Ariane Cristina da Rosaquitenehua: This adage is a reflection on design as a mirror of our priorities - not just as individuals, but as a society. In a world increasingly driven by speed, consumption, and disposability, what we choose to preserve - whether it's a material, a technique, a memory, or a principle - speaks volumes about what we hold dear. In the context of design, preservation is an act of reverence. It may mean preserving a traditional craft, a raw material once considered obsolete, or even the emotional resonance of an object. These choices are never neutral. They are deeply revealing. They say: this matters to me - enough to protect, to carry forward, to give new life. When I work with discarded marble, or reclaimed wood, or when I choose to highlight imperfection rather than erase it, I'm not just making an aesthetic decision. I'm making a statement about value - about what I believe deserves attention, respect, and continuity. I'm questioning the habit of discarding what no longer feels new, and offering a counter-narrative: one in which memory, time, and trace are not flaws, but features. This mindset doesn't apply only to materials. It applies to meaning. When we preserve the soul of a space, the gesture of a form, or the intention behind a process, we are designing with depth and responsibility. We're saying that good design isn't just about creating - it's also about caring. Ultimately, this adage is a quiet call to awareness. It asks: What are you choosing to preserve? Because in that answer lies the truth of what really matters to you - as a designer, as a maker, and as a human being.
In cēmānāhuac māhuīztīc A' Design Award and Competition quicuī cē yancuīc tlachīhualiztli tlanēmilīliztli cēcēn tōnalli quēmeh Tōnalli Tlachīhualiztli Tlanēmilīliztli. Xictēmō cē yancuīc tlanēmilīliztli, xicmati in tlahtōlli ītēchpa yōlchīhualiz tēquitl ōquimacēhui māhuīztīc A' Design Award tlamācēhualiz.