8 Truths About Good Design
Good Design.
The very phrase conjures up an infinitude of possibilities and a wondrous range of opinions. Some wax poetic about a new piece of furniture that fits their home just so. Others swear by a favorite website that tells a compelling story using beautiful language and graphics. Some revere brands who have come to ‘stand for’ design – Dyson, Momofuku, Shinola – and others stay resolutely off-label to respect and honor local artisan craft.
Perhaps the most compelling truth about good design, then, is that it is in the eye of the beholder. The range of expressions that good design can take makes available a universe of ways that we can experience it. There are countless ways one might divine and develop good design.
But since our time on this earth is not infinite, yet the desire of our species to connect and create knows no bounds, each of us must parameterize why, how, and what we build. As we’ve been growing the Creative Team at Qualtrics over the past several months, I’ve been spending many joyful, productive hours each week in the company of people whose creative talents I admire, respect, and learn from. Some are colleagues, some are friends, some are folks I’ve just met for the first time. But in all cases, the lingua franca of ‘Good Design’ is where I find common ground with creators whose imaginations and inventions have had an impact on me.
So that I might add to the record on this topic, and serve up an opinion that might inspire a person or a team to think in new ways, I offer eight things that I’ve observed or felt to be true about good design. I do not mean for the below to act as a restrictive or singular definition; I set this list forth to share a point of view, shaped by years of collaborating with, building alongside, and learning from outstanding creative people.
Good design is a teacher. As someone who’s more of a creative strategist than a strategic creative, it’s important for me to always be learning. Good design makes this possible. Consider Scott Galloway’s simple, intuitive, human designs for a weekly newsletter that’s wildly on-point. The way the content is expressed and laid out – that is, the written word itself and the visual experience of it – invites me in and compels me to read it. The thoughtfulness of the message makes me think, and when I think, I learn. The Worn Wear subsection of Patagonia’s website is another example. Persuading people that it’s better to buy used gear rather than new threads is no easy task – but their team does a wonderful job of telling a story that educates readers on the importance and impact of doing so.
Good design is inspired by nature. It’s no accident that some of the most beautiful spaces in the world honor, and indeed are shaped by, the outdoors around them. It’s no coincidence that some of the most pleasing aesthetics in architecture conform to the golden ratio. And the most famous paintings in world history do not depict things – they showcase nature in the form of people and the world around them. In a more modern context, Airbnb uses nature as a backdrop for its twice-annual product releases, and the companies creating or refactoring office spaces for the new world of work are doing so in ways that enable more natural communication and collaboration patterns. Even as I write this, I sit at a table just inside an open door to my garden, where I can (even if only in my imagination) be inspired and influenced by the conversational chirps of the birds and the swaying of the trees in a gentle summer breeze.
Good design makes us feel. The ‘thunk’ of a well-designed car door closing gently yet firmly. The inviting voice of a guided meditation app. The softness of a microfiber on our body. All of these functional elements aren’t just serving a purpose. In what might have seemed like a preposterous claim even just a few years ago, these design elements are creating a durable emotional connection between us and an object. When we feel a certain way about the car in our driveway, the app on our phone, or the shirt in our drawer, we are drawn to it, and we have sensations and feelings that we otherwise may never have had. To empower someone to feel something is the highest-order form of connection, and the fact that good design makes it possible is a testament to the creative prowess of our species.
Good design makes us want more. When I pick up a beautiful coffee table book and start leafing through the pages of well-designed homes or historical bicycles, I want to keep reading. When I visit Atlassian’s Work Life blog, I want to keep scrolling and sharing. When I visit SoFi Stadium, the Getty Museum, or the Tate Modern, it can sometimes be hard to focus on the artifacts on display in these places (football match, painting, sculpture) because of the sense of beauty inspired by the structure all around me. When I visit Webflow’s website, I often linger so long that I think I could create a beautiful commerce site. Perhaps it’s trivial to suggest that beauty attracts. But it’s the combination of well-honed form and high-utility function that keeps us coming back for more.
Good design humbles us. As a longtime resident of San Francisco, I am always transfixed by the archival photos of the construction of the Golden Gate Bridge. It’s one of the world’s most recognizable landmarks, and the accomplishment of its construction – given the enormously powerful weather patterns at the intersection of the Pacific Ocean and the SF Bay and the proneness of that spot to earthquakes – is a wonder of the world in and of itself. Every time I ride my bike over the bridge, I pay homage to the people that conceived of, created, and ensured the safety of this incredible artifact. On the modern technology side, it’s a well-worn meme that we’re carrying around computers (aka smartphones) in our pockets that are 100,000 times more powerful than the computers on board the 1969 Apollo 11 rocket. I still firmly believe that the iPhone is the most significant innovation in my lifetime – and the fact that its advent was made possible by sequential developments in computing, processing, screen technology, battery life, and other areas makes it even more humbling as a capstone invention.
Good design abstracts complexity. You can’t see all of the code being executed on a beautiful website, and that’s by design. You don’t smell the engine doing the work of getting your car down the road, and that’s by design. You aren’t wearing clothes that need to be re-sewn every few weeks, and that’s by design. The abstraction of complexity is perhaps the most beautiful element of good design. Sometimes that which is conspicuous by its absence is the greatest treasure of all.
Good design is hard. The old saying goes that Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither is anything well-designed. The creators of The Cosmopolitan of Las Vegas imagined an experience built around discovery and wonder rather than cards and casinos, and it took nearly a decade to come to life. Dyson and Tesla took so long to become Dyson and Tesla precisely because it’s hard to triangulate good design, useful functionality, and total addressable market size. And we rave to our neighbors about that new backyard we finally finished because it was a triumph of our creative energy and our work ethic that put something new and meaningful and real into the world that was not there before.
Good design is worth it. Look at all of the brands that you consider to be stewards of good design. Some on my list are Cotopaxi, Slack, Viking, Traeger, and Beats. Their products don’t come cheap, and that’s okay. They are made with inputs and materials that respect our planet and pay homage to the craft of the people that create them. They are made to withstand the test of time. They are made to have you want them around, to need them around, to tell your friends about them, to live your life with them. When we spend our hard-earned dollars on that which teaches us, inspires us, makes us feel, and humbles us, we’re spending it where we should.
To be surrounded by good design is to be in the asynchronous company of those who have designed, created, and delivered a product or an experience that’s not just worthy of use, but demanding of regard. Take the time to know the story behind what you love. Tell it. Become part of it. Form your own views on what makes good design, and make good design a part of your routine, your home, your career, your life. It’s the most wonderful way to be in touch with what we think and feel, and to experience gifts we receive from builders, makers, and creators whom we may never know.