by Hope Cruz
“…the sculptor has nothing more to do than remove the superfluous,
and reveal the living figure that is within.”
— Ascanio Condivi, Life of Michelangelo (1553)
For Michelangelo, becoming wasn’t about adding but removing, and a block of marble was never blank because it already held a figure waiting to be set free. Design follows the same path. Every sketch, every prototype, every moment of resistance is part of the chiseling away until the final form emerges undeniably clear.
Few people understand this better than Joe Hanssen, Think Tank’s lead designer. His career has been shaped by climbing mountains, leading search-and-rescue missions, and designing gear born out of necessity. Like a sculptor at the block, he approaches each project as a process of stripping away until only the essential remains.
His philosophy is simple: stay present, observe closely, and enjoy the process. When resistance appears, consider another path, and when the way is clear, move with confidence. As Joe puts it, “Earlier in my career, I took things personally. Now I try to get to the no’s quicker, so I can find the yeses.”
That perspective shapes the way design unfolds at Think Tank. Design here is rarely a straight line. It’s a cycle of discovery, iteration, and refinement, with sketches that don’t quite land, prototypes made from stand-in materials, and samples that feel wrong in color or fit. That friction is built into the journey, and each step becomes a test of vision and patience. The process can feel like climbing a mountain: stalled progress, tough terrain, and moments when the summit looks impossibly far away.
Beyond the friction, design is always a dialogue between what has been and what could be. For twenty years, Think Tank has been known for building some of the toughest, most protective bags in the industry. These are bags that withstand airports, downpours, and the daily grind of professional use. That foundation is the company’s strength, but every new generation of creatives asks for something different, and design has to listen.
When Joe tuned in, he began to imagine a new kind of Think Tank bag. It wouldn’t replace what came before, but rather build upon it, carrying the same durability and protection while adding a softer, more casual, and modern silhouette. His vision began with the urban creative in mind, someone who works in cafés, takes public transit, and cares about style as much as function. That vision set him on a path to create something unlike anything Think Tank has made before, a bag that would become the FocusPoint rolltop. With its harness system and balanced build, the bag could just as easily serve someone outdoors, hiking or traveling, as it could a photographer moving through city streets.
Becoming is never smooth, though. It meets resistance at every stage, and in design, that resistance takes the shape of the process itself: ideas that falter, prototypes that miss the mark, revisions that demand patience and persistence. The FocusPoint rolltop was no different. Its path forward was less a straight line and more a battle with the challenges of design itself.
One of the clearest tests of that resistance came when Joe introduced a two-toned prototype. What seemed like a simple balance of durability and modern design turned out to be far more divisive, as the bold orange accent drew more attention than expected. Stakeholders focused on it so intensely that they struggled to see the bigger picture, including the silhouette, the functionality, and the new direction the bag was pointing toward. It was a reminder for Joe that people see the whole design, and even one detail can blur what is taking shape.
The orange debate became a turning point, though. Joe realized the pushback wasn’t only about aesthetics, but also about emotion. The bold accent provoked strong reactions that eclipsed the rest of the design. “Color is emotional. It’s everything,” he reflected. Two-tone color blocking has been successful across many of Think Tank’s designs, but for the FocusPoint, it distracted from the clean, modern silhouette. Moving to solid colors wasn’t about abandoning two-tone. It was about choosing the look that best revealed this design’s intent.
Joe treated criticism as fuel. To move forward, he studied travel and everyday carry trends while also drawing on internal feedback and market research. It became clear that while two-tone continues to succeed across much of Think Tank’s lineup, it wasn’t the right fit for this design. He refined renderings, rethought palettes, and iterated until the design and its colors aligned in a way that felt both fresh and undeniable. When he had the next prototype sampled in all black, something shifted. The simplified palette revealed the clarity he had been working all along, highlighting the bag’s clean lines and modern silhouette in a way two-tone couldn’t.
“Finally, there was movement,” Joe recalled. People began to take notice, curious enough to pick it up, try it out, and imagine how it might fit into their lives. It was the breakthrough moment when his vision started to gain traction, turning resistance into the first signs of momentum.
Becoming reveals itself not only in the big turning points like color debates. It also takes shape in the demanding work of R&D, where every detail is tested and refined. These are the moments that rarely make it into marketing copy, yet they define whether a bag truly works in the field.
One challenge during FocusPoint’s development was access. Think Tank has always prided itself on giving photographers the fastest and least restrictive path to their gear, because every second can mean the difference between getting the shot or missing it.
Out in the field with early prototypes, Joe discovered the bag was falling short. The side photo compartment panel collapsed when he swung the bag around to grab a camera. This critical flaw struck at the core promise of Think Tank’s brand. Joe knew he had to solve it while preserving the bag's softer character and without adding unnecessary weight or cost.
This is where becoming shows its grit. Joe took the bag back to his studio and began experimenting. He stapled, pinned, and sewed, trying different solutions. The answer didn’t come from the side panel where he first focused, but from the back. By sewing channels around the perimeter of the back panel, inserting a simple metal rod frame, and testing again, the problem was solved. The panel held its structure, the side compartment opened fully, and the bag stayed light and simple, while still being practical to produce at scale.
It was a critical detail that transformed the experience. Photographers could now swing the bag, unzip the side, and pull out a camera with no restriction. What began as a point of frustration became a point of clarity. Even in these adjustments, the bag was becoming what it was always meant to be.
Joe describes this transformation as taking what begins as a vision in your head and materializing it into something a customer can pick up in a store. “Everyone has ideas for different things,” he explained. “Being able to take that idea, which is just this floating ethos in your head, and materializing it into something a customer can pick up at a retail store is quite the process.”
With both the larger vision clarified and the functional details resolved, the door opened to refinement. Attention finally shifted from debates about color or access to the finer details of craft. Every zipper pull had to feel precise under the hand. Straps were tested and retested until they balanced the weight without sacrificing comfort. The rolltop closure needed to lock in securely, but still open quickly enough to grab a camera in the moment. Even the silhouette was scrutinized, shaped to look clean, whether packed to capacity or carrying only the essentials.
The FocusPoint rolltop became more than a response to the market. It was a study in persistence and patience, a product born not from imitation, but from intention. Joe’s vision was to create a bag that felt softer and more approachable while still carrying Think Tank’s DNA of protection, comfort, and access.
That vision came to life in a design that shifts easily from a reliable camera bag to a versatile everyday carry once the insert is removed. To give photographers even more choice, Joe introduced four distinct colorways—Asphalt Black, Greenway, Golden Hour, and Urban Rust—each one modern, refined, and ready for the nimble urban creative. The FocusPoint rolltop shows what becoming is all about: staying true to Think Tank’s promise while evolving into something entirely new.
Each refinement was another chisel cut, uncovering what had been there all along. Think Tank’s DNA came into focus, and like a photographer finding the perfect frame, the FocusPoint highlights what matters most: a modern design built to meet today’s creatives where they are.
Meet the Designer
The Quiet Force Behind Think Tank Design
Joe on Mount Conness in the Sierra Nevada, field-testing a backpack he designed just before joining Think Tank.
Joe Hanssen doesn’t chase the spotlight. His career, like his time outdoors, has been defined by quiet observation and steady steps. True to form, he says he prefers to be behind the camera rather than in front of it, though he’ll step forward if called upon.
At first, Joe imagined a different future. He trained as a commercial pilot, earning his license and preparing for a life in the sky. Life, he’ll tell you, works that way. You try different paths before you find the one that truly calls you.
For Joe, that calling was design, and the road to it was anything but straight. His journey moved through outdoor start-ups and furniture studios, through search-and-rescue missions and mountaintop summits, and eventually into the design rooms of Williams-Sonoma, Pottery Barn, and Think Tank Photo. Each stage sharpened not only his skills, but also his way of seeing: quiet, deliberate, always searching for solutions the way nature itself does.
The roots of that vision took place in college, where Joe first set out to become a commercial pilot. His future, however, was already taking shape on the ground, where he spent his free time sketching packs and sewing outdoor gear. As the pull toward design grew stronger, he changed majors, launched a small brand called Polar Summit, and entered a Seattle competition that asked for three garments. Instead, he submitted a full product line, a bold move that earned him a scholarship to the Fashion Institute of Design & Merchandising in San Francisco, which set him firmly on the path to design.
While San Francisco shaped Joe’s design career, the mountains remained his truest classroom. Out there, he learned that design isn't about surface beauty, but survival. Every tool has to justify its weight and every detail has to work flawlessly. That perspective carried into his years at Williams-Sonoma and Pottery Barn, where he designed thousands of objects that touched every part of a home, from furniture and lighting to kitchen tools and holiday ornaments. That scale demanded discipline, but the outdoors taught him to honor touchpoints, from the certainty of a clasp to the steadiness of a handle in the hand.
Joe, as team leader, guiding Marin County Mountain Rescue through a snow and ice recertification in Mammoth.
At the very same time, he was also on call with Marin County Sheriff’s SAR (Search and Rescue), a 24/7, 365-day commitment that could summon him at any hour, in any weather, to lead a team into redwood forests, ridges, or avalanche-prone terrain. Balancing the polish of corporate design with the urgency of rescue work might have seemed like opposites, but together they shaped his philosophy: whether in a living room or on a ridgeline, people rely on what you build. It has to work.
Training for Type 3 high-angle rope rescues in the Marin Headlands and Yosemite. Practice is constant, because when a real mission comes, precision matters most.
That belief didn’t stay abstract. On steep cliffs and in storm-darkened forests, Joe learned the value of improvisation when standard tools failed. When bulky rescue equipment slowed missions, he co-developed a litter wheel pack with Golden Gate Rescue Equipment, which is an external-frame system that made hauling safer and more efficient, with built-in pockets for critical straps. Other rescue teams and counties soon adopted it. The lesson was simple. See a problem, build the tool.
That same instinct guided how he thought about design. For Joe, climbing and being outdoors isn’t just physical. It’s a spiritual journey, a way to clear his head much like meditation, but with the difference that outside he connects more readily with insight. Even Velcro, he pointed out, was inspired by burrs sticking to socks. For Joe, it’s proof that nature is the best teacher, with solutions already present and waiting to be noticed. The process of design, he explains, often mirrors those same lessons. Early prototypes can feel like exposed ridgelines that are uncertain, raw, and sometimes met with resistance. Like climbing, design asks for patience with the process, courage to push through the doubts, and clarity about when to pivot or retreat.
Photos by Jerry Dodrill
Now at Think Tank Photo, where he has spent nearly a decade, Joe brings to design the same clarity forged in mountains and missions. His journey shaped the FocusPoint rolltop, a bag that blends the toughness Think Tank is known for with a softer, more modern silhouette. What began as a question mark is now one of the company’s most versatile designs, equally at home in a café, on a flight, or on a trail.
For Joe, design has never been about chasing trends or personal glory. “I like trends, but I’m not trendy,” he says, reflecting his belief that good design lasts because it works. It’s about trust. Trust that a zipper will hold, that a strap will sit comfortably, that a bag will move with you rather than against you. He obsesses over touchpoints because, as he puts it, “carry is one of the most amazing things in human civilization.”
That obsession even extends to his workshop, where he keeps multiple sewing machines but often works on the oldest, clunkiest one, the kind that’s literally hanging on by a thread. He’s sketched hundreds if not thousands of designs, but is quick to say he doesn’t consider himself a great sketcher, but only someone persistent enough to keep trying until the idea becomes real.
In Joe’s view, design is never truly finished. There’s no final arrival, only the ongoing work of becoming. “I think I’m still in the process,” he explains. “In design, in life, there’s always the next challenge, the next iteration, the next refinement. Maybe mastery isn’t about arriving, but about continuously learning, adapting, and carrying forward what you’ve gained.” That perspective has shaped not only his work but his life. He met his wife during a search and rescue mission, one he happened upon while rock climbing nearby. Looking back, he calls it a mission that “was meant to be.”
From designing his first clothing line to leading mountain rescues, Joe’s journey is one of always becoming, evolving through design, service, and the mountains themselves.
Joe is still chasing summits, working steadily toward long-term goals like climbing all of California’s Fourteeners, the Cascade volcanoes, and the Sierra High Route. These days, he shares those climbs with his younger son, who recently joined him on his first Sierra peak, and with his family, who together have visited every national park in California. For Joe, the end result is only a fraction of the story. The real work, and the joy, comes in the steps along the way, trusting that each one leads where you are meant to be.
