A month ago, or so, I reflected upon my journey toward becoming a better web designer.  In that post, I dwelled mostly upon time-saving practices such as creating organized folder structures, labeling Illustrator layers, etc.

Another point, however, was about avoiding becoming completely consumed with solving specific problems as they are encountered.  I noted that although there are some problems that have to be solved before progress can be made, the vast majority of hang-ups can be saved for later when a fresher perspective (or possibly a new bit of learning gained through doing other things) might make the answer more clear.

I think this is a gigantically important point, and I want to expand upon it, but from a different direction.  In my first post, I was talking mostly about code–but what about actual concept development?

When it comes down to it, good design is–on a high level–of course about the user.  A good design must facilitate an easy-to-use and a rewarding and enjoyable experience.  While a lot of this occurs in layout, how users interact with code, etc., there is also an important part that small details play in contributing to a successful visit.  

It is these details, after all, that separate usability from enjoyability.  A three-column layout of flat-colored panels is certainly usable, but subtle textures and flourishes help to set it apart–they contribute to the design by creating a wholistic concept that permeates every aspect of the design, bringing often disparate parts into union.  Similarly, plain-old HTML forms are functional, but it is the subtle effects which can be applied to them (such as a fade-in confirmation message, or drag-and-drop functionality) that makes using them, well, fun.

However, the dark side of the design-truth is that while the crux of design is in these details, these details are often the most time-consuming aspect of creating a design concept, be it visually or functionally.  Moreover, it can be extremely difficult.  How do you create a true composition of different, yet intimately related parts without 1.) homogenizing every piece of design work or 2.) creating a bunch of pieces that do not work together but are nontheless used because of some perceived need to have such design devices?  The answer–VERY CAREFULLY!  I know I have miserably failed many times, and I will continue to do so because design–although necessarily something that requires skill and hard-work–is still more of an art than a science.

So to conclude this, I have a couple bits of advice to offer from my limited, but growing experience.  Take them with a grain of salt, and utilize them in a way that feels comfortable to you and matches your design needs and skills.

The first is to simply let composition come to you.  I've found that the best compositions I've done come when I'm not trying to force a bunch of intricate details upon a project.  Rather, I've found something that "feels right" to me, and I've let the mood and direction of the elements guide the peices that I incorporate to buttress the design concept I am creating.  Invariably, trying to force intricacy and subtlety on a composition merely for the sake of having the same is nearly a guaranteed ticket for failure and discordance.

Second, and finally, is to let enough be enough.  Designers are kind of neurotic in the sense that they could work on something eternally and never be satisfied with it.  The best policy is to realize and embrace that nothing will ever feel "done," so there has to come a time when enough is good enough.  I've found that even though I feel unsatisfied with the final product, others who have not been staring at and wrestling with it for hours are excited and pleased with the final result.  So I can either waste precious hours forcing more onto something that I will never be truly satisfied with, or I can feel proud of what I have accomplished and move on to the next challenge.

Thoughts about this?  I'd love to hear them!