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The Creative Leadership Paradox

Creative leadership is not what you think it is. People hear titles like Head of Design, Executive Creative Director, or Chief something or other Officer, and assume it is glamorous. They imagine freedom, vision, status, and distance from the grind.

The reality is very different.

Creative leadership carries responsibility most people never see. It is not just about guiding design or producing ideas. It is about profitability, winning work, maintaining client confidence, carrying reputation, and being responsible for the careers of entire teams. All at once. It is accountability stacked high, and it rarely comes with the support or recognition that matches the load.

The Weight That Builds Over Years

Newly appointed design leads often admit they feel pressure after only a handful of projects. Now extend that across years, with multiple programmes running simultaneously, while also being expected to bring in new business and perform the “song and dance” to convince executives and clients that creativity deserves its place in the strategy.

Compensation does not look like the myths suggest. A handful of roles are lucrative, but most are not rewarded anywhere near the level of responsibility involved, especially compared to peers in other leadership positions with equivalent accountability.

Running a Function Means More Than Running the Work

Leading a creative department extends far beyond shaping output. It means resourcing, hiring, building career ladders, conducting reviews, mediating personality clashes, and supporting people through personal crises. Sometimes it even includes dealing with complaints as trivial as bad body odour.

And still, when you walk into the boardroom, you are reduced to “the creative one,” the person expected to tidy slides, supply ideas in hackathons, or jump into design tools at a moment’s notice. The assumption is that you operate like a junior on the tools every day, and if you hesitate, it is met with scoffs, regardless of the fact you have spent the entire week in executive meetings.

Here lies one of the hardest parts of leadership. Most of us became designers because we love the work itself. We still care about the craft, and many of us will step in when the situation demands it. But the more senior you become, the further you are pulled away from the tools. You have to learn to design through others. That means briefing, guiding, and nurturing talent rather than personally pushing every pixel. The distance is necessary, but it creates its own challenge. You are expected to represent the work at the highest level while living further away from the detail that first drew you to the field.

That shift is never fully recognised or understood.

Generalists in a World That Says “Specialise”

Budgets rarely align with ambition. Teams are hired for narrow skills, briefs expand, and gaps land on the leader. Long nights become routine, not because of desire, but because the team was never designed to cover the full scope.

Specialists are applauded in theory, yet in leadership, survival belongs to generalists. Adaptability is what keeps the team afloat.

Ahead of the Curve, but on Your Own

I have often led groups pushing ahead of the curve. It sounds exciting, but it comes with isolation. Explaining, defending, and selling work falls on your shoulders because no one else in the room understands it. Finance, operations, and core services are spoken fluently by other leaders, but creativity is left for you alone to frame and prove.

That burden is part of the territory.

The Invisible Magic

What is rarely noticed is the subtlety of the role. The real magic of creative leadership often looks invisible from the outside. It is more like whispering than shouting. Most creative leaders are nurturers, gently nudging talent forward, unlocking the genius within individuals, and moving the collective of the people they lead and the function they represent. That quiet ability to coax brilliance from others is what drives the work, yet it is almost never recognised as a skill.

Building the Plane While Taking Off

In digital, and especially in product, leadership often meant creating systems and structures while delivering in real time. Support did not exist, processes were unclear, and responsibility rested squarely on your shoulders.

Then came the boardroom reports, covering every project your team had running, stretched thin, while executives trivialised creativity because they once attended a corporate mandated design thinking workshop through their overpriced international local university.

But hey, they liked the tattoos, black t-shirts and sneakers, so I played along.

No One Trains You for This

There is no formal preparation for creative leadership. It is only learned through experience, carrying the weight, and recovering from the mistakes.

And yet when mergers, technology failures, or financial constraints arrive, creative leaders are often first in line for cuts. Not because of failure, but because the value of the role was never fully understood until the absence causes collapse. Watching people with decades of experience lose their seat at the table for reasons entirely beyond their control is the part that stings the most.

Why I Still Do It

With all the frustrations, I love what I do. Being present in decision making ensures creativity has a voice when it matters most. Experience allows teams to build work that makes an impact.

The job is not easy. It is not glamorous. It is layers of responsibility, often invisible to those sitting right beside us.

If you are stepping into creative leadership and feel the weight, know it is real. If you are an executive, understand this: we are not in the room to decorate your presentations. We are there to guide decisions that shape the future of the organisation.

That is what creative leadership really is.

Adaptive Interfaces Powered by AI

For the last decade we have leaned on responsive design and design systems to scale digital interfaces. Content lives in a CMS. Components and tokens live in a design system. Rules define how everything adapts across devices.

The system works, but it is manual. Designers and developers still have to define outputs for mobile, desktop, or voice.

Now imagine if the content was the source of truth, and an AI layer decided how to present it depending on the context.

Think about a sales report. On desktop it could show as a full interactive chart with filters. On mobile it might reduce to a highlight summary with expandable detail. On voice it could be delivered as spoken insights. On a TV dashboard it might render as a bold infographic with minimal text.

The AI is not reading a design system website to make that choice. It is using the actual building blocks from the system. Tokens, components, accessibility rules, interaction patterns. The documentation site is helpful for people, but the AI needs machine readable assets it can apply in real time.

That raises a key question. Who sets the style, and who applies it.

The brand expression layer still belongs to designers and engineers. Designers define the look and feel of the brand, capture it in tokens, and document the rules. Engineers code those tokens and components so they can be reused across products. This is the palette. These are the raw ingredients.

The AI sits on the assembly and adaptation layer. It does not invent brand styles from scratch. It applies the tokens and rules already defined. Its job is to select the right layout or component for the context. On mobile it might choose a compact card. On desktop it might expand to a grid. On voice it might simplify labels. On dashboards it might select a chart type that meets accessibility rules.

In practice this could look simple. A headless content source provides structured data, text, and media. A design system in code provides components like cards, charts, and media players, along with tokens for spacing, colour, and type. An AI layout engine, trained on patterns, selects which components to use and how to arrange them. A renderer maps that schema to the components and displays it in the right form for each device.

The page shell does not change. What changes is how the content and the controls are expressed.

We are not fully there yet. Most AI tools generate static layouts rather than adaptive experiences. Performance and consistency remain challenges. Accessibility and governance also need strong guardrails.

Still, the building blocks exist. Headless CMS. Design systems in code. Schema driven rendering. AI models that can output structured layouts.

If this becomes real it changes the role of designers and developers. Instead of hand crafting every variant, the work becomes defining the rules, tokens, and constraints. The AI assembles the experience. The result could be adaptive, future proof interfaces that scale across devices and new mediums we have not even imagined yet.

This is still theory. What is missing is a working prototype to prove the idea. I want to explore how we might build a version of this together, using headless content, a small set of coded components, and an AI layout engine that adapts to context.

If you are experimenting in this space, whether you are an engineer, designer, or researcher, I would like to connect. Maybe we can turn this idea into something real.

Design Growth After Hours

A lot of designers I meet talk about wanting to be promoted, wanting to specialise, wanting to progress. But many are not willing to do more than what is asked of them inside their job description. They work the hours, tick the boxes, and then wait for growth to arrive.

The reality is that career progression rarely comes from doing only what is expected. The best designers I have seen are the ones who deliberately go beyond their 9–5 responsibilities. Not because they are forced to, but because they care about improving their craft and setting themselves apart.

This does not mean sacrificing your personal life or burning yourself out. It means being intentional with how you spend a portion of your free time. Every role offers some growth, but no single job will give you everything you need to become a better designer. If your development goals do not line up with your current position, you will need to take ownership of that gap.

Growth comes from exploring beyond the duties of your role. That could mean:

  • Building side projects that stretch you in ways your job does not
  • Learning the basics of engineering so you understand how design decisions impact technology
  • Developing your personal brand so that your influence extends beyond your current team
  • Investing in your taste and decision-making by exposing yourself to different ideas, industries, and experiences
  • Supporting others through mentoring, which sharpens your own clarity and leadership

Yes, courses, tutorials, and bootcamps are useful. But they are not enough on their own. True progress comes when you combine learning with practice, and when you deliberately step into spaces outside your comfort zone.

The industry is more demanding than ever. Tools change quickly, expectations rise, and the line between design, technology, and business keeps getting thinner. To stay relevant, you cannot only rely on what your employer gives you. You need to commit to developing yourself, continually and consistently, regardless of your current role.

This is why I believe designers should treat their careers as their responsibility, not their employer’s. That means auditing how you spend time outside work and carving out space to grow. Waiting for your bi-annual review or hoping the company will hand you the perfect opportunity is not enough.

Careers are built on choices made over years, not moments of pressure. If you dedicate even a small, consistent percentage of your time to growth, you will always move forward.

Because design is not just what you do from 9 to 5. It is how you keep building yourself to be the kind of designer the future demands.

The Value of Design Direction

When people talk about design leadership, they often focus on the big picture. Scaling teams, setting up systems, and representing design at the executive table. Those things matter, but there is a function that rarely gets the attention it deserves. Design Direction.

Design Direction is the equivalent of art direction or creative direction in traditional agencies. It is how leadership gets a project to not only meet the vision but also stay aligned and push the design as far as possible. Without it, even the strongest design teams can lose their way, and even the most talented designers can end up delivering work that meets the brief but lacks the depth and clarity that comes from experienced guidance.

I have seen first-hand how often Design Direction is misunderstood. I have been asked to log my hours like an individual contributor, as if the only measurable design output is pixels pushed. I have been in conflict with project managers and product owners who reduce Design Direction to a standing review once a week. They see it as an overhead rather than an integral part of the process. This way of thinking overlooks what Design Direction really is. The ongoing alignment, questioning, and refinement that ensures design delivers at the highest possible level.

Design Direction is not just sitting in on reviews. It is defining the product and design strategy, setting the creative vision, understanding the goals and deliverables, and making sure that the team has the clarity and confidence to execute. It is knowing when to push a concept further, when to simplify, and when to hold the line on detail. It is asking the tough questions that less experienced designers may not think to ask. And it is being available as a sounding board, not only for design craft but for the confidence and judgement that comes with experience.

In practical terms, Design Direction should be seen as a core part of any project plan. Around 20 percent of design time is a reasonable baseline, and often more is required at the beginning of a project to define goals with founders and stakeholders. This investment pays for itself many times over because it prevents wasted effort, reduces misalignment, and raises the quality of the final product. Design Direction is not a task you tick off. It is an ongoing practice that shapes how design unfolds across the life of a project.

On a day to day level, Design Direction shows up in countless ways. It is a conversation that helps a designer see a better path forward. It is feedback that brings alignment between product, engineering, and design. It is guidance that takes a project from done to delivered with impact. Most importantly, it creates the conditions for designers to do their best work.

When Design Direction is missing, teams are left to operate in isolation. Designers second guess themselves, products drift from their intended vision, and the end result suffers. When it is present, alignment is tighter, designers are more confident, and the quality of output rises.

Design Direction is not a luxury. It is not an add on or an afterthought. It is a fundamental part of design leadership, and it should be factored into every project plan as deliberately as design, product, or engineering. The difference it makes is not only in the work produced, but in the confidence, clarity, and capability of the team delivering it.

The next time you are putting together a project plan, make sure Design Direction has a line of its own. Be generous with it. Your design team will thrive, and your product will benefit in ways you can measure and in ways you cannot.

Let Designers Design

The design industry has spent years proving itself, fitting in and playing everyone else’s game. For many it has become exhausting. I hear it from those trying to break into the field, from those practising it daily and especially from those tasked with leading it. We are told design is valued, that there is a seat at the table and that creativity is welcome. Yet this seems conditional on jumping through hoops that have little to do with the job designers are meant to do.

We fought to justify the value of design to clients, then repeated the same battles with internal stakeholders and colleagues in business and engineering. Over time the effort shifted away from building great work and towards fitting into traditional systems of management and measurement. Designers have found themselves performing tasks that have nothing to do with design, simply to make others comfortable. Even the process of getting a role has turned into a theatre of fiery hoops, with endless CV reviews, tailoring applications for each company, updating portfolios to match every new standard and trying to please hiring managers who think they know best. It has become harder to do the work itself, which is design.

The cost of this culture is visible in the output. We have spent so much time on process and conformity that progress has slowed. Innovation has been replaced with repetition, matching competitors inside the same narrow budgets, unable to reach beyond what already exists. The visionary thinking that should shape the future has been crowded out by daily rituals of timesheets, 360 reviews, stand ups, Slack replies and a constant need to show that we are busy. Design has been reduced to theatre, tracking metrics instead of crafting details, hosting workshops to prove inclusivity, building prototypes just to walk people through obvious solutions, and rarely getting the chance to refine or improve the work. Most of design today seems to serve delivery alone, with little left for imagination.

It may read like a rant, and perhaps it is. But I have reached the point of caring less about how this sounds and more about being honest. There will always be some degree of corporate bureaucracy in any role. The problem is that it now takes up eighty percent of a designer’s energy, leaving only twenty percent for the craft. It should be the other way around. I mentor and coach designers and leaders who are not exhausted by design itself but by everything that sits around it. That is the tragedy.

Consider how many creative people already came through systems that were not built for them. Many were boxed into categories at school that never nurtured their minds, and many are likely on the spectrum, which has given the world more genius than conformity ever has. Those who survived that path went on to teach themselves, to learn the tools, systems and principles of a discipline that changes by the week. They became writers, art directors, designers, always keeping pace with whatever came next. That resilience is remarkable, but even so, it is not sustainable to expect them to keep proving their worth in a game that was not designed for them.

The standards for entry into the profession make it worse. Unless you have worked at one of the largest technology companies, studied at one of the most expensive universities and built an award winning portfolio curated to perfection, it is almost impossible to get a foot in the door. Meanwhile, those same companies and institutions often lag behind the pace of the industry itself.

So let us imagine what things could look like instead. At least eighty percent of our time should be given back to the work itself. Designers should be trusted to work in ways that bring out the best in them, led by those who have walked the same path. Teams should have rituals that make sense to them, rewards that are recognised by the people who see the effort, not just measured in spreadsheets. We should have the space to think, without being judged on how many hours were accounted for, and to let ideas build in our minds until they are ready.

Work should be structured to suit the project, not dictated by sales estimates. Designers, strategists, engineers and business partners should collaborate to find the right balance of requirements, deadlines and resources. Quality should be the shared goal, and time should be spent not just on delivery but on improvements, optimisations and the kind of craft that sets new standards.

Leadership has a role in protecting this. Leaders should be able to hire their own talent, shape budgets, and shield their teams from distractions that erode progress. Culture should come from within the team, not from rules imposed elsewhere. Designers know how to create environments that work for them, and when given trust, they will deliver outcomes that make arguments over measurement irrelevant.

This is what design should be. Crafting buttons and systems that do not rot into graveyards. Updating workflows and raising standards because that is what professionals do. No designer signed up to measure themselves by arbitrary metrics. They signed up to design. The truth is that design should not have to fight this hard to exist. Everything in the world is designed in one way or another. Every great thing ever made was designed.

Designers may never reach the financial rewards of other professions, but that was the sacrifice we made when we chose careers that gave us happiness and expression. Even so, the impact of design deserves respect and proper compensation. If given the space to do the job as it was intended, design would not be reduced to theatre. It would simply be design.

Design is the problem to solve

Over the past few years, design inside tech firms has become the easiest role to cut, and with every round of layoffs it is designers who are first on the list. We were once told we had a seat at the table, yet today that seat looks temporary at best.

If we are honest with ourselves, we helped create this problem. We, the product and digital designers inside tech, became more performative than productive. Nobody ever gave us a seat because we could make things beautiful, and while we shouted about users, we were rarely given the budget to test early and often, and access to data was nowhere near what we would have liked. Instead, we performed. We borrowed the language of research and process, even when in reality we were working with little more than instinct and guesswork.

The value of design was supposed to come from solving problems, delivering design thinking, and shaping processes that produced outcomes business leaders could measure. It is no surprise, then, that the academic designers who spoke the language of process, efficiency, ROI and users were the ones who seemed to matter, yet if we are honest, very few of those efforts really moved the needle.

Take Jony Ive as an example. He does not design products by running endless workshops or following ritualised research stages. He and his teams build by feel, then adapt based on feedback. Of course strategy matters, I have always planned my approach before moving a single pixel, but I never felt the need to perform that planning as theatre.

Disappearing into a void after a brief and reappearing at review stages may have left people anxious, but more often than not what was delivered was higher in quality because the focus stayed on the doing rather than the performing. Feedback still mattered, it was simply balanced with collective knowledge, taste, and trial and error to create digital experiences and visuals people actually loved.

That approach may feel outdated today, yet given how many designers are cut in every round of tech layoffs it is clear the way design is being done now is not valued either. Too much of it looks like theatrics, too little of it feels critical.

What makes this sting more is that, at the same time, branding has picked up again. In brand and marketing work, people are not dissecting every step in the process, they are celebrating the outcomes. Campaigns, identities and storytelling are back in the spotlight, effort is visible, impact is celebrated. I would go so far as to say that if you are a digital creative and you get the chance to return to brand and marketing roots, take it, because for now at least that work is still valued, visible and championed. In tech, meanwhile, design has been reduced to a cost to be cut, and for those of us who stay, the challenge is to reposition what we do, together.

Neither the old way nor the current way is enough, and we need to redesign design itself. Design has to become so valuable it cannot be ignored, it has to earn the time and space to create effective solutions away from the microscope of constant justification, and it has to produce outcomes so strong that companies are reluctant to lose the people behind them.

We could certainly improve all the templatised and systemised work with more brand and personality, because surely the point of making ourselves more efficient is to free up the time to put craft back into our work, to do the things that tight schedules and budgets would not normally afford us. We should be taking a page from the branding companies, crafting experiences that carry the brand voice in every interaction and every element of the interface, because that is where design shows its value and earns trust.

We gave away too much power when we packaged design into a process that could be taught in a two-day corporate workshop, and executives began to believe that was all design was. No one makes the same mistake with engineering, because none of them believe they can code. The dev mystery remains, and design needs to keep some of it’s own too. The only voices worth listening to are those who talk about design in ways that inspire, not those who rinse and repeat the latest buzzwords in a slide deck. We should be showing, not telling.

I won’t pretend to have the answers, but I know design cannot keep fading into irrelevance. The layoffs, the reduced teams, the constant devaluing of our craft all signal an industry in decline, unless we act.

This is our new brief, and our collective challenge, to solve the problem of design itself. Not with another layer of theatre, not with borrowed language, but by proving through what we make that design is indispensable.

It is time to treat design as the problem to solve, and it is up to us, together, to design the solution.

Startups, You Don’t Need a CDO Yet

I was recently approached to take on a Chief Design Officer role for a startup. Pre-anything. Equity stake, interesting project, no compensation until the first round of funding. All reasonable asks given the requirements were minimal.

I will not get into the specifics of why I did not jump at the opportunity, but I will say this: they do not need a CDO.

Most early stage startups do not. Not even scale-ups until there is a larger set of resources in place who truly need that level of leadership. Sure, you can bring one in fractionally, but the work founders think a CDO should be doing is rarely the work of a CDO.

Yes, we carry years of wisdom, but you also need someone on the tools. Most CDOs are more than capable, but why disrespect them by asking them to do the job of a mid-level designer? That is not the work of a CDO. I have yet to meet a seasoned CTO who is expected to sit and code full time.

This is a role that is simply not required at the early stage. When you are bootstrapping, making promises you cannot guarantee, bringing in a CDO is not the solution.

The better opportunity is for a senior designer. Someone 5–10 years into their career. Someone who is comfortable wearing multiple hats, who can handle the hands-on work to ship an MVP and secure funding. Get a CTO and a CDO to advise if you like, but do not rope them in with a title and then expect them to do work they have not done in a decade.

I hear a lot about ICs, but even most of them are overly qualified unless this is just a side project they are passionate about. They deserve more respect than being used as a stop-gap. The role of a CDO is to lead the function, not just push the pixels.

That is not arrogance. I still jump in Figma. I still design every day. But my role has a better use of time. My value is in setting vision, representing the function, and scaling design so that it has the impact it should.

When you hire a CDO you get years of experience in navigating complexity, shaping organisations, building systems, and ensuring design serves the business at scale. You also get recognition given to the team, responsibility taken for the outcome, and a leader who knows the details without having to do every detail themselves.

I worked hard to reach this level, as have many others. It is not about being above the work, it is about applying hard-earned experience for the right impact.

A Chief Design Officer is not what an early stage startup needs. At that point, you need hands-on design, not design leadership. Bring in someone who can wear many hats, move fast, and get you to an MVP. Save the CDO role for when you are ready to scale design into a function that drives the business forward.

Respect the role. Respect the people. Put them where they can create the most value.

Design Was the Skillset I Chose

Design is the skillset I have prioritised to leverage my creativity.

That single choice has shaped my entire career, but it could just as easily have gone another way. From the earliest descriptions of who I was, the word creative always appeared. By today’s definitions, some of the traits I carried might now be labelled differently, perhaps even as a disability, but at the time they were simply quirks that nudged me in this direction. It became the identity I took on. Whether that identity was imposed on me or the result of genuine talent is still up for debate, but I passed every test I ever took and won every art competition I ever entered.

The irony is that I am not competitive. I have never cared about competing with others, which is why I still do not value awards for their own sake. I only care how they could be leveraged to generate more business. But I was never considered a business person. Even when I turned talent into design skills, I never stood out for business acumen. I was recognised for creativity.

Still, I genuinely believe that had I pursued any other field, I would have thrived as long as I committed to it in the way I committed to design. I could have applied myself to almost anything. If you have not met me, you might be surprised to know the only thing I ever formally studied was personal training before I became a designer. If you have met me, you would probably understand.

The First Detour

I am not a bodybuilder. That is a whole other level of dedication. I have always been in good shape. That came from resisting the idea that I was useless at sport, even though I was never encouraged to play much. For the most part my family were overweight and did very little to stay in shape. My father, a pilot, was the exception, showing real athleticism through running, hiking, and keeping fit for his job. My brother and I looked different to the rest of the family, much slimmer, so at eighteen I started going to the gym to gain some muscle.

I got results quickly and learned that hard, consistent work pays off. I obsessed over training. I fantasised about bodybuilding, but I never had the discipline to build the frame required to compete. Still, I looked good enough to model and walk around with confidence. I still train with intent and consistency, and when I am not talking about design I am usually talking about fitness, nutrition, longevity and mental well being.

Early in my personal training career, I discovered I could make far more money in design with less time investment. I abandoned the idea of being a PT and committed to design. Despite once swearing I would never be a creative, and trying different paths, I found myself pulled into a career of creativity anyway.

Finding My Medium

At first, I thought I would be a graphic designer. I tried designing business cards, flyers, and letterheads. But I found web design early, and that changed everything. It was not only about visual design, I had to learn to code and build websites. That led into Flash, which opened the door to animation, illustration, sound, interaction, and experiences that were far richer than simple layouts.

I became obsessed with being an internationally recognised Flash designer. This distracted me from any other creative pursuits because I was fully committed. The more I built, the more attention I received, and the more ambitious my work became.

Over time, my skills broadened. Bigger clients demanded more than just Flash sites. I had to think about branding, campaigns, technology, and experiences. Year on year, I built range. But when the 2008 recession hit, working independently became unsustainable, and I started flirting with the idea of joining an agency.

In 2009, I entered advertising as a Creative Director.

From Designer to Leader

Being hired directly as a Creative Director meant leading from day one. I was responsible for digital and for integrating it with traditional teams, raising standards and pushing for brand building across channels. After a decade working for myself, the shift into leadership felt natural. I focused on outcomes and on helping people do the best work they could.

As a creative director my role was broad from the start. It covered brand, campaigns, digital integration and the wider picture of how creative work shapes perception and drives business. I thrived in that environment. Even without previous experience on set, without understanding why production was outsourced to directors or why DTP handled asset design, I figured it all out. I was just as comfortable concepting a TV advert as I was launching a website or planning a seasonal campaign. My personal taste and standards carried me through.

Leadership, however, was a skill I had to learn. At first, I thought I was doing fine, but in truth I was making mistakes. The difference was that I was open to guidance from great leaders, and I learned from them quickly. I applied their wisdom, caught up fast, and found success as a creative leader.

Beyond Agencies

When I left advertising, I intended to return my focus to design. But I never saw myself as only a designer. My career had taught me that my creativity had more range. I could deliver far beyond pixels. I expanded my scope into systems, product design, brand strategy, and content production at scale.

Even in my role as Chief Design Officer, where others sometimes saw the job as managing designers in Figma, I was reshaping brand perception, building a digital product function, and influencing business direction. I rebranded companies, introduced design thinking, built systems, took over social media, and spoke business with CEOs.

Creativity was always the lever I pulled. It gave me access to projects and responsibilities that others might have overlooked.

Beyond Design

Despite being boxed in at times, I have always seen myself as more than a designer. I can adapt to new tools and frameworks quickly, and I am not limited to a single discipline. Design has been my foundation, but I know I could have written, directed film, or worked in fashion with equal commitment.

Could I have been a successful businessman or CEO in any field? I believe so. But it takes only a few minutes with me to see where my instincts lie. I am creative. It is natural, it is obvious, and it has always been the constant.

Creativity as the Constant

The point is not that design was the only path open to me. It is that creativity is a transferable foundation. Once you commit to mastering a skill, the same mindset can be applied elsewhere. Design has been the skillset I prioritised to leverage my creativity, but the real story is that creativity itself is the asset.

It has carried me through industries, helped me adapt, and allowed me to thrive. Design was my chosen medium, but creativity has always been the thread running through everything I do.

Systems Over Surfaces

In 2025 we need to start building systems for content consumption and input instead of focusing only on apps, websites, SEO and other surface level tactics. Too many people get caught up in trying to learn how to design liquid glass or chat UI design patterns, which drives me mad. Unless you are working for Apple designing their UI, there is no need for you to learn how to design glass. You would not use it for anything of your own. You will use their glass UI when you have to, but otherwise your designs should reflect your brand’s CI, not Apple’s visual language.

The same applies to chat UI patterns. These exist for the platforms that use them, so unless you are designing for those platforms there is little point in spending time creating patterns like this. These are surface decisions. Your focus should be on your client’s needs, on how they are going to distribute information and instruction for consumption, and on how you will get engagement through input and interaction. That means building systems that work across multiple contexts and not being distracted by trends that exist only at the surface.

Learning from others is valuable, but the goal should be to centralise all of your content so it is consistent and avoids unnecessary repetition. Once the content foundation is in place, you need a way to capture input, whether that comes through text, voice, gestures or interactions that result in a response, action and reaction. This is where systems thinking pays off because a strong system can adapt to many different surfaces without being redesigned each time.

When we talk about content consumption in this context, we are not talking about endlessly scrolling through a feed on Instagram or TikTok. We are talking about business and visibility. Every company should have a central resource where its content can be stored and distributed no matter how or where it is consumed. That might be on mobile, on desktop websites, inside apps, through Google search or via ChatGPT. It might be read or listened to, presented in words or in visuals. It might need a rich interface, or it might not need one at all. Whatever the format, it needs to be consistent, accessible, and able to adapt to different environments without losing clarity or impact.

Once you have addressed how content will be consumed, you must think about how people will interact with it. What will the input look like, and how will that input influence what is consumed or how the user engages? Will they add a product to a cart, submit a form, leave a review, or trigger a specific action in a system? These are system level decisions that must work across many surfaces. The possibilities for capturing and responding to input are countless and they change depending on where, when and how the interaction happens.

This is the new frontier and it is still largely unknown. I am not offering fixed solutions because there is no single interface any more. We have to design for many possible environments and sometimes we will be designing for no interface at all. With the promise of non screen devices becoming a reality, and with the likelihood of limited visual opportunities such as subtle metrics or visual cues in something like meta glasses, we need to start preparing for a completely different type of interactive experience. That is only possible if we think in systems, not in surfaces.

Which is why it makes no sense to waste time learning how to make liquid glass effects or trendy chat UI patterns unless you are specifically designing for the companies and platforms that use them. Instead, invest your time in understanding how content will be seen, how it will be distributed, and what people are actually going to interact with in the context of your brand or your client’s business. Build systems that can adapt to any surface because in the years ahead those surfaces will keep changing and the systems you create now will decide whether you can keep up.

We Dance The Freelance

Freelancing is one of the most immediate paths back into meaningful work when you’re in between roles. Whether you’re navigating a career shift, recently left a full-time job, or simply exploring more independent ways of working, going freelance can be a practical way to stay sharp, be visible and get paid. For some, it’s a short-term bridge. For others, it becomes the start of a more flexible, self-directed career. Either way, it requires a different level of readiness.

Clients are rarely hiring freelancers for long strategic processes. They want designers who can step in and start producing right away. That usually means being hands on with the tools, delivering quality work quickly and with minimal friction. To do that well, you need a solid setup, not just in your craft, but in how you collaborate, present and hand over work. The freelancers who are thriving are the ones who come prepared.

1. Build a rapid-start design system

You need a design system you can drop into any project and start building immediately. That means having your own component library in Figma built around best practice. Not for expressing your opinions, but for removing them when speed matters. It should include all the common UI patterns you see in every product: sign-in screens, contact forms, navigation layouts, search, account settings. Do not build these from scratch every time. Have your own system ready, but adapt it based on your target audience. If you’re working with engineering teams, align to what they already use. Tailwind, for example, is popular and has a structure that suits component-based development. If you’re working with small businesses or solo founders, then get comfortable with platforms like Webflow, Framer or even Squarespace.

2. Use templates for everything

Templates reduce decisions. The more reusable assets you have, the faster you can deliver. That means building templates not just for components, but for whole journeys, workshop boards, user flows, wireframes, proposals, content, branding and presentation decks. Create mockups of devices and everyday scenes so your work looks real and grounded in its future context. These templates do not need to be perfect, they need to be functional. They are the foundation you adapt to each client. Build them once and use them forever.

3. Prepare your UX assets

User experiences need more than screens. You need flows, customer journeys, diagrams and key moments that tie back to the story being told. These should also be templated. Every time you create a journey map from scratch, you waste time. Have one that can be tweaked quickly. Make sure it is clear enough for clients to understand, and structured enough to support buying decisions and align stakeholders. Freelance work often moves without a product manager in the room. Your job is not just to design, but to guide.

4. Preload your workshops and presentations

If you run workshops, every minute of client time matters. Prepare your Miro or Figma boards before the session starts. Have assets, instructions, flows and agendas already in place. The same goes for presenting. Your decks should not be reinvented every time. Have a base deck you simply populate. Clients want clarity, not surprises. They want to feel that you’ve done this before and can guide them through it.

5. Package your branding work

If you do visual identity work, you need a setup that makes you look fast and smart. That means having brand decks, real world mockups, and sample assets you can plug new work into. Put the logo on business cards, vehicles, T-shirts, shopfronts and devices. Most clients can’t visualise anything. That’s your job. Your deck should include logos, fonts, colours, tone of voice and guidelines. Build a template once and stop reinventing it.

6. Offer content templates that speed up execution

If your work touches content, then have templates ready for thumbnails, posts, profile layouts and advertising formats across all key platforms. Most clients will want these and they rarely come prepared. You don’t need to be a content creator, but you should know how to lay out a YouTube thumbnail, a LinkedIn carousel or a homepage hero that works. These quick wins buy you time to focus on better creative decisions elsewhere.

7. Build your own brand assets to market yourself

You are your own client too. Build your brand properly so you don’t spend time redoing it every time you post or update your site. Create your own templates, content, decks, icons, tone of voice and presentation layouts so you can focus on doing the work instead of marketing it. No one cares what your process is if the work isn’t visible.

8. Have a full business setup behind you

Being freelance means running a business. That includes contracts, quotes and invoices. These documents protect you. Brand them properly and structure them in a way that helps you look professional and experienced. If you don’t have the money to pay a lawyer, start with a strong template and get a lawyer to review it once you can afford to. Get these wrong and they will cost you.

9. Create structured communication tools

You are your own project manager. That means making it easy for clients to work with you. Start with a proper briefing questionnaire that captures what you need to begin the work. From that, create a simple briefing template that you can present back to confirm alignment. Set up project timeline boards in Notion, Trello or whatever suits your workflow, with key milestones, assets and deadlines mapped out. Use Slack channels or shared folders to keep conversations and files organised. Have clear labels, standard file naming conventions and a reliable system of version control. You will be judged by how easy you are to work with, not just how well you design.

10. Understand how engineers work

This is the part most designers skip. You do not need to code, but you do need to understand how things are built. Learn the difference between building in pages versus components. Understand how APIs, headless systems, front-end frameworks and dev handoff tools work. Ask your engineer contacts what they use. Figma to code plugins, design tokens, component libraries and naming conventions all matter. Most importantly, document your work. Do not assume that screens are enough. Leave notes, usage guides and structure your files so that they can be used without you in the room. That is the handoff.

Freelancing is not a fallback, it’s a craft of its own. The work might be temporary, but the reputation you build is permanent. Your setup is not just about speed, it’s about consistency, clarity and trust. Treat it like infrastructure. The better it runs, the more energy you have for the work itself.

If you’re serious about doing great freelance work, act like a business from day one. Build the assets, sharpen your tools, and create the kind of working environment that clients want to return to. You’re not just selling design. You’re making it easier for others to move forward.