Simon Abranowicz is an art director and type designer from New York, currently based in Los Angeles. He leads Abbreviated Projects, a strategic design studio specializing in visual and verbal identities. Since founding the studio in 2022 with his brother and creative partner, Abbreviated Projects has collaborated with clients including The New York Times, Nike, Apple, and Formula 1. Through his typographic practice, Abbreviated Foundry, Simon develops both retail and custom typefaces for clients such as Shawn Mendes, WIRED, Notre, and The Graduate Hotels. Before founding his studio, he was an Art Director at GQ, where he helped lead a complete redesign of GQ and GQ Style. His bold, typographically driven approach earned multiple SPD and ASME design awards and helped define a new era for the magazines.
Abbr. Projects and Abbr. Foundry operates at the intersection of verbal and visual identity. How do you balance those two worlds in your day-to-day practice?
Zander and I are true collaborators. I often describe our practice as a kind of three-legged race, where design and language move in lockstep—careful not to step on each other’s toes. You can’t communicate a clear strategy without thoughtful design, and you can’t produce thoughtful design without clear strategy. Each supports and informs the other in a constant push and pull to ensure both sides are dialed in. It’s less about balancing the two, and more about keeping them tethered together. Of course, there’s also the typographic side—we believe the shapes of letters can carry as much meaning as the words themselves.
You co-founded Abbr. with your brother. How does that partnership influence the studio’s rhythm and decision-making?
A lot of people couldn’t imagine working this closely with family, but for me and Zander, it’s always been natural. We’ve been creatively feeding off each other since we were toddlers, drawing on tablecloths at tavernas on family trips. Working with your older brother brings a unique dynamic—he definitely plays the big brother role in and out of work—but we’re equal partners. The relationship is healthy, open, and honest. We can speak plainly without worrying about ego or politics. It’s like being photographed by someone you trust: when you’re comfortable, you loosen up and create your best work. That sense of comfort defines our collaboration—it lets us create freely and without inhibition.
Abbreviated’s projects feel considered in both pace and presentation. In a culture that values speed, how do you protect time for depth and craft within your process?
We’re strict about setting realistic expectations from the start. Craft takes time—but time is rare in branding. We move quickly, but never at the expense of quality. When timelines get tight, we’d rather reduce the number of deliverables than compromise the integrity of the work. The best design comes from clarity of idea, not sheer volume. Our process often revolves around the question: What can we strip away until it’s distilled to its purest form?
Your redesign of GQ and GQ Style marked a clear typographic shift for the magazine. What ideas or references guided that transformation?
We had an incredible team led by Creative Director Rob Vargas. The goal was to signal a new era for GQ—one that reflected the forward-thinking fashion the editors were already championing. We each brought posters, magazines, and social snippets to the table, and quickly realized our references shared a common visual language. Rob encouraged experimentation and customization—it was very much an anti-template approach. We set only two rules: use the same sans-serif typeface (unless it was a custom, hand-drawn piece), and keep everything black and white. Within those constraints, we found endless room for creativity.
Type plays a central role in your work. What first drew you to designing type, and how has that shaped your approach to art direction?
I’ve always been fascinated by type. In college, it felt like an unattainable craft reserved for the elite—but that only made me more curious. I’ve always wanted as much control over the final output as possible. To me, graphic design is largely about assembling work made by others—photography, illustration, motion, typography. If you’re not creating those components yourself, you’re essentially arranging someone else’s art. Of course, that’s not entirely true—but it’s why I’ve never liked using “stock typography.” Type is my favorite form of communication. It’s where all my passions converge—language, design, and originality.
You’ve worked with global clients like Apple, Nike and Formula 1, as well as independent makers and smaller studios, what helps you maintain a consistent design philosophy across such different scales?
a. In college, one of my professors gave me a lower score on my senior portfolio, citing that all my projects looked similar and that I had too much personal style. As it turns out, it’s been one of the things that's helped our studio take form over the past several years. In the same way that people hire architects or fashion designers for their style, it helps draw in clients that want you to do you. In my opinion, design isn't about being a visual chameleon, it’s about being a thoughtful person that understands the needs of a client, their audience and the ability to help them meet their goals. I have my sensibilities, and I apply them to each project that I work on, no matter who the client is, as the goal isn't to make something shiny and new each project, it’s to make something smart and good.
b. Be yourself and let yourself shine through in your work.
When you begin a new project, what does your creative process look like? Are you more intuitive or research-led in the early stages?
It always starts with research—and a few conversations with Zander. We gather references from all over: books, the internet, archives, whatever feels relevant. As a strategic design studio, research is central to our process. Audience insights, stakeholder interviews, and desk research all shape the outcome. We like to be able to point to every element in a system—every piece, pixel, or period—and explain exactly why it’s there.
Many of your projects show a deep respect for structure and restraint. How do you approach simplicity without losing character?
Simplicity isn’t about reduction for its own sake—it’s about clarity. We try to strip away until only the essential remains, but those essentials still have to feel human. The key is to let character live in the details: the curve of a letterform, the tone of a phrase, the spacing between elements. When everything is intentional, simplicity becomes expressive rather than sterile.
Are there particular type designers or publications that continue to influence your thinking today?
Absolutely. My feeds—whether on Instagram or Are.na—are constantly filled with type specimens, signage, books, and design ephemera from all over the world. My wife and I collect books on interiors and architecture, and we’re always in awe of the effortless design in those volumes. My go-to foundries are Dinamo, Optimo, and Lineto—apparently any foundry ending in “O” makes great work. I follow new type releases the way most people follow new albums or films.
Looking ahead, what kind of projects or collaborations are you most interested in exploring?
Right now, we’re really interested in hospitality—hotels and restaurants offer such rich opportunities for thoughtful design. Every detail, from menus to signage, can reinforce a brand’s story. We’re also drawn to projects with environmental, communal, or social impact. That said, we’re intentionally industry-agnostic. Every project is a chance to learn something new, and we like ending each one a little more worldly than when we started.
