
I take on a small handful of brand and web design projects a year, for women building businesses I genuinely believe in. The work moves slowly on purpose. The studio stays small on purpose. And the goal hasn't really changed since the moment I started — to build the kind of romantic, considered design I'd been quietly looking for, and never quite found.
no.06 — Now ♡
Long before any of this, I was an art kid. I spent years making things with my hands — drawings, paintings, ceramics — and quietly falling in love with colour, composition, and the slow craft of getting something just right. I had no idea any of it would eventually lead to brand and web design.
no. 01 — Started in fine art
At some point I turned the habit into a small business — handmade pieces, my own little brand, a tiny website I rebuilt approximately every six weeks because I couldn't leave it alone. I ran it for a year, loved it deeply, and quietly burned out (the part nobody warns you about with passion projects). The thing I never tired of, in hindsight: the website.
no.02 — Ran a small ceramics business
At some point I turned the habit into a small business — handmade pieces, my own little brand, a tiny website I rebuilt approximately every six weeks because I couldn't leave it alone. I ran it for a year, loved it deeply, and quietly burned out (the part nobody warns you about with passion projects). The thing I never tired of, in hindsight: the website.
no.02 — Ran a small ceramics business
After ceramics, I had no idea what I was doing. I enrolled in a software dev bootcamp because I'd convinced myself the answer might be tech, a traditional path — that maybe I was supposed to be coding things for a living. I learned a lot. I also realised, slowly, that I cared way more about how a page looked than how clever its functions were.
no.03 — Tried to become a developer
What I thought would happen post-bootcamp: I'd land a junior dev role and figure things out from there. What actually happened: about a hundred applications and basically zero offer. It sounds bleak — and at the time, it was — but somewhere in that silence I worked out the obvious thing. I didn't want to code other people's products. I wanted to design pretty websites. The whole time, that was the thing.
no.04 — The 100 applications
So I started Atelier Chiec, here in Barcelona, to do exactly that. A small studio. The kind I'd quietly wished existed back when I was running my ceramics business and didn't have anyone to talk to about what I actually wanted my brand to feel like. Romantic, considered, slow, a little editorial. The studio I would have hired.
no.05 — Built Atelier Chiec
I take on a small handful of brand and web design projects a year, for women building businesses I genuinely believe in. The work moves slowly on purpose. The studio stays small on purpose. And the goal hasn't really changed since the moment I started — to build the kind of romantic, considered design I'd been quietly looking for, and never quite found.
no.06 — Now ♡
Long before any of this, I was an art kid. I spent years making things with my hands — drawings, paintings, ceramics — and quietly falling in love with colour, composition, and the slow craft of getting something just right. I had no idea any of it would eventually lead to brand and web design.
no. 01 — Started in fine art
After ceramics, I had no idea what I was doing. I enrolled in a software dev bootcamp because I'd convinced myself the answer might be tech, a traditional path — that maybe I was supposed to be coding things for a living. I learned a lot. I also realised, slowly, that I cared way more about how a page looked than how clever its functions were.
no.03 — Tried to become a developer
At some point I turned the habit into a small business — handmade pieces, my own little brand, a tiny website I rebuilt approximately every six weeks because I couldn't leave it alone. I ran it for a year, loved it deeply, and quietly burned out (the part nobody warns you about with passion projects). The thing I never tired of, in hindsight: the website.
no.02 — Ran a small ceramics business
After ceramics, I had no idea what I was doing. I enrolled in a software dev bootcamp because I'd convinced myself the answer might be tech, a traditional path — that maybe I was supposed to be coding things for a living. I learned a lot. I also realised, slowly, that I cared way more about how a page looked than how clever its functions were.
no.03 — Tried to become a developer
What I thought would happen post-bootcamp: I'd land a junior dev role and figure things out from there. What actually happened: about a hundred applications and basically zero offer. It sounds bleak — and at the time, it was — but somewhere in that silence I worked out the obvious thing. I didn't want to code other people's products. I wanted to design pretty websites. The whole time, that was the thing.
no.04 — The 100 applications
So I started Atelier Chiec, here in Barcelona, to do exactly that. A small studio. The kind I'd quietly wished existed back when I was running my ceramics business and didn't have anyone to talk to about what I actually wanted my brand to feel like. Romantic, considered, slow, a little editorial. The studio I would have hired.
no.05 — Built Atelier Chiec
I take on a small handful of brand and web design projects a year, for women building businesses I genuinely believe in. The work moves slowly on purpose. The studio stays small on purpose. And the goal hasn't really changed since the moment I started — to build the kind of romantic, considered design I'd been quietly looking for, and never quite found.
no.06 — Now ♡
Long before any of this, I was an art kid. I spent years making things with my hands — drawings, paintings, ceramics — and quietly falling in love with colour, composition, and the slow craft of getting something just right. I had no idea any of it would eventually lead to brand and web design.
no. 01 — Started in fine art
What I thought would happen post-bootcamp: I'd land a junior dev role and figure things out from there. What actually happened: about a hundred applications and basically zero offer. It sounds bleak — and at the time, it was — but somewhere in that silence I worked out the obvious thing. I didn't want to code other people's products. I wanted to design pretty websites. The whole time, that was the thing.
no.04 — The 100 applications
At some point I turned the habit into a small business — handmade pieces, my own little brand, a tiny website I rebuilt approximately every six weeks because I couldn't leave it alone. I ran it for a year, loved it deeply, and quietly burned out (the part nobody warns you about with passion projects). The thing I never tired of, in hindsight: the website.
no.02 — Ran a small ceramics business
After ceramics, I had no idea what I was doing. I enrolled in a software dev bootcamp because I'd convinced myself the answer might be tech, a traditional path — that maybe I was supposed to be coding things for a living. I learned a lot. I also realised, slowly, that I cared way more about how a page looked than how clever its functions were.
no.03 — Tried to become a developer
What I thought would happen post-bootcamp: I'd land a junior dev role and figure things out from there. What actually happened: about a hundred applications and basically zero offer. It sounds bleak — and at the time, it was — but somewhere in that silence I worked out the obvious thing. I didn't want to code other people's products. I wanted to design pretty websites. The whole time, that was the thing.
no.04 — The 100 applications
So I started Atelier Chiec, here in Barcelona, to do exactly that. A small studio. The kind I'd quietly wished existed back when I was running my ceramics business and didn't have anyone to talk to about what I actually wanted my brand to feel like. Romantic, considered, slow, a little editorial. The studio I would have hired.
no.05 — Built Atelier Chiec
I take on a small handful of brand and web design projects a year, for women building businesses I genuinely believe in. The work moves slowly on purpose. The studio stays small on purpose. And the goal hasn't really changed since the moment I started — to build the kind of romantic, considered design I'd been quietly looking for, and never quite found.
no.06 — Now ♡
Long before any of this, I was an art kid. I spent years making things with my hands — drawings, paintings, ceramics — and quietly falling in love with colour, composition, and the slow craft of getting something just right. I had no idea any of it would eventually lead to brand and web design.
no. 01 — Started in fine art
So I started Atelier Chiec, here in Barcelona, to do exactly that. A small studio. The kind I'd quietly wished existed back when I was running my ceramics business and didn't have anyone to talk to about what I actually wanted my brand to feel like. Romantic, considered, slow, a little editorial. The studio I would have hired.
no.05 — Built Atelier Chiec
At some point I turned the habit into a small business — handmade pieces, my own little brand, a tiny website I rebuilt approximately every six weeks because I couldn't leave it alone. I ran it for a year, loved it deeply, and quietly burned out (the part nobody warns you about with passion projects). The thing I never tired of, in hindsight: the website.
no.02 — Ran a small ceramics business
After ceramics, I had no idea what I was doing. I enrolled in a software dev bootcamp because I'd convinced myself the answer might be tech, a traditional path — that maybe I was supposed to be coding things for a living. I learned a lot. I also realised, slowly, that I cared way more about how a page looked than how clever its functions were.
no.03 — Tried to become a developer
What I thought would happen post-bootcamp: I'd land a junior dev role and figure things out from there. What actually happened: about a hundred applications and basically zero offer. It sounds bleak — and at the time, it was — but somewhere in that silence I worked out the obvious thing. I didn't want to code other people's products. I wanted to design pretty websites. The whole time, that was the thing.
no.04 — The 100 applications
So I started Atelier Chiec, here in Barcelona, to do exactly that. A small studio. The kind I'd quietly wished existed back when I was running my ceramics business and didn't have anyone to talk to about what I actually wanted my brand to feel like. Romantic, considered, slow, a little editorial. The studio I would have hired.
no.05 — Built Atelier Chiec
I take on a small handful of brand and web design projects a year, for women building businesses I genuinely believe in. The work moves slowly on purpose. The studio stays small on purpose. And the goal hasn't really changed since the moment I started — to build the kind of romantic, considered design I'd been quietly looking for, and never quite found.
no.06 — Now ♡
Long before any of this, I was an art kid. I spent years making things with my hands — drawings, paintings, ceramics — and quietly falling in love with colour, composition, and the slow craft of getting something just right. I had no idea any of it would eventually lead to brand and web design.
no. 01 — Started in fine art
I take on a small handful of brand and web design projects a year, for women building businesses I genuinely believe in. The work moves slowly on purpose. The studio stays small on purpose. And the goal hasn't really changed since the moment I started — to build the kind of romantic, considered design I'd been quietly looking for, and never quite found.
no.06 — Now ♡
Pretty isn't a finishing touch here. It's the whole thesis. Your colour palette, your typography, the rhythm of your
homepage — these are the love language. Strategy is essential, but it sits underneath the romance, not on top of it.
Don't let the soft palette fool you. Every project opens with a long, careful brief — who you're for, what you're selling, why anyone should care. The strategy is the architecture. The romance is the wallpaper. You can't paper a house that hasn't been built.
I take on a small handful of brand and web projects a year — not because I'm precious about it, but because slow is how good work gets made. You'll have time to think. I'll have time to redraw. Nobody will be panic-launching anything at 11pm on a Sunday.
Every project gets the treatment it deserves — drafted, redrafted, slept on, second-guessed, then finished with the kind of care that makes it almost embarrassing to send. The kind of brand someone screenshots and saves to a moodboard.
Pretty isn't a finishing touch here. It's the whole thesis. Your colour palette, your typography, the rhythm of your
homepage — these are the love language. Strategy is essential, but it sits underneath the romance, not on top of it.
Don't let the soft palette fool you. Every project opens with a long, careful brief — who you're for, what you're selling, why anyone should care. The strategy is the architecture. The romance is the wallpaper. You can't paper a house that hasn't been built.
I take on a small handful of brand and web projects a year — not because I'm precious about it, but because slow is how good work gets made. You'll have time to think. I'll have time to redraw. Nobody will be panic-launching anything at 11pm on a Sunday.
Every project gets the treatment it deserves — drafted, redrafted, slept on, second-guessed, then finished with the kind of care that makes it almost embarrassing to send. The kind of brand someone screenshots and saves to a moodboard.
what’s in my bag
the only four things the atelier really runs on
On chapter four and already underlining things
Currently reading
What's been on while drawing wireframes this month
Currently watching
The moodboard I keep returning to.
Currently looking at
What's been on while drawing wireframes this month
Currently watching
The moodboard I keep returning to.
Currently looking at
If you've made it this far, you've got the gist. The studio is small, the work moves slowly, and the standards are quietly high. If that's the kind of energy you've been looking for — and you've got a brand or a website that deserves more than the usual treatment — I'd love to hear about it.
The inquiry form is on the long side, on purpose. I'll write back within a few days, not within minutes. From there, if it's a fit, we'll talk.
with love,