Unlike traditional architecture, web design requires less strict rules and dimensions, although it definitely has some. And unlike traditional fine art, web design must serve a functional, digital purpose further than as only decoration, although fine art is not only for mere decoration!

Web design is a modern functional art form based on well-measured margins and intuitive operations. So where do you start: form or function? Obviously, a website would be pointless to use if its function was not made priority one. After all, you only use a website to glean some kind of information. But then, if form is pushed way back in the dark, where does that leave the expression, atmosphere and feeling that creates the interest to even use the site?

I believe there must be a balance, from celestial movement all the way down to browsing the web. Form and function must build upon each other; the muse must have a method.

Before I even get started on a project, I find out what is needed: the look and feel a client is wanting (form), and what components and content will be included in the site (function). Usually, I read and reread these notes, thinking of the words and translating them into visualizations. My brain swirls with colors, textures and images. It’s time for pencil and paper to sketch out ideas. For me, this is usually when function plays a key role. Once I have a semi-clear idea for how the site will look, I delve into developing its inner workings. I’ve learned that it’s better for me to limit my initial thumbnail sketches, and instead only map out the general placeholders for components and modules, where the main images will go, and so on. Nothing too detailed. Otherwise the design will be locked into those sketches, making it inflexible and harder to build.

This is where the muse takes over. I’d say that half the time I’m working on a site, I’m just staring at the screen, trying to figure out how best to visualize my ideas in a coherent, purposeful way. But bit by bit, a design comes together. Sometimes faster, sometimes frustratingly slow. It feels almost like a real thing that has given you permission to reveal it, either eagerly or with an attitude that’s more difficult to pin down. Essentially, it grows on its own. I’m just here to help it along.

Then like an over-excited kid at Christmas trying to figure out what to play with first, I pick at the design and all its elements in random spurts, fixing the margins of a side column, messing with the typography in the menu, exploring textures in the background, and on and on until it’s complete. And believe me, you’ll know when it’s complete, because it just feels right. But until then, don’t rush things.

Many times I get comments like, “I can’t wait to see what it’ll end up looking like.” And all I can say is, “Me too!”