Generative UI and the Ephemeral Interface

I wouldn’t call myself a gamer, but I do enjoy good games from time to time, when I have the time. A couple of years ago, I made my way through Hades and had a blast.

But I do know that the publishing of a triple-A title like Call of Duty: Black Ops takes an enormous effort, tons of human-hours, and loads of cash. It’s also obvious to me that AI has been entering into entertainment workflows, just like it has in design workflows.

Ian Dean, writing for Creative Bloq explores this controversy with Activision using generative AI to create artwork for the latest release in the Call of Duty franchise. Players called the company out for being opaque about using AI tools, but more importantly, because they spotted telltale artifacts.

Many of the game’s calling cards display the kind of visual tics that seasoned artists can spot at a glance: fingers that don’t quite add up, characters whose faces drift slightly off-model, and backgrounds that feel too synthetic to belong to a studio known for its polish.

These aren’t high-profile cinematic assets, but they’re the small slices of style and personality players earn through gameplay. And that’s precisely why the discovery has landed so hard; it feels a little sneaky, a bit underhanded.

“Sneaky” and “underhanded” are odd adjectives, no? I suppose gamers are feeling like they’ve been lied to because Activition used AI?

Dean again:

While no major studio will admit it publicly, Black Ops 7 is now a case study in how not to introduce AI into a beloved franchise. Artists across the industry are already discussing how easily ‘supportive tools’ can cross the line into fully generated content, and how difficult it becomes to convince players that craft still matters when the results look rushed or uncanny.

My, possibly controversial, view is that the technology itself isn’t the villain here; poor implementation is, a lack of transparency is, and fundamentally, a lack of creative use is.

I think the last phrase is the key. It’s the loss of quality and lack of creative use.

I’ve been playing around more with AI-generated images and video, ever since Figma acquired Weavy. I’ve been testing out Weavy and have done a lot of experimenting with ComfyUI in recent weeks. The quality of output from these tools is getting better every month.

With more and more AI being embedded into our art and design tools, the purity that some fans want is going to be hard to sustain. I think the train has left the station.

There are dark patterns in UX, and there are also dark patterns specific to games. Dark Pattern Games is a website that catalogs such patterns and the offending mobile games.

The site’s definition of a dark pattern is:

A gaming dark pattern is something that is deliberately added to a game to cause an unwanted negative experience for the player with a positive outcome for the game developer.

The “Social Pyramid Scheme” is one of my most loathed:

Some games will give you a bonus when you invite your friends to play and link to them to your account. This bonus may be a one-time benefit, or it may be an ongoing benefit that improves the gaming experience for each friend that you add. This gives players a strong incentive to convince their friends to play. Those friends then have to sign up more friends and so on, leading to a pyramid scheme and viral growth for the game.

Geoffrey Litt is a design engineer at Notion. He is one of the authors at Ink & Switch of “Malleable software,” which I linked to back in July. I think it’s pretty fitting that he popped up at Notion, with the CEO Ivan Zhao likening the app to LEGO bricks.

In a recent interview with Rid on Dive Club, Litt explains the concept further:

So, when I say malleable software, I do not mean only disposable software. The main thing I think about with malleable software is actually much closer to … designing my interior space in my house. Let’s say when I come home I don’t want everything to be rearranged, right? I want it to be the way it was. And if I want to move the furniture or put things on the wall, I want to have the right to do that. And so I think of it much more as kind of crafting an environment over time that’s actually more stable and predictable, not only for myself, but also for my team. Having shared environments that we all work in together that are predictable is also really important, right? Ironically, actually, in some ways, I think sometimes malleable software results in more stable software because I have more control.

For building with AI, Litt advocates “coding like a surgeon”: stay in the loop and use agents for prep and grunt work.

How do we think of AI as a way to leverage our time better? [So we can] stay connected to the work and [do] it ourselves by having prep work done for us. Having tools in the moment helping us do it so that we can really focus on the stuff we love to do, and do less of everything else. And that’s how I’m trying to use coding agents for my core work that I care about today. Which is when I show up, sit down at my desk in the morning and work on a feature, I want to be prepped with a brief on all the code I’m going to be touching today, how it works, what the traps are. Maybe I’ll see a draft that the AI did for me overnight, sketching out how the coding could go. Maybe some ideas for me.

In other words, like an assistant who works overnight. And yeah, this could apply to design as well.

He told me his CEO - who’s never written a line of code - was running their company from an AI code editor.

I almost fell out of my chair.

OF COURSE. WHY HAD I NOT THOUGHT OF THAT.

I’ve since gotten rid of almost all of my productivity tools.

ChatGPT, Notion, Todoist, Airtable, Google Keep, Perplexity, my CRM. All gone.

That’s the lede for a piece by Derek Larson on running everything from Claude Code. I’ve covered how Claude Code is pretty brilliant and there are dozens more use cases than just coding.

But getting rid of everything and using just text files and the terminal window? Seems extreme.

Larson uses a skill in Claude Code called “/weekly” to do a weekly review.

1. Claude looks at every file change since last week
2. Claude evaluates the state of projects, tasks, and the roadmap
3. We have a conversation to dig deeper, and make decisions
4. Claude generates a document summarizing the week and plan we agreed on

Then Claude finds items he’s missed or procrastinating on, and “creates a space to dump everything” on his mind.

Something that I think a lot about as a design leader is how to promote the benefits of design in the organization. Paul Boag created this practical guide to guerrilla internal marketing that builds a network of ambassadors across departments and keeps user-centered thinking top of mind.

Boag, writing in his newsletter:

You cannot be everywhere at once. You cannot attend every meeting, influence every decision, or educate every colleague personally. But you can identify and equip people across different departments who care about users and give them the tools to spread UX thinking in their teams.

This is how culture change actually happens. Not through presentations from the UX team, but through conversations between colleagues who trust each other.

Design Thinking has gotten a bad rap in recent years. It was supposed to change everything in the corporate world but ended up changing very little. While Design Thinking may not be the darling anymore, designers still need time to think, which is, for the sake of argument, time away from Figma and pushing pixels.

Chris Becker argues in UX Collective:

However, the canary in the coalmine is that Designers are not being used for their “thinking” but rather their “repetition”. Much of the consternation we feel in the UX industry is catapulted on us from this point of friction.

He says that agile software development and time for designers to think aren’t incompatible:

But allowing Designers to implement their thinking into the process is about trust. When good software teams collaborate effectively, there are high levels of trust and autonomy (a key requirement of agile teams). Designers must earn that trust, of course, and when we demonstrate that we have “done the thinking,” it builds confidence and garners more thinking time. Thinking begets thinking. So, Designers, let’s continue to work to maximise our “thinking” faculties.

Pavel Bukengolts writes a piece for UX Magazine that reiterates what I’ve been covering here: our general shift to AI means that human judgement and adaptability are more important than ever.

Before getting to the meat of the issue, Bukengolts highlights the talent crisis that is our own making:

The outcome is a broken pipeline. If graduates cannot land their first jobs, they cannot build the experience needed for the next stage. A decade from now, organizations may face not just a shortage of junior workers, but a shortage of mid-level professionals who never had a chance to develop.

If rote repetitive tasks are being automated by AI and junior staffers aren’t needed for those tasks, then what skills are still valuable? Further on, he answers that question:

Centuries ago, in Athens, Alexandria, or Oxford, education focused on rhetoric, logic, and philosophy. These were not academic luxuries but survival skills for navigating complexity and persuasion. Ironically, they are once again becoming the most durable protection in an age of automation.

Some of these skills include:

• Logic: Evaluating arguments and identifying flawed reasoning—essential when AI generates plausible but incorrect conclusions.
• Rhetoric: Crafting persuasive narratives that create emotional connection and resonance beyond what algorithms can achieve.
• Philosophy and Ethics: Examining not just capability but responsibility, particularly around automation’s broader implications.
• Systems Thinking: Understanding interconnections and cascading effects that AI’s narrow outputs often miss.
• Writing: Communicating with precision to align stakeholders and drive better outcomes.
• Observation: Detecting subtle signals and anomalies that fall outside algorithmic training data.
• Debate: Refining thinking through intellectual challenge—a practice dating to ancient dialogue.
• History: Recognizing recurring patterns to avoid cyclical mistakes; AI enthusiasm echoes past technological revolutions.

I would say all of the above not only make a good designer but a good citizen of this planet.

In a heady, intelligent, and fascinating interview with Sarah Jeong from The Verge, Cory Doctorow—the famed internet activist—talks about how platforms have gotten worse over the years. Using Meta (Facebook) as an example, Doctorow explains their decline over time through a multi-stage process. Initially, it attracted users by promising not to spy on them and by showing them content from their friends, leveraging the difficulty of getting friends to switch platforms. Subsequently, Meta compromised user privacy by providing advertisers with surveillance data (aka ad tracking) and offered publishers traffic funnels, locking in business customers before ultimately degrading the experience for all users by filling feeds with paid content and pivoting to less desirable ventures like the Metaverse.

And publishers, [to get visibility on the platform,] they have to put the full text of their articles on Facebook now and no links back to their website.

Otherwise, they won’t be shown to anyone, much less their subscribers, and they’re now fully substitutive, right? And the only way they can monetize that is with Facebook’s rigged ad market and users find that the amount of stuff that they ask to see in their feed is dwindled to basically nothing, so that these voids can be filled with stuff people will pay to show them, and those people are getting ripped off. This is the equilibrium Mark Zuckerberg wants, right? Where all the available value has been withdrawn. But he has to contend with the fact that this is a very brittle equilibrium. The difference between, “I hate Facebook, but I can’t seem to stop using it,” and “I hate Facebook and I’m not going to use it anymore,” is so brittle that if you get a live stream mass shooting or a whistleblower or a privacy scandal like Cambridge Analytica, people will flee.

Francesca Bria and her collaborators analyzed open-source datasets of “over 250 actors, thousands of verified connections, and $45 billion in documented financial flows” to come up with a single-page website visually showing such connections.

J.D. Vance, propelled to the vice-presidency by $15 million from Peter Thiel, became the face of tech-right governance. Behind him, Thiel’s network moved into the machinery of the state.

Under the banner of “patriotic tech”, this new bloc is building the infrastructure of control—clouds, AI, finance, drones, satellites—an integrated system we call the Authoritarian Stack. It is faster, ideological, and fully privatized: a regime where corporate boards, not public law, set the rules.

Our investigation shows how these firms now operate as state-like powers—writing the rules, winning the tenders, and exporting their model to Europe, where it poses a direct challenge to democratic governance.

Make no mistake: Democracy in America has been under threat. The Executive branch continues to accrue and abuse power, much of it willingly given up by Congress, and the Supreme Court has largely given deference to this president.

In a beautiful, yet somehow haunting visualization, Alvin Chang for the Pudding went back and analyzed speeches in Congress from 1880 onward to show the growth of mentions about democracy being under threat.

Scroll through the interactive data viz and see the numbers tick up over the years, along with select quotes from speeches.

Chang ends with this reflection:

I grew up in an immigrant family, and I was constantly reminded of how powerful these values are. Sure, my family had some allegiance to their home country. Sure, we were constantly reminded of ways in which the country failed to live up to these ideals. However, I was told that we live in a country that is united not by the color of our skin or the origins of our families, but rather a belief in how humans should live together.

Americans have always argued about what it means to strive toward these democratic ideals. This pursuit of democracy is who we are; it’s who we want to be.

If we stop now, who are we as a people?

(h/t Nathan Yau / FlowingData)

Someone on X recently claimed they “popularized” dithering in modern design—a bold claim for a technique that’s been around since Robert Floyd and Louis Steinberg formalized it in 1976 and Bill Atkinson refined it for the original Macintosh. The design community swiftly reminded them that revival isn’t invention, and that dithering’s current moment owes more to retro-tech aesthetics meeting modern GPU pipelines than to any single designer’s genius.

Speaking of which, here’s a visual explainer by Damar Aji Pramudita that’s worth your time on how dithering actually works. Apparently it’s only part one of three.

Game design is fascinating to me. As designers, “gamification” was all the rage a few years back, inspired by apps like Duolingo that made it fun to progress in a product. Raph Koster outlines a twelve-step, systems-first framework for game design, complete with illustrations. Notice how he’ll use UX terms like “affordance” because ultimately, game design is UX.

In step five, “Feedback,” Koster provides an example:

[The player] can’t learn and get better unless [they] get a whole host of information.

• You need to know what actions – we usually call them verbs — are even available to you. There’s a gas pedal.
• You need to be able to tell you used a verb. You hear the engine growl as you press the pedal.
• You need to see that the use of the verb affected the state of the problem, and how it changed. The spedometer moved!
• You need to be told if the state of the problem is better for your goal, or worse. Did you mean to go this fast?

Sound familiar? It’s Jakob Nielsen’s “Visibility of System Status.”

When I went to design school %#*! years ago, Philip Meggs’ History of Graphic Design was required reading, well, for our graphic design history classes. I remember that nearly all the examples in the book were European men. So I’m glad there’s a new edition coming out that broadens the history to include more.

Cheryl D. Holmes-Miller writing in PRINT Magazine about the forthcoming 7th Edition of Meggs’ History of Graphic Design:

The 7th Edition is a reformation — dismantling the core barriers that have kept many of us from realizing our full potential in this field. It will make a transformative difference for years to come. The next generation of designers will find themselves in the history of graphic design and propel the industry forward.

Holmes-Miller asked the book’s co-editor, Sandra Maxa about the “restructuring of the historical timeline and how this shift might affect educators whose weekly lectures have long relied on the linear storytelling approach.” To which Maxa said:

“To create a new edition that is relevant to students today, we used a more direct writing style and stronger representation of designers from different backgrounds,” she said. “We also advocated for restructuring the new edition around themes instead of chronology to avoid implying a hierarchy that comes with presenting something as ‘the first.’” Maxa continued, “Including diverse voices and practices of graphic design is integral to situating the work of graphic designers today with cultural and social contexts of the past and inviting broader participation and interpretation from readers to construct a shared history of graphic design.”

I suppose there are two types of souvenirs that we can pick up while traveling: mass-manufactured tchotchkes like fridge magnets or snow globes, or local artisan-made trinkets and wares. The latter has come to represent cultures outside of their locales, an opportunity for tourists to take a little bit of their experiences with them home.

Louisa Eunice writing in Design Observer:

The souvenir industry, though vital for many local economies, has long been accused of flattening cultural complexity into digestible clichés, transforming sacred objects into décor, and replacing sustainable materials with cheaper alternatives to meet demand. Yet for countless artisans, participation in that market remains a practical act of endurance: a way to keep culture visible in a world that might otherwise forget it.

So on the flip side, though these souvenirs reduce the cultures of those places to a carved giraffe, sculpted clay bird, or ceremonial mask, I would argue that at least the artifacts can spark conversation.

The fact that a mask can be both a ritual object for the local artisan who made it and a decorative item for the tourist who bought it says more about resilience than dilution. It reveals how objects can inhabit multiple meanings without losing their essence. What we often call “appropriation” may, in these moments, also be adaptation, a negotiation that allows heritage to stay visible, if altered, in the modern world. 

To understand souvenirs this way is to see them not as hollow tokens but as collaborations: between maker and buyer, local and global, art and economy. When tourists view these pieces as design legacies — works that carry labor, history, and symbolism — the exchange becomes more than commercial. It becomes cultural continuity in motion.

In a smart piece for Creative Bloq, Niklas Mortensen dissects the public backlashes against logo redesigns. As designers, we know it’s more than the logo. I mean, sometimes it is the logo and how terribly crafted it is, but most other times, it’s what the redoing of the brand identity represents.

People don’t love brands because they look good. They love them because they’re familiar, consistent, and emotionally resonant. The same way we return to a childhood game or a worn-in pair of trainers – if we see a brand we recognise, we will feel comfortable, content, even safe.

So when a brand ditches its serif, swaps its colours, or goes full minimalist (not design’s finest moment), it can feel like an act of erasure. And while sometimes that change is necessary, the emotional cost should never be underestimated, especially when the brand in question belongs to an organisation that’s been a part of people’s lives for generations.

Done carelessly, a rebrand can fracture the trust and equity a brand has spent decades building.

In the modern era, it was Barack Obama’s 2008 presidential campaign that felt designed. The mark was perfect, the typography consistent—and made Gotham ubiquitous. All the materials just felt they were following brand guidelines—because they were.

In her piece for PRINT Magazine, Amelia Nash gathers five designers to talk about political design. This is a quote from Min Lew, partner at Base Design:

Political design turns ideals into imagery. The best work does more than convince. It invites people in, helping them feel part of something bigger. In a noisy, fragmented media landscape, design can cut through, speaking to emotion before intellect. 

Design doesn’t decide politics, but it shapes how politics is perceived, and perception often becomes reality. The real question is how the design can be done thoughtfully, with integrity, and with intention.

I must admit I’ve tried to read this essay by Frank Chimero—a script from a talk he recently gave—for about a week. I tried to skim it. I tried to fit it into a spare five minutes here and there. But this piece demands active reading. Not because it’s dense. But because it is great.

Chimero reflects on AI and his—and our—relationship to it. How is it being marketed? How do we think about it? How should we use it?

First off, Chimero starts with his conclusion. He believes we should reframe AI to be less like a tool or technology, and more like a musical instrument.

Thinking of AI as an instrument recenters the focus on practice. Instruments require a performance that relies on technique—the horn makes the sound, but how and what you blow into it matters; the drum machine keeps time and plays the samples, but what you sample and how you swing on top of it becomes your signature.

In other words, instruments can surprise you with what they offer, but they are not automatic. In the end, they require a touch. You use a tool, but you play an instrument. It’s a more expansive way of doing, and the doing of it all is important, because that’s where you develop the instincts for excellence. There is no purpose to better machines if they do not also produce better humans.

Then, he wanders off to give examples of four artists and their relationships with technology, stoking his audience—me, us, you—to consider “some more flexibility in how to collaborate with the machine in your own work, creative or otherwise.”

Read the whole piece. Curl up this mid-autumn Sunday afternoon with some hot tea and take the 20–25 minutes to read it and take it in.

Chris Butler wrestles with a generations-old problem in his latest piece: new technologies shortcut the old ways of doing things and therefore quality takes a nosedive. But is it different this time with the tools available to us today?

While design is more accessible than ever, with Adobe experimenting with chat interfaces and Canva offering pro-level design apps for free, putting a tool into the hands of someone doesn’t mean they’ll know how to wield it.

Anyone can now create something that looks professional, that uses modern layouts and typography, that feels designed. But producing something that feels designed does not mean that any design has happened. Most tools don’t ask you what you want someone to do. They don’t force you to make hard choices about hierarchy and priority. They offer you options, and if you don’t already understand the fundamentals of how design guides attention and serves purpose, you’ll end up using too many of them to no end.

Butler concludes that as designers, we’re in a bind because “the pace of change is only accelerating, and it is a serious challenge to designers to determine how much time to spend keeping up.”

You can’t build foundational knowledge while chasing the new. But you can’t ignore the new entirely, or you’ll fall behind. So you split your time, and both efforts can suffer. The fundamentals remain elusive because you’re too busy keeping up. The tools remain half-learned because you’re too busy teaching [design fundamentals to clients].

Butler—nor I—know if there’s a good solution to this problem. Like I said at the start, this is an age-old problem. Friction is a feature, not a bug.

This is just the reality of working in a field that sits at the intersection of human behavior and technological change. Both move, but at different speeds. Human attention, cognition, emotion — these things change slowly, if at all. Technology changes constantly. Design has to navigate both.

And while Butler’s essay never explicitly mentions AI or AI tools, it’s strongly implied. Developers using AI tools to code miss out on the fundamentals of building software. Designers (or their clients) using AI to design face the issues brought up here. Those who use AI to accelerate what they already know, that seems to be The Way.

While this piece by Matias Heikkilä is from a developer’s point-of-view, it’s applicable to designers. He poses a conceit: LLMs are good at coding, but can’t see the bigger picture and build software. To be sure, Cursor and Claude Code reason and produce plans. I’ve given both fairly small products to build. Their plans look good, but when they try to implement, invariably they’ll hit a snag. They’ll confidently say “It’s done!” with a green checkmark emoji. And then when I go to run it, the program invariably fails.

Heikkilä, writing in his company’s blog:

There is old wisdom that says: Coding is easy, software engineering is hard. It seems fair enough to say that LLMs are already able to automate a lot of coding. GPT-5 and the like solve isolated well-defined problems with a pretty nice success rate. Coding, however, is not what most people are getting paid for. Building a production-ready app is not coding, it’s software engineering.

In just about a year, Bluesky has doubled its userbase from 20 million to 40 million. Last year, it benefitted from “the wake of Donald Trump’s re-election as president, and Elon Musk’s continued degradation of X, Bluesky welcomed an exodus of liberals, leftists, journalists, and academic researchers, among other groups.” Writing in his Platformer newsletter, Casey Newton reflects back on the year, surfacing up the challenges Bluesky has tried to solve in reimagining a more “feel-good feed.”

It’s clear that you can build a nicer online environment than X has; in many ways Bluesky already did. What’s less clear is that you can build a Twitter clone that mostly makes people feel good. For as vital and hilarious as Twitter often was, it also accelerated the polarization of our politics and often left users feeling worse than they did before they opened it.

Bluesky’s ingenuity in reimagining feeds and moderation tools has been a boon to social networks, which have happily adopted some of its best ideas. (You can now find “starter packs” on both Threads and Mastodon.) Ultimately, though, it has the same shape and fundamental dynamics as a place that even its most active users called “the Hellsite.”

Bluesky began by rethinking many core assumptions about social networks. To realize its dream of a feel-good feed, though, it will likely need to rethink several more.

I agree with Newton. I’m not sure that in this day and age, building a friendlier, snark- and toxic-free social media platform is possible. Users are too used to hiding behind keyboards. It’s not only the shitposters but also the online mobs who jump on the anything that might seem out of the norm with whatever community a user might be in.

Newton again:

Nate Silver opened the latest front in the Bluesky debate in September with a post about “Blueskyism,” which he defines as “not a political movement so much as a tribal affiliation, a niche set of attitudes and style of discursive norms that almost seem designed in a lab to be as unappealing as possible to anyone outside the clique.” Its hallmarks, he writes, are aggressively punishing dissent, credentialism, and a dedication to the proposition that we are all currently living through the end of the world.

Mobs, woke or otherwise, silence speech and freeze ideas into orthodoxy.

I miss the pre-Elon Musk Twitter. But I can’t help but think it would have become just as polarized and toxic regardless of Musk transforming it into X.

I think the form of text-based social media from the last 20 years is akin to manufacturing tobacco in the mid-1990s. We know it’s harmful. It may be time to slap a big warning label on these platforms and discourage use.

(Truth be told, I’m on the social networks—see the follow icons in the sidebar—but mainly to give visibility into my work here, though largely unsuccessfully.)

Robin Sloan wrote a thought piece exploring what “extended thinking” and “reasoning” models actually mean.

…the models can only “think” by spooling out more text — while human thinking often does the oppo­site: retreats into silence, because it doesn’t have words yet to say what it wants to say.

That’s an interesting point Sloan makes. I believe there’s nuance though.

I’ve long felt that I do my best thinking by writing. When I work through a gnarly design problem, I’m writing first, then sketching, then maybe Figma-ing. But that could be after a walk, a shower, or doing the dishes.

I think the headline is a hard stance, but I appreciate the sentiment. All the best designers and creatives—including developers—I’ve ever worked with do things on the side. Or in Rohit Prakash’s words, they tinker. They’re always making something, learning along the way.

Prakash, writing in his blog:

Acquiring good taste comes through using various things, discarding the ones you don’t like and keeping the ones you do. if you never try various things, you will not acquire good taste.

It’s important for designers to see other designs and use other products—if you’re a software designer. It’s equally important to look up from Dribbble, Behance, Instagram, and even this blog and go experience something unrelated to design. Art, concerts, cooking. All of it gets synthesized through your POV and becomes your taste.

In a very gutsy move, Grammarly is rebranding to Superhuman. I was definitely scratching my head when the company acquired the eponymous email app back in June. Why is this spellcheck-on-steroids company buying an email product?

Turns out the company has been quietly acquiring other products too, like Coda, a collaborative document platform similar to Notion, building the company into an AI-powered productivity suite.

So the name Superhuman makes sense.

Grace Snelling, writing in Fast Company about the rebrand:

[Grammarly CEO Shishir] Mehrotra explains it like this: Grammarly has always run on the “AI superhighway,” meaning that, instead of living on its own platform, Grammarly travels with you to places like Google Docs, email, or your Notes app to help improve your writing. Superhuman will use that superhighway to bring a huge new range of productivity tools to wherever you’re working.

In shedding the Grammarly name, Mehrota says:

“The trouble with the name ‘Grammarly’ is, like many names, its strength is its biggest weakness: it’s so precise,” Mehrotra says. “People’s expectations of what Grammarly can do for them are the reason it’s so popular. You need very little pitch for what it does, because the name explains the whole thing … As we went and looked at all the other things we wanted to be able to do for you, people scratch their heads a bit [saying], ‘Wait, I don’t really perceive Grammarly that way.’”

The company tapped branding agency Smith & Diction, the firm behind Perplexity’s brand identity.

Grammarly began briefing the Smith & Diction team on the rebrand in early 2025, but the company didn’t officially select its new name until late June, when the Superhuman acquisition was completed. For Chara and Mike Smith, the couple behind Smith & Diction, that meant there were only about three months to fully realize Superhuman’s branding.

Ouch, just three months for a complete rebrand. Ambitious indeed, but they hit a homerun with the icon, an arrow cursor which also morphs into a human with a cape, lovingly called “Hero.”

In their case study writeup, one of the Smiths says:

I was working on logo concepts and I was just drawing the basic shapes, you know the ones: triangles, circles, squares, octagons, etc., to see if I could get a story to fall out of any of them. Then I drew this arrow and was like hmm, that kinda looks like a cursor, oh wow it also kinda looks like a cape. I wonder if I put a dot on top of tha…OH MY GOD IT’S A SUPERHERO.

Check out the full case study for example visuals from the rebrand and some behind-the-scenes sketches.

Apologies for sharing back-to-back articles from NN/g, but this is a good comprehensive index of all the AI-related guides the firm has published. Start here if you’re just getting into it.

Highlights from my POV:

• Your AI UX Intern: Meet Ari. AI tools in UX act like junior interns whose output serves as a starting draft needing review, specific instructions, and added context. Their work should be checked and not used for final products or decisions without supervision.
• The Future-Proof Designer. AI speeds up product development and automates design tasks, but creates risks like design marginalization and information overload. Designers must focus on strategic thinking, outcomes, and critical judgment to ensure decisions benefit users and business value.
• Design Taste vs. Technical Skills in the Era of AI. Generative AI has equalized access to design output, but quality depends on creative discernment and taste, which remain essential for impactful results.