Software Is Not a Skill
Every few years, a new piece of software arrives that is going to make designers obsolete.
I know this because I have apparently been becoming obsolete for decades.
First, everyone got Microsoft Word.
Suddenly, people discovered fonts.
ALL the fonts.
Why use one when six are sitting right there?
Then came PageMaker.
Then Publisher.
Then PowerPoint started moonlighting as a design program.
And now we have Canva.
And AI.
Each new arrival comes with essentially the same promise:
Congratulations! You can now do this yourself.
And you can.
Sort of.
Which brings me to one of the most terrifying sentences in the English language:
“I already designed it. I just need you to…”
Whatever comes after that sentence is rarely “admire it.”
Pay No Attention to That File Behind the Curtain
I actually like Canva.
There. I said it.
Canva is terrific at making something look remarkably finished remarkably quickly. It gives people access to layouts, typography, imagery and templates they never had before.
That’s a good thing.
But sometimes Canva reminds me a little of The Wizard of Oz.
Everything looks magnificent up front.
There are lights!There is smoke!There is an enormous green floating head!
Then somebody pulls back the curtain.
And behind it is a 72-dpi JPEG that needs to become a four-foot banner.
Toto, we have a problem.
The file looked beautiful on the screen.
Unfortunately, the printing press has never been particularly impressed by the screen.
It wants bleeds.
It wants resolution.
It wants the correct color space.
It wants fonts that actually exist.
It wants logos that aren't tiny JPEGs somebody found in an email from 2017.
The printing press is extremely needy.
“But It Looks Right on My Screen”
It does.
I believe you.
But here's another favorite:
“It's the right size. I can see it.”
Seeing it is not, unfortunately, a unit of measurement.
A full-page ad that is supposed to be 8.5 × 11 inches cannot be 7.25 × 9.5 because it looked approximately full-page on your laptop.
A quarter-page ad is not simply a full-page ad made smaller.
And an 11 × 17 poster does not become a 24 × 36 poster because somebody grabs a corner and drags.
Printers are annoyingly literal about these things.
They want actual dimensions.
Sometimes they even want an eighth-inch bleed, which is printer language for:
“Yes, we really do intend to cut some of this off.”
And then there are proportions.
If you designed something square and now need it horizontal, we haven't encountered a sizing problem.
We have encountered a redesign.
This is also why I don't determine whether my car needs an oil change by looking at a photograph of the car.
There are things happening underneath.
Design has always had an underneath.
Hierarchy. Composition. Typography. Color. Production. Resolution. Paper. Ink. Folding. Binding. File preparation.
And the deeply glamorous skill of knowing that if you put important copy THERE, the bindery is going to chop it off.
Nobody puts that part in the software commercial.
Owning the Tool Has Never Been the Same as Knowing the Craft
I own a very nice set of kitchen knives.
This has not made me a chef.
I have a sewing machine.
Dolce & Gabbana has yet to call.
I own a toolbox.
For the safety of everyone in my building, this does not make me a contractor.
Software works the same way.
The program can give you the tools.
It cannot automatically give you the years spent learning when to use them, when not to use them, and when to quietly back away from the drop shadow.
That last one takes experience.
And Now, Ladies and Gentlemen: AI
AI is the newest version of the same story.
Except this time the software talks back.
And with confidence.
Extraordinary confidence.
AI can write.
It can make pictures.
It can organize information.
It can generate ideas.
It can alphabetize a giant list in approximately the amount of time it takes me to say, “Oh God, I have to alphabetize this.”
I use it.
I like it.
It saves me enormous amounts of time.
But occasionally AI will hand you something completely wrong with the confidence of a maître d' informing you that you made the reservation for Thursday and today is Wednesday.
This is why AI doesn't eliminate the need for skill.
It makes skill even more important.
Because now someone has to know when the machine is brilliant…
…and when the machine has just made something up and put it in a very nice sentence.
The Good News
You don't need to be a designer to use Canva.
You don't need to be a writer to use AI.
You don't need to be a photographer to take a terrific photograph with your phone.
That's the wonderful part.
These tools have put creative capabilities into millions of hands.
Use them.
Make things.
Experiment.
Have fun.
Bring me your Canva file.
Bring me your AI idea.
Bring me the thing you created in PowerPoint because that was the only program you knew how to use.
I promise I will not judge you.
Okay.
I may judge the drop shadow.
But never you.
Because the software isn't the skill.
Knowing what to do with it is.
And apparently, after Word, PageMaker, Publisher, PowerPoint, Canva and AI…
I'm still not obsolete.
Frankly, I'm beginning to think they may be bluffing.
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