I am Luca Lisci, Executive Innovation and Editor-in-Chief of IDA, the editorial platform of the Decision Science Alliance. I’m truly happy to welcome someone I met years ago—a brilliant professional. His name is Federico Rivera, and today he’s Chief Design Officer at Sketchin. Federico, it’s a real pleasure to have you here. How are you today?

Hi Luca, it’s great to reconnect after so long. As you said, I’m Federico, Chief Design Officer at Sketchin. I lead all our design teams across our studios. For those who don’t know Sketchin, we’re a design studio originally born in Switzerland 19 years ago. Over time, we’ve expanded across Italy and into several other countries. I’m excited to have this conversation about design—and curious to see where it’ll take us.

Of course, design is at the heart of what we’re discussing. One thing that really struck me is Sketchin’s motto: “Design for the future.” It’s such a powerful phrase. When I think of the future, I think of ambiguity and a variety of possible paths—depending on the lens we use. So here’s my question: how do you approach decision-making in ambiguous contexts, especially as someone leading a design company that’s literally shaping what’s next?

That’s a tough one! And to be honest, not even AI can give us a clear answer there. But I can tell you how we try to approach it. For us, “design for the future” means designing for what comes next. And that doesn’t just mean product design—we’re talking about organizational, service, and business design. It’s about enabling a transition from point A to point B. So the first thing we do is imagine what that point B could look like—the most ambitious, visionary version of it.

We ground this vision in research. We look at societal and cultural trends, behavioral shifts, and ask ourselves: where is the context going? What future do our clients want to help create? We combine these insights with what technology can offer. Because tech isn’t just a tool—it’s reshaping behavior, business models, and economics. Whether it’s opening new revenue streams or streamlining operations, it’s central.

But our job isn’t just to analyze—it’s to shape. That’s where design comes in. We visualize possible futures. We create scenarios, prototypes, and expressions that make these futures tangible. What might it look like? What might it feel like? Once we have that picture, we know it won’t be perfect—it won’t even be the future—but it gives us a North Star.

Then we work backwards. What do we need to do today to move in that direction? What decisions, hires, investments, or experiments do we need? And we look for what I like to call “tiny butterflies”—small actions that, over time, can trigger big transformations.

You mentioned something I find beautiful—these “tiny butterflies” that trigger large waves of change. In your role, where you’re constantly translating future possibilities into action, how do you recognize the moment when it’s time to make a choice? In a scenario filled with potential options, how do you pick one and move forward?

That’s something we reflect on often. I think it starts with recognizing that every decision is a bet. There’s no such thing as full certainty. What we can do is reduce the ambiguity just enough to feel confident taking that leap.

Sometimes we fall into the trap of trying to eliminate uncertainty entirely, as if more data or analysis will magically clarify everything. But that moment never really comes. Instead, we rely on alignment—a shared understanding within the team or organization of the direction we want to go.

We ask ourselves: what kind of future do we want to help bring about? What kind of change do we want to contribute to? Once we’re aligned on that, the decision becomes more intuitive.

And here’s where design plays a crucial role. We make things visible. Whether it’s with diagrams, visual frameworks, or prototypes, we help people literally see the consequences of one direction versus another. That’s incredibly powerful, especially when dealing with the intangible.

We also try to recognize the threshold of sufficiency. That point where you have enough understanding—not total clarity, but enough—to move forward. In that moment, it’s not about being right. It’s about moving, learning, and adjusting as you go. Because movement is part of design. In fact, I’d say the worst decision is often not making one at all.

 Let’s stay with this idea of visibility—making the intangible tangible. In a world where everyone talks about transformation and innovation, design seems to be a silent but powerful engine. What do you think distinguishes design from other strategic functions in organizations today?

: What sets design apart is that it makes things real. Not just conceptually, but experientially. You can talk about strategy all day, but design forces you to give it a shape, a form, a feeling. That’s something powerful—because the moment something becomes visible, it becomes actionable.

Design helps connect dots across silos. It reveals unintended consequences, tensions, and opportunities by making things visible early. And it invites people into the process, making change more participatory. That’s why we often say design is a connector. It translates abstraction into interaction.

But it’s also political. Not in the institutional sense, but in the way it influences choices. When you prototype a future, when you visualize a scenario, you’re already steering the conversation. You’re not just describing the future—you’re nudging people toward it.

And so, in organizations, design shouldn’t be seen as the team that “makes things pretty.” It should be seen as the team that makes things possible.

You mentioned design as something political—because it shapes conversations, even before decisions are made. That’s a powerful statement. In your experience, what kind of resistance does design face in organizations when it begins to play that strategic role?

Oh, resistance is everywhere. The first kind is structural. Organizations are often built in silos—each with its own KPIs, language, and rhythm. Design, by nature, cuts across all of that. It doesn’t fit neatly into one department’s logic, and that can make people nervous.

Then there’s cultural resistance. Many still see design as execution—something that comes after the “real thinking” has been done. So when you show up with a vision, or a prototype, or a scenario that challenges assumptions, you might be seen as disruptive.

And that’s the paradox: design is often invited in because change is needed—but then resisted because change is uncomfortable. Our job is to hold that tension with care. To keep pushing forward, without breaking trust. To stay optimistic, but grounded.

The key is not to fight resistance, but to design for it. To use it as a constraint. To ask: what does this resistance reveal about the organization’s readiness? About its fears? That, too, becomes part of the design challenge.

That concept—designing for resistance—is really striking. And it makes me think of another tension: the one between long-term vision and short-term delivery. Especially in a company like yours, how do you balance the ambition to design the future with the urgency to show results today?

That’s one of the hardest balancing acts. On the one hand, you need to keep the lights on—you have clients, deadlines, quarterly targets. On the other, you’re supposed to be designing for a future that might take years to unfold.

What we try to do is work on two tracks. There’s the track of exploration: imagining scenarios, developing future visions, building speculative prototypes. And then there’s the track of execution: solving today’s problems, improving the current experience, making things better now.

The trick is to create bridges between those two tracks. So the explorations aren’t just intellectual exercises, but fuel for real opportunities. And the delivery isn’t just incremental improvement, but steps in a broader journey.

Sometimes we present a long-term vision to a client, and they say, “That’s amazing—but we need to do something next quarter.” And that’s fine. We go back, and we identify a small move—a first stone. That’s where those tiny butterflies come in again. Small things that lead toward something much bigger.

Let’s talk about teams. You lead multiple design teams across different geographies and cultures. What’s the most important thing you’ve learned about leading creative people through uncertainty?

I’ve learned that clarity beats certainty. People don’t need you to have all the answers. They need you to be honest about what you know, what you don’t, and where you’re heading.

In times of uncertainty, it’s tempting to pretend we have control. But creative people can sense when that’s not true. And when you’re honest, it builds trust. You’re not selling a fantasy—you’re inviting them into a process.

Another thing is giving meaning. Designers want to feel that what they do matters. That they’re not just delivering on a brief, but contributing to something bigger. When people feel part of a mission, they’re willing to go through ambiguity with you.

Also, feedback. Not just evaluation—but reflection. Creating space to ask: what did we learn? What surprised us? What would we do differently next time? That’s how a creative culture grows. Not just by getting things done, but by making sense of what we’re doing.

I love that—clarity over certainty. And also the idea that leadership isn’t about having answers, but about asking better questions. So let me ask one last question, which we always ask at The Node: when it comes to your personal decision-making, how do you make choices? What guides you?

I try to listen. To others, to context, and to myself. Sometimes we rush into decisions because we feel pressure to act quickly. But I’ve learned that silence is a powerful tool. It allows things to emerge.

I also try to keep in mind the difference between urgent and important. Not everything that’s loud deserves attention. Some things whisper, but they matter more.

And finally, I go back to purpose. Why am I doing this? What’s the story I want to be part of? If the answer feels honest, then even if the choice is hard, it feels right. That’s my compass.

Federico, this has been an inspiring conversation. Thank you so much for sharing your time, your insight, and your vision with us.

Thank you, Luca. It’s been a real pleasure—and a wonderful space for reflection. I hope this is just the first of many conversations to come.