Designers should be thriving in the age of AI. Here’s why we aren’t, why it’s probably our fault, and how we can fix it.

Much has been said about the future of design in the age of AI. Some think the role will disappear completely. Others say only super-seniors will survive. And yet others say it’s all just a blip in time and there will be no fundamental change.

I think all are wrong.

For two reasons:

1. Designers are naturally attuned to adapt to technological change. We are trained to identify and acknowledge change, manage adaptation, and find solutions for friction.
2. We’re moving towards a totally new definition of digital products. Away from interfaces, and towards fluid use cases that we’re only beginning to imagine now. To make this accessible and valuable to all, we will need designers at all levels. Obviously.

Why, then, has the design community been in absolute panic since AI has been taking off?

Seniors are telling juniors to count themselves lucky if they’ll ever find a job.

Design leaders are jumping from one AI-tool hypetrain to the next in mere weeks.

Monday, it’s all about prototypes. Thursday, it’s vibe coding. Friday, we’re preaching that output no longer matters (everyone can design now!) and that we should be brilliant strategists instead. By next Monday, we’ll be half-heartedly debating which soft skills are absolutely vital to survive.

Survive. As designers.

As if our skills have evaporated overnight, and we can only stick around if we somehow show that we’re good for (undefined) other stuff.

No.

We should be thriving.

Where has it all gone wrong? Why aren’t designers winning in the age of AI, which, at its core, is about making?

The thing we do best.

Here’s what I think.

We’ve been sabotaging ourselves.

Please don’t be enraged. Take a deep breath and think about it.

Ever since the first AI tools with strong visual output started emerging, we seemingly overnight started screaming from all rooftops about:

taste.

What the fck is taste?

According to NNG it’s “the learned, subjective ability to discern and select the most effective, harmonious, and high-quality elements for a project”.

Maybe, if you’re really smart, you can picture what that means. But really, if you’re honest, taste is a vague concept. Taste is subjective. Taste is not something that makes a product win (for the most part).

And vague is not good — especially not in a time of transformation where no one really knows where we’re going yet. Where tech stacks are changing weekly, and user needs are developing at rocket speed.

You know what else vague is bad for? Convincing an executive to invest in something.

It generally takes three things to grab an executive’s attention.

1. Connection (Do you get their problem?).
2. Authority (Do you know your stuff?).
3. Vision (Do you know where this is going?).

Taste doesn’t answer any of those. You know what else doesn’t?

Shitty prototypes.

Yeah, I’ve made my fair share of them, too. But the time when these impressed anyone is over. Even my 0% designer husband can now vibe code stuff and knows how to whip up a design prototype.

There is a time and place for them. Prototypes and vibe-coded projects are great to show a vision, build excitement, or unblock a team that’s stuck in process. But they’re not what’s gonna convince your engineering stakeholders to give you access to their codebase so you can actually start shipping fixes from your design backlog.

I’d like to argue that excessive prototyping is the next big issue that’s messing with the status of design in the age of AI.

Because they undermine our authority. There’s the executive’s next red flag. Do you know your stuff?

Of course, designers recognised this concern quickly. How did we respond?

By starting never-ending discussions about:

craft.

What the heck is craft?

I like this definition: “Craft can be defined as intelligent making. It is technically, materially and culturally informed. Craft is the designing and making of individual artefacts and objects, encouraging the development of intellectual, creative and practical skills, visual sensitivity and a working knowledge of tools, materials and systems”.

Welp.

Taste and craft walk into a bar…

Just kidding.

You get my point. Here is another vague concept that most people associate with activities they liked to do back in kindergarten.

And listen, I’m not knocking craft. I love writing poetry, painting, throwing pots at the wheel. All that takes craft and skill, just as my designs at work do. But craft should be so obvious to us as designers that we should not make it our main selling point.

Obviously, we develop incredible craft as our experience builds. Obviously, individual designers have different styles. Obviously, we put thought and care into what we make.

Craft is the baseline. That’s what we want the executives to know. By debating it and what it even means, we’re again undermining our authority. And I’d argue we’re also not really connecting with them OR showing much vision.

Well, shit.

How do we get out of this mess?

We need to remember — and remind others — why design is irreplaceable.

We’re the OG makers.

We’re “growth mindset”, personified.

In most classic product companies, there are trios: A product manager, a designer, and an engineer. The point? To ensure that the perspectives of the users and the business are balanced with the technical capabilities throughout the development process.

While a well-functioning trio feels like a cheat code to achieving product velocity, an unbalanced one can slow things down, ship mediocre stuff, or not at all.

The best trios I’ve worked in and observed had one very obvious trait in common: we all respected each other’s practice, but we also understood enough about each other’s domains to be unafraid to push back.

Only a designer who understands the business side of things can really translate business goals into conversion flows.

Only a product manager who understands the fundamentals of good design can push a designer to level up.

And only an engineer who cares for users and understands how the business works is an equal partner in a trio.

And while AI is bringing all of our roles closer together, we are still the builders of the experience.

The thing that is actually being used. The thing executives aim to deliver.

1. Connection: You want to make something. We can tell you if it’s possible. If yes, we can ensure it’s made in the best possible way.
2. Authority: We work at the intersection of what the business wants, the user needs, and what actually works.
3. Vision: We have the skills, tools, and mindset to create something you can’t even/can only imagine.

Sold.

The design mindset is unique.

And it’s beautiful.

It’s human-centred. Deep empathy for the user is the foundation, ensuring solutions address real needs, feelings, and motivations.

It embraces ambiguity. Viewing problems as opportunities rather than roadblocks.

It kills its darlings by default and favours learning. A willingness to “fail fast,” learn from prototypes, and constantly adapt solutions based on feedback.

It’s, at its core, optimistic and inclusive. Bringing diverse perspectives together, believing that better solutions can always be created.

It’s the most curious of mindsets. Asking “why” and “what if” to challenge the status quo at every turn.

You don’t have to read this twice to know: hell yes, we need designers with AI taking over more and more space in our lives.

Here’s what we need to do. Now.

In most classic design teams, there are different roles: Product designers, content designers, user researchers, sometimes motion designers, and ops people. Their educational background is essentially the same: developing an understanding of users, business, and products. Some focus more on the look and feel, others on going in depth on the “how it works”.

So, for the love of everything good, can we please stop debating our titles?

We are all designers.

Designers make stuff. Some use words and taxonomy, others use pixels. Some use language, others use code. The mindset is the same. The mindset is what matters.

Yes, AI is muddying the lines between design roles. But it doesn’t matter.

Not because it can replace people, but because it can save time that, in return, can be used to develop the skills traditionally only another role would need. Not so you can replace someone, but:

So you can become a more holistic, better maker.

This is not new.

There’s always been a push for all designers to do their own research. For content designers to develop visual skills. For product designers to get strong at prototyping. Now, finally, we can do so — with far less effort than before.

That doesn’t mean we should think less. It means we can think more.

I, personally, love thinking. Nothing gets me as high as solving a problem. It’s the reason I got into design, and specifically design in tech, in the first place. There were actual (cool) problems to solve.

I originally picked UX content as my toolkit. Now, my toolkit has expanded. I love that. And I don’t want to waste time wondering what my title should be, whether my taste is good enough, or what exactly my craft is now.

I want to make stuff.

And I think you do, too.

Nicole is a Content Designer turned Design Director based in Stockholm, Sweden. She potters, writes poetry, and raises little girls in a house by a meadow. You can follow her writing here or get it directly to your inbox via her publication, eggwoman. Nicole is on Linkedin.

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Designers, we should be killing it right now was originally published in UX Collective on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.