I have always wanted to read 6,200 words about color! Sorry, that’s a lie. But I did skim it and really admired the very pretty illustrations. Dan Hollick is a saint for writing and illustrating this chapter in his living book called Making Software, a reference manual for designers and programmers that make digital products. From his newsletter:

I started writing this chapter just trying to explain what a color space is. But it turns out, you can't really do that without explaining a lot of other stuff at the same time.

Part of the issue is color is really complicated and full of confusing terms that need a maths degree to understand. Gamuts, color models, perceptual uniformity, gamma etc. I don't have a maths degree but I do have something better: I'm really stubborn.

And here are the opening sentences of the chapter on color:

Color is an unreasonably complex topic. Just when you think you've got it figured out, it reveals a whole new layer of complexity that you didn't know existed.

This is partly because it doesn't really exist. Sure, there are different wavelengths of light that our eyes perceive as color, but that doesn't mean that color is actually a property of that light - it's a phenomenon of our perception.

Digital color is about trying to map this complex interplay of light and perception into a format that computers can understand and screens can display. And it's a miracle that any of it works at all.

I’m just waiting for him to put up a Stripe link so I can throw money at him.

This post from Carly Ayres breaks down a beef between Michael Roberson (developer of an AI-enabled moodboard tool) and Elizabeth Goodspeed (writer and designer, oft-linked on this blog) and explores ragebait, putting in the reps as a junior, and designers as influencers.

The tweet earned 30,000 views, but only about 20 likes. “That ratio was pretty jarring,” [Roberson] said. Still, the strategy felt legible. “When I post things like, ‘if you don’t do X, you’re not going to make it,’ obviously, I don’t think that. These tools aren’t really capable of replacing designers just yet. It’s really easy to get views baiting and fear-mongering.”

Much like the provocative Artisan campaign, I think this is a net negative for the brand. Pretty sure I won’t be trying out Moodboard AI anytime soon, ngl.

But stepping back from the internet beef, Ayres argues that it’s a philosophical difference about the role friction in the creative process.

Michael’s experience mirrors that of many young designers: brand audits felt like busywork during his Landor internship. “That process was super boring,” he told me. “I wasn’t learning much by copy-pasting things into a deck.” His tool promises to cut through that inefficiency, letting teams reach visual consensus faster and spend more time on execution.

Young Michael, the process is the point! Without doing this boring stuff, by automating it with AI, how are you going to learn? This is but one facet of the whole discussion around expertise, wisdom, and the design talent crisis.

Goodspeed agrees with me:

Elizabeth sees it differently. “What’s interesting to me,” Elizabeth noted, “is how many people are now entering this space without a personal understanding of how the process of designing something actually works.” For her, that grunt work was formative. “The friction is the process,” she explained. “That’s how you form your point of view. You can’t just slap seven images on a board. You’re forced to think: What’s relevant? How do I organize this and communicate it clearly?”

Ultimately, the saddest point that Ayres makes—and noted by my friend Eric Heiman—is this:

When you’re young, online, and trying to get a project off the ground, caring about distribution is the difference between a hobby and a company. But there’s a cost. The more you perform expertise, the less you develop it. The more you optimize for engagement, the more you risk flattening what gave the work meaning in the first place. In a world where being known matters more than knowing, the incentives point toward performance over practice. And we all become performers in someone else’s growth strategy.

…Because when distribution matters more than craft, you don’t become a designer by designing. You become a designer by being known as one. That’s the game now.

In the 2011 documentary Jiro Dreams of Sushi, then 85 year-old sushi master Jiro Ono says this about craft:

Once you decide on your occupation… you must immerse yourself in your work. You have to fall in love with your work. Never complain about your job. You must dedicate your life to mastering your skill. That’s the secret of success and is the key to being regarded honorably.

Craft is typically thought of as the formal aspects of any field such as design, woodworking, writing, or cooking. In design, we think about composition, spacing, and typography—being pixel-perfect. But one’s craft is much more than that. Ono’s sushi craft is not solely about slicing fish and pressing it against a bit of rice. It is also about picking the right fish, toasting the nori just so, cooking the rice perfectly, and running a restaurant. It’s the whole thing.

Therefore, mastering design—or any occupation—takes time, experience, or reps as the kids say. So it’s to my dismay that Suff Syed’s essay “Why I’m Giving Up My Design Title — And What That Says About the Future of Design” got so much play in recent weeks. Syed is Head of Product Design at Microsoft—er, was. I guess his title is now Member of the Technical Staff. In a perfectly well-argued and well-written essay, he concludes:

Cap Watkins, Head of Product Design at Lattice, was catching up with a former top-performing designer who was afraid other designers were mad at her for getting all the “cool” projects.

What made those projects glamorous and desirable was her and how she approached the work. There’s that old nugget about making your own luck and that is something she excelled at. She had a unique ability to take really hard or nebulous problems (both design and team-related) and morph them into something amazing that got people excited. Instead of getting discouraged, she’d respond to friction with more energy, more enthusiasm. In so many ways, she was a transformative presence on any team and project.

In other words, this designer cared and made the best of all her assignments.

Christopher K. Wong argues that desirability is a key part of design that helps decide which features users really want:

To give a basic definition, desirability is a strategic part of UX that revolves around a single user question: Have you defined (and solved) the right problem for users?

In other words, before drawing a single box or arrow, have you done your research and discovery to know you’re solving a pain point?

The way the post is written makes it hard to get at a succinct definition, but here’s my take. Desirability is about ensuring a product or feature is truly wanted, needed, and chosen by users—not just visual appeal—making it a core pillar for impactful design decisions and prioritization. And designers should own this.

Coincidentally, I was considering adding a service designer to my headcount plan when this article came across my feeds. Perfect timing. It’s hard to imagine that service design as a discipline is so young—only since 2012 according to the author.

Joe Foley, writing in Creative Bloq:

As a discipline, service design is still relatively new. A course at the Royal College of Art in London (RCA) only began in 2012 and many people haven't even heard of the term. But that's starting to change.

He interviews designer Clive Grinyer, whose new book on service design has just come out. He was co-founder of the design consultancy Tangerine, Director of Design and Innovation for the UK Design Council, and Head of Service Design at the Royal College of Art.

Griner:

Great service design is often invisible as it solves problems and removes barriers, which isn’t necessarily noticed as much as a shiny new product. The example of GDS (Government Digital Service) redesigning every government department from a service design perspective and removing many frustrating and laborious aspects of public life from taxing a car to getting a passport, is one of the best.

The key difference between service design and UX is that it’s end product is not something on a screen:

But service design is not just the experience we have through the glass of a screen or a device: it’s designed from the starting point of the broader objective and may include many other channels and touchpoints. I think it was Colin Burns who said a product is just a portal to a service.

In other words, if you open the aperture of what user experience means, and take on the challenge of designing real-world processes, flows, and interaction—that is service design.

In Part I of this series, I wrote about the struggles recent grads have had finding entry-level design jobs and what might be causing the stranglehold on the design job market.

Part II: Building New Ladders 

When I met Benedict Allen, he had just finished with Portfolio Review a week earlier. That’s the big show all the design students in the Graphic Design program at San Diego City College work toward. It’s a nice event that brings out the local design community where seasoned professionals review the portfolios of the graduating students.

Allen was all smiles and relief. “I want to dabble in different aspects of design because the principles are generally the same.” He goes on to mention how he wants to start a fashion brand someday, DJ, try 3D. “I just want to test and try things and just have fun! Of course, I’ll have my graphic design job, but I don’t want that to be the end. Like when the workday ends, that’s not the end of my creativity.” He was bursting with enthusiasm.

This is the first part in a three-part series about the design talent crisis. Read Part II and Part III.

Part I: The Vanishing Bottom Rung 

Erika Kim’s path to UX design represents a familiar pandemic-era pivot story, yet one that reveals deeper currents about creative work and economic necessity. Armed with a 2020 film and photography degree from UC Riverside, she found herself working gig photography—graduations, band events—when the creative industries collapsed. The work satisfied her artistic impulses but left her craving what she calls “structure and stability,” leading her to UX design. The field struck her as an ideal synthesis, “I’m creating solutions for companies. I’m working with them to figure out what they want, and then taking that creative input and trying to make something that works best for them.”

Since graduating from the interaction design program at San Diego City College a year ago, she’s had three internships and works retail part-time to pay the bills. “I’ve been in survival mode,” she admits. On paper, she’s a great candidate for any junior position. Speaking with her reveals a very thoughtful and resourceful young designer. Why hasn’t she been able to land a full-time job? What’s going on in the design job market? 

Stephanie Tyler, in a great essay about remembering what we do as designers:

In an age where AI can generate anything, the question is no longer ‘can it be made?’ but ‘is it worth making?’ The frontier isn’t volume—it’s discernment. And in that shift, taste has become a survival skill.

And this is my favorite passage, because this is how I think about this blog and my newsletter.

There will always be creators. But the ones who stand out in this era are also curators. People who filter their worldview so cleanly that you want to see through their eyes. People who make you feel sharper just by paying attention to what they pay attention to.

Curation is care. It says: I thought about this. I chose it. I didn’t just repost it. I didn’t just regurgitate the trending take. I took the time to decide what was worth passing on.

That’s rare now. And because it’s rare, it’s valuable.

We think of curation as a luxury. But it’s actually maintenance. It’s how you care for your mind. Your attention. Your boundaries.

This blog represents my current worldview, what I’m interested in and exploring. What I’m thinking about now.

Ted Goas, writing in UX Collective:

I predict the early parts of projects, getting from nothing to something, will become shared across roles. For designers looking to branch out, code is a natural next step. I see a future where we’re fixing small bugs ourselves instead of begging an engineer, implementing that animation that didn’t make the sprint but you know would absolutely slap, and even building simple features when engineering resources are tight.

Our new reality is that anyone can make a rough draft.

But that doesn’t mean those drafts are good. That’s where our training and taste come in.

I think Goas is right and it echoes the AI natives post by Elena Verna. I wrote a little more extensively in my newsletter over the weekend.

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.”

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.

I kind of expected it: a lot more ink was spilled on Liquid Glass—particularly on social media. In case you don’t remember, Liquid Glass is the new UI for all of Apple’s platforms. It was announced Monday at WWDC 2025, their annual developers conference.

The criticism is primarily around legibility and accessibility. Secondary reasons include aesthetics and power usage to animate all the bubbles.

How Liquid Glass Actually Works

Before I go and address the criticism, I think it would be great to break down the team’s design thinking and how Liquid Glass actually works. 

Some fun, free tools for designers, curated by Danil Vladimirov.

Related to my earlier post today about Arc’s novelty tax, here’s an essay by DOC, a tribute to consistency.

Leveraging known, established UX patterns and sticking to them prevent users from having to learn net-new interactions and build net-new mental models every time they engage with a new product.

But, as Josh Miller wrote in the aforementioned post, “New interfaces start from familiar ones.” DOC’s essay uses jazz as a metaphor:

Consistency is about making room for differentiation. Think about a jazz session: the band starts from a known scale, rhythm. One musician breaks through, improvising on top of that pattern for a few minutes before joining the band again. The band, the audience, everyone knows what is happening, when it starts and when it ends, because the foundation of it all is a consistent melody.

A lot of chatter in the larger design and development community has been either “AI is the coolest” or “AI is shite and I want nothing to do with it.”

Tobias van Schneider puts it plainly:

AI is here to stay.

Resistance is futile. Doesn't matter how we feel about it. AI has arrived, and it's going to transform every industry, period. The ship has sailed, and we're all along for the ride whether we like it or not. Not using AI in the future is the equivalent to not using the internet. You can get away with it, but it's not going to be easy for you.

He goes on to argue that craftspeople have been affected the most, not only by AI, but by the proliferation of stock and templates:

The warning signs have been flashing for years. We've witnessed the democratization of design through templates, stock assets, and simplified tools that turned specialized knowledge into commodity. Remember when knowing Photoshop guaranteed employment? Those days disappeared years ago. AI isn't starting this fire, it's just pouring gasoline on it. The technical specialist without artistic vision is rapidly becoming as relevant as a telephone operator in the age of smartphones. It's simply not needed anymore.

But he’s not all doom and gloom.

If the client could theoretically do everything themselves with AI, then why hire a designer?

Excellent question. I believe there are three reasons to continue hiring a designer:

1. Clients lag behind. It'll takes a few years before they fully catch up and stop hiring creatives for certain tasks, at which point creatives have caught up on what makes them worthy (beyond just production output).

2. Clients famously don't know what they want. That's the primary reason to hire a designer with a vision. Even with AI at their fingertips, they wouldn't know what instructions to give because they don't understand the process.

3. Smart clients focus on their strengths and outsource the rest. If I run a company I could handle my own bookkeeping, but I'll hire someone. Same with creative services. AI won't change that fundamental business logic. Just because I can, doesn't mean I should.

And finally, he echoes the same sentiment that I’ve been saying (not that I’m the originator of this thought—just great minds think alike!):

What differentiates great designers then?

The Final Filter: taste & good judgment

Everyone in design circles loves to pontificate about taste, but it's always the people with portfolios that look like a Vegas casino who have the most to say. Taste is the emperor's new clothes of the creative industry, claimed by all, possessed by few, recognized only by those who already have it.

In other words, as designers, we need to lean into our curation skills.

Travis Bumgarner:

The people of Mexico, without asking anybody, chose bright colors to paint their houses. I fell in love. Every time I pass by a colorful house, I feel inspired.

It’s color palettes based on random houses in Mexico.

The fall of Sonos isn’t as simple as a botched app redesign. Instead, it is the cumulative result of poor strategy, hubris, and forgetting the company’s core value proposition. To recap, Sonos rolled out a new mobile app in May 2024, promising “an unprecedented streaming experience.” Instead, it was a severely handicapped app, missing core features and broke users’ systems. By January 2025, that failed launch wiped nearly $500 million from the company’s market value and cost CEO Patrick Spence his job.

What happened? Why did Sonos go backwards on accessibility? Why did the company remove features like sleep timers and queue management? Immediately after the rollout, the backlash began to snowball into a major crisis.

As a designer and longtime Sonos customer who was also affected by the terrible new app, a little piece of me died inside each time I read the word “redesign.” It was hard not to take it personally, knowing that my profession could have anything to do with how things turned out. Was it really Design’s fault?