Why the Best Design in the World Is Invisible
The best design in the world is invisible. Now I know what you’re thinking: “Justin, how can that be true? I know good design when I see it with my own eyes. It isn’t invisible, it’s right in front of me.” But I want to challenge that notion. You don’t see good design. It passes right under your nose without being noticed, but not because it’s lackluster. Because it works.
Let me provide an example for you. I live in a very well-designed apartment building. My route from the outside of the building to my apartment is completely natural. I can drive into an easily accessible underground parking garage, step onto a centrally located elevator, turn left when I reach the fifth floor, and be at my front door in two minutes without any thought at all. The experience is seamless because the design was well-considered from the perspective of end user experience.
As a counterpoint, you can think about the poorly designed apartment building your friend lives in. You know the one. There is a choke point immediately upon entering, because both vestibule doors need to be unlocked individually. Once through the vestibule, you have to squeeze past a wall of mailboxes, which is always cluttered with loose packages that were too large to fit inside. The elevator lobby is around a corner and always feels cramped, especially since COVID made you start thinking about such things. And once you reach the correct floor, you still have to navigate a confusing tangle of hallways with no distinguishing features.
In your friend’s apartment building, you noticed the design. The design impacted you directly because it was disruptive. It provided roadblocks at every stage of your journey. But in my apartment building, the design is conducive to the activities taking place there. It’s invisible because it doesn’t trip you up, hard to spot because it seamlessly supports your actions.
This isn’t to say that designs should not be bold. I’m actually suggesting the opposite. Invisible design allows bold design to shine. It’s unlikely that you’ll be able to appreciate a hospital’s color palette if you can’t find your way to the room you’re looking for. You’ll probably have a hard time enjoying an airport terminal’s soaring glass atrium if you can’t snag a seat anywhere near your gate. And good luck admiring the ambiance of a restaurant that has such poor acoustics that you can’t hear what your date is saying.
In this way, the things we think of as “good design” are only able to be appreciated because they are supported by all the best design decisions that you never even notice. Our roles as designers are hard, because it’s difficult to make the kinds of predictions that allow us to support the end users. The budget may not enable enough user interviews to build a thorough understanding of their needs, or a complication may arise that changes how the space is utilized late in the design process. But when it all comes together, the results are incredible. People can live their lives in the environments we create without anything holding them back. They can navigate, work, play, eat, or converse without a struggle. And in this way, when we succeed as designers, our greatest achievements are destined to be… invisible.
