Design's not dead. We just gave in.

What happens when creativity becomes compliance.

Designers. We've lost, we've given up, we've surrendered to the wrong people, we've laid down our weapons of love, creativity, empathy and compassion.

We've pulled numbers out of our arse to satisfy those that see design as a means to profits, not to the success of people.

Somehow we've found a way to measure the previously immeasurable in an attempt to satisfy a few significant individuals. To get our foot in the door to places that, deep down, we know won't appreciate our full capabilities.

Our creative process has been distilled into stagnant steps that are used to fool those that don't understand that work can be free flowing and spontaneous, rather than rigid and strict.

We've been convinced by data that there is only one way to do something, reducing what we produce into a lifeless swill that's devoid of personality and uniqueness.

We've been forced to raise our hands above the rest, waving profusely, declaring that, us, and us alone have created the success that follows a successful product.

We've been strong armed to design for engagement, rather than enjoyment. To manipulate for monetary gain. To create experiences that shine through a thin veil of blue light, rather than providing a small gift of delight, in an otherwise stressful life.

We've fragmented our discipline into neat little titles, so we fit nicely into the organisational chart, yet still cause confusion when we speak to strangers.

It’s partly our fault.

There's no doubt we are partly to blame. We have a tendency to work in silos. Not to hide what we do but often because we are afraid to show our working out, our failures.

Half the time we battle with convincing ourselves, let alone others, that the work we produce is good enough.

It's our shyness in admitting that sometimes our creative thinking has no tangible output, no sketches, just coming to us in a moment of relaxation, a casual stare out of the window, or a conversation with a friend.

Instead of formulating this into a coherent narrative we've behaved like emotionally starved children, moulding ourselves into shapes that we think will get us the approval or recognition we desire.

It wasn't always like this.

There was a time where everything was new. Anything that was created was seen as a step forward, progress. There was nothing to compare it to. No study that suggested that it wouldn't work. No artefacts to point to and say 'that's not right'.

We were supportive as a group, and open to discovery. We shared our knowledge with each other, for no other reasons than to put our ideas into the arena, in the hope that others would be inspired to learn and try something new.

We were often hired from sharing small images of our work. It was the details that people loved to see. The refinement of a gradient, the subtle choice of border colour. The POP that people asked for but didn't know how to describe.

As we move into the new era of design, with AI tech companies beating their chests claiming it's easy to replace us, our value is coming into question. And believe me, these are not questions that are being asked by us.

They're being asked by the people that never valued design in the first place. Those that saw it as an afterthought, an inconvenience that stands in the way of their idea.

Ones that made a decision up the top and threw it over the fence in a collection of un-organised thoughts.

Those that preach collaboration when really they want compliance. And that's exactly why AI is so appealing.

We’re not done yet.

There's no denying that AI is a remarkable tool. But right now it's a cheap trick you would fool a child with. It’s the thumb between two fingers to make a nose, or a coin revealed behind an ear.

Soon enough, like a song stuck on repeat, people will tire of it. The answer to connecting with people, and truly solving their problems will need to go beyond an icon sparkling in the corner of a search box.

Our shyness and empathy has allowed the needle of needs to swing too far in favour of leaders, rather than users. Instead of shouting louder we have argued amongst ourselves, like we’re tugging on the apron of a busy mother in the hope that we’ll get noticed.

Soon using AI as a marketing point will be as useful as using ‘electric windows’ to sell a car. People will begin to ask ‘what else’, they’ll be looking for novelty, they’ll be looking for experiences that speak to them as a human. Experiences that come from the current zeitgeist not ones that have been regurgitated by a machine.

They’ll want touches and flourishes that serve no other purpose than to delight, to bring joy to an otherwise mundane task, and a feeling that someone has taken their time to think about them.

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