My Approach to UX
UX as Material, Not Method
Six conversations with a large language model that treat UX research as material—full of folds, pauses, and things that won’t fit a slide. They don’t offer a method; they slow the pace, invite doubt, and keep the unsaid in view.
Keeping the Unsaid Present
These conversations show how I actually think and work: slowly, through tension, interruption, and what won’t fit a template. They make visible the folds—hesitations, misalignments, silences—that shape my research decisions. This series matters because it frames UX as material, not method, and keeps the unsaid present in the practice.
The Material of Teaching
Discipline Over Templates:
Six lessons and three workshops that imagine UX research taught like a bottega: practice first, process second. Each pairs a core UX principle with an unexpected cultural reference, asking students to build discipline—not follow steps.
Turning Practice Into Something Shareable
This framework translates that same mindset into how I’d pass the craft on: through proximity, discipline, and cultural juxtapositions rather than fixed steps. It clarifies the principles under my work—attention, ambiguity, orchestration—and tests them in a teachable form. It matters because it turns my approach into something shareable without flattening it.
The Shape of Access
Accessibility is not an adjustment, it’s an attitude.
This series explores the seven principles of Universal Design through quiet, grounded stories. Each begins with a moment of friction, a missed train in Nothing Announced, a form that overwhelms in Wrist, a wheelchair user navigating a narrow curve in Turning Circle. These aren’t dramatic breakdowns. They’re soft exclusions, the kind that reveal whether someone was expected or merely permitted. Told with restraint and clarity, each piece invites the reader to observe how access lives, or fails to live, in small, bodily details.
Each story asks: what happens when systems assume too much?
Whether in Side Gate, where dignity is reshaped by entry point, or Only Way In, where a user completes a task with someone else’s hands, these narratives suggest that accessibility is not a technical fix but a form of care. Inspired by artists like Shirin Neshat and the quiet rigour of spatial design, the series reframes access as atmosphere: something sensed, shaped, and shared. Transfer and Button remind us that mistakes, pauses, and uncertainty are not exceptions, they are part of real use. Good design plans for them. Better design lets them pass without penalty.
Writing Beyond Words
Language as Material
Short essays, fragments, and analogies that treat UX as more than interface—drawing on sculpture, film, and literature to show how form, silence, and omission carry meaning. No how-tos here—just unfinished pieces meant to be reread, not resolved.
Fragments, Not Formulas
These texts matter to my practice because they keep complexity visible. They remind me to resist tidy conclusions, to let metaphor sharpen observation, and to let writing function as research—testing how I see, not just what I know.
Podcast
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