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.

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.

I’ve been a big fan of node-based UIs since I first experimented with Shake in the early 2000s. It’s kind of weird to wrap your head around, especially if you’re used to layers in Photoshop or Figma. The easiest way to think about nodes is to rotate the layer stack 90-degrees. Each node has inputs on the left, a distinct process that it does to the input, and outputs stuff on the right. You connect up multiple nodes to process assets to form your final composition. Popular apps with node-based workflows today include Unreal Engine (Blueprints), DaVinci Resolve (Fusion and Color), and n8n.

ComfyUI is another open source tool that uses the same node graph architecture. Made in 2023 to add some UI to the visual generative AI models like Stable Diffusion appearing around that time, it’s become popular among artists to wield the plethora of image and video gen AI models.

Fast-forward to last week, when Figma announced they had acquired Weavy, a much friendlier and cloud-based version of ComfyUI.

Weavy brings the world’s leading AI models together with professional editing tools on a single, browser-based canvas. With Weavy, you can choose the model you want for a task (e.g. Seedance, Sora, and Veo for cinematic video; Flux and Ideogram for realism; and Nano-Banana or Seedream for precision) and compose powerful primitives using generative AI outputs and hands-on edits (e.g. adjusting lighting, masking an object, color grading a shot). The end result is an inspiring environment for creative exploration and a flexible media pipeline where every output feeds the next.

This node-based approach brings a new level of craft and control to AI generation. Outputs can be branched, remixed, and refined, combining creative exploration with precision and craft. The Weavy team has inspired us with the balance they’ve struck between simplicity, approachability, and power. They’ve also created a tool that’s just a joy to use.

I must admit I had not heard about Weavy before the announcement. I had high hopes for Visual Electric, but it never quite lived up to its ambitions. I proceeded to watch all the official tutorial videos on YouTube and love it. Seems so much easier to use than ComfyUI. Let’s see what Figma does with the product.

In thinking about the three current AI-native web browsers, Fanny on Medium sees what lessons product designers can take from their different approaches.

On Perplexity Comet:

Design Insight: Comet succeeds by making AI feel like a natural extension of browsing, not an interruption. The sidecar model is brilliant because it respects the user’s primary task (reading, researching, shopping) while offering help exactly when context is fresh. But there’s a trade-off — Comet’s background assistant, which can handle multiple tasks simultaneously while you work, requires extensive permissions and introduces real security concerns.

On ChatGPT Atlas:

Design Insight: Atlas is making a larger philosophical statement — that the future of computing isn’t about better search, it’s about conversation as an interface. The key product decision here is making ChatGPT’s memory and context awareness central. Atlas remembers what sites you’ve visited, what you were working on, and uses that history to personalize responses. Ask “What was that doc I had my presentation plan in?” and it finds it.

On The Browser Company Dia:

Design Insight: Dia is asking the most interesting question — what happens when AI isn’t a sidebar or a search replacement, but a fundamental rethinking of input methods? The insertion cursor, the mouse, the address bar — these are the primitives of computing. Dia is making them intelligent.

She concludes that they “can’t all be right. But they’re probably all pointing at pieces of what comes next.”

I do think it’s a combo and Atlas is likely headed in the right direction. For AI to be truly assistive, it has to have relevant context. Since a lot of our lives are increasingly on the internet via web apps—and nearly everything is a web app these days—ChatGPT’s profile of you will have the most context, including your chats with the chatbot.

I began using Perplexity because I appreciated its accuracy compared with ChatGPT; this was pre-web search. But even with web search built into ChatGPT 5, I still find Perplexity’s (and therefore Comet’s) approach to be more trustworthy.

My conclusion stands though: I’m still waiting on the Arc-Dia-Comet browser smoothie.

Speaking of trusting AI, in a recent episode of Design Observer’s Design As, Lee Moreau speaks with four industry leaders about trust and doubt in the age of AI.

We’ve linked to a story about Waymo before, so here’s Ryan Powell, head of UX at Waymo:

Safety is at the heart of everything that we do. We’ve been at this for a long time, over a decade, and we’ve taken a very cautious approach to how we scale up our technology. As designers, what we have really focused on is that idea that more people will use us as a serious transportation option if they trust us. We peel that back a little bit. Okay, well, How do we design for trust? What does it actually mean?

Ellie Kemery, principal research lead, advancing responsible AI at SAP, on maintaining critical thinking and transparency in AI-driven products:

We need to think about ethics as a part of this because the unintended consequences, especially at the scale that we operate, are just too big, right?

…

So we focus a lot of our energy on value, delivering the right value, but we also focus a lot of our energy on making sure that people are aware of how the technology came to that output,…making sure that people are in control of what’s happening at all times, because at the end of the day, they need to be the ones making the call.

…

Everybody’s aware that without trust, there is no adoption. But there is something that people aren’t talking about as much, which is that people should also not blindly trust a system, right? And there’s a huge risk there because, humans we tend to, you know, we’ll try something a couple of times and if it works it works. And then we lose that critical thinking. We stop checking those things and we simply aren’t in a space where we can do that yet. And so making sure that we’re focusing on the calibration of trust, like what is the right amount of trust that people should have to be able to benefit from the technology while at the same time making sure that they’re aware of the limitations.

In this era of AI, we’ve been taught that LLMs are probabilistic, not deterministic, and that they will sometimes hallucinate. There’s a saying in AI circles that humans are right about 80% of the time, and so are AIs. Except when less than 100% accuracy is unacceptable. Accountants need to be 100% accurate, lest they lose track of money for their clients or businesses.

And that’s the problem Intuit had to solve to roll out their AI agent. Sean Michael Kerner, writing in VentureBeat:

Even when its accounting agent improved transaction categorization accuracy by 20 percentage points on average, they still received complaints about errors.

“The use cases that we’re trying to solve for customers include tax and finance; if you make a mistake in this world, you lose trust with customers in buckets and we only get it back in spoonfuls,” Joe Preston, Intuit’s VP of product and design, told VentureBeat.

So they built an agent that queries data from a multitude of sources and returns those exact results. But do users trust those results? It comes down to a design decision on being transparent:

Intuit has made explainability a core user experience across its AI agents. This goes beyond simply providing correct answers: It means showing users the reasoning behind automated decisions.

When Intuit’s accounting agent categorizes a transaction, it doesn’t just display the result; it shows the reasoning. This isn’t marketing copy about explainable AI, it’s actual UI displaying data points and logic.

“It’s about closing that trust loop and making sure customers understand the why,” Alastair Simpson, Intuit’s VP of design, told VentureBeat.

Circling back to Monday’s item on how caring is good design, Felix Haas has a subtly different take: build kindness into your products.

Kindness in design isn’t about adding smiley faces or writing cheerful copy. It’s deeper than tone. It’s about intent embedded in every interaction.

…

Kindness shows up in the patience of an empty state that doesn’t rush you. In the warmth of micro-interactions that acknowledge your actions without demanding attention. In error messages that guide rather than scold. In defaults that assume good intent rather than user incompetence.

These moments seem subtle, even trivial, in isolation. But they accumulate. They shape how we feel about a product over weeks and months. They turn interfaces into relationships. They build trust.

As a follow-up to our previous item on Claude Code, here’s an article by Nick Babich who gives us three ways product designers can use Claude to code.

Remember that Anthropic’s Claude has been the leading LLM for coding for a while now.

Building on Matthew Ström-Awn’s argument that true quality emerges from decentralized, ground-level ownership, Sean Goedecke writes an essay exploring how software companies navigate the tension between formalized control and the informal, often invisible work that actually drives product excellence.

But first, what does legibility even mean?

What does legibility mean to a tech company, in practice? It means:

• The head of a department knows, to the engineer, all the projects the department is currently working on
• That head also knows (or can request) a comprehensive list of all the projects the department has shipped in the last quarter
• That head has the ability to plan work at least one quarter ahead (ideally longer)
• That head can, in an emergency, direct the entire resources of the department at immediate work

Note that “shipping high quality software” or “making customers happy” or even “making money” is not on this list. Those are all things tech companies want to do, but they’re not legibility.

Goedecke argues that while leaders prize formal processes and legibility to facilitate predictability and coordination, these systems often overlook the messier, less measurable activities that drive true product quality and user satisfaction.

All organizations - tech companies, social clubs, governments - have both a legible and an illegible side. The legible side is important, past a certain size. It lets the organization do things that would otherwise be impossible: long-term planning, coordination with other very large organizations, and so on. But the illegible side is just as important. It allows for high-efficiency work, offers a release valve for processes that don’t fit the current circumstances, and fills the natural human desire for gossip and soft consensus.

Designer Ben Holliday writes a wonderful deep dive into how caring is good design. In it, he references the conversation that Jony Ive had with Patrick Collison a few months ago. (It’s worth watching in its entirety if you haven’t already.)

Watching the interview back, I was struck by how he spoke about applying care to design, describing how:

“…everyone has the ability to sense the care in designed things because we can all recognise carelessness.”

Talking about the history of industrial design at Apple, Ive speaks about the care that went into the design of every product. That included the care that went into packaging – specifically things that might seem as inconsequential as how a cable was wrapped and then unpackaged. In reality, the type of small interactions that millions of people experienced when unboxing the latest iPhone. These are details that people wouldn’t see as such, but Ive and team believed that they would sense care when they had been carefully considered and designed.

This approach has always been a part of Jony Ive’s design philosophy, or the principles applied by his creative teams at Apple. I looked back and found an earlier 2015 interview and notes I’d made where he says how he believes that the majority of our manufactured environment is characterised by carelessness. But then, how, at Apple, they wanted people to sense care in their products.

The attention to detail and the focus and attention we can all bring to design is care. It’s important.

Holliday’s career has been focused in government, public sector, and non-profit environments. In other words, he thinks a lot about how design can impact people’s lives at massive scale.

In the past few months, I’ve been drawn to the word ‘careless’ when thinking about the challenges faced by our public services and society. This is especially the case with the framing around the impact of technology in our lives, and increasingly the big bets being made around AI to drive efficiency and productivity.

The word careless can be defined as the failure to give sufficient attention to avoiding harm or errors. Put simply, carelessness can be described as ‘negligence’.

Later, he cites Facebook/Meta’s carelessness when they “used data to target young people when at their most vulnerable,” specifically, body confidence.

Writing for UX Collective, Filipe Nzongo argues that designers should embrace behavior as a fundamental design material—not just to drive metrics or addiction, but to intentionally create products that empower people and foster meaningful, lasting change in their lives.

Behavior should be treated as a design material, just as technology once became our material. If we use behavior thoughtfully, we can create better products. More than that, I believe there is a broader and more meaningful opportunity before us: to design for behavior. Not to make people addicted to products, but to help them grow as human beings, better parents, citizens, students, and professionals. Because if behavior is our medium, then design is our tool for empowerment.

A former colleague of mine, designer Evan Sornstein wrote a wonderful piece on LinkedIn applying Buddhist principles to design.

Buddhism begins with the recognition that life is marked by impermanence, suffering, and non-self. These aren’t abstract doctrines — they are observations about how the world actually works. Over centuries, these ideas contributed to Japanese aesthetics: wabi-sabi (imperfection), ma (meaningful emptiness), yo no bi (beauty in usefulness), the humility of the shokunin, and the care of omotenashi. What emerges is not a set of rules, but an extraordinary perspective: beauty is inseparable from impermanence; usefulness is inseparable from dignity; care is inseparable from design. In an age when our digital products too often prioritize stickiness and metrics over humanity, these ideas offer a different path. They remind us that design is not about control or cleverness — it’s about connection, trust, and care.

The following eight principles aren’t new “methods” or “laws,” but reflections of this lineage, reframed for product design — though they apply to nearly any creative practice. They are invitations to design with the same attention, humility, and compassion that Buddhism and Japanese aesthetics have carried for centuries.

There’s a famous quote that Henry Ford allegedly said:

If I had asked people what they wanted, they would have said faster horses.

Anton Sten argues that a lot of people use this quote to justify not doing any user (or market) research:

This quote gets thrown around constantly—usually by someone who wants to justify ignoring user research entirely. The logic goes: users don’t know what they want, so why bother asking them?

I think he’s right. The question to ask users isn’t “What should we build?” but “What are your biggest pain points?”

Good research uncovers problems. It reveals pain points. It helps you understand what people are actually struggling with in their daily lives. What they’re working around. What they’ve given up on entirely.

Users aren’t supposed to design your product. That’s your job. But they’re the only ones who can tell you what’s actually broken in their world.

When you focus on understanding problems instead of collecting feature requests, you stop getting “faster horses” and start hearing real needs.

It’s always interesting to hear how others think about the design process from the outside. Eli Woolery and Aaron Walter interview creativity researcher and author Keith Sawyer to learn about what he’s found to be true after interviewing hundreds of art and design professors and students over a decade for his new book:

The creativity doesn’t come at the beginning. You don’t start by having a brilliant insight. You just dive into the process. And then as you’re engaging in the process, the ideas emerge.

Sawyer emphasizes that art and design schools are not just teaching students how to create, but how to “see.” He found that many professors believe students already possess creativity, but the role of art and design school is to help them realize and develop that potential by teaching them to observe, critique, and reflect more deeply on their own work.

When I interviewed these artists and designers, I would say, how are you teaching students how to create? And everyone was quite uncomfortable with that question. A lot of them would say, we’re not teaching students how to create. Or they’ll say something like, the students are already creative. We’re teaching them how to realize the potential they have as creatives.

Sawyer notes that the hardest thing for students to learn is how to see their own work—that is, to understand what they have actually made rather than sticking rigidly to their original idea.

When we talk about learning to see, you’re talking about learning to see yourself. The hardest thing to teach a student is how to see their own work, to see something that they’ve just generated. Because these studio classes, students have opportunities to share their work in interim stages along the way. You don’t go off and work for two weeks or four weeks and then bring back in the finished product. You bring in your interim and you get a lot of feedback and comments on it.

And what the professors tell me is these 18, 19, and 20-year-olds, they don’t realize what they put on the canvas. Or if they’re a graphic designer, they don’t realize what it is that they’ve generated. A lot of times, they’ll think they’ve done a certain thing. So they have this kind of linear approach—model of the creative process where I’m going to have an idea and I’m going to execute it so they’ll start with their idea and they’ll execute it. They’ll think that what they put on the canvas is their original idea, but in a lot of cases, it’s not. They can’t see what they’ve done themselves, so that’s kind of powerful how do you teach someone that what you put on the canvas isn’t what you say you’re doing.

You can’t just tell them, “Hey, you’re wrong. Let me tell you what you’ve done.” You have to lead someone through that. You have to walk them through it.

One way you do it is you put students in the classroom together and then have them comment on other students’ work so they will be on the other side. And they’ll see another student. talking about what they’ve done and not really describing what’s really on the canvas.

So I think that’s the hardest thing about learning to see is learning to see yourself, learning to see your own work.

I think that’s the power of art and design school, this studio learning environment. I’m biased, of course, because that’s how I learned. Those who are self-taught or have gone through bootcamps miss out on a lot of this experience. The other thing the design school environment teaches is how to give and take critiques. It’s about the work, not you.

Our profession is changing rapidly. I’ve been covering that here for nearly a year now. Lots of posts come across my desk that say similar things. Tom Scott repeats a lot of what’s been said, but I’ll pull out a couple nuggets that caught my eye.

He declares that “Hands-on is the new default.” Quoting Vitor Amaral, a designer at Intercom:

Being craft-focused means staying hands-on, regardless of specialty or seniority. This won’t be a niche role, it will be an expectation for everyone, from individual contributors to VPs. The value lies in deeply understanding how things actually work, and that comes from direct involvement in the work.

As AI speeds up execution, the craft itself will become easier, but what will matter most is the critical judgment to craft the right thing, move fast, and push the boundaries of quality.

For those looking for work, Scott says, “You NEED to change how you find a job.” Quoting Felix Haas, investor and designer at Lovable:

Start building a real product and get a feeling for it what it means pushing something out in the market

Learn to use AI to prototype interactively → even at a basic level

Get comfortable with AI tools early → they’ll be your co-designer / sparring partner

Focus on solving real problems, not just making things look good (Which was a problem for very long in the design space)

Scott also says that “Design roles are merging,” and Ridd from Dive Club illustrates the point:

We are seeing a collapse of design’s monopoly on ideation where designers no longer “own” the early idea stage. PMs, engineers, and others are now prototyping directly with new tools.

If designers move too slow, others will fill the gap. The line between PM, engineer, and designer is thinner than ever. Anyone tool-savvy can spin up prototypes — which raises the bar for designers.

Impact comes from working prototypes, not just facilitation. Leading brainstorms or “owning process” isn’t enough. Real influence comes from putting tangible prototypes in front of the team and aligning everyone around them.

Design is still best positioned — but not guaranteed

Designers could lead this shift, but only if they step up. Ownership of ideation is earned, not assumed.

I love this framing by Patrizia Bertini:

Let me offer a different provocation: AI is not coming for your job. It is coming for your tasks. And if you cannot distinguish between the two, then yes — you should be worried. Going further, she distinguishes between output and outcome: Output is what a process produces. Code. Copy. Designs. Legal briefs. Medical recommendations. Outputs are the tangible results of a system executing its programmed or prescribed function — the direct product of following steps, rules, or algorithms. The term emerged in the industrial era, literally describing the quantity of coal or iron a mine could extract in a given period. Output depends entirely on the efficiency and capability of the process that generates it.

Outcome is what happens when that output meets reality. An outcome requires context, interpretation, application, and crucially — intentionality. Outcomes demand understanding not just what was produced, but why it matters, who it affects, and what consequences ripple from it. Where outputs measure productivity, outcomes measure impact. They are the ultimate change or consequence that results from applying an output with purpose and judgment.

She argues that, “AI can generate outputs. It cannot, however, create outcomes.”

This reminds me of a recent thread by engineer Marc Love:

It’s insane just how much how I work has changed in the last 18 months.

I almost never hand write code anymore except when giving examples during planning conversations with LLMs.

I build multiple full features per day , each of which would’ve taken me a week or more to hand write. Building full drafts and discarding them is basically free.

Well over half of my day is spent ideating, doing systems design, and deciding what and what not to build.

It’s still conceptually the same job, but if i list out the specific things i do in a day versus 18 months ago, it’s almost completely different.

Care about the outcome, not the output.

When I read this, I thought to myself, “Geez, this is what a designer does.” I think there is a lot of overlap between what we do as product designers and what product managers do. One critical one—in my opinion, and why we’re calling ourselves product designers—is product sense. Product sense is the skill of finding real user needs and creating solutions that have impact.

So I think people can read this with two lenses:

• If you’re a designer who executes the assignments you’re given, jumping into Figma right away, read this to be more well-rounded and understand the why of what you’re making.
• If you’re a designer who spends 80% of your time questioning everything and defining the problem, and only 20% of your time in Figma, read this to see how much overlap you actually have with a PM.

BTW, if you’re in the first bucket, I highly encourage you to gain the skills necessary to migrate to the second bucket.

While designers often stay on top of visual design trends or the latest best practices from NNG, Jules Walter suggests an even wider aperture. Writing in Lenny’s Newsletter:

Another practice for developing creativity is to spend time learning about emerging trends in technology, society, and regulations. Changes in the industry create opportunities for launching new products that can address user needs in new ways. As a PM, you want to understand what’s possible in your domain in order to come up with creative solutions.

The headline rings true to me because that’s what I look for in designers and how I run my team. The software that we build is too complex and too mission-critical for designers to vibe-code—at least given today’s tooling. But each one of the designers on my team can fill in for a PM when they’re on vacation.

Kai Wong, writing in UX Collective:

One thing I’ve learned, talking with 15 design leaders (and one CEO), is that a ‘designer who codes’ may look appealing, but a ‘designer who understands business’ is far more valuable and more challenging to replace.

You already possess the core skill that makes this transition possible: the ability to understand users with systematic observation and thoughtful questioning.

The only difference, now, is learning to apply that same methodology to understand your business.

Strategic thinking doesn’t require fancy degrees (although it may sometimes help).

Ask strategic questions about business goals. Understand how to balance user and business needs. Frame your design decisions in terms of measurable business impact.

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.

Jason Spielman put up a case study on his site for his work on Google’s NotebookLM:

The mental model of NotebookLM was built around the creation journey: starting with inputs, moving through conversation, and ending with outputs. Users bring in their sources (documents, notes, references), then interact with them through chat by asking questions, clarifying, and synthesizing before transforming those insights into structured outputs like notes, study guides, and Audio Overviews.

And yes, he includes a sketch he did on the back of a napkin.

I’ve always wondered about the UX of NotebookLM. It’s not typical and, if I’m being honest, not exactly super intuitive. But after a while, it does make sense. Maybe I’m the outlier though, because Spielman’s grandmother found it easy. In an interview last year on Sequoia Capital’s Training Data, he recalls:

I actually do think part of the explosion of audio overviews was the fact it was a simple one click experience. I was on the phone with my grandma trying to explain her how to use it and it actually didn’t take any explanation. I’m like, “Drop in a source.” And she’s like, “Oh! I see. I click this button to generate it.” And I think that the ease of creation is really actually what catalyzed so much explosion. So I think when we think about adding these knobs [for customization] I think we want to do it in a way that’s very intentional.

Chatboxes have become the uber box for all things AI. The criticism of this blank box has been the cold start issue. New users don’t know what to type. Designers shipping these product mostly got around this problem by offering suggested prompts to teach users about the possibilities.

The issue on the other end is that expert users end up creating their own library of prompts to copy and paste into the chatbox for repetitive tasks.

Sharang Sharma writing in UX Collective illustrates how these UIs can be smarter by being predictive of intent:

Contrary, Predictive UX points to an alternate approach. Instead of waiting for users to articulate every step, systems can anticipate intent based on behavior or common patterns as the user types. Apple Reminders suggests likely tasks as you type. Grammarly predicts errors and offers corrections inline. Gmail’s Smart Compose even predicts full phrases, reducing the friction of drafting entirely.

Sharma says that the goal of predictive UX is to “reduce time-to-value and reframe AI as an adaptive partner that anticipates user’s intent as you type.”

Imagine a little widget that appears within the chatbox as you type. Kind of a cool idea.

Thinking about this morning’s link about web forms, if you abstract why it’s so powerful, you get to the point of human-computer interaction: the computer should do what the user intends, not the buttons they push.

Matt Webb reminds us about the DWIM, or Do What I Mean philosophy in computing that was coined by Warren Teitelman in 1966. Webb quotes computer scientist Larry Masinter:

DWIM is an embodiment of the idea that the user is interacting with an agent who attempts to interpret the user’s request from contextual information. Since we want the user to feel that he is conversing with the system, he should not be stopped and forced to correct himself or give additional information in situations where the correction or information is obvious.

Webb goes on to say:

Squint and you can see ChatGPT as a DWIM UI: it never, never, never says “syntax error.”

Now, arguably it should come back and ask for clarifications more often, and in particular DWIM (and AI) interfaces are more successful the more they have access to the user’s context (current situation, history, environment, etc).

But it’s a starting point. The algo is: design for capturing intent and then DWIM; iterate until that works. AI unlocks that.

Forms is one of the fundamental things we make users do in software. Whether it’s the login screen, billing address form, or a mortgage application, forms are the main method for getting data from users and into computer-accessible databases. The human is deciding what piece of information to put into which column in the database. With AI, form filling should be much simpler.

Luke Wroblewski makes the argument:

With Web forms, the burden is on people to adapt to databases. Today’s AI models, however, can flip this requirement. That is, they allow people to provide information in whatever form they like and use AI do the work necessary to put that information into the right structure for a database.

How can it work?

With AgentDB connected to an AI model (via an MCP server), a person can simply say “add this” and provide an image, PDF, audio, video, you name it. The model will use AgentDB’s template to decide what information to extract from this unstructured input and how to format it for the database. In the case where something is missing or incomplete, the model can ask for clarification or use tools (like search) to find possible answers.