A language of makers
Contrary to perceptions, web design is more industrial than graphic design. Our language is one of makers, and of things made to be used.
“Where are the landmark websites?” asked Armin Vit in 2007. Mark Boulton tweeted “Graphic Design had Emigré. What does web design have?”. Jason Santa Maria picked up the conversation, wondering whether we even have a “shared language to critically discuss web design”?
This discussion takes me back to 1998, the year I graduated as the first — and only — web designer in a Visual Communication course of 90 students. I remember my co-students poring over magazines like Blueprint and Creative Review, packed with reviews on every aspect of design — other than websites. Web design, with its awkward layouts and rudimentary typography, was seemingly too raw for critical assessment.
The pool of design terminology was too shallow for the new medium.
It quickly became clear that the pool of design terminology was too shallow to accommodate the capabilities of the new medium. Surprisingly, it was industrial and interaction design books like The Design of Everyday Things by Don Norman, Designing Web Usability by Jacob Nielsen and Don’t Make Me Think! by Steve Krug that shaped the early web design language.
These books and websites were a world away from the introspective, precious design I was taught at college. They were gloriously un-designed. Jacob Nielsen’s Alertbox was a mess of Verdana on anaemic yellow and blue background. The retro illustrations in Don’t Make Me Think! would not be trendy for another decade.
A language of making things
These publications described our early failures and successes best and gave birth to modern web design language. A melting pot of graphic, industrial and interaction design terminology (with a healthy dollop of geek culture and web jargon), it has evolved into the platform of professional discourse used in web design studios and conferences today.
The language is real, and accurate. Abstract words like “compatibility”, “responsiveness” and “performance” mean a very specific things in a web design context. These phrases originate in technique, but go beyond know-how and into the heart of our user-centric approach.
Those who seek evidence of this language in the domain of graphic design are probably looking in the wrong place. Graphic and web design share toolkit and processes, however web design is a closer to industrial design. As Andy Rutledge wrote in 2011 “drawing a picture of the product is not designing the product”.
In web and industrial design, ideation and production co-exist.
The origins and make-up of modern web design language can be traced back to where web and industrial design meet: both involve creative processes where ideation and production co-exist. Graphic design has developed a language for creating abstract form, whereas industrial designers developed a language to discuss making things.
Last year, Jony Ive said in an interview “I design and make. I can’t separate those two”. Industrial designers work with materials and web designers work with code — but we all make things. Jeffrey Zeldman managed to fit this point in a tweet: “Real web designers write code. Always have, always will”.
Looking for landmarks
If this is our language, are we really short the landmark web designs? Twitter visualises thoughts, people and time on an “infinite scroll”. The UK Government won the Design of the Year award for an accessible, “understated” design. And the design of this essay shows that if you want people to get “immersed” into reading, the humble single-column book layout works best.
Probably the biggest landmark in web design is the one that Armin Vit mocked in 2007: “a logo made up of primary colors with a bevel and drop shadow, default blue links and two buttons centred on a page. Doesn’t sound like a winner, does it?”
This description of Google’s homepage illustrates perfectly how modern web design has evolved a language and critical framework all of its own. In our domain, simplicity is beautiful and beauty is simple. Ours is not a language of form, but a language of makers, and of things made to be used.
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