The Conflict of being a designer
I’ve come to realise that design is a very conflicting profession. It leads you to question life choices, rethinking problem solving methods and be in touch with your more natural human self. There are some professions where you can remove yourself from your professional life and choose to be completely different in your personal life. Design is not one of them.
I stumbled into design in what might be considered a traditional manner. A childhood fondness for colours, painting, and drawing, coupled with a curiosity about other creative avenues, led me down this path. It’s become such an integral part of who I am that stripping away the “designer” label now would feel like losing a substantial part of my identity. Being a designer isn’t just about what you do; it’s about who you become. The traits you need to excel in this field aren’t just for the office — they seep into every part of your life.
There are certain professions where conventional thinking just won’t cut it. Design is emphatically one of these. To even call yourself a designer — and I’m not using adjectives like “good” or “great” here — you must embrace novelty. Your ideas need to be both correct and novel. Merely copying Apple’s design won’t suffice, although that’s what passes for design in most commercial settings today. The same is true for novelists; simply stringing together words won’t do. It has to be carefully thought out, each novel surpassing their own progressively. You have to to do something to most people seems like a bad idea, but only you know it isn’t, otherwise another novelist is just going to work on the same concept. Ditto for designers.
This theory is not universal; it does not hold true for most professions. Take medicine, for instance. If every doctor tried to be novel in their diagnoses, we’d be swamped with bizarre new diseases daily, losing any hope of tracing the actual causes of illness. The cost of novelty can be human lives. Here, the imperative is not to invent but to accurately identify and treat based on established knowledge.
Quoting Paul Graham in one his Essays; How to think for yourself,
“Independent-mindedness seems to be more a matter of nature than nurture. Which means if you pick the wrong type of work, you’re going to be unhappy. If you’re naturally independent-minded, you’re going to find it frustrating to be a middle manager. And if you’re naturally conventional-minded, you’re going to be sailing into a headwind if you try to do original research.”
Being a designer necessitates an absolute commitment to an independent mindset, a quality I have fiercely advocate for. After years of rote learning in school — where conformity was the norm — I realised the need to push against this tide and develop my own way of thinking. It was a deliberate effort to override the default settings ingrained by traditional education and embrace a mindset that challenged the conventional. This process isn’t a one-time switch; it requires constant vigilance to ensure that the mind doesn’t slip back into its old, familiar patterns. Keeping this new, independently-minded default in place demands a persistent act of will, reinforcing it until it becomes the new norm. For a designer, breaking from convention isn’t merely a professional requirement; it’s a personal revolution.
In most jobs, to be merely correct might be enough. You follow the procedures, you hit your marks, and that’s sufficient. But design demands more. It demands a piece of your soul. You can’t be a true designer and remain unchanged by the vocation. The constant push for novelty and correctness in your professional work alters you, moulds you in its image. This integration of life and work is something few other professions demand — and it’s what makes design both immensely challenging and deeply rewarding.
Design demands an aggressive pursuit of the correct. I might be completely confident that a particular logo is perfect for a company, but that conviction is worthless if I can’t advocate for it, if I can’t make others see the why behind the design. This advocacy isn’t passive; it requires aggression, a forceful push to make your vision understood and accepted. This same intensity spills over into personal life too — you can’t be a passionate advocate for your designs at work and then remain indifferent to something as simple as the placement of a new vase in your room. This separation is often something that constantly irks me; the constant knowledge of aggressively knowing what is “right” but having the fatigue to pursue it in every aspect of my life.
Design yearns for non-conformism. If we study the four quadrants of conformism, it looks something like this:
On a graph of independent mindedness on the y-axis and passive mind on the x-axis, we get four quadrants; tattletales, naughty, sheep and dreamers. And being a designer can be achieved by being one of the naughty ones. While the sheep with independent mindedness can be so, the passivity in their nature does not give room for them to voice their opinions and thoughts and design is nothing if you can’t convince people of your ideas (while being unbiased of course).
Having desires is rooted in design. Consider a shoe designer who creates a stylish, comfortable shoe. Stopping there isn’t an option because the moment they do, other designers will surpass them. This drive is deeply embedded in human nature. Picture the early stone ages — if there were a pill allowing squirrels to be satisfied with one nut, those squirrels would neither evolve nor survive. Other squirrels, driven by a relentless craving for more, would grow stronger and faster, leaving the contented ones vulnerable. This relentless pursuit is akin to the nature of designers; our thirst for innovation is a reflection of core human instincts. This makes it challenging for those with a more peaceful, Buddha-like disposition to thrive in design. In design, curbing desires can mean settling for less.
During college, I experimented with an anti-consumerism stance, sticking to minimal clothing without fussing over accessories or adhering to the capitalistic drive. Yet, ironically, I spent countless hours in the lab, constantly refining my final project, aiming to perfect it for the user. This dichotomy struck me later — the more perfect the product I designed, the more likely users would return, perpetuating the cycle of consumerism. My career hinged on creating an insatiable need in users, a need for the next best thing, even as I personally tried to step away from such desires.
This also pushes you to be surrounded by independent minded people; we tend to be shaped by the people we most frequently interact with and if they are tattletales or sheep, we tend to imbibe those qualities subconsciously and subsequently create bad designs. Because the independent-minded find it uncomfortable to be surrounded by conventional-minded people, they tend to self-segregate once they have a chance to.
Being a designer often demands constant communication, whether verbal or artistic, which can be challenging for those who are introverted or prefer working in silos. Design inherently requires a great deal of validation because, fundamentally, it is crafted for the user. To truly understand the user, one might need to metaphorically “walk in their shoes,” which likely fit many others as well. This means listening to suggestions and opinions from others, acknowledging that you could be wrong — often, most of the time. An independent mind in the world of design also needs to be a humble one, open to feedback. There must be a willingness to iterate and reiterate on a design, recognising that each iteration has the potential to be incorrect.
Being a designer extends beyond the confines of individual knowledge and expertise. If you are naturally curious minded and are eager to deepen your understanding of design, engaging with forums, communities, and peers becomes essential. In today’s collaborative environment, being a designer means sharing ideas, working together, and brainstorming collectively. Discussing your designs with others opens up a whole world of new perspectives, enriching your work with insights you might have missed. This interaction can unveil hidden flaws and introduce enhancements that only a fresh set of eyes could spot. Moreover, as you articulate your concepts to others, your own understanding is sharpened.
I’ve come to realise that the definition of design transcends academia; it is a way of life. This might appear to be a superfluous statement at first glance, but it truly reflects a domino effect of qualities that fundamentally shape a person. As designers, we are not merely practitioners of a discipline; we embody a continuous evolution of thought, creativity, and interaction that influences every aspect of our existence. The constant need to question not only the tenets of design within the confines of an office but also its impact on daily life underscores this. Embracing design as more than just a 9-to-5 job, and coming to terms with the paradox of striving for perfection while maintaining contentment and calm, is both paradoxical and necessary.
Living with paradox and conflict demands both strong will and independent-mindedness. This realisation has opened up numerous other avenues of understanding for me. For instance, consider how humans push scientific boundaries knowing well that these advancements could also lead to their downfall. Or how vegetarians criticise non-vegetarian practices yet may inadvertently kill an ant while walking or flaunt a mink coat. I’ve come to understand that life inherently involves navigating these conflicts. Being aware of them and understanding how they influence our lives enriches our self-knowledge. It sheds light on the nature of our careers and the paths we choose, revealing deeper truths about who we are and how we engage with the world around us. This awareness isn’t just an academic exercise; it’s a fundamental aspect of living a fully realised life.