Attributes of High-Performing Designers, Part 3: Joy
When I’m asked what makes for a strong designer or design team, I keep returning to the same attributes: 1) transparency — and an open design process; and 2) flexibility — and principled points of view, 3) joy — and relishing the details.
In this series, I unpack what those attributes mean and how they result in high performance. Check out part 1 on transparency here and part 2 on flexibility here.
Joy.
You’re probably wondering: Where is she headed with this? Are we in a Christmas card or cheesy sitcom? What does Joy have to do with work?
Designers start out really excited about their field. We got here thanks to a book/article, video/speaker, or dabbled in a related field. When we found out design or UX was a job, we fell hopelessly in love with what it offered. On entering the workplace, we are confronted with the realities of scope, feedback and MVPs. We hear “We don’t have scope for that right now” far more often than we hear “That’s awesome. Let’s do that.”
We stick with the job, despite the daily ups-and-downs. I believe it’s because we still find moments of joy in it. It’s the foundation of what we do and without it, the team (or designer) loses their strength.
I define joy as:
the feeling of delight that comes from making something a little bit better. Also, the feeling of pleasure you get discussing technical details as they relate to the design craft (i.e., grid spacing in typography across platforms, or the differences between screens by user role).
Having joy in your work is not having a perfect job, nor is it ignoring your struggles. It’s defined, I think, in moments. They may be fleeting, persistent or flying past you unnoticed (“what?!? It’s 5pm already?”).
Delight is under-rated at work. I mean, it is called “workplace” not “funplace”, but that’s the wrong dichotomy. We can have moments of delight even if the whole isn’t always delightful. I love to cook; but prep work can be especially time-consuming and boring. Am I delighted to be cutting those 10 potatoes, large unwieldy cauliflower head, and 3 irregular carrots for my dish? No. Am I delighted by the aromas and taste of the soft-cooked vegetables when it’s finished? YES!
That delight is not just limited to the end result. I get delight using my potato ricer (see below) which makes quick and magic work of making cooked potato transform into the creamiest mashed potatoes. Seriously, you should consider buying one.
Designers make things, whether it’s screens or physical objects. Our efforts have a tactile quality that means they can be experienced and manipulated by others. The end results of our work takes up real space (or pixels) in the world. I find that pretty darn cool, to make a thing in the world and that others can appreciate that thing. It’s my own legacy, this breadcrumbs of things I make in the world. I think so many creative people come to the digital design field because of their interest in making things (and money)— but they get frustrated when they lose sight of the difference between design and art. What about experiences? I was trained in service design and I believe that making a script or making a path/journey that creates the context for an experience is still making a thing. I would not cook without making something to go in my mouth or nostrils and belly.
We all want to be “innovative” (I wish I could flush that from our vocabulary 🚽) and come up with the next big thing. But high-performers find joy even in the small wins. These are the wins that happen every day or every week, sustaining our appetite until we can taste the bigger wins. When I try a new recipe, I really hope it will be standout. Sometimes it’s great, other times it‘s mediocre. I still feel joy from that mediocre dish because it taught me an easier way to mince ginger or I learned why my dough keeps sticking to the rolling pin or discovered that powdered coconut milk exists.
Even in startup life, growing the power of designers and implementing a user-centered vision is a long game. It’s not happening over a quarter or a year, it’s happening over years and careers. Maybe we get lucky and find a company or project that let’s us do what we want. Then, we risk getting bored if it’s too easy. The journey to get there fuels us; the time spent working on a product or design, reworking and reflecting on a component that we finally found a good solution for. It’s like that day-long cheesecake recipe that you push through and savor the moment you finally take a bite. You get to say, “It was worth it.”
Feeling pleasure in my definition of joy is less about a physical sensation as it is feeling satisfied or proud of yourself. Dicing a pungent onion will cause burning tears to run down my face— it’s not a nice feeling. But I can’t help but be pleased with myself when I get equal size cuts or notice myself using the proper (and more safe) seesaw motion of the knife. It’s the natural feeling of doing something at a high skill. Many visually-focused designers derive pleasure from seeing a wireframe transform from crooked boxes to consistent gridded layouts. This pleasure may also come from hearing a stakeholder say, “Yeah, I like that [design, component, copy, etc].”
While producing a thing is central to design, our comfort in discussing technical details also brings its own form of pleasure. We’re a crowd of people who brandish our opinions like swords in a sophisticated duel of rules or principles. But we’re parrying, not in an all-out war.
These are conversations that can truly only be had with other experts and high-performers relish chances to “talk shop” with their peers. As a craft, these techniques, tools and details can evolve with time and technology, so we have to keep conversing with each other. I learned design when Adobe sold InDesign and Illustrator on CD-ROM and Macromedia owned Dreamweaver and Flash — the craft has evolved significantly since then. High-performing designers find joy because they come into these debates with curiosity and interest, not dogma and the need to be right.
I enjoy comparing recipes and techniques with other cooks; we’re all in a quest for the perfect dish with just the right amount of prep, flavor, or spice. Discovering a new approach to frying eggplant gives me an experiment to try in the kitchen. Discussing how they managed the sogginess hones my own skills over the fry pan. It’s impossible to cook with every technique (though it doesn’t stop America’s Test Kitchen from trying).
Why joy makes for better outcomes
There’s been a lot said about the “calling, career or job” of our chosen profession, but that isn’t necessarily what I’m referring to. Design doesn’t have to be your calling and if it’s just a job, a little joy never hurts ;)
Given the times when I’m writing this, you may be yelling at your screen, “Look, the industry is tanking, everyone is getting laid off. I need money to survive and a job with benefits, not joy.” The pandemic and its aftermath have shown us that survival can only get us so far. There are times when you need to just survive, but you have to acknowledge to that you’re not going to perform at your best or show the world what you’re truly capable of. Most of us can’t sustain that forever, and even a little bit of joy is a thing we should all aspire to — whether or not we can get it today.
Designers stay motivated, even when things get tough. Someone recently asked me, “Are there times when you’re not as passionate about design or jobs when you’re feeling not very motivated?” I answered emphatically yes. Finding joy in the technical aspects or in discussing them with my peers helped me get through those times; I leaned into intrinsic motivations rather than the paycheck or praise. That motivation is so important to being able to put in the time needed to solve through problems in front of us, so when teams have joy, they can keep delivering. Especially in these amgibiguous economic times, a little bit of joy will help you do more than just survive.
Encourages collaboration that brings the best out of us. Design is a collaborative job and when we bring that joy to working with others, we find a flow that has us satisfied at the end of the day. This joy gives designers confidence to show their work and engage others in the process. When you have a full(er) emotional bank account, you can take positive and negative feedback in stride.
More and faster professional development. If I don’t find any joy in my work, why would I dedicate any more time than I needed to it? Why would I seek out resources about the thing I hate? Well, I wouldn’t. I’d put my head down and try to get through the day with as little fuss as possible. Our joy in the technical has us searching for more joy in the technical, so we teach ourselves those Figma shortcuts or read about the latest iOS design changes. We want to ride the high that comes with that knowledge, so we grow and mature in our field far faster than those who keep their heads down. I want all my direct reports to progress and mature, but it requires putting in the work, not just the time.
Joy isn’t always easy to see, but we all deserve to find it in our everyday. I believe it not only makes us better designers, but also more resilient, compassionate humans too.
Part 1 of this series was about transparency and part 2 covered flexibility.
I’d love to hear from you how these principles play out for you and any questions this brings up.
