Amber Simmons is a writer and web content strategist. See her portfolio and subscribe to her blog. Or, you can just drop her a line.

Designers are fond of saying that we are problem solvers: we recognize real, human needs and create appropriate solutions. We needed a place to rest our bones; designers created the armchair. We needed a way to comfortably drink our hot beverages; designers concocted the coffee mug. But great designers are more than problem solvers: they’re matchmakers. Great designers initiate relationships, and command from us a mysterious loyalty. We participate in these relationships every day in our love affairs with our iPods, Levis, and Dyson vacuum cleaners.
Web design is a curious beast because it is still developing; its still very much in its infancy. And problematically, many ideas about web design are myopic: they want to make web designers little more than desktop publishers, maybe something like interactive graphic artists. But web design isn’t merely a collection of pretty backgrounds, Flash animations and some navigation. Web design is what happens when a solution, a purpose, a delightful experience artfully emerge from the elegant marriage of content (in headers, body copy, footers, etc.) and graphic art. Design is the carefully constructed relationship between the visual elements of a page, the content or information delivered, and the emotional connection established between the user and the site. Design is not merely seen, but experienced.
The central tenet of design is deliberateness: nothing exists without reason. An appealing form without function is simply decoration, a pitfall many fledgling designers fall into. Each component of a thoughtful design contributes to the unfolding of a narrative: it implies connections with other pieces of history, of culture, of personal experience. The heart of a user’s experience lies in his own interpretation of what he sees, and the more clues we can give him about what we want him to understand the more precisely his interpretation will align with our own. We use colors, shapes, stylizations, etc. that convey our values, our mindset, our message and story to the user. The pieces that build a website don’t exist in a vacuum: they sit in a web of interconnecting relationships, all of which the user has access to and experience with, and all of which contribute to his user experience.
If we want to orchestrate a particular experience, then, it’s imperative that design elements, language, and internal architecture are deliberately crafted to elicit a certain emotional response.
At the heart of user experience lies a word I rarely hear bandied about in professional circles: love. It’s an unfortunate omission since, as Mick Malisic of frog design fame points out, “Design really is about loving something.” I mentioned iPods, the Dyson, and Levi jeans in the beginning of this article, everyday items that people don’t just use, but love. We love them for their design as well as their “quintessence”. This love is precisely what designers strive for. When I sit down to begin crafting a website, my goal is for you to love it. I don’t want you to like it. I don’t want you to find it “cool” or “hip”. I want you to love it. The more your emotions are engaged when reading my website, the more likely you are to hear me, the more influence I have over you.
We don’t talk a lot, as an industry, about emotional connections on the web. It’s an unfortunate oversight, as making emotional connections lies at the center of so much of what we do as an industry. We strive for good design, for good branding, for good usability because we want to make people care about something. Whether my website is for a microprocessor company, a non-profit charity, or a political campaign, I’m creating a website because I want to make you care about something, very often in order to compel you to do something.
Brilliant design is absolutely integral to the brilliant user experience. Design brings people and their needs together. It fills a void in human experience, eliciting emotions, creating opportunities, and forming relationships.
I turn the television on because I relish the white noise. Twitter provides companionship and even consequence without the commitment.
Junk food web produces junk food brains. The savior of education needs an overhaul and our commitment to writing better.
From one blog to two and back to one again. Simplicity in form produces complexity in function. Re-introducing Technical poet.
Comments should be working now, yes? They’re not pretty but at least they work. Will have to make them pretty tomorrow. Must play with hubby and children
Hey there, Amber-
I appreciate your considerate attention to these aspects of the creative experience. You have reminded me that as designers, craftspeople, artists, whathaveyou, we stride to elicit an emotion in our audience. The moment of transference is critical. It is there we give chance to a reaction, a shared connection, an experience. From there, what is opened and maintained is the relationship. Even it is with a vacuum cleaner.
I see your struggle to find “love” in this industrious world of Web design. Love is somehow mysteriously absent amongst the goals and directives of business and industry. I have some thoughts on that, though.
For the most part, Love is missing from this world. Which is odd, because if that which we seek is a connection with an audience, than what other platform could we have? Misery? Or worse, lust? I suppose, but what good would come of that?
The Internet by the very nature of its makeup is inherently a cold, dead place. It is the people on the other side of each of these lifeless machines that bring warmth and personality to the equations of bits and bytes. Heck, even when businesses primarily communicated through paper, there was at least a continuous organic connection.
So, we’re all separated between silicone, steel and plastic; fabrications of human engineering. And with that separation, it’s _extremely_ easy to be someone you’re not. It’s easy to lose inhibitions, give into temptations and go blind.
So, really. Can Love live there? Here on this convoluted Web of masked personalities? Absolutely, but I would submit that it takes a spiritual force. A spirit of pure Love to break through. Anything else will lead to failure. That’s my belief anyway.
You’re a good writer. I look forward to more. Don’t forget, you owe me a paper.