Published on | Prototyping: From UX to Front End — Medium John Warren Hanawalt

Designing isn’t magic; it’s work, and that’s okay.

“Inspiration is for amateurs—the rest of us just show up and get to work.” —Chuck Close

I have the pleasure of leading workshops on presenting work and working with feedback. In keeping with an informal tradition of Mule workshops, I often venture out for drinks with participants to unwind, chat, and hear their thoughts about the day.

Post-workshop drinks are part feedback session, part idle chatter about jobs and weekend plans, and part Q&A. Folks ask more about the day’s topic, how I’ve dealt with the challenges they’re facing, and what it’s like to work with Mike Monteiro (a question I’ll only answer over cocktails).

It was at one of these post-workshop round-tables that I was asked, “Where do you look for inspiration?”

When I think about inspiration, I think about the things that get me out of bed in the morning or give me hope for a brighter tomorrow—so basically, my dog and the fact that the average American male life expectancy could keep Trump from serving two terms even if the 2020 elections don’t. Neither of those things are reflected in my design work, though, which is what the question was about.

Some days, Guff is literally the only thing that inspires me to get out of bed.

Actually, inspiration is not a part of my design process, as least as far as it’s conceived by many “creative professionals.” Inspiration is a force of nature — it strikes like lightning, it runs dry like a river. And we creative types harness its energy through meditation, the representative magic of moodboards, and other elaborate ritual processes.

As Mike Monteiro describes this mindset in the first chapter of his book, Design is a Job:

The myth of the magical creative is alive and well, and it’s powerful […] A magical creative is expected to succeed based on instinct, rolling the dice every time, rather than on a methodical process that can be repeated time and time again.

—Design is a Job, Chapter One

(The Chuck Close quote at the top of this article is stolen from Mike, too.)

Truthfully, I am envious of designers who feel constantly inspired to create avant garde design. When I first started my career, I felt insecure about not being an “inspired” designer. I couldn’t easily channel my feelings, a melting pot of influences, and the zeitgeist into stunning work. I still can’t.

Now, lest you think I am confessing to making bad or dull work, let me clarify that I am talking process, here. I can create beautiful, effective work; but to this day it remains just that: work.

And sometimes you feel like garbage with a Figma license, and you make some design anyway. Source: Giphy

When I start a project now, I take for granted that before any good ideas come to me, before I’m able to create anything, I will need to do hours of researching, thinking, talking to coworkers, clients and users, and exploration.

I no longer wait for an a-ha moment that likely will never come. And because I don’t expect it, because my process no longer depends on it, I don’t get frustrated by my total lack of inspiration.

The problem isn’t using inspiration in your process. The problem is being unable to do your job without it.

The problem with the fairy tale of inspiration is it teaches us that good ideas just happen to us. We wait for inspiration to strike us like it must our design heroes and creative legends. And we wait. Our deadlines close in on us. We panic and self-flagellate because no good ideas chose us as their vessels. We blame ourselves. We blame the coworker who broke our concentration. We blame the clients and the uninspiring nature of their business needs.

If you’ve found yourself caught in this vicious cycle, you are not alone. Attend any Creative Mornings talk or Q&A with an established designer, and someone will ask about inspiration.

We’ve been taught that inspiration is the secret ingredient of great design, and we don’t know how to cook without it. We ask successful designers who their supplier is or where they get the best inspo as if we’re asking for tips on picking the perfectly ripe avocado.

Like cooking, design doesn’t start as an act of inspiration. It starts with fulfilling a need: hunger or the goals of the design project. You choose a direction for the solution: will it be a baked good or a website? Once that’s clear, there are ingredients you know you need to assemble and processes you need to follow to execute successfully. Baking? You’ll need to get some flour and eggs—unless you’re one of those gluten free, vegan bakers, in which case I have no advice for you. Building a website? You’ll need to figure out typography, color, and how it will be developed.

Folks love a baking metaphor. Source: Giphy

We wait for inspiration to act. But if you start acting on the fundamentals of the project first, you’ll find action gets your intuition rising faster than waiting.

The problem with the fairy tale of inspiration is it teaches us that good ideas just happen to us.

Designers think of their work like art and experience the terror of a blank canvas. I think of it more like solving a puzzle. Maybe you have an idea of what the picture will look like in the end. But even if not, by understanding the pieces and how they relate to each other, you can begin the work of putting things together. As the picture begins to reveal itself that work becomes easier. Maybe when you’re done, you Mod Podge the back and hang it up in your living room.

Oh no! Photoshop crashed before I could save my work! Source: Giphy

I’m not asking you to kill all your darlings. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get a good a-ha moment every now and then. But if I reflect on it, I can usually trace the steps my brain took to get there. (Sometimes these are literal steps as walking improves creative problem solving.)

Examining moments of inspiration more analytically might take some of the magic out them, but the learnings you take away make those moments more repeatable. My magic act is terrible, but I’m a reliably good designer.

The problem isn’t using inspiration in your process. The problem is being unable to do your job without it. So the next time you feel yourself stuck on a project, instead of looking for inspiration, just start working. And remember, the average lifespan of the American male is 78.74.

In praise of uninspired designers. was originally published in Prototypr on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

In praise of uninspired designers.

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