The lost art of meaning & the aesthetic trap — From the Desk of van Schneider — Edition №262

The lost art of meaning & the aesthetic trap

This article is dedicated to Surya, now a friend and once a talented junior designer on my team who has since grown into quite the successful man.

This essay is born out of one of the many conversations I had with him over the years.

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In a world drowning in visual noise (today more than ever), something important has been lost over the recent years. Something that was already rare to begin with.

As social media feeds blur into an endless stream of aesthetically pleasing but hollow designs, we seem to have forgotten a fundamental principle: great design isn't just about looking good – it's about telling a story.

You're probably thinking "wow Tobias, what a revelation...tell me something new." But it's a curious phenomenon I'm increasingly observing in today's design world. While our current generation of designers possesses technical skills that would have been unimaginable just years ago, there's a fundamental absence at the heart of their work.

Scrolling through portfolios online, I'm struck by a consistent pattern. All these designers can execute with stunning precision, yet their work often feels strangely empty. There's no story, no soul, no concept that ties it all together.

Don't get me wrong: the work is crisp, it's visually polished and professionally well executed. But when you look closer, trying to understand the deeper meaning or story behind these technically flawless pieces, you're often left with nothing but beautifully crafted eye candy.

I have to admit, this approach of prioritizing aesthetics over concept might generate likes and shares, and yes, some clients might even be impressed by the immediate visual impact. I've done it myself, many times. But this inverts the fundamental hierarchy of good design.

Our primary mission as designers (at least thats how I learned it) should always be to create something conceptually strong first, and then aesthetically strong second. The visual elements should flow naturally from our conceptual foundation because when you nail the underlying idea, the aesthetic decisions often reveal themselves organically. It's the natural order.

That said, some seasoned designers have mastered the art of retrofitting meaning into their work by finding conceptual threads in their intuitive design choices. But this is a rare skill that comes only with years of experience and deep understanding of design principles. It's like a bird that flies. It doesn't think about flying, it just does it.

Designing with a concept in mind is similar to crafting a great joke. You can either build up to a powerful punchline, or start with the punchline and construct the path that leads there after the fact. Neither approach is inherently wrong, but you can't skip one of the two parts.

My point is: Great design should always be rooted in its conceptual foundation. Every element should be anchored in a narrative that connects the entire piece. Anyone who has worked with great and demanding clients knows that the STORY you're going to tell is ultimately what is going to win them over.

Even if all you do is sell "a circle as a logo," which might sound absurd at first, but once backed by a compelling narrative makes all the more sense (fun fact, my friend and talented designer Mads did just that many years ago).

And while the STORY is a crucial aspect when pitching your work to professional clients, the foundational concept is also noticeable when regular people experience your work. They may not consciously understand the strategic thinking that informed each decision, but they can feel the presence or absence of substance, even without you mentioning it.

That's why you can't make a great movie just with stunning visual effects, explosions and pure eye candy. It will be 90 minutes of empty spectacle and the viewer will be left cold, yearning for just a little bit of depth or storytelling. We want something that touches our hearts, makes us laugh, makes us cry, something that makes us think.

But social media has moved us towards a troubling trend of instant gratification where surface-level aesthetics are the name of the game. Designers rush to replicate the latest trends. Mesh gradients, neo-brutalist layouts or whatever is currently flooding Instagram. Nobody is asking why these elements serve their message. The result? A sea of beautiful but hollow designs that fail to leave a lasting impression.

Maybe we're in some kind of "aesthetic apocalypse" today where everything looks good but nothing means anything anymore? We see brands adopting similar visual styles not because they serve their unique story, but because they want to look contemporary. They want to fit into the noise. This stripping of meaning from design doesn't just create forgettable work – it undermines the very purpose of design as a communication tool.

But just so we're on the same page, the path forward isn't about rejecting aesthetically pleasing beauty, it's about ensuring that beauty emerges from meaning. Before choosing colors, typefaces or shapes, we must ask:

What story are we telling?
What values are we expressing?
How does each element contribute to the narrative?
What is the damn concept here?
WHY WHY WHY?

In a world of endless scrolling and fleeting impressions, let's resist the urge to create merely for aesthetic appeal. It's a race to the bottom, we will be swimming in a massive ocean with others doing the same.

Instead, let's return to the beautiful fundamentals of conceptual design. Let's enjoy the process and fact that great design emerges from great thinking.

Let's design something that catches attention, but then also holds it. Work that doesn't just look good, but means something ♡

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PS: And just to be realistic here. Not ALL the things you do or share need to have that BIG idea or meaning behind it. That's just unrealistic. It's okay to share or make things for aesthetic pleasure. I personally aim for a healthy ratio where my bigger projects are conceptually strong, but I also indulge in smaller aesthetic pleasure here or there.

Thank you for reading

Yours truly,
Tobias