Proprioception is the body’s sense of where its parts are in space. Marcin Wichary borrows the term for software that knows where its hardware lives: where the buttons are, where the ports are, where the camera is. His proposed design principle:

The rule here would be, perhaps, a version of “show, don’t tell.” We could call it “point to, don’t describe.” (Describing what to do means cognitive effort to read the words and understand them. An arrow pointing to something should be easier to process.)

Wichary walks through a series of examples, mostly from Apple: the Apple Pay animation that points at the side button, the iPad camera prompt that points to the physical lens, Dynamic Island camouflaging missing pixels as a functional UI element. The one that caught my eye is the device Simulator matching the physical dimensions of your actual phone on-screen and staying accurate even when you change the display density. Reminds me of one of the earliest selling points of the Mac’s 72dpi—it matches the real world: 72 points to an inch.

The MacBook Neo is where Wichary applies the principle and finds Apple falling short. The new model has two USB-C ports with different speeds, and macOS notifies you with text:

I think this is nice! But it’s also just words. It feels a bit cheap. macOS knows exactly where the ports are, and could have thrown a little warning in the lower left corner of the screen, complete with an onscreen animation of swapping the plug to the other port – similar to what “double clicking to pay” does, so you wouldn’t have to look to the side to locate the socket first.

Last September I wrote about why we still need a HyperCard for the AI era—a tool that’s accessible but controllable, that lets everyday people build and share software without needing to be developers. John Allsopp sees the demand side of that equation already arriving.

Writing on LinkedIn, he starts with his 13-year-old daughter sending him a link to Aippy, a platform where people create, share, and remix apps like TikTok videos. It already has thousands of apps on it:

Millions of people who have never written a line of code are starting to build applications — not scripts or simple automations, but genuine applications with interfaces and logic and persistence.

The shift Allsopp describes isn’t just about who’s building. It’s about how software spreads:

This pattern — creation, casual sharing, organic spread — looks a lot more like how content moves on TikTok or Instagram than how apps move through the App Store. Software becomes something you make and share, and remix. Not something you publish and sell. It surfaces through social connections and social discovery, not through store listings and search rankings.

And the platforms we have aren’t built for it. Allsopp points out that the appliance model Apple introduced in 2007 made sense for an audience that was intimidated by technology. That audience grew up:

The platforms designed to protect users from complexity are now protecting users from their own creativity and that of their peers.

This is the world I was writing about in “Why We Still Need a HyperCard for the AI Era.” I argued for tools with direct manipulation, technical abstraction, and local distribution—ingredients HyperCard had that current AI coding tools still miss. Allsopp is describing the audience those tools need to serve. The gap between the two is where the opportunity sits.

Daniel Kennett dug out his old Mac Pro to revisit Aperture, the photo app Apple discontinued in 2015:

It’s hard to overstate quite how revolutionary and smooth this flow is until you had it for multiple years before having it taken away. Nothing on the market—even over a decade later—is this good at meeting you where you are and not interrupting your flow.

Kennett’s observation: Aperture came to you. Most software makes you go to it. You could edit a photo right on the map view, or while laying out a book page. No separate editing mode. Press H for the adjustments HUD, make your changes, done.

The cruel twist was Apple suggesting Photos as a replacement. Ten years later, photographers are still grumbling about it in comment sections.

There’s a design principle I return to often: if everything is emphasized, nothing is. Bold every word in a paragraph and you’ve just made regular text harder to read. Highlight every line in a document and you’ve defeated the purpose of highlighting.

Nikita Prokopov applies this to Apple’s macOS Tahoe, which adds icons to nearly every menu item:

Perhaps counter-intuitively, adding an icon to everything is exactly the wrong thing to do. To stand out, things need to be different. But if everything has an icon, nothing stands out.

The whole article is a detailed teardown of the icon choices—inconsistent metaphors, icons reused for unrelated actions, details too small to parse at 12×12 effective pixels. But the core problem isn’t execution. It’s the premise.

Prokopov again:

It’s delusional to think that there’s a good icon for every action if you think hard enough. There isn’t. It’s a lost battle from the start.

What makes this such a burn is that Apple knew better. Prokopov pulls from the 1992 Macintosh Human Interface Guidelines, which warned that poorly used icons become “unpleasant, distracting, illegible, messy, cluttered, confusing, frustrating.” Thirty-two years later, Apple built exactly that.

This applies beyond icons. Any time you’re tempted to apply something universally—color, motion, badges, labels—ask whether you’re helping users find what matters or just adding visual noise. Emphasis only works through contrast.

When I worked at LEVEL Studios (which became Rosetta) in the early 2010s, we had a whole group dedicated to icon design. It was small but incredibly talented and led by Jon Delman, a master of this craft. And yes, Jon and team designed icons for Apple.

Those glory days are long gone and the icons coming out of Cupertino these days are pedestrian, to put it gently. The best observation about Apple’s icon decline comes from Héliographe, via John Gruber:

If you put the Apple icons in reverse it looks like the portfolio of someone getting really really good at icon design.

Posted by @heliographe.studio on Threads

Seven Pages icons from newest to oldest, each one more artistically interesting than the last. The original is exquisite. The current one is a squircle with a pen on it.

This is even more cringe-inducing when you keep in mind something Gruber recalls from a product briefing with Jony Ive years ago:

Apple didn’t change things just for the sake of changing them. That Apple was insistent on only changing things if the change made things better. And that this was difficult, at times, because the urge to do something that looks new and different is strong, especially in tech.

Apple’s hardware team still operates this way. An M5 MacBook Pro looks like an M1 MacBook Pro. An Apple Watch Series 11 is hard to distinguish from a Series 0. These designs don’t change because they’re excellent.

The software team lost that discipline somewhere. Gruber again:

I know a lot of talented UI designers and a lot of insightful UI critics. All of them agree that MacOS’s UI has gotten drastically worse over the last 10 years, in ways that seem so obviously worse that it boggles the mind how it happened.

The icons are just the most visible symptom. The confidence to not change something—to trust that the current design is still the best design—requires knowing the difference between familiarity and complacency. Somewhere along the way, Apple’s software designers stopped being able to tell.

Hard to believe that the very first fully computer animated feature film came out 30 years ago. To say that Toy Story was groundbreaking would be an understatement. If you look at the animated feature landscape today, 100% is computer-generated.

In this re-found interview with Steve Jobs exactly a year after the movie premiered in theaters, Jobs talks about a few things, notably how different Silicon Valley and Hollywood were—and still are.

From the Steve Jobs Archive:

In this footage, Steve reveals the long game behind Pixar’s seeming overnight success. With striking clarity, he explains how its business model gives artists and engineers a stake in their creations, and he reflects on what Disney’s hard-won wisdom taught him about focus and discipline. He also talks about the challenge of leading a team so talented that it inverts the usual hierarchy, the incentives that inspire people to stay with the company, and the deeper purpose that unites them all: to tell stories that last and put something of enduring value into the culture.  

And Jobs in his own words:

Well, in this blending of a Hollywood  culture and a Silicon Valley culture, one of the things that we encountered was  that the Hollywood culture and the Silicon Valley culture each used different models of  employee retention. Hollywood uses the stick, which is the contract, and Silicon Valley  uses the carrot, which is the stock option. And we examined both of those in really pretty  great detail, both economically, but also psychologically and culture wise, what kind of  culture do you end up with. And while there’s a lot of reasons to want to lock down your  employees for the duration of a film because, if somebody leaves, you’re at risk, those  same dangers exist in Silicon Valley. During an engineering project, you don’t want to lose people, and yet, they managed to evolve another system than contracts. And we preferred the Silicon Valley model in this case, which basically gives people stock in the company so that we all have the same goal, which is to create shareholder value. But also, it makes us constantly worry about making Pixar the greatest company we can  so that nobody would ever want to leave. 

Mnemonics—short audio branding—is one of those trends that come and go. The one for Intel was pretty well-known for a long time and spurred the creation of similar sonic identities (e.g., T-Mobile, Netflix). Apple announced in mid-October that they were dropping the “Plus” from their streaming service to be known simply as “Apple TV.” The news spurred a bunch of punditry around probable confusion with the Apple TV app and Apple TV hardware device.

Yesterday, Apple shared the new identity work that drops the “+” from the streaming service name and logo. It’s in the form of the opening logo and mnemonic that will appear in front of shows.

Here is a longer version that’ll appear before films.

In an interview, Finneas O’Connell (who goes by his stage name Finneas), brother of pop star Billie Eilish and her main collaborator, spilled the beans on how he came up with it. Chris Willman, writing for Variety:

Speaking via Zoom from his home studio, Finneas points to the piano behind him as a starting point for a fleeting piece of music whose instrumentation isn’t easy to pin down before it’s gone in one ear and out the other at the start of a viewing experience. “I have my upright piano back here, so I sat and started there. I’m always more able to make something quickly on a real instrument than I am with software. I played a chord that felt kind of hopeful and kind of optimistic, but had gravity to it and hopefully had a little bit of an enigmatic, mysterious quality. And so I had this chord thing happening and then I started building the sounds around it. I had these pieces of zinc and I was hitting them and then reversing the audio, and I was playing real piano and then reversing that, and playing these bass synthesizers and then pitching those up and gliding them down.”

Beyond the cool sound, I love how the logo sting seems to be inspired by early TV logo idents like this one for NBC from 1967.

Update November 6, 2025 3:00 PM PT:

Ad Age reports that the logo sting was filmed in-camera! Writing in the industry mag, Tim Nudd says the branding was done by Apple’s longtime agency TBWA\Media Arts Lab and production company Optical Arts, and that its “lush visuals are meant to capture the platform’s cinematic ambitions and remind viewers that Apple TV is where prestige storytelling lives.”

The report includes a link to a 33-second behind-the-scenes video:

Did you know that Apple made Office before Microsoft made Office? It was called AppleWorks and launched in 1984 for the Apple II. They’d make it for the Mac in 1991 and called it ClarisWorks because Apple spun off a software subsidiary for who knows what reason.

Howard Oakley recently wrote a brief history of AppleWorks and shared some nice visuals. Though I wished he included an image from that original Apple II text-based AppleWorks as well.

Nielsen Norman Group weighs in on iOS 26 Liquid Glass. Predictably, they don’t like it. Raluca Budiu:

With iOS 26, Apple seems to be leaning harder into visual design and decorative UI effects — but at what cost to usability? At first glance, the system looks fluid and modern. But try to use it, and soon those shimmering surfaces and animated controls start to get in the way.

I get it. Flat—or mostly flat—and static UI conforms to the heuristics. But honestly, it can get boring and homogenous quickly. Put the NNg microscope on any video game UI and it’ll be torn to shreds, despite gamers learning to adapt quickly.

I’ve had iOS 26 on my phone for just a couple of weeks. I continue to be delighted by the animations and effects. So far, nothing has hindered the usability for me. We’ll see what happens as more and more apps get translated.

As much as I defended the preview, and as much as Apple wants to make Liquid Glass a thing, the new UI is continuing to draw criticism. Dan Moren for Six Colors:

“Glass” is the overall look of these updates, and it’s everywhere. Transparent, frosted, distorting. In some places it looks quite cool, such as in the edge distortion when you’re swiping up on the lock screen. But elsewhere, it seems to me that glass may not be quite the right material for the job. The Glass House might be architecturally impressive, but it’s not particularly practical.

It’s also a definite philosophical choice, and one that’s going to engender some criticism—much of it well-deserved. Apple has argued that it’s about getting controls out of the way, but is that really what’s happening here? It’s hard to argue that having a transparent button sitting right on top of your email is helping that email be more prominent. To take this argument to its logical conclusion, why is the keyboard not fully transparent glass over our content?

I’ve yet to upgrade myself. I will say that everyone dislikes change. Lest we forget that the now-ubiquitous flat design introduced by iOS 7 was also criticized.

Ah, this brings back memories! I spent so much time in MacPaint working with these patterns when I was young. Paul Smith faithfully recreates them:

I was working on something and thought it would be fun to use one of the classic Mac black-and-white patterns in the project. I’m talking about the original 8×8-pixel ones that were in the original Control Panel for setting the desktop background and in MacPaint as fill patterns.

I figured there’d must be clean, pixel-perfect GIFs or PNGs of them somewhere on the web. And perhaps there are, but after poking around a bit, I ran out of energy for that, but by then had a head of steam for extracting the patterns en masse from the original source, somehow. Then I could produce whatever format I needed for them.

It’s no secret that I am a big fan of Severance, the Apple TV+ show that has 21 Emmy nominations this year. I made a fan project earlier in the year that generates Outie facts for your Innie.

After launching a teaser campaign back in April, Atomic Keyboard is finally taking pre-orders for their Severance-inspired keyboard just for Macrodata Refinement department users. The show based the MDR terminals on the Data General Dasher D2 terminal from 1977. So this new keyboard includes three layouts:

1. “Innie” which is show-accurate, meaning no Escape, no Option, and no Control keys, and includes the trackball
2. “Outie,” a 60% layout that includes modern modifier keys and the trackball
3. “Dasher” which replicates the DG terminal layout

It’s not cheap. The final retail price will be $899, but they’re offering a pre-Kickstarter price of $599.

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.

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.

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.

I have relayed here before the story that I’ve been using Macs since 1985. It wasn’t the hardware that drew me in—it was MacPaint. I was always an artistic kid so being able to paint on a digital canvas seemed thrilling to me. And of course it was back then.

Behind MacPaint, was a man named Bill Atkinson. Atkinson died last Thursday, June 5 of pancreatic cancer. In a short remembrance, John Gruber said:

I say this with no hyperbole: Bill Atkinson may well have been the best computer programmer who ever lived. Without question, he’s on the short list. What a man, what a mind, what gifts to the world he left us.

I‘m happy that Figma also remembered Atkinson and that they are standing on his shoulders.

Every day at Figma, we wrestle with the same challenges Atkinson faced: How do you make powerful tools feel effortless? How do you hide complexity behind intuitive interactions? His fingerprints are on every pixel we push, every selection we make, every moment of creative flow our users experience.

Sebastiaan de With, former designer at Apple and currently co-founder and designer at Lux (makers of Halide, Kino, Spectre, and Orion) imagined what the next era in iOS design might be. (WWDC, Apple’s developer conference is next week. This is typically when they unveil the new operating systems that will launch in the fall. Rumors are flying as usual.)

But he starts with a history lesson:

Smart people study history to understand the future. If we were to categorize the epochs of iOS design, we could roughly separate them into the Shaded Age, the Adaptive Age, and the New Age.

The Shaded Age, or skeuomorphic age, took inspiration from the Dashboard feature of Mac OS X Tiger. And then the Flat Age brought on by the introduction of iOS 7.

de With’s concept mocks for the New Age are fantastic. Based on the physicality of visionOS, with specular highlights and reactive reflections, it’s luscious and reminds me of the first time I ever laid eyes on Aqua—the glossy, candy-like look of the original Mac OS X. Steve Jobs said at its introduction, “…one of the design goals was when you saw it you wanted to lick it.”

Sebastiaan de With: “Philosophically, if I was Apple, I’d describe this as finally having an interface that matches the beautiful material properties of its devices. All the surfaces of your devices have glass screens. This brings an interface of a matching material, giving the user a feeling of the glass itself coming alive.”