“(...) you must maintain unwavering faith that you can and will prevail in the end, regardless of the difficulties, and at the same time, have the discipline to confront the most brutal facts of your current reality, whatever they might be.”

The name “Stockdale” comes from U.S. Admiral Jim Stockdale, who was a prisoner of war during the Vietnam War for 8 years. He had no release date or prisoner rights. He wrote a book about it called “In Love and War”, in partnership with his wife. Despite the bleakness of the experiences documented in the book, Collins was surprised by Stockdale’s approach to the whole experience. He never once doubted that he was going to get out and prevail. Despite not having a clue about when and how.

You can read Collin’s experience talking to Stockdale here. The admiral's attitude wasn’t optimistic. He was aware of his situation. But he still developed the faith that he would succeed in the end.

It’s common to think that our faith in something, whether it’s a company, new project, or idea, will come from facts. But I find that not to be true. Especially if it’s a groundbreaking idea, facts will often be stacked against you. It’s too hard; nobody has done it. The list goes on. Rely on data alone to motivate you, and your stamina will deplete faster than you think.

Faith comes from a different area of the brain. Not from logic but from an intuitive sense after noticing patterns, strengthening weak links, and having specific ways of looking at the world. Building your faith in something comes from a process of noticing, not confirming.

If you’re starting something, make sure to build your faith as much as you’re gathering facts. You’re going to need it.

-

P.S.: I highly recommend Collins' take on confronting brutal facts.

This phrase deeply stuck with me when I first read it, despite being so simple.

The phrase and the design come from Tibor Kalman, a major figure considered the “bad boy of graphic design,” elevating the practice to new heights by using design not just to support commerce but as a form of commentary. Aside from being the creative director for Barnes & Noble for a while, his firm M&Co designed album covers for the Rolling Stones and Talking Heads. He also worked at Colors Magazine, known for refreshing and bold takes on social issues such as HIV, race, gender, and power.

Kalman had a “perverse optimism” about the design industry and its relation with consumer culture. He believed that most “media, architecture, design and art exist for the sole purpose of creating wealth,” but also claimed designers could change the world. He was successful by any measure possible, both commercially and culturally. And yet, a sense of restlessness, curiosity, and naiveté defined him. As he became known for something, he jumped to something else. Constantly.

He’s a product of his time, and was deeply entrenched in the counterculture movement. There’s a passage about him that represents his way of being, described by the founder of Barnes & Noble, Leonard Riggio:

Tibor exists in a world of contradictions. He'll often get you to change a long-held position in a second. As soon as you start to agree with him on a point, he'll exercise his inalienable right to be contrarian, and reverse his previously held position. Over the years, I have been puzzled as to whether he does that merely to be argumentative, but I've come to believe that he starts to doubt himself when his views become widely accepted. Nietzsche has written that a person moves from A to B because he knows damn well he doesn't want to be at A — not necessarily because B is a desired destination. Likewise, once Tibor begins to get some consensus that A is a good place to be, he immediately has to move on. In the end, I think his work is much more about points of origin and departures than it is about destinations. In other words, he uses destination as a means of better articulating — not just replacing — the point of origin.”

From the book "Tibor Kalman: Perverse Optimist"

I'm not one for having role models, but Kalman is one of the figures I look up to often. Like the other people I admire, he constantly desired to see what was around the corner. He treated success as a means to an end, not an end in itself.

Success is a good thing. It brings comfort and confidence, but they can quickly become complacency and aimlessness. The people I most admire use success as a platform for bigger, important ideas.

Over the past decade, my main struggle with the corporate world has been the common sense that work and career should behave like companies: as an accumulation of wealth. Unlike Kalman, I don't have as many issues with capitalism. But I do see a problem with treating it as the sole goal. I derive meaning from what I create, not what's in my pocket. Lose the aim of meaning, and you lose the ability to make great things.

There's a question I often ask myself at specific inflection points: What would I prove or change if I'm successful? It creates a framework for me to think not just about the benefits to my career and personal life but also advance something bigger, whether it's a new way of working or a much-needed broader commentary.

John Keats was a key figure in English literature and poetry, and he wrote over 250 letters to friends and family during his short life. In a letter to his brothers George and Tom Keats, he outlined a concept called 'Negative Capability,' which is when "man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact & reason."

You should read the whole letter.

Negative Capability allows one to be receptive to the full range of human experience without the need to rationalize or categorize immediately. To Keats, this was not a flaw but a strength. Keats’ favorite example was Shakespeare, and his ability to create complex characters who embody conflicting emotions and motivations. His works do not always offer clear moral or logical resolutions, instead presenting life's ambiguity and complexity.

People with Negative Capability are free to create works that do not adhere to a rational, logical framework but explore instead the depths of human emotion and the many complexities of the world — creating beauty out of mystery. Or using today's business language – Innovating.

There is so much emphasis on certainty, productivity, and rationality as signs of good work. While necessary, they accidentally become invisible shackles that prevent groups from imagining what's possible. Innovating requires sitting with things for a while and being open to the full range of experiences that come out of uncertainty. In creative endeavors, business, and even personal growth, allowing for uncertainty and not always seeking immediate answers can lead to deeper insights and more meaningful outcomes.

Help us find truth and beauty in what we do.

‍

Tools like Galileo.ai demonstrate that design can now be automated just by typing a prompt. I have experimented with it and observed other people's outcomes, ranging from mediocre to good enough.

For many businesses, good enough is acceptable. They will gladly opt for lower costs because they believe design is not part of their core differentiation. Even before the emergence of these tools, there was a division in the market between companies that have Design as part of their investment thesis, affording high-caliber talent as part of R&D, and others that treat it as a necessary step.

It reflects an old belief that design is a cost, not an investment that yields ROI. AI design tools will only reveal which companies and individuals value good-enough output over invention and taste.

I suspect these AI tools will further reinforce the impression that design was a simple step that required automation and cost reduction in the first place.

As tempting as that idea is, there’s no harvest without proper care. You must tend to your tree, provide the proper nutrients, and prune it correctly. The best work can only happen when there’s a deep respect for that natural cycle.

What I’ve found to be effective is quieting of the mind. Planting an idea and then just noticing. Wandering for a while. It might not feel like work, but that’s when I feel the most productive. Not immediately. But later, when things fall into place and complex things suddenly feel simple.

You need to develop a sense of respect for that cycle. Ignore that, and there’s no fruit to pick.

Balthus, my dear friend,

Many years ago, I met an English writer in Cairo, one Mr. Blackwood, who had put forth a very nice hypothesis in one of his novels: he imagined that every night, at midnight, a tiny gap opened up between the day that was ending and the one about to begin, and that a very nimble and clever person who managed to slip into that gap would escape from time and find himself in a realm free of all the changes we are subject to. All the things we have lost are gathered there- Mitsou¹, for example... broken dolls from childhood, etc., etc.

– Rainer Maria Rilke, "Letters to a Young Painter"

‍

A quarter of what I read revolves around the creative process. Where things come from, how it works, and what it takes to improve at it. That passage remains one of my favorite metaphors about it.

Creativity has this connection with a sense of loss, both from the past and the future. It’s a combination of connecting only certain dots from your past and abandoning potential futures because you have to make choices in order to make something a reality. It’s courage permeated with a sense of grief. Those who are nimble enough to slip through the gap each night and come back learned long ago how to deal with that grief – those are the pros. Amateurs are forever stuck in delaying that grief for as long as possible. Stuck in the realm of possibilities.

He recommends to the young painter Balthus “not to disappear into it but only peer into it in your sleep”. It takes cleverness. And some courage along the way.

‍

1 - Mitsou was Maria Rilke’s beloved cat that one day disappeared, causing much pain to the author

‍

The "Last of Us – Part 2" is one of the most celebrated (and likely hated) games ever released, and a masterpiece in my opinion. Naughty Dog – the game studio behind it – just released a documentary about it. It's a must watch, even if you don't care about games. It's a raw and honest depiction of how much passion and persistence is required to create at that level of excellence.

Any creative endeavor comes with a 'staring at the abyss' moment. And as you do, you need an unwavering faith that something great will come out of your effort, while being open to deal with uncomfortable setbacks along the way. Watching this was a good reminder of what Jim Collins calls "Confronting the Brutal Facts" in innovation.

‍

The video distills a few lessons, like the value of testing early and often, selecting the ideal testers, and ensuring that designers run the tests themselves so they serve as a source of inspiration. I don’t want to spoil the video by providing a listicle, so please watch it. It’s worth every minute.‍

There are a few lessons I ended up incorporating into my work from this video:

Testing early and often is the only way to better work

Valve tests as early as the first week of a project. Each level of ‘Half-Life 2’ had over 100 playtesters. In every playtest, designers found clues and ideas to improve the game.

Unfortunately, testing in software design ends up being disconnected from the act of designing, done at the end, like a checkmark that every project needs.

Testing can act as a feedback loop to inspire the work and lead to better problem-solving, and designers should lead the testing process.

A great example from the video of this in action: In the VR ‘Half-Life: Alyx,’ designers noticed that players kept covering their mouths to avoid noise in a level where a giant monster tries to chase the player. They then embedded that idea into the game, leading to one of its most memorable parts.

Testing will adjust your course but not tell you where to go

Testing can only tell the current state of the thing you’re building, not where it should go. That’s up to the team developing it, and it requires a commitment to a vision and a target audience.

During the development of the game ‘Portal,’ hardcore FPS players wanted more action during the game’s final level. But the idea ended up being a mistake:

“The vast majority of playtesters who had gotten used to the slower-paced, cerebral nature of Portal were just frustrated, confused, and dissatisfied"

– Erik Wolpaw, Valve

Teams often hear that users want X, Y, or Z. Listening to them is critical. But take their suggestions mindlessly, and you might end up with a Frankenstein that pleases no one.

Users can provide clues to a great product, but it’s up to the team to use that feedback to inspire their work, not dictate it.

Do not release if you’re not happy with it

Valve does not release their games until they’re satisfied with what they see during playtesting. You could argue that it’s a rare position – after all, they generate over $10 billion from Steam alone each year. If you read about the development of their first game, Half-Life, and the process is the same.

In tech, we can improve something over time through updates. Testing can be done in the open more efficiently than ever.

An unintended consequence of that practice is a lessening of quality standards. “Just ship it; we’ll improve later.” Unless a product team has a high bar of quality in place already, that moment rarely comes. And that bar starts to erode the moment you make compromises.

It’s a hard thing to balance. But holding a standard is as important as shipping. If done well, releasing often can be a fantastic way to improve a product. Do it without a vision and a quality standard, and it all becomes busywork with few results.

More portions of the craft can be automated through design systems. User interfaces are converging towards a "global preference," and apps look like each other. Many software companies have tackled problems for various use cases in the past decades, creating a library of common design patterns. Designing today comes down to reusing what other people have done, except for a few bleeding-edge examples.

As the practice of designing software matures, the work becomes more streamlined and automated. Anything repeatable can be automated, and software design is not immune to that trend.

Where does that leave designers, and what value can we bring to the table?

As practitioners, the majority of our time is spent on how to solve a given problem. Almost always, it is a problem someone else defined. The future of the design profession relies on us becoming inventors. Creating the brief, not just following it. The best designers do it instinctively. Call it "being strategic," "providing a vision," and "being creative" – it doesn't matter. It all comes down to inventing things and ensuring they’re valuable to others.

The ones who do it don't even have to think about a seat at the table. They might even own the table.

Craft is not out yet, but its automation is inevitable. Good enough will suffice for most people. It's happening with graphic design (e.g. Canva), and it's unavoidable for software design.

The ability to invent things – whether they’re starting their own company or innovating within one – will set designers apart in the future.

• Not being close to the action

• Not being able to change

• Being too opportunistic

Not being close to the action‍

Andy Grove, former CEO of Intel and author of "Only the Paranoid Survive," explains that leaders who are removed from day-to-day operations may miss out on grassroots innovation and fail to recognize emerging problems requiring innovative solutions.

Leading while being away from the action can lead to an atrophy of practical knowledge that weakens leadership muscles. The bigger the distance, the less capable a leader is of offering valuable strategy and direction. Or worse, become a talking head.

My solution: Block intentional 'learning time' with different teams, diving deeper into a topic with the people working on the frontlines. As a leader, it's easy to mistake that practice with reviewing work. Ask questions, learn, and save reviews and buy-ins for a separate forum with clear expectations. The people you manage will find it less intimidating and open up.

Not being able to change‍

In the "Innovator's Dilemma," Clayton Christensen mentions how some capabilities that make a company successful can also become disabilities for disruptive innovation. Processes and organizational structures can help a company work efficiently and prevent it from responding to changes and opportunities at the same time.

The same can be said of leadership skills. As a leader, you need to know when the behaviors that got you this far are preventing the next big step from happening. There are many examples of leaders doing everything "right" only to have their strategies fail in small and big ways.

My solution: Reevaluate processes and strategies and throw them away as needed, even if they're really successful. Test new ideas and ways of working at a smaller scale to inform the process.

Being too opportunistic‍

This one comes from personal experience, but several authors cover this, too. Creating lasting products requires consistent, diligent work based on a strong vision. In the absence of those elements, opportunism takes over, and the work becomes an investment in whatever is in fashion. That leads to constant changes and confusion for teams, with a lot of work done but only some being meaningful.

There are always forces that might nudge a leader into following opportunism. A particular senior leader is interested in it; the market rewards using a specific technology. The list goes on. They can spark something, but they're just a start. You need the vision to walk the rest of the path and develop the stamina in the people you lead.

Alice: Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?
The Cheshire Cat: That depends a good deal on where you want to get to.
Alice: I don't much care where.
The Cheshire Cat: Then it doesn't much matter which way you go.
Alice: ...So long as I get somewhere.
The Cheshire Cat: Oh, you're sure to do that, if only you walk long enough.

Lewis Carroll, "Alice in Wonderland"

My solution: This one is trickier, but I do something simple to inform my self-reflection. I ask the people I manage how they feel about our direction, specifically how much they think it has changed. Too much change might mean we don't know which direction to go. No change in direction is unrealistic and might suggest we're too stubborn or not learning enough. The main point here is to engage in dialogue so you know where you fall on the spectrum.

Innovation is influenced more by how we do things rather than what we do. Mindsets can fuel stellar work, or stop great ideas from forming altogether.

‍

Occasionally, I hear someone mention Steve Jobs' commencement speech at Stanford about how connecting the dots is essential. The often-forgotten part is how important it is to collect dots in the first place. You can't connect what you don't have.

The creative act revolves around exposing oneself to new experiences and ideas just for the sake of it. Doing it only when needed, ahead or during a big project, would seem more practical. But that investment is misguided. The best connections often require time to mature, and doing that only in the context of projects forces projects into a low common denominator.

The best creatives regularly end up in the most diverse rabbit holes to quench their curiosity. And they're better because of it.

The creative act requires a certain faith that should be practiced daily instead of the occasional prayer when help is needed.

‍

-

P.S.: Writing this after very long day of plane travel. This is the view that inspired the writing.

‍

They're known for their sardine-based broth. It looks like a Japanese fish market inside, with fish containers, ice, and even a giant Bluefin Tuna on a table. But it's all fake, down to the ice in the containers. It doesn't even smell fishy (I'm sure the customers appreciate it).

While eating, I started chatting with my partner about whether the restaurant was "authentic."

Authenticity is inversely correlated with the perception of a 'designed' experience. Authentic experiences have a level of discomfort and rawness that feels less commercial and more crafty. Designed experiences improve quality of life by removing discomfort and annoyances but can be perceived as more commercial.

And the lines between authentic and designed can get blurry.

My argument during our meal was this: How is Kodawari different from any Disney restaurant? Their food is not on the same level, but they're playing the same chords with the overall experience. Kodawari would be more authentic if I asked around the restaurant. But is it because they reference a particular place and culture (fish markets in Japan)? Disney has country-themed restaurants in Epcot. Still doesn't feel the same.

Kodawari sits in the middle scale between authentic and designed. Having an actual fish market there with all the fish smells would be a step too far for any dinner. The tension is that most people long for authentic but expect designed experiences. The expectation goes beyond restaurants or entertainment. I see that happening often with the travel and beauty industries too.

Designers and entrepreneurs have to sit at an interesting intersection where they arbitrate where to sit on that scale to offer a compelling product or service. It only gets trickier as the variables increase when building a company that's responsible, ethical, and culturally aware.

(This post is more stream-of-consciousness than usual. I'll get back to this topic in the future)

‍

By practice, I don't mean training or courses, but working to improve without risk. The opposite of this is performance, which is when people need to perform at their best and show results.

The issue is that companies believe they should always be in performance mode. It's unrealistic and leaves little room for what drives results and innovation.

Just like basketball players who practice their shots and teamwork before any game, businesses need their practice courts, but where are they? No matter how talented an athlete or team is, they cannot win without practice.

Over the years, I have encouraged a few effective things for practice:

• Let people wander for a while with a big problem in mind

• Create space for experimentation and play for no particular project

• Opportunities for personal passions to seep in

• Space for deep team conversations about the nature of the work and their craft

• Having a set percentage of projects that fail

All of these things may seem like a waste of time or a lack of focus – and make any leader instantly nervous. But no great innovation was born out of knowing everything upfront. For any company that wants to innovate, creating space for practice is essential. It is where the shots become more consistent, teamwork improves, and ingenious ideas on how to win form.

The best players practice a thousand times before they show up to a big game. Let's help people everywhere else do the same.

‍

A few observations so far based on my experience and what I've read in preparation for the challenge:

• A consistent system for practice is the only way to get better at anything.

• 80% of everything I produce is mediocre; the other 20% gives me glimpses of what great looks like. I'm never sure about which one I'll get when I write.

• It's very tempting to optimize for positive signals with tricks. But if I do that too much, I lose my writing voice.

• I can understand the temptation to have an opinion on everything now that I need topics to write about daily. Acquiring knowledge needs to be as consistent as putting things out there.

• ChatGPT is a big no-no if you're trying to do good writing. At best, it's good as a thinking partner on certain topics, but at this point, I'm sure I'll never use it for any final draft (more on this another time).

• Being new at something is the best feeling ever – if you can overcome the initial fear.

Here's a picture of me trying to squeeze in minutes of writing here and there during my vacation, drinking more coffee than needed.

Sometimes, I wonder what triggers nostalgia, what's so appealing about it, and why it doesn't apply to everything – notably, technology.

I went to a store in Paris called Officine Universelle Buly, founded in 1803. They heavily leverage their heritage with the old cabinets, designs, and even the music.

For some categories, nostalgia can be a competitive advantage, especially if a deep sense of craft is involved – luxury goods, perfumes, or lifestyle products. You don't have to be a brand founded in 1803 to embed a sense of craft and nostalgia into your product.

I don't see the same effect in tech – most of what I see is old products used as a gateway for more mindful usage – for example, people using iPods nowadays. But in general, people expect a standard "bleeding edge" form of branding from most tech.

Is there any way to escape that confinement as a business advantage? A "craft" version of technology that makes it more appealing? I struggle to find examples. Most companies play with "retro" designs as a fad, but it's not necessarily in their DNA, like Buly.

Is tech really that boxed in from a branding perspective?

(Yes, AKA my birthday)

The 'fresh start effect' suggests that people are more motivated to achieve their goals when they perceive the beginning of a new period. It's attributed to the psychological association of new beginnings with a clean slate, providing an opportunity to start anew.

In my case, it was extreme. I immigrated to the U.S. exactly seven years ago, where I built a new life I could only dream about. Although not as extreme nowadays, I try to create new, small moments of reinvention. This very writing is one of them.

We all need more of those. It's what makes life interesting. Risky in a good way.

The culprit is how metrics and success are framed in product development and its unintended consequences.

Imagine a hypothetical product, a social network for news. A team working on growth might establish a few metrics to improve, such as increasing the number of conversations on the platform by 20%. The job to be done is to ‘meaningfully improve conversations on the platform.’

After experimenting for a year, they hit their goal with much fanfare, surpassing expectations. Even churn on the platform was reduced. The main reason?

Rage.

They developed an AI model that changes headlines based on individual preferences so they get the gist of the news from it. This came from an observation that most people skim through the headlines, so the team wanted to provide more value from that experience. However, the model also takes into account what drives more engagement. And the more enraged users were, the more they engaged. After a while, the system was filled with rage-bait tailored at the individual level. Conversations became a cesspool of toxicity, where people never seemed to agree.

That way of working optimizes our most primal selves but does not encourage what’s best for people and society. Mature teams would consider the quality of the conversations. But how do you stop if you’re driving those numbers? Especially when that engagement is driving, in this hypothetical situation, a 60% lift in revenue from ads?

Designers have an important role in avoiding these situations by bringing a more humanistic look that caters to the business’s needs and also what’s best for people at higher levels, beyond basic urges and reactions.

A few things can be put into place to avoid that:

0. Make qualitative insights as important as quantitative metrics. Metrics can tell stories of the past, while user research provides glimpses into the future, allowing you to take action before it’s too late.

1. Define “higher self” success outcomes for your product and consider them as seriously as any other business metric. Start a forum with key leaders to discuss them. Tech often has unintended consequences that are ignored.

2. Define your own or your team’s ‘Hippocratic oath’. Be specific about what it means to do good in the things you do beyond business success or metrics, as they can have a good, lasting impact

There are many instances in the news about technology and the negative consequences that come with it. However, these consequences are usually unintended. Our current system rewards the simplification of reality through metrics and often overlooks the effort required to do good in the world.

Designers have a unique opportunity to change this conversation and adopt a more humanistic approach to business that produces results while also doing good in the world.

It’s a tightrope that makes the challenge more exciting to me.

Think of flavor as a unique interpretation of something, like a new music genre or a different take on an indie movie. This variety makes culture vibrant but is not commonly associated with technology. Instead, tech products are often seen as necessities, like plumbing.

When I say plumbing, I mean that technology is an essential service that fulfills our basic needs. However, thinking about technology only in those terms can be limiting. Life is about more than just fulfilling basic needs.

We are approaching a point where technology can move beyond necessities and incorporate 'flavor.’ This will become a differentiating factor in products. For instance, there could be a rock and roll version of calendar software, which is what Jason Fried is doing with Hey Calendar or Karri Saarinen is doing with Linear. Calendars and issue tracking may seem like plumbing and might even be offered for free. But flavor is now their competitive advantage.

Flavor does NOT mean not solving a meaningful problem. It means you’re solving with panache, and people will like you more for it.

So, how can you infuse a tech product with flavor? It starts with asking questions that go beyond the “job to be done” of a product and instead go deeper into their cultural life:

• How do they communicate with themselves, others, and the wider world?

• What are the various media they are exposed to that could shape their perspective, such as art, music, movies, and books?

• What other products do they use that may not compete with your product, but will coexist with it? Keep in mind that learned behaviors and preferences can transfer across products.

In the future, designers will need to consider not only whether they're solving a meaningful problem but also whether the way they're solving it is culturally appealing for the moment we live in.

I've been thinking about this lately, and it might become a longer article. Let me know what you would like to read on this theme.

It was all prompted by a freelance job I was doing for a jewelry company, a social ad campaign. The owner knew my teacher. Rio, where I was born and raised, is a small (and sometimes classist) town, especially for the most affluent.

My family comes from a humble background and could never afford the university I attended (PUC-Rio). The only reason I studied there was because of the full scholarship I got. I was no stranger to feeling out of place. I did not have access to what many of my friends enjoyed daily. But I dreamed and worked hard to taste a better life.

The jewelry company gig was part of that hard work. I tried hard to incorporate feedback but soon got a message the owner wanted to stop working with me. Trying to understand what happened, I asked a few friends connected to the owner. Then I heard the whole story involving my teacher. I did not know how to feel back then, but I did know it struck a chord with all my insecurities. I had a dark period where I threw myself into work to prove my teacher wrong. To prove myself wrong sometimes.

After years of internal work, I’m in a much different place. I transformed doubt into faith and accomplished things beyond my wildest dreams. The feeling that I’m just getting started is even better. I’m recognized for my creativity, taste, empathetic collaboration, and leadership.

Most of what my teacher said was B.S. Taste is essential but can be trained, forged, and encouraged. There is one piece of truth in what she said: What (and who) you’re surrounded with matters.

People can banish potential out of existence by arriving at quick conclusions, just like my teachers and others I’ve encountered over the years. A thick skin is necessary in creative industries. But I’ve had leaders, mentors, and friends who gave me time to find things out at points where skin was the thinnest. My goal as a leader is to pay it forward with the same level of faith, care, and empathy.

P.S.: Designing for a grocery store rules, too. Don’t let people tell you what’s cool or not.