This post by Christopher Butler hits at something I’ve long felt yet struggled to articulate: we’ve found ourselves in a system that prioritises being noticed over being useful.
It’s now advantageous to say something—anything—even if what you’re saying is hollow. Your worth as a designer is equated with how often you tweet glossy psuedo-UI, how often you ask rhetorical questions on LinkedIn, and how often you appear at conferences.
Being noticed is now synonymous with being useful. The squeaky wheel doesn’t just get the oil, it gets promoted over the others.
I like how Chris reframes a designer’s worth to how well they improve the human condition:
Great design isn’t defined by who knows your name, but by how well your work serves human needs. It’s measured in the problems solved, the frustrations eased, the moments of delight created, and the dignity preserved through thoughtful solutions.
He gives examples like the trusty vegetable peeler we all have in the top drawer. My mind goes to the bicycle derailleur. How insanely clever yet elegant is this thing? Yet we don’t exactly know who designed it.
This isn’t to dismiss the value of recognition when it’s deserved, or to suggest that great designers shouldn’t be celebrated. Rather, it’s a reminder that the correlation between quality and fame is weak at best, and that we should be suspicious of any definition of design excellence that depends on visibility.
Don’t trust a Webby or Red Dot Award. People pay hundreds of dollars just to enter those things. Similar advice applies to personal accolades. They’re often fluff, and just as often a sign of a squeaky wheel.
Update
Christopher Butler strikes again. See this subsequent note about screens as neutral technology (with a price).