By Jeffrey Zeldman
How did you get started in interactive design and learn the necessary skills? In 1995, I was languishing in an advertising career. Warner Bros. was about to release Batman Forever. Their VP of marketing, Don Buckley, had a critical insight that the web was going to be hugely important. At the time, the web was hideous and primitive. But Don saw its potential. He asked the agency if it had the ability to design websites. The agency president lied and said yes. Then he asked three of his employees (Steve McCarron, Alec Pollak and me) if we knew how to design websites. We, of course, also lied and said yes.
Had we known anything about web design, we would have created something boring and safe. But we kicked against all the limits of the time and created a site with full-screen background images (hacked together via repeating background tiles—a new capability in Netscape 1.1) and an animated splash screen—maybe the first one ever. There was no Flash at the time; there weren’t even animated GIFs. We created our animation by swapping GIF images via Perl.
At the time, three million people were using the web. Our site for Warner Bros. got 1.5 million visitors. That was half the internet. I quit advertising and never looked back.
What inspired you to start A List Apart in the late 90s? As soon as I started designing websites, I began publishing independent content. Some of that content was artistic. Some was editorial. Some was blogging, although nobody called it that. And an increasingly important part of what I published independently then was educational: it focused on sharing what I know about web design. I was not just optimistic about the World Wide Web—I was euphoric about it. It was as if capitalism had just handed the means of production to the workers. The barrier to entry was incredibly low. Anyone could learn HTML. Even a non-designer could make a decent-looking page; the limitations of the medium pretty much forced you to design with restraint and focus on content. So beginning in 1995, I began publishing a series at zeldman.com called “Ask Dr. Web,” which taught anyone how to design and develop websites.
By 1997, I had a reputation as a web design expert, although that was mainly because I had been designing websites longer than other people. Like most web designers, I was a sponge for information, and constantly sought out ideas and techniques. The main place to learn about web design at that time was from listservs (mailing lists). But most mailing lists, while they contained the information I sought, were plagued by flame wars and trolling—the stuff that diminishes the value of comments on today’s websites. To combat flame wars and trolling, Brian Platz (a guy I met via the Internet, who ran his own listserv) and I started A List Apart. It differed from other web design mailing lists in that it was curated. Readers would submit their material, then Brian or I would edit it, removing the less useful material and arranging the content around emerging themes (such as how to use Netscape’s new programming language JavaScript, and what to do if the user had JavaScript turned off). Within a few weeks, the list had more than 16,000 subscribers.
A website was the next logical step, especially because, at the time, there was no site for folks who were as passionate about design as they were about front-end development. And nobody seemed to be interested in discussing web content, which was the heart of the web experience in the 1990s (and arguably still is, even in today’s app-centric world). So while Brian continued to operate the mailing list, I created A List Apart the magazine, designing it, editing it, producing it and even establishing it as a legitimate periodical.
This is the beauty of a design career: you have the opportunity to create what you feel is missing from the world. There wasn’t a site for the hybrid designer/developer/content person, so I created one.
What have you learned from listening to speakers at your conference, An Event Apart, that stays with you? Karen McGrane taught me that I don’t get to decide which device my customers use to access my content—they do. Mike Monteiro reminded me that design is a job—that a designer without a client is an artist. (And not in a good way.) Eric Meyer taught me to design, not just for the relaxed idealized user, but for the person who comes to my site in desperation, while experiencing a personal crisis. Jon Hicks convinced me that Scalable Vector Graphics was the best means of delivering icons to websites, and Chris Coyier made me realize how easy it is to do. Mat Marquis shared the struggle to bring responsive images to HTML5. Jeremy Keith bet on HTML to last 100 years, and convinced me this was a safe bet to make. I could go on and on. Every speaker and every presentation contains some unforgettable truth, some essential key insight. That’s what AEA is about.
Where do you see many web designers missing the mark when it comes to marketing themselves? Designers tend to be shy by nature. We’re happier with headphones on, lost in Photoshop or CSS, than we are when dressed up and chatting with clients. But to succeed in our mission to create great design, not just passable design, we have to step out of our comfort zone. We need to meet and engage deeply with clients and bosses, whether we think of ourselves as business people or not. We have to engage with our clients’ users, not sit in our ivory towers hoping the stuff we make will work. We have to present ourselves confidently and be prepared to argue when our instinct and the data call for solutions the client opposes because of taste or prejudice. We have to represent the user, which means learning who she is and continually thinking outside ourselves. A designer must be compassionate and bold. Designers who fear their stakeholders can’t sell their best work. Speaking your mind is respected. Having a point of view isn’t arrogance, it’s what you were hired to provide. This doesn’t mean forcing a client to accept an unacceptable solution. It does mean standing up for yourself and the user.
We don’t want to appear pushy and rude. The problem is, nobody is going to sell your work or your studio for you. If you don’t promote your business, nobody else will. If you don’t share your thoughts on your studio’s blog, nobody will know that you have any—and somebody else will get the job. I’ve never hired a designer who doesn't blog. You can’t sell design if you don't know your own thoughts on the subject. The best way to learn what you think about design is to teach it to others, either in a classroom setting or by writing about it on your personal site or a community website. And don’t stop there. Once you are comfortable writing, start speaking. Begin with local meet-ups.
I see a lot of great designers have middling careers from fear of writing and speaking, and I’ve watched some decent but not extraordinary designers skyrocket to the top of their profession because of a few well-crafted articles and presentations. Learn from this!
If the Internet didn’t exist, what would you be doing right now? Teaching creative writing at a women’s college in Vermont, or designing catalogs and drinking heavily.
What emerging technologies and innovations will have the biggest impact on how you design in the next few years? During the early days of the web, we had no idea what browser or operating system a visitor might be using. We didn’t know how fast the connection was, or the size and resolution of the monitor. But by an absurd agreement, we pretended we knew those things. We designed with one or two resolutions in mind. We pretended there was a “fold,” and our clients were eager to believe it.
But all of that was nonsense. We never had control over the user’s browser, platform and so on. And the plethora of devices that have come online since Apple unveiled the iPhone in 2007 quickly shattered our long-cherished illusions of control. Responsive web design is a brilliant answer to the challenge we now face. Our content must work anywhere and everywhere. That was always true—was always the premise behind the web as an open medium—but now we have to walk the walk, not just design something that will look great on our 27” monitors and our client’s iPad. Responsive design is more than a visual layout approach. It has implications for content and markup, it encompasses responsive context, it challenges our use of bandwidth and our assumptions about connection speed. It must satisfy the high-end user with a Retina screen while not penalizing the person using an old smartphone or feature phone.
The web is the most exciting medium in hundreds of years—with implications and potential that dwarf the impact of the book, radio, television and film. And there’s never been a more exciting time to design and create content for the web. I’ll be watching all of you to see what you create next.
Had we known anything about web design, we would have created something boring and safe. But we kicked against all the limits of the time and created a site with full-screen background images (hacked together via repeating background tiles—a new capability in Netscape 1.1) and an animated splash screen—maybe the first one ever. There was no Flash at the time; there weren’t even animated GIFs. We created our animation by swapping GIF images via Perl.
At the time, three million people were using the web. Our site for Warner Bros. got 1.5 million visitors. That was half the internet. I quit advertising and never looked back.
What inspired you to start A List Apart in the late 90s? As soon as I started designing websites, I began publishing independent content. Some of that content was artistic. Some was editorial. Some was blogging, although nobody called it that. And an increasingly important part of what I published independently then was educational: it focused on sharing what I know about web design. I was not just optimistic about the World Wide Web—I was euphoric about it. It was as if capitalism had just handed the means of production to the workers. The barrier to entry was incredibly low. Anyone could learn HTML. Even a non-designer could make a decent-looking page; the limitations of the medium pretty much forced you to design with restraint and focus on content. So beginning in 1995, I began publishing a series at zeldman.com called “Ask Dr. Web,” which taught anyone how to design and develop websites.
By 1997, I had a reputation as a web design expert, although that was mainly because I had been designing websites longer than other people. Like most web designers, I was a sponge for information, and constantly sought out ideas and techniques. The main place to learn about web design at that time was from listservs (mailing lists). But most mailing lists, while they contained the information I sought, were plagued by flame wars and trolling—the stuff that diminishes the value of comments on today’s websites. To combat flame wars and trolling, Brian Platz (a guy I met via the Internet, who ran his own listserv) and I started A List Apart. It differed from other web design mailing lists in that it was curated. Readers would submit their material, then Brian or I would edit it, removing the less useful material and arranging the content around emerging themes (such as how to use Netscape’s new programming language JavaScript, and what to do if the user had JavaScript turned off). Within a few weeks, the list had more than 16,000 subscribers.
A website was the next logical step, especially because, at the time, there was no site for folks who were as passionate about design as they were about front-end development. And nobody seemed to be interested in discussing web content, which was the heart of the web experience in the 1990s (and arguably still is, even in today’s app-centric world). So while Brian continued to operate the mailing list, I created A List Apart the magazine, designing it, editing it, producing it and even establishing it as a legitimate periodical.
This is the beauty of a design career: you have the opportunity to create what you feel is missing from the world. There wasn’t a site for the hybrid designer/developer/content person, so I created one.
What have you learned from listening to speakers at your conference, An Event Apart, that stays with you? Karen McGrane taught me that I don’t get to decide which device my customers use to access my content—they do. Mike Monteiro reminded me that design is a job—that a designer without a client is an artist. (And not in a good way.) Eric Meyer taught me to design, not just for the relaxed idealized user, but for the person who comes to my site in desperation, while experiencing a personal crisis. Jon Hicks convinced me that Scalable Vector Graphics was the best means of delivering icons to websites, and Chris Coyier made me realize how easy it is to do. Mat Marquis shared the struggle to bring responsive images to HTML5. Jeremy Keith bet on HTML to last 100 years, and convinced me this was a safe bet to make. I could go on and on. Every speaker and every presentation contains some unforgettable truth, some essential key insight. That’s what AEA is about.
Where do you see many web designers missing the mark when it comes to marketing themselves? Designers tend to be shy by nature. We’re happier with headphones on, lost in Photoshop or CSS, than we are when dressed up and chatting with clients. But to succeed in our mission to create great design, not just passable design, we have to step out of our comfort zone. We need to meet and engage deeply with clients and bosses, whether we think of ourselves as business people or not. We have to engage with our clients’ users, not sit in our ivory towers hoping the stuff we make will work. We have to present ourselves confidently and be prepared to argue when our instinct and the data call for solutions the client opposes because of taste or prejudice. We have to represent the user, which means learning who she is and continually thinking outside ourselves. A designer must be compassionate and bold. Designers who fear their stakeholders can’t sell their best work. Speaking your mind is respected. Having a point of view isn’t arrogance, it’s what you were hired to provide. This doesn’t mean forcing a client to accept an unacceptable solution. It does mean standing up for yourself and the user.
We don’t want to appear pushy and rude. The problem is, nobody is going to sell your work or your studio for you. If you don’t promote your business, nobody else will. If you don’t share your thoughts on your studio’s blog, nobody will know that you have any—and somebody else will get the job. I’ve never hired a designer who doesn't blog. You can’t sell design if you don't know your own thoughts on the subject. The best way to learn what you think about design is to teach it to others, either in a classroom setting or by writing about it on your personal site or a community website. And don’t stop there. Once you are comfortable writing, start speaking. Begin with local meet-ups.
I see a lot of great designers have middling careers from fear of writing and speaking, and I’ve watched some decent but not extraordinary designers skyrocket to the top of their profession because of a few well-crafted articles and presentations. Learn from this!
If the Internet didn’t exist, what would you be doing right now? Teaching creative writing at a women’s college in Vermont, or designing catalogs and drinking heavily.
What emerging technologies and innovations will have the biggest impact on how you design in the next few years? During the early days of the web, we had no idea what browser or operating system a visitor might be using. We didn’t know how fast the connection was, or the size and resolution of the monitor. But by an absurd agreement, we pretended we knew those things. We designed with one or two resolutions in mind. We pretended there was a “fold,” and our clients were eager to believe it.
But all of that was nonsense. We never had control over the user’s browser, platform and so on. And the plethora of devices that have come online since Apple unveiled the iPhone in 2007 quickly shattered our long-cherished illusions of control. Responsive web design is a brilliant answer to the challenge we now face. Our content must work anywhere and everywhere. That was always true—was always the premise behind the web as an open medium—but now we have to walk the walk, not just design something that will look great on our 27” monitors and our client’s iPad. Responsive design is more than a visual layout approach. It has implications for content and markup, it encompasses responsive context, it challenges our use of bandwidth and our assumptions about connection speed. It must satisfy the high-end user with a Retina screen while not penalizing the person using an old smartphone or feature phone.
The web is the most exciting medium in hundreds of years—with implications and potential that dwarf the impact of the book, radio, television and film. And there’s never been a more exciting time to design and create content for the web. I’ll be watching all of you to see what you create next.
Jeffrey Zeldman (@zeldman) is the co-founder of An Event Apart design conference; founder and publisher of A List Apart magazine; and the author of Designing With Web Standards.
