In the spring of 2015, I was living in Barcelona and working with a talented motion designer named Dani. We did a few projects together and quickly became friends. One afternoon, over coffee, he asked me, “Have you never been to OFFF?”

I hadn’t.
He looked surprised.
“You’d love it,” he said. “It’s meant for people like you.”

I never forgot that.

Last year, I got a call from a mutual friend. Dani had passed away. He had kept his illness private, and I hadn’t seen him in years, but the news hit me hard. It was one of those moments that stays with you — the kind that makes you pause and reflect.

So this year, I finally went to OFFF for the first time. I had Dani on my mind the entire time. And damn, he was right. It really is meant for people like me.

OFFF is a three-day creative festival in Barcelona that brings together designers, motion artists, technologists, illustrators, and storytellers from around the world. It’s a place to get inspired, recharge creatively, and connect with people who care deeply about craft and creativity.

As someone who runs a motion design studio, I found it incredibly refreshing. Here are a few things that really stayed with me.

Simon Dixon & Aporva Baxi, DixonBaxi

Simon and Aporva spoke about leadership and how to help teams grow into their best selves. One slide simply read:

“Talent isn’t rare. Access is.”

That line stuck with me. As a founder and creative director, it reminded me that our job isn’t just to find talent — it’s to create the space where it can thrive.

Ana’s talk was a standout.

She opened up about her experiences with sexuality, relationships, and identity in a way that was incredibly vulnerable and human. She even shared a scene from a short film based on her own life — it was beautifully made and deeply moving.

It wasn’t just a talk. It was a reminder of how much power there is in being honest. I left thinking, I wish I had that kind of courage.

I couldn’t get into the main room for Digital Kitchen’s talk, so I ended up watching it on the outdoor screen. Not ideal, but even from outside, their work was powerful.

They always manage to find that sweet spot between design and emotion. They didn’t disappoint.

Brian Collins delivered a talk that blended insight with showmanship. What really stood out was when he spoke about a private event he runs in New York — a gathering where creatives share stories of failure.

Not polished case studies. Real, messy, honest failures.

I loved that. I think we don’t talk about failure enough in this industry, even though it’s often where the biggest growth happens.

One of the proudest moments for me at OFFF was being selected for The Screen, the festival’s open call event.

My 15-second animation was projected on the façade of the DHub building — the biggest scale I’ve ever seen my work displayed. I created a piece with inflatable typography spelling the word “peace”, slowly filling the frame.

It was my way of sending out something hopeful. A small attempt to bring calm and positive energy into a world that often feels loud and angry.

Seeing it up there — massive, glowing — was unforgettable.

Talks are great, but what really makes OFFF special is the people.

I had the chance to connect with amazing creatives like Sonia Vivo, who organized the Creative Brunch. It was such a thoughtful way to create space for real conversation among motion designers.

I also met up with an old friend, Neus Escoda, who works at the DHub. We shared a coffee and ended up talking about parenting and the challenges of modern family life. It was a grounding moment amid the creative buzz.

And then there were the beers with Iván and Xabi, two incredibly talented motion designers from the Basque Country. We laughed, shared work stories, and talked about what’s next. It felt good to just hang out with people who get it.

OFFF gave me a lot — inspiration, connection, and a reminder of why I do what I do.
But more than anything, it felt like a quiet tribute to a friend who once told me,
“You’d love it.”

He was right.
Thanks, Dani.

I’ll be back next year.