Danel Zharmenova on the Modernist Spirit Behind OMG! BURGER

The idea was to give form to joy. OMG! BURGER merges modernist structure with a playful spirit, using architecture as a language of identity. Every proportion, surface, and reflection expresses the brand’s core values of authenticity, community, and optimism. 

The mirrored ceiling expands the sense of scale, the stainless steel speaks of precision, and the rich stained plywood brings human warmth. The long orange communal table at the center acts as a sculptural symbol of gathering and connection. The space invites people to feel both grounded and uplifted, much like the brand itself.

My path to design has never been linear. I was born in Kazakhstan, educated in Switzerland, and shaped creatively in Houston. I began with art, then business, and found my home in interior architecture, where logic and emotion meet. I have always been fascinated by how space can influence emotion, how proportion and light can change human behavior. OMG! BURGER allowed me to return to that curiosity, blending my love for storytelling, modernist geometry, and the joy of creating something accessible yet deeply intentional.

Studio Danel creates spaces that live between architecture and emotion. Our mission is to design interiors that feel timeless, tactile, and quietly expressive. Each project aims to evoke atmosphere rather than simply follow trends. We design for both intellect and instinct, creating environments that people remember not for what they see, but for what they feel.

Yes, the client decided to completely change the design direction halfway through the process. Surprisingly, it became one of the best turns in the project. The new approach reflected the brand’s true DNA much more closely and brought the design back to its emotional core. 

For me, the most important thing is that a space not only looks beautiful but also feels true to the values it represents. In this case, those values were authenticity, community, and creating a genuine center for gathering.

It begins with emotion. A color, a texture, a sentence from a poem. From there comes structure, proportion, and rhythm. I move between intuition and discipline until the story becomes spatially clear. I always ask what feeling the space should evoke before I decide what it should look like. By the time a project reaches completion, it feels less like something I built and more like something that revealed itself.

Playful, precise and alive.

Someone once told me that my work feels as if the person who designed it went deep into the DNA of the project, that every detail feels meticulously considered and intentional. That comment meant a lot to me because it captured exactly how I approach design — from the inside out. 

I always try to understand not just what a space should look like, but what it should mean, what emotion or value it should quietly express. Hearing that this depth was felt by others reminded me that precision and soul can coexist beautifully.

It feels like a quiet affirmation that sincerity still has a place in design. Awards are a form of acknowledgment, but what truly matters is knowing that the intention behind the work was felt. For a small independent studio, this recognition carries deep gratitude and motivation to keep creating with heart.

It gives me confidence to continue exploring the intersection of art, architecture, and emotion. Recognition allows you to take greater creative risks and trust your instincts more deeply. It reinforces the idea that honesty and curiosity in design are always worth pursuing.

I would love to design a truly pet-friendly hotel where animals and humans coexist effortlessly. A place where thoughtful design doesn’t exclude comfort or spontaneity, where materials, textures, and layouts honor the rhythm of life shared between both species. It would be elegant, calm, and full of warmth, a true reflection of coexistence and care.

I believe the next decade will bring architecture closer to emotion and humanity, especially as technology and AI become more integrated into our daily lives. We’re entering a time when design will move beyond aesthetics and innovation alone, toward spaces that nurture, connect, and ground us. The future belongs to architecture that feels sincere, experiential, and emotionally intelligent — built with a deep sensitivity to how people live, rest, and interact. 

I want to contribute by creating environments that balance precision with warmth, bringing back the poetic side of modernism. My hope is that architecture will once again feel intimate and personal, as if each space quietly understands the people within it.

I believe sustainability starts with timelessness. When people love a space, they care for it, they preserve it. Designing something that ages beautifully and retains emotional relevance is one of the most sustainable things we can do. Materials should live long, but so should feelings.

A sanctuary for imagination, part school, part gallery, part salon. A place where design, art, and silence coexist. I would fill it with light, books, music, and the scent of cedar. It would be a space where creativity feels sacred again, where people rediscover the poetry of stillness and the beauty of thought.