John Calhoun joined Apple 30 years ago as a programmer to work on the Color Picker.

Having never written anything in assembly, you can imagine how overjoyed I was. It’s not actually a very accurate analogy, but imagine someone handing you a book in Chinese and asking you to translate it into English (I’m assuming here that you don’t know Chinese of course). Okay, it wasn’t that hard, but maybe you get a sense that this was quite a hurdle that I would have to overcome.

Calhoun was given an old piece of code and tasked with updating it. Instead, he translated it into a programming language he knew—C—and then decided to add to the feature. He explains:

I disliked HSL as a color space, I preferred HSV (Hue, Saturation, Value) because when I did artwork I was more comfortable thinking about color in those terms. So writing an HSV color picker was on my short list.

When I had my own color picker working I think I found that it was kind of fun. Perhaps for that reason, I struck out again and wrote another color picker. The World Wide Web (www) was a rather new thing that seemed to be catching on, so I naturally thought that an HTML color picker made sense. So I tackled that one as well. It was more or less the RGB color picker but the values were in hexadecimal and a combined RGB string value like “#FFCC33” was made easy to copy for the web designer.

So an engineer decided, all on his own, that he’d add a couple extra features. Including the fun crayon picker:

On a roll, I decided to also knock out a “crayon picker”. At this point, to be clear, the color picker was working and I felt I understood it well enough. As I say, I was kind of just having some fun now.

And Calhoun makes this point:

It was frankly a thing I liked about working for Apple in those days. The engineers were the one’s driving the ship. As I said, I wrote an HSV picker because it was, I thought, a more intuitive color space for artists. I wrote the HTML color picker because of the advent of the web. And I wrote the crayon picker because it seemed to me to be the kind of thing Apple was all about: HSL, RGB — these were kind of nerdy color spaces — a box of crayons is how the rest of us picked colors.

Making software—especially web software—has matured since then, with product managers and designers now collaborating closely with engineers. But with AI coding assistants, the idea of an individual contributor making solo decisions and shipping code might become de rigueur again.

Let’s continue down Mac memory lane with this fun post from Basic Apple Guy:

With macOS 26, Apple has announced a dramatically new look to their UI: Liquid Glass. Solid material icon elements give way to softer, shinier, glassier icons. The rounded rectangle became slightly more rounded, and Apple eliminated the ability for icon elements to extend beyond the icon rectangle (as seen in the current icons for GarageBand, Photo Booth, Dictionary, etc.).

With this release being one of the most dramatic visual overhauls of macOS’s design, I wanted to begin a collection chronicling the evolution of the system icons over the years. I’ve been rolling these out on social media over the past week and will continue to add to and update this collection slowly over the summer. Enjoy!

This is an amazing article and website by Marcin Wichary, the man behind the excellent Shift Happens book.

…I had a realization that the totemic 1984 Mac control panel, designed by Susan Kare, is still to this day perhaps the only settings screen ever brought up in casual conversation.

I kept wondering about that screen, and about what happened since then. Turns out, the Mac settings have lived a far more fascinating life than I imagined, have been redesigned many times, and can tell us a lot about the early history and the troubled upbringing of this interesting machine.

Indeed, Wichary goes through multiple versions of Mac operating systems and performs digital paleontology, uncovering long lost Settings minutiae. It’s also a great lesson in UI along the way. Be sure to click in the Mac screens.

Paul Worthington writing about the recent Cannes Festival of Creativity:

…nostalgia is rapidly becoming a major idea d’jour among marketers targeting that oh-so-desirable “Gen Z” demographic.

As a result, it should come as no surprise that if you were to walk around Cannes over the past month or so, you’d be forgiven for thinking brands no longer had any interest in the future: Lisa Frank notebooks. Tamagotchi cameos. Taglines from 1999. Brand after brand strapping itself to the past, seeking refuge in comfort. Instacart. Mattel. Burger King. Skoda. All treating relevance as if it were a rerun.

But along with nostalgia, another theme was present at Cannes—differentiation:

Cannes was also a parade of brands betting on something riskier. Something sharper. Something new. Liquid Death. Stripe. Tesla. Anduril. Companies building out from belief systems focused resolutely on what makes them unique. Making things you couldn’t have predicted because they weren’t remixes of the past—they were statements of the future.

Worthington argues that these two themes are diametrically opposed. Nostalgia brands are “fundamentally risk-averse” and feel safe. While differentiated brands are “risk-embracing,” betting that consumers are desperate for “something weird, sharp, and built from scratch.”

Stephen Heller, writing for PRINT magazine, revisits a long out-of-print book called *Visual Persuasion *by Stephen Baker, a creative director from the Mad Men era of advertising.

Although published in 1961, Visual Persuasion has as much relevance, vitality, insight, vision and spunk as any recently published book (including those that I’ve authored). The truth is this: I wish I had written it. Even though it is nearly 65 years out of print (and contains its share of outdated mores and stereotypes), it easily could still serve (with a minute refresh) to provide ideas to ward off what designers fear is the inevitable AI apocalypse—an end to original thinking and making, visual or otherwise.

One maxim, Heller notes:

Eye movements are based on conditioned reflexes. “Left-to-right habit makes our eyes travel clockwise in exploring a [layout],” Baker notes. The optical center of a page is slightly to the left. The tendency is to focus attention on a person’s eyes more than on any other part of their face. This mirrors one’s emotions with fair accuracy.

Read past some of the hyperbole in this piece by Andy Budd. I do think the message is sound.

If you’re working at a fast-growth tech startup, you’re probably already feeling the pressure. Execs want more output with fewer people. Product and engineering are experimenting with AI tooling. And you’re being asked to move faster than ever — with less clarity on what the team should even own.

I will admit that I personally feel this pressure too. Albeit, not from my employer but from the chatter in our industry. I’m observing the younger companies experiment with the process, collapsing roles, and expanding responsilities.

As AI eats into the production layer, the traditional boundaries between design and engineering are starting to dissolve. Many of the tasks once owned by design will soon be handled by others — or by machines.

Time will tell when this becomes widespread. I think designers will be asked to ship more code. And PMs and engineers may ship small design tweaks.

The reality is, we’ll likely need fewer designers overall. But the ones we do need will be more specialised, more senior, and more strategically valuable than ever before.

You’ll want AI-literate, full-stack designers — people who are comfortable working across the entire product surface, from UX to code, and from interface to infrastructure. Designers who can navigate ambiguity, embrace new tooling, and confidently operate in the blurred space between design and engineering.

I don’t know if I agree with the fewer number of designers. At least not in the near-term. The more AI is embedded into app experiences, the trend—I predict—will go in the opposite direction. The term “AI as material” has been floating around for a few months, but I think its meaning will morph. AI will be the new UI, and thus we need designers to help define those experiences.

I love this from Marc Brooker:

Every organization and industry has watering holes where the whiners hang out. The cynical. The jaded. These spots feel attractive. Everybody has something they can complain about, and complaining is fun. These places are inviting and inclusive: as long as you’re whining, or complaining, or cynical, you’re in. If you’re positive, optimistic, or ambitious, you’re out.

Avoid these places.

I’ve seen this firsthand on Reddit. Seems like the r/graphic_design and r/UXDesign subreddits have been full of posts decrying the state of the job market and attacking AI. Any meaningful conversations about the work or debates about AI are too few and far between.

Brooker again:

My advice: find the yes, and communities, and spend time there. Find the people doing cool stuff you admire, and spend time with them. Find the people doing the work you want to do, or living the life you want to live, and find ways to learn from them.

Those are hard to find online. If you know of any, please let me know!

Tom Scott, giving advice to startups about how to hire designers:

The worst thing for a designer is join a company under the premise they are going to invest in craft and never get serious about it. This results in the designer getting stuck in an average company, making it harder for them to move into a top-tier design-led company afterwards.

The TL;DR is if you’re serious about hiring great talent, put your money where your mouth is, create the right environment and get serious about design like you do with product, eng, marketing etc.

While the post is aimed at startup employers, it’s good for designers to understand the advice they’re being given.

This piece from Mike Schindler is a good reminder that a lot of the content we see on LinkedIn is written for engagement. It’s a double-edged sword, isn’t it? We want our posts to be read, commented upon, and shared. We see the patterns that get a lot of reactions and we mimic them.

We’re losing ourselves to our worst instincts. Not because we’re doomed, but because we’re treating this moment like a game of hot takes and hustle. But right now is actually a rare and real opportunity for a smarter, more generous conversation — one that helps our design community navigate uncertainty with clarity, creativity, and a sense of shared agency.

But the point that Schindler is making is this: AI is a fundamental shift in the technology landscape that demands nuanced and thoughtful discourse. There’s a lot of hype. But as technologists, designers, and makers of products, we really need to lead rather than scare.

I’ve tried to do that in my writing (though I may not always be successful). I hope you do too.

He has this handy table too…

Designed by Mike Schindler (mschindler.com)

Jeff Beer, writing for Fast Company about a documentary on Ilon Specht, the copywriter who wrote the iconic line for L’Oreal, “Because I’m Worth It.”

In the film, she describes male colleagues who were always arguing with her and taking credit when something worked. She recalled how during pitch and idea meetings for L’Oreal Preference hair color, male colleagues had suggested an idea that cast the woman as an object, rather than the subject. “I was feeling angry. I’m not interested in writing anything about looking good for men. Fuck ‘em,” says an elderly, and terminally ill, Specht in the film, before looking straight down the camera to the male camera operator. “And fuck you, too.”

The film won the Grand Prix at the Cannes Lions a couple weeks ago as it was commissioned by L’Oreal.

The original ad for L’Oreal Preference hair color that first used the line, “Because I’m Worth It” is a single shot of a woman walking towards the camera, explaining why she likes it, and how it makes her feel.

In the doc, we find out that spot almost never happened. In fact, Specht went behind her bosses’ back to create the ad after her agency produced and the brand approved a spot with almost the exact same script, except it was a man speaking the words on behalf of his wife, walking silently beside him. It’s clear that 50 years later it still made Specht angry. Angry enough to not want to talk about advertising or that campaign ever again.

Before there was Jessica Hische, there was Jim Parkinson. You might not know his name, but you’ve seen his work. Most famously, he was known for the mastheads for Rolling Stone magazine and the LA Times. Stephen Coles has this remembrance.

Here we go. Figma has just dropped their S-1, or their registration for an initial public offering (IPO).

Rollup of stats from Figma’s S-1.

While a lot of the risk factors are boilerplate—legalese to cover their bases—the one about AI is particularly interesting, “Competitive developments in AI and our inability to effectively respond to such developments could adversely affect our business, operating results, and financial condition.”

Developments in AI are already impacting the software industry significantly, and we expect this impact to be even greater in the future. AI has become more prevalent in the markets in which we operate and may result in significant changes in the demand for our platform, including, but not limited to, reducing the difficulty and cost for competitors to build and launch competitive products, altering how consumers and businesses interact with websites and apps and consume content in ways that may result in a reduction in the overall value of interface design, or by otherwise making aspects of our platform obsolete or decreasing the number of designers, developers, and other collaborators that utilize our platform. Any of these changes could, in turn, lead to a loss of revenue and adversely impact our business, operating results, and financial condition.

There’s a lot of uncertainty they’re highlighting:

• Could competitors use AI to build competing products?
• Could AI reduce the need for websites and apps which decreases the need for interfaces?
• Could companies reduce workforces, thus reducing the number of seats they buy?

These are all questions the greater tech industry is asking.

In a dual profile, Ben Blumenrose spotlights Phil Vander Broek—whose startup Dopt was acquired last year by Airtable—and Filip Skrzesinski—who is currently working on Subframe—in the Designer Founders newsletter.

One of the lessons Vander Broek learned was to not interview customers just to validate an idea. Interview them to get the idea first. In other words, discover the pain points:

They ran 60+ interviews in three waves. The first 20 conversations with product and growth leaders surfaced a shared pain point: driving user adoption was painfully hard, and existing tools felt bolted on. The next 20 calls helped shape a potential solution through mockups and prototypes—one engineer was so interested he volunteered for weekly co-design sessions. A final batch of 20 calls confirmed their ideal customer was engineers, not PMs.

As for Skrzesinski, he’s learning that being a startup founder isn’t about building the product—it’s about building a business:

But here’s Filip’s counterintuitive advice: “Don’t start a company because you love designing products. Do it in spite of that.”

“You won’t be designing in the traditional sense—you’ll be designing the company’s DNA,” he explains. “It’s the invisible work: how you organize, how you think, how you make decisions. How it feels to work there, to use what you’re making, to believe in it.”

Darragh Burke and Alex Kern, software engineers at Figma, writing on the Figma blog:

Building code layers in Figma required us to reconcile two different models of thinking about software: design and code. Today, Figma’s visual canvas is an open-ended, flexible environment that enables users to rapidly iterate on designs. Code unlocks further capabilities, but it’s more structured—it requires hierarchical organization and precise syntax. To reconcile these two models, we needed to create a hybrid approach that honored the rapid, exploratory nature of design while unlocking the full capabilities of code.

The solution turned out to be code layers, actual canvas primitives that can be manipulated just like a rectangle, and respects auto layout properties, opacity, border radius, etc.

The solution we arrived at was to implement code layers as a new canvas primitive. Code layers behave like any other layer, with complete spatial flexibility (including moving, resizing, and reparenting) and seamless layout integration (like placement in autolayout stacks). Most crucially, they can be duplicated and iterated on easily, mimicking the freeform and experimental nature of the visual canvas. This enables the creation and comparison of different versions of code side by side. Typically, making two copies of code for comparison requires creating separate git branches, but with code layers, it’s as easy as pressing ⌥ and dragging. This automatically creates a fork of the source code for rapid riffing.

In my experience, it works as advertised, though the code layer element will take a second to render when its spatial properties are edited. Makes sense though, since it’s rendering code.

Christoph Niemann, in a visual essay about generative AI and art:

…the biggest challenge is that writing an A.I. prompt requires the artist to know what he wants. If only it were that simple.

Creating art is a nonlinear process. I start with a rough goal. But then I head into dead ends and get lost or stuck.

The secret to my process is to be on high alert in this deep jungle for unexpected twists and turns, because this is where a new idea is born.

It’s a fun meditation on the meaning of AI-assisted and AI-generated artwork.

My family and I are going on vacation, and I thought it might be great to share this design summer reading list from Design Better. For me, I’ll be picking up Nonlinear by Kevin Bethune. It looks great.

If you want an introduction on how to use Cursor as a designer, here’s a must-watch video. It’s just over half-an-hour long and Elizabeth Lin goes through several demos in Cursor.

Cursor is much more advanced than the AI prompt-to-code tools I’ve covered here before. But with it, you’ll get much more control because you’re building with actual code. (Of course, sigh, you won’t have sliders and inputs for controlling design.)

David Singleton, writing in his blog:

Somewhere in the last few months, something fundamental shifted for me with autonomous AI coding agents. They’ve gone from a “hey this is pretty neat” curiosity to something I genuinely can’t imagine working without. Not in a hand-wavy, hype-cycle way, but in a very concrete “this is changing how I ship software” way.

I have to agree. My recent tinkering projects with Cursor using Claude 4 Sonnet (and set to Cursor’s MAX mode) have been much smoother and much more autonomous.

And Singleton has found that Claude Code and OpenAI Codex are good for different things:

For personal tools, I’ve completely shifted my approach. I don’t even look at the code anymore - I describe what I want to Claude Code, test the result, make some minor tweaks with the AI and if it’s not good enough, I start over with a slightly different initial prompt. The iteration cycle is so fast that it’s often quicker to start over than trying to debug or modify the generated code myself. This has unlocked a level of creative freedom where I can build small utilities and experiments without the usual friction of implementation details.

And the larger point Singleton makes is that if you direct the right context to the reasoning model, it can help you solve your problem more effectively:

This points to something bigger: there’s an emerging art to getting the right state into the context window. It’s sometimes not enough to just dump code at these models and ask “what’s wrong?” (though that works surprisingly often). When stuck, you need to help them build the same mental framework you’d give to a human colleague. The sequence diagram was essentially me teaching Claude how to think about our OAuth flow. In another recent session, I was trying to fix a frontend problem (some content wouldn’t scroll) and couldn’t figure out where I was missing the correct CSS incantation. Cursor’s Agent mode couldn’t spot it either. I used Chrome dev tools to copy the entire rendered HTML DOM out of the browser, put that in the chat with Claude, and it immediately pinpointed exactly where I was missing an overflow: scroll.

For my designer audience out there—likely 99% of you—I think this post is informative as to how to work with reasoning models like Claude 4 or o4. This can totally apply to prompt-to-code tools like Lovable and v0. And these ideas can likely apply to Figma Make and Subframe.

Brian Balfour, writing for the Reforge blog:

Speed isn’t just about shipping faster, it’s about accelerating your entire learning metabolism. The critical metric isn’t feature velocity but rather your speed through the complete Insight → Act → Learn loop. This distinction separates products that compound advantages from those that compound technical debt.

The point being that now with AI, product teams are shipping faster. And those who aren’t might get lapped (to use an F1 phrase).

I remember the article from 2016 titled “Hamburger Menus and Hidden Navigation Hurt UX Metrics” where the conclusion from NN/g was:

Discoverability is cut almost in half by hiding a website’s main navigation. Also, task time is longer and perceived task difficulty increases.

Fast forward nearly 10 years later and NN/g says:

Hamburger menus are a more familiar pattern today than 10 years ago, but the same old best practices for hidden navigation still apply.

Kate Kaplan, revisiting her conclusion from nearly a decade ago:

Over the past decade, the hamburger menu — much like its namesake — has become a classic. As mobile-first design took hold, it offered a clean, space-saving solution, and when design leaders like Apple and Amazon adopted it, others followed. Its growing ubiquity helped standardize its meaning: Through repeated exposure, users learned to recognize and interpret the icon with increasing confidence.

I think the hamburger menu grew in popularity despite NN/g’s authoritative finger wagging. As designers, most of the time, we have to balance between the needs of the project and client with known best practices. Many websites, especially e-commerce, don’t have four or fewer main navigation links. We had to put the links somewhere and the hamburger menu made sense.

Crazy. Methinks there’s a non-zero chance that someone at v0 read my article and decided to give us designers the control we want.

Can’t wait to try it out.

It’s been said that desktop publishing democratized graphic design. For those of you too young to know what the term means, it means the technology that enabled graphic design to go digital. It was an ecosystem, really: the Mac, PostScript, LaserWriter, and PageMaker. But before all that, designers depended on typesetters to set type.

David Langton writing for UX Collective:

A lot was lost when the Macintosh wiped out the traditional typesetting industry. From the art of typography to the craft of typesetting, many essential elements were lost. Typesetters were part of a tradition that stretched back more than 500 years to Gutenberg’s printing press. They understood the basics of type: kerning (spacing between the letters), leading (the space between lines of text), and line breaks (how to avoid widows — those solo words abandoned at the end of a paragraph). They knew about readability (like how to avoid setting type that was too wide to read). There were classic yet limited fonts, with standards for size and leading that assured that everyone working within common ranges maintained a threshold for quality. Yet it was in the craft or business side of typesetting that these services were most under appreciated. Typesetters provided overnight service. They worked overnight, so graphic designers did not have to. We would finish our days specifying the type, and the typesetters would keystroke the manuscripts, proofread, stylize the type, and set up columns following our instructions.

Designers would then pick up the galleys from the typesetters in the morning. The black type was photographically printed on white photo paper. You’d have to cut them up and paste them onto boards, assembling your layout.

Because this was such a physical process, we had to slow down. Langton says:

But since the Macintosh became an in-house tool, the process was reversed. Now, designers design first, then think about it. This shift in process has contributed to a trivialization of the role of graphic designer because anyone can noodle around with the Mac’s sophisticated type tools and make layouts. The design process has been trivialized while the thinking, the evaluation, and the strategic part of the process are often abandoned.

One small thing I’ll point out is that desktop publishing wasn’t popularized until 1985.

• PostScript was released by Adobe in 1984.
• The LaserWriter printer was released by Apple in 1985.
• PageMaker was released by Aldus—later bought by Adobe—in 1985.

Christopher Butler writes a wonderful essay about the “best interfaces we never built,” exploring the UIs from sci-fi:

Science fiction, by the way, hasn’t just predicted our technological future. We all know the classic examples, particularly those from Star Trek: the communicator and tricorder anticipated the smartphone; the PADD anticipated the tablet; the ship’s computer anticipated Siri, Alexa, Google, and AI voice interfaces; the entire interior anticipated the Jony Ive glass filter on reality. It’s enough to make a case that Trek didn’t anticipate these things so much as those who watched it as young people matured in careers in design and engineering. But science fiction has also been a fertile ground for imagining very different ways for how humans and machines interact.

He goes on to namecheck 2001: A Space Odyssey, Quantum Leap, Inspector Gadget and others. I don’t know Butler personally, but I’d bet $1 he’s Gen X like me.

As UX designers, it’s very easy to get stuck thinking that UI is just pixels rendered on a screen. But in fact, an interface is anything that translates our intentions into outcomes that technology can deliver.

Vincent Nguyen writing for Yanko Design, interviewing Alan Dye, VP of Human Interface Design at Apple:

This technical challenge reveals the core problem Apple set out to solve: creating a digital material that maintains form-changing capabilities while preserving transparency. Traditional UI elements either block content or disappear entirely, but Apple developed a material that can exist in multiple states without compromising visibility of underlying content. Dye’s emphasis on “celebrating user content” exposes Apple’s hierarchy philosophy, where the interface serves content instead of competing with it. When you tap to magnify text, the interface doesn’t resize but stretches and flows like liquid responding to pressure, ensuring your photos, videos, and web content remain the focus while navigation elements adapt around them.

Since the Jony Ive days, Apple’s hardware has always been about celebrating the content. Bezels got smaller. Screens got bigger and brighter. Even the flat design brought on by iOS 7 and eventually adopted by the whole ecosystem was a way to strip away the noise and focus on the content.

Dye’s explanation of the “glass layer versus application layer” architecture provides insight into how Apple technically implements this philosophy. The company has created a distinct separation between functional controls (the glass layer) and user content (the application layer), allowing each to behave according to different rules while maintaining visual cohesion. This architectural decision enables the morphing behavior Dye described, where controls can adapt and change while content remains stable and prominent.

The Apple platform UI today sort of does that, but Liquid Glass seems to take it even further.

Nguyen about his experience using the Music app on Mac:

The difference from current iOS becomes apparent in specific scenarios. In the current Music app, scrolling through your library feels like moving through flat, static layers. With Liquid Glass, scrolling creates a sense of depth. You can see your album artwork subtly shifting beneath the translucent controls, creating spatial awareness of where interface elements sit in relation to your content. The tab bar doesn’t just scroll with you; it creates gentle optical distortions that make the underlying content feel physically present beneath the glass surface.

The Steve Jobs archive sharing a little behind-the-scenes of Jobs’s famous Stanford commencement speech:

The talk generated no small measure of anxiety for Steve. He had attended Reed College for only a few months before dropping out; now he would be speaking to graduates of one of the world’s top research universities, a place that meant a great deal to him. An intensely private man, Steve was not in the habit of talking about his personal journey—but he knew the occasion required it.

Steve Jobs has always had an aura of invincibility around him—a creative genius who could convince those around him and the world of anything he wanted using his “reality distortion field.” But he was also human.

I’m sure you’ve seen it before. But whether you’re 22 years old or 50, his advice still resonates. I love the clarity in this scaled-up version.