Field Notes
Each category's jury is led by a president, and we were fortunate to have Astrid Stavro in that role. A highly celebrated designer based in London, she had judged multiple awards before and brought both experience and diplomacy to the process. Rather than imposing her views, she listened, asked thoughtful questions, and ensured every judge had a voice.
During breaks, Astrid and I would step outside for a smoke, where she’d casually ask if I had an entry in mind that I thought deserved a Yellow Pencil. Her approach—speaking privately with each judge—created space for more honest, unfiltered opinions. Some judges are naturally more outspoken than others, and these side conversations allowed her to gather insights that might otherwise be lost in a group discussion.
This voting process, unchanged since I judged Graphic Design in 2012, still felt the most fair. For an entry to advance, judges had to believe it was truly deserving at each level. Beyond individual voting on iPads, we were encouraged to advocate for or challenge entries we felt strongly about.
The deliberation was my favorite part—an opportunity to debate creative ideas objectively and dissect what made a piece of work good versus outstanding. Whether you work solo, in a studio, or within a large agency, these moments of open, critical discussion with industry peers are rare.
Awards, especially those with live, in-person judging, remain among the most rewarding experiences in my 20 years as a designer.
Breaking bread with Theseus. Photo courtesy of D&AD.
Theseus Chan, the legendary graphic designer and artist from Singapore, and I had our first proper conversation when I judged the D&AD Awards in 2012. Despite being office neighbors in the same creative space, we had only ever exchanged quick hellos. This time, over dinner with the judges, Theseus shared his latest work in Germany with Steidl on a new book. He has fully embraced life as an independent artist, free from commercial constraints, dedicated to pushing his craft and the print medium in unexpected ways. This year, he served as jury president for the Book Design category.
Kotoko Koya, the D&AD representative for Japan, Singapore, and Indonesia, was another familiar face. The last time we met was in Tokyo in the spring of 2023, over dinner with Koichiro Tanaka, founder of Projector. On judging day, I ran into Kotoko while walking to the venue. She had caught a bug but was still tirelessly working—connecting jury members and interpreting for the judges from Japan. Though we’ve only met a handful of times, every conversation feels like we’ve known each other forever. She shared about life in Kamakura and her recent travels to Indonesia to open a new D&AD chapter. I told her about the design community in Southeast Asia and encouraged her to visit Vietnam, a place I believe holds immense creative potential in the coming years.
Chris Lee, founder of Asylum, and Yah-Leng Yu, co-founder of Foreign Policy, were also at the awards—Chris as jury president for Spatial Design and Yah-Leng as a Branding jury member. We caught up over breakfast at County Hall, talking about life, the industry's evolution post-pandemic, and future plans.
Modern life is so full of work, family, and commitments that moments like these—where old friends come together and new connections are made—are what make events like D&AD truly special. I also met designers I had only interacted with online, like Ken-tsai Lee from Taiwan and Andi Rahmat from Indonesia, both on the Typography jury.
Over coffee, we had a long conversation about work and life in London and Bangkok. Sarah stressed the importance of organizations like D&AD not just in championing creative excellence through awards and festivals but in connecting creative professionals. This feels more necessary than ever. The path of a creator can be isolating, making it seem like the only way to succeed is to multitask, hustle, and fight for attention alone. More than ever, we need spaces and networks that foster connection, collaboration, and shared purpose.
London felt like home. As a former British colony, Singapore has retained British administrative rules, language, and a deep embrace of multiculturalism. It’s often said that Singaporeans feel a connection to the UK, and for the first time, I fully understood it. Modern yet steeped in tradition. Efficient public transport. A society comfortable with technology. Polite, open, and most importantly, multicultural.
A week in London lifted my spirits, which had felt weighed down since the pandemic. It felt like being part of a global community again—surrounded by open-minded, hardworking, and optimistic people, all striving for a better quality of life and meaningful contribution to the world. A place where walls and borders didn’t matter. Where origin, language, or beliefs were secondary to what you could bring to the table. A meritocratic, competitive, yet supportive environment.
Was I seeing London through rose-tinted glasses? Perhaps. An imaginary utopia? Maybe. But after spending time as part of the D&AD jury, reconnecting with old and new friends, walking its streets, and experiencing how people lived and worked, I was reminded of the power of collaboration. A world worth imagining—and worth creating for the future.
Social media was meant to bring us closer, yet it has often done the opposite, making us more isolated, envious, and divided. We need to dismantle mental borders and imaginary boundaries. Events like the D&AD Awards and cities like London offer a glimpse of what’s possible, even with their imperfections—a place where people are open and generous, where ideas and insights are shared freely, and where communities work together toward a common goal: to create something meaningful.
Judging for the D&AD Awards 2024 was held from 19-21 May in London. You can see all the winners for Newspaper and Magazine Design here and for all categories here.
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Felix Ng
Co-founder, Anonymous
@felix.anonymous