The Intention Economy, Anthropic explains LLMs, Raekwon at ALD, and Rick Rubin.
Issue No. 17
The Intention Economy
As machines learn to make everything smooth and functional, there’s more value in the unmistakable signal of human effort
Do you have a favorite mug? I bet you do. I bet it’s not perfect. Not in the strict design sense. I bet the proportions are outside the mean. Perhaps it was handmade so it’s not perfectly round. Or the handle is just a little bit longer than other handles? Whatever it is that makes it your favorite mug, I’m willing to bet it could be seen as an imperfection.
Cultures all over the world have long celebrated imperfection in different forms. Wabi-sabi is the most well-known. The Japanese philosophy of finding beauty in impermanence and imperfection. There was a brief moment where Kim and Kanye were devout followers of wabi-sabi, but I digress. Wabi-sabi is far from the only one.
In Italy, sprezzatura is the art of studied carelessness. It’s effort disguised as ease. It’s the reason everyone looks so chic in Milan. In Morocco, traditional zellige tilework is intentionally irregular to reflect humility before the divine. In Nigeria, adire indigo dyeing is prized for the uniqueness of each print, where subtle variations are a sign of the maker's hand.
I think people find beauty in these imperfections because they carry signals of effort and intention. They are proof that someone, somewhere, really cared about the thing that was made. The way it was styled. The way it functions. The way it feels in your hand.
Increasingly, I don’t think this is limited to physical, hand-crafted goods.
People have been dunking on Apple’s Liquid Glass system, but I really love it. The way light bends through materials, how what's beneath subtly distorts and refracts as the liquid glass moves over the surface. It’s undeniably full of intention. There are real concerns about accessibility that should be fixed, but what an incredible demonstration of effort.
The criticism has been a little predictable. Style over substance, disconnected from utility, form over function. But I think the critics are missing the point. It’s intentionally more than utility. When I use it, I can’t help but feel the intention of the team that brought it to life. All the tiny interactions that surprise me, or catch my eye, they’re each reminders that a group of people had to go to great effort to deliver such a beautiful thing. There’s huge value in that.
For me, this level of intentionality is an extension of the interactions we celebrate. How many times have we praised charming microcopy, playable 404 states, delightful Easter eggs, even confetti!?
These design investments have always been a risk, but we know they pay off. Engagement, sure. That’s one way to measure it. But the elephant in the room is the emotional response. The smiles, laughs, and “hey come here, look at this thing” responses that some of these design contributions create. So much so that Google built a team dedicated to the Google Doodle, a lovely group of humans who are always looking for ways to put a smile on everyone’s face.
As we’re all starting to adopt AI tools to speed up and expand our output as designers, it’s important to remember that we, as humans, bring something unique that has the potential to connect with other humans who use our products. Our intention.
We already have the technology to generate a functional, brilliantly usable UI. It’s our version of just-in-time manufacturing. Just-in-time UX. The technology is good enough to do this live for many applications. We’re entering an era of generative user experience—visual but probabilistic—a menu generated for you that only contains options you’re interested in seeing. A card that summarizes a set of actions that meet your unique needs.
I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with any of this. It fills me with hope. There’s been a lot of chatter about AI replacing designers, but I think the opposite is true. When the baseline experience—simple, functional, predictable—is free, where will the value and differentiation come from?
People already seek out experiences with rough edges. They can feel the inherent value in something that was intentionally made, at great effort, by another human. The irregular tiles. The hand-dyed adire. People have always responded to the care you can feel in a product or service.
Perhaps we’re underestimating how quickly AI-crafted experiences will feel careless. We’re already seeing terms like clanker emerge to describe AI outputs. Is it because it’s easy to spot the absence of intention?
The uniquely valuable contribution from design has never been limited to simplicity, utility, form, or function. We’ve all known for a long time that designers leave a little bit of themselves in everything they do. It’s a creative act, and requires an artistic commitment. A series of choices that add up to an intention. I’m just excited that the rise of AI might make this more valuable than ever. Where differentiation and engagement are driven by the unmistakable mark of a human who cared enough to make a product a certain way.
What a time to be a designer.
A drop of links to keep the signal strong. Tools, essays, books, oddities. Anything I find that I feel is worth sharing. Email sam@readwireframe.com with any suggestions.
If you want to geek out on how LLMs actually work, check out this conversation with Josh, Emmanuel, Jack, and Stuart from Anthropic. Fantastic discussion.
If you share my predilection for Wu-Tang, check out Raekwon’s set at Amié Leon Dore. Shimmy Shimmy Ya at 15:20 is a treat ❤️
I thought packaging a Bose speaker as a stick of butter to celebrate the launch of a new yellow colorway was cute. Not for everyone, but will really speak to some.
Rick Rubin has this great phrase in his book The Creative Act: “the audience comes last”. Here’s him explaining what he means by that. Something to think about in an Intention Economy.