We get better design when we understand our medium. Yet even at this late cultural hour, many people don’t understand web design. Among them can be found some of our most distinguished business and cultural leaders, including a few who possess a profound grasp of design—except as it relates to the web.

Some who don’t understand web design nevertheless have the job of creating websites or supervising web designers and developers. Others who don’t understand web design are nevertheless professionally charged with evaluating it on behalf of the rest of us. Those who understand the least make the most noise. They are the ones leading charges, slamming doors, and throwing money—at all the wrong people and things.

If we want better sites, better work, and better-informed clients, the need to educate begins with us.

Preferring real estate to architecture
It’s hard to understand web design when you don’t understand the web. And it’s hard to understand the web when those who are paid to explain it either don’t get it themselves, or are obliged for commercial reasons to suppress some of what they know, emphasizing the Barnumesque over the brilliant.

The news media too often gets it wrong. Too much internet journalism follows the money; too little covers art and ideas. Driven by editors pressured by publishers worried about vanishing advertisers, even journalists who understand the web spend most of their time writing about deals and quoting dealmakers. Many do this even when the statement they’re quoting is patently self-serving and ludicrous—like Zuckerberg’s Law.

It’s not that Zuckerberg’s not news; and it’s not that business isn’t some journalists’ beat. But focusing on business to the exclusion of all else is like reporting on real estate deals while ignoring architecture.

And one tires of the news narrative’s one-dimensionalism. In 1994, the web was weird and wild, they told us. In ‘99 it was a kingmaker; in ‘01, a bust. In ‘02, news folk discovered blogs; in ‘04, perspiring guest bloggers on CNN explained how citizen journalists were reinventing news and democracy and would determine who won that year’s presidential election. I forget how that one turned out.

When absurd predictions die ridiculous deaths, nobody resigns from the newsroom, they just throw a new line into the water—like marketers replacing a slogan that tanked. After decades of news commoditization, what’s amazing is how many good reporters there still are, and how hard many try to lay accurate information before the public. Sometimes you can almost hear it beneath the roar of the grotesque and the exceptional.

The sustainable circle of self-regard
News media are not the only ones getting it wrong. Professional associations get it wrong every day, and commemorate their wrongness with an annual festival. Each year, advertising and design magazines and professional organizations hold contests for “new media design” judged by the winners of last year’s competitions. That they call it “new media design” tells them nothing and you and me everything.

Although there are exceptions, for the most part the creators of winning entries see the web as a vehicle for advertising and marketing campaigns in which the user passively experiences Flash and video content. For the active user, there is gaming—but what you and I think of as active web use is limited to clicking a “Digg this page” button.

The winning sites look fabulous as screen shots in glossy design annuals. When the winners become judges, they reward work like their own. Thus sites that behave like TV and look good between covers continue to be created, and a generation of clients and art directors thinks that stuff is the cream of web design.

Design critics get it wrong, too
People who are smart about print can be less bright about the web. Their critical faculties, honed to perfection during the Kerning Wars, smash to bits against the barricades of our profession.

The less sophisticated lament on our behalf that we are stuck with ugly fonts. They wonder aloud how we can enjoy working in a medium that offers us less than absolute control over every atom of the visual experience. What they are secretly asking is whether or not we are real designers. (They suspect that we are not.) But these are the juniors, the design students and future critics. Their opinions are chiefly of interest to their professors, and one prays they have good ones.

More sophisticated critics understand that the web is not print and that limitations are part of every design discipline. Yet even these eggheads will sometimes succumb to fallacious comparatives. (I’ve done it myself, although long ago and strictly for giggles.) Where are the masterpieces of web design, these critics cry. That Google Maps might be as representative of our age as the Mona Lisa was of Leonardo’s—and as brilliant, in its way—satisfies many of us as an answer, but might not satisfy the design critic in search of a direct parallel to, oh, I don’t know, let’s say Milton Glaser’s iconic Bob Dylan poster.

Typography, architecture, and web design
The trouble is, web design, although it employs elements of graphic design and illustration, does not map to them. If one must compare the web to other media, typography would be a better choice. For a web design, like a typeface, is an environment for someone else’s expression. Stick around and I’ll tell you which site design is like Helvetica.

Architecture (the kind that uses steel and glass and stone) is also an apt comparison—or at least, more apt than poster design. The architect creates planes and grids that facilitate the dynamic behavior of people. Having designed, the architect relinquishes control. Over time, the people who use the building bring out and add to the meaning of the architect’s design.

Of course, all comparisons are gnarly by nature. What is the “London Calling” of television? Who is the Jane Austen of automotive design? Madame Butterfly is not less beautiful for having no car chase sequence, peanut butter no less tasty because it cannot dance.

So what is web design?
Web design is not book design, it is not poster design, it is not illustration, and the highest achievements of those disciplines are not what web design aims for. Although websites can be delivery systems for games and videos, and although those delivery systems can be lovely to look at, such sites are exemplars of game design and video storytelling, not of web design. So what is web design?

Web design is the creation of digital environments that facilitate and encourage human activity; reflect or adapt to individual voices and content; and change gracefully over time while always retaining their identity.

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You’re at the table with fellow designers, an art director, and a creative director. The large screen displays designs you’re about to collectively critique. This is the first time you’ll all consider the initial round of concepts. The designs go up, one by one, and the words begin to flow.

It’s a phrase you hear often: design is in the details. With design, paying attention to small details—and in some cases, obsessively focusing on “what isn’t right”—can take a design from “nearly there” to “there” and beyond.

I attend meetings in which designers present their designs—typically the first round of comps—for the first time. Half the time, the presenting designer shows a rough product on the screen, and they usually believe the design is 90-100% done. But to the detail-savvy designer, the work is only 50-70% there. You can see the groundwork, foundation, and feel of the design in front of you, but you know it’s just not finished.

The goal of embracing details is to get you to think critically and present the best possible design you can—right from round one. In essence, you want your design to be ready for a real client presentation. So how do you take a design to 100%? You need to achieve polish, ridding the client’s mind of any doubt that the design is unfinished. It’s all too common for designers to feel rushed: you’re under deadline, you’re under pressure. But if you care about your craft and your ideas, you’ll take the extra time, perhaps working late into the night, as we all have, and add the touches that you know will make your work really shine. You know that feeling you get when you think, “Oh, I knew I should have tried that”? Do it the first time it comes to mind. Don’t let someone in your design review bring up an idea you thought of first.

Tips and techniques fortify any designer’s toolkit, but I must stress that thinking critically about a design is as important as the tools and skills needed to produce it.

Here’s a checklist to guide and inspire you to get the site done, done, done. Leave no stone unturned and no doubts about the design you present—let it shine.

Experiment
It’s not unusual for me to create up to four concurrent comps for just the first round of internal design presentations. I use these to “sketch” out designs. A navigation or logo treatment that doesn’t work in one comp may work in another comp. This allows you to have what I call “The Beautiful Mistake”—placing elements in other environments that create possibilities. Instead of feeling like you have designer’s block, just throw the ideas you have into comps and see where they lead. Getting started is half the battle.

On the same note, don’t be afraid to start over. If something isn’t working, close it up and trash it. If you think the navigation is too precious, remember how you did it, then start from that point in the next design. The goal is to refine, over and over.

Choices
There are many choices to be made when you’re designing—everything from type, to colors, to overall tone of the site. Sometimes, I like to throw a lot of things at a design to see what sticks, and sometimes I start minimally. Strive to make smart, simple choices. If there’s an easier way to design something, do it. The complicated choice will feel complicated to the client and intended audience unless you can make a complex interaction looks simple.

Stay consistent
Once you make choices, stick with them. If you choose to pad items with 10 pixels in sidebars but use 15 pixels in larger text areas, make sure the comps reflect those decisions. Keep notes while designing—these will form a good basis for a style guide. Consistency displays sophistication and shows that you fully understood and made sound decisions. Consistency should be transparent.

Completeness
Finish the design. Don’t miss a footer or a detail. Don’t say, “That’s to be filled in later—I didn’t have time.” Make the time. Don’t give any reason for others to torpedo the design or allow someone to fixate on a little detail—overshadowing the rest of the work. It’s these little details that deserve your attention. Creative directors, art directors, and especially clients will perseverate on details like this, so make sure the details are there.

Step in, step out, step back: balance
During a design, it’s best to step away from the design occasionally—even just for lunch or a 15-minute break. Look at something else. Come back and look at your design again. Think about your first impressions. Your own gut reaction will likely be similar to the initial impressions of those who see it for the first time. Take note and revise or change your design based on those impressions. Regardless of how “cool” or “neat” a particular element may be, if it doesn’t serve your design in a useful way, get rid of it and try something new. Always step back and re-evaluate.

Be your own critic
If you’re familiar with the team you regularly work with, the client or the client’s needs, look at your design as you get close to done and think about parts that will potentially provoke questions or concerns. Have a solid answer for the decisions you made.

Complexity in simplicity: less is more
When we discuss “less is more”, we mean different things. For example, sometimes the design needs to scale back. It’s got too many elements. Or a design chokes itself with too many colors. When doing detail work, “less is more” is about leaving in only everything that is necessary and making it harmonious. Let the complexity be in the simplicity—a design is not useful when it’s perceived to be complex. A design should be useful, simple, and straightforward—let the complexity shine through via simplicity.

Obsession is healthy
If I don’t feel right about a navigation or a flash widget that displays photos, I will sit and stew and sketch until I find something that fits. Design is a puzzle you create for yourself—you have all the pieces, but it’s up to you to decide how they fit. Perfection is not something to strive for, but close to perfect is—it leaves room for exploration, dialogue, and learning.

I find myself thinking about designs I’m working on at odd periods of the day—in the shower, making dinner, or walking to the corner store. Small, quiet moments are when I have breakthroughs and solve problems. These are the times when the right details will appear. This isn’t often billable time, but it’s a good exercise to think about a design before attempting it. I don’t sketch much using pencil and paper; I like to let a design percolate and grow in my mind before committing it to the screen. I imagine the look, the feel, and the details. I relish the details.

Detail work isn’t easy. It takes time, inspiration, and imagination. It is however, very good practice—it allows you to cultivate a critical eye to help yourself and your fellow designer. Relish the details and your designs will cut the mustard.

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