Cuban Mops or, the Top 5 Things that Made Me a Designer
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What made you a designer?
What keeps you a designer?
I’m currently on sabbatical, meditating on a professional pivot. What will I do next in design? I’ve had many professional lives and, at this point, even several design lives. After the past couple years, I know a lot of people right now actively looking to make a change, find more meaning in their work, change their lives. If that’s also you: Why did you start doing what you’re doing? Is that still true?
Here’s what made me a designer:
Being Left-Handed: From very young, I was hyper-aware that most things were not made for me. Scissors. Softball mitts. Record players. Instructions for toys. I knew things were DESIGNED — for other people.
Cuban Mops: I grew up using a T-shaped wooden stick as a mop. You wet a towel, put it on the stick, then wash the towel after. Done and done. I did not understand the sponge-y, fuzzy American contraptions that I saw everywhere else… Still don’t. This is how I learned that most things are OVERDESIGNED.
Playing Library: I was a huge nerd as a child. I turned my own books into a library in my bedroom, made a card catalog (!), had a date stamper (!)… and such. I made my parents and friends check out the books. I iterated on “merchandising,” process, etc. This is how I learned WORKFLOW.
Living in a Tiny San Francisco Apartment: My first solo apartment was 200 sq. ft. While my lived life was fairly hedonistic, my apartment was monastic. Everything in it needed to be: beautiful + multifunctional. Like, 2 or 3 functions minimum. A bed is a couch is a tea room. Everything must earn its keep. This is how I learned UX.
Being a Technical Writer: I quickly realized that technical writing is (mostly IMHO) … writing around bad UI. Software, IKEA, 10-page manual for a toaster. No. It should just work. This is where I couldn’t take it anymore and just decided to be capital-D DESIGNER as a job, for money.
These primordial clues were just the start, and many more things have fueled and inspired me over the years. As I look to the future, it serves to remember what sparked all this in the first place.
What’s your origin story?