Piedică în Calea Uitării
Category
2025
Young / Book
Awarded
Designer / Designers / Design Studio / Agency
Client
Year
Alexandra Cupșa
Bachelor Project
2024
Printing House
Print Run
Number of Pages
Format (W × H)
Publisher
ISBN
Ecal Printing Center
4
400
225 × 300 mm
—
—
Other Credits
Supervising Professors: Diego Bontognali & Jonathan Hares
Short description
Long description
Piedică în Calea Uitării (“In the Way of Forgetting”) is a book that preserves the memory of 1 Iunie, a recently demolished textile factory in Timișoara. Through images and stories, it gathers fragments of the factory’s past, reflecting on personal memory and the importance of preserving industrial heritage.
1 Iunie is my final bachelor project, completed as part of my graphic design studies at the École cantonale d’art de Lausanne (ECAL). It reflects what I love most about graphic design: its power to preserve stories and share them with others. This is a story from Timișoara, where I spent much of my life growing up. The book tells the story of 1 Iunie (1st of June), one of the last disused factories still standing in a city once filled with such industrial sites. I first approached the factory two years ago as part of a project analyzing the potential for rehabilitating industrial spaces in Timișoara's urban landscape. What began as research became something more personal, a need to preserve the memory of 1 Iunie through the voices of those who lived it. This book is a modest attempt to preserve the story of a factory set to be demolished almost exactly 100 years after it was founded, a place that brought together my neighbors, my family, and much of the neighborhood where I lived. I wanted to create an object that gathers their stories, archives, and images, to replace the factory’s destruction with a physical space for collective memory to endure. The book follows a linear narrative. Each chapter explores a specific period in the factory’s life through conversations, historical documents and articles, archival images found on-site or in the National Archives, and photographs I took inside. To root each episode more deeply in its time, every chapter begins with a Romanian song from the corresponding period, creating a parallel musical journey. The book is fully bilingual, in Romanian and French, reflecting my belonging to both cultures. The Romanian version is an object of remembrance, tied to a shared past; the French version invites readers to discover a story outside their own history, yet rooted in universal themes of memory and heritage.









Foto: Mihai Ciobanu
Jury Notes
Process Notes: Alexandra Cupșa
Our first impression of this book was very strong. The size, the format, and the cloth-bound cover immediately stand out and create impact. The project makes great use of typography, keeping the layout simple but adding texture to the type. It feels experimental while maintaining a clear visual presence.
JG: For me, the first impression of this is strong. As soon as you see the size, the format, the color, the cloth bound color, it's a very strong first impression.
ML: Great use of typography. The layout is really simple, but there’s texture to the type. It’s an experimental project.
Thinking about the journey from initial idea to the finished piece, which moments had the deepest impact on the project and what made you realise those changes had to happen?
One of the defining moments in the project was that I could not access the factory during the core phase of developing the book. Once it had been sold, entering the site became impossible, and this forced me to rethink how to narrate and evoke its presence, without being able to show it directly. I had to work through its traces instead: the archives, the objects it produced, the drawings and plans that I had found. The book’s central challenge became how to speak about 1 Iunie without depicting it directly. A second decisive moment came later, once I had gathered a large collection of materials. The question then shifted to how these fragments could be assembled, how to organise them so they would form a clear, legible story rather than a simple accumulation of documents.
Collaboration is built on trust and dialogue — within that process, which part of the project feels most authentically yours, and which unexpected voices pushed you beyond your comfort zone?
The part of the project I identify with most is the narrative. I have always loved a good story, and it mattered to me that this project could exist and unfold as one, rather than as a purely factual document. Introducing each chapter with a song that situates it in time and signals its theme was also a way to move away from a cold, archival tone and bring the subject to life.
The voices that appear in the book, the people I interviewed and spent time with, shaped the project just as strongly. They influenced the themes of the chapters, the questions I pursued, and the direction the story ultimately took. Their perspectives definitely guided my thinking and pushed the narrative beyond what I could have developed on my own.
In what ways do you believe awards like LDA shape (or should shape) the design landscape locally? And is there a responsibility attached to being an awarded designer within that ecosystem?
The Local Design Awards provide a valuable platform for mapping the current landscape of graphic design, especially in a discipline that is still insufficiently recognized and often misunderstood by the wider public. By giving visibility to different kinds of work, they help strengthen the field and show why design matters. They also highlight how closely graphic design is tied to the societal contexts in which it operates and how it engages with different histories, materials and communities. And there is definitely a responsibility attached to being recognized within this ecosystem. Recognition brings visibility, and with it comes an intention to contribute actively to the field, and to ensure that projects foster dialogue and have a positive impact on the local design landscape.
Mentorship, peer‑learning or self‑teaching often shape early practice. Who or what has been your most unexpected teacher, and how did their influence show up in this project?
Beyond the two professors, Diego Bontognali and Jonathan Hares, who guided the project throughout its development and whose support was essential, my strongest support came from my classmates, who were present at every moment. Whenever we had doubts about our projects or felt stuck, we often turned to one another for help. We would do small, improvised critiques, as if presenting to a professor. They would offer their advice, and we would think through problems together. Their feedback was incredibly valuable.
One piece of advice in particular, from Flaurant Kadrija, completely changed the form of the book. I had been stuck for three weeks on the first twenty pages, unable to find a structure or a layout system that felt right, making countless iterations where interviews, images, and song lyrics coexisted on the same pages. He suggested separating these elements into three distinct sections instead of forcing them to live together. This gave the book a clear, precise rhythm. His advice pulled me out of that impasse, allowed me to finish the book in two weeks, and is ultimately the reason why the final object ended up having so many pages.
Sometimes the constraints or groundwork of early projects become the launchpad for later ones. What did you take away from this project that you want to carry forward into your future work?
One of the most valuable aspects of this project, and something I want to carry into future work, is the collaborative dimension, the process of building stories together with the people directly involved. Working in close dialogue with those concerned creates projects that are more accurate, more sensitive to context, and more grounded in lived experience. I hope to have more opportunities to work in this way. What I appreciate most about graphic design, and what I find most enriching, is its ability to serve as a tool for storytelling. For me, the best way for meaningful stories to emerge is through collaboration with the people and voices that shape them.
Another lesson I’m taking from this project is the importance of letting form emerge from the content rather than imposing a structure too early. The shape of the book should not be forced onto the story, instead, the story itself should determine the form it needs. Working this way required more time and uncertainty, but it ultimately led to a structure that felt more honest, more precise, and more closely aligned with the material. It’s a principle I want to carry forward in future projects, especially those that deal with complex narratives or archival research.
As a young designer, your visual language is still developing. Which element of this project feels like the beginning of a vocabulary you want to develop further?
One of the things I enjoy most in design is designing books and, within that, working on layout. It’s the part of the process where I feel most at home, but that I also find most challenging. Going forward, I want to keep developing my understanding of structure and the visual language of layout, how rhythm, hierarchy, and spatial organisation can shape the way a story is read and understood. It’s a field that feels endlessly rich, and one I want to explore more deeply in future projects.
The Local Design Awards is a national competition held in Romania, dedicated to celebrating and honoring remarkable achievements in the field of graphic design. Its primary goal is to acknowledge and exhibit the most groundbreaking and imaginative work produced by designers across the country.
hello@localdesigncircle.com
©Local Design Circle
Design & Development: Policromic
Advisory: Daniel & Andrew