득도를 위한 땀과피

Part 1 of 2 (here’s Part 2)

Today is my last day at Google.

I started working in-house at Google almost three years ago. I built a team from scratch. I was fortunate to hire a team of a very talented designers. We introduced Visual Design as a discipline to Google. And we produced amazing work together. I’m very proud of my team, and I wish them well. They have a lot of challenging work ahead. But for me, it’s time to move on.

Do I have something else lined up? Yes. That will be covered in Part 2. So I’m not leaving just to leave. But I’m not going to sugarcoat the reasons for my departure either. The scale at which Google operates was an early attractor for me. Potential to impact millions of people? Where do I sign? Unfortunately for me, there was one small problem I didn’t see back then.

When I joined Google as its first visual designer, the company was already seven years old. Seven years is a long time to run a company without a classically trained designer. Google had plenty of designers on staff then, but most of them had backgrounds in CS or HCI. And none of them were in high-up, respected leadership positions. Without a person at (or near) the helm who thoroughly understands the principles and elements of Design, a company eventually runs out of reasons for design decisions. With every new design decision, critics cry foul. Without conviction, doubt creeps in. Instincts fail. “Is this the right move?” When a company is filled with engineers, it turns to engineering to solve problems. Reduce each decision to a simple logic problem. Remove all subjectivity and just look at the data. Data in your favor? Ok, launch it. Data shows negative effects? Back to the drawing board. And that data eventually becomes a crutch for every decision, paralyzing the company and preventing it from making any daring design decisions.

Yes, it’s true that a team at Google couldn’t decide between two blues, so they’re testing 41 shades between each blue to see which one performs better. I had a recent debate over whether a border should be 3, 4 or 5 pixels wide, and was asked to prove my case. I can’t operate in an environment like that. I’ve grown tired of debating such minuscule design decisions. There are more exciting design problems in this world to tackle.

I can’t fault Google for this reliance on data. And I can’t exactly point to financial failure or a shrinking number of users to prove it has done anything wrong. Billions of shareholder dollars are at stake. The company has millions of users around the world to please. That’s no easy task. Google has momentum, and its leadership found a path that works very well. When I joined, I thought there was potential to help the company change course in its design direction. But I learned that Google had set its course long before I arrived. Google was a massive aircraft carrier, and I was just a small dinghy trying to push it a few degrees North.

I’m thankful for the opportunity I had to work at Google. I learned more than I thought I would. I’ll miss the free food. I’ll miss the occasional massage. I’ll miss the authors, politicians, and celebrities that come to speak or perform. I’ll miss early chances to play with cool toys before they’re released to the public. Most of all, I’ll miss working with the incredibly smart and talented people I got to know there. But I won’t miss a design philosophy that lives or dies strictly by the sword of data.

Yesterday was my first day @twitter.

Yes, it’s true. After reading a bit of speculation over the past few weeks, I’ll confirm here that I am, indeed, joining Twitter. I don’t remember ever being as eager or excited to start a new job as I’ve been with this one. (Thus, why I only took one week off between jobs.)

Over the past year, I spoke with several organizations about coming on board to lead a design team. But Twitter felt the like most natural fit from the very start of my talks with the team. It’s still early in Twitter’s history. The company is small. Its user base is growing rapidly. And I see lots of potential to directly impact and to help shape the Twitter brand.

Add to that the fact that I know, understand, and respect the company’s leadership. And they know and respect my work, capabilities, and philosophy. (Several of us worked together on the redesign of Blogger in 2004.) A better fit is hard to find.

As Creative Director, I’ll have a few obvious responsibilities. Like building and shaping a design team, overseeing an evolving set of design challenges for a growing list of features and uses, and contributing to the company’s overall design strategy. Other responsibilities will include taking advantage of Twitter (and other means) to collect feedback and ideas about new features, implementations, or general UI changes.

I recognize the task before us is not small nor easy. Twitter means different things for different people and organizations, and it gets used in so many different ways. Maintaining the simplicity of the service is critical. At the same time, so is supporting an expanding set of features that enable new ways for users to connect with real-time information from sources that interest them.

Despite the changes ahead, I don’t regret my decision. Sure, I left a 20,000-person company with billions of dollars in revenue to join a startup with just over 30 employees and venture capital in the bank. The shift means I need to adjust to the pace at which we move, the scope of responsibility for each employee, and expectations for available resources. It means significant changes to how we, as a company, approach problems and propose solutions. And it also means more time for me back in San Francisco. In fact, from my desk, I can look out at the old Wired building where I got my start on the web thirteen years ago. I welcome changes like this with open arms.

Here’s to new challenges and new opportunities. Even when they’re taken on, one hundred and forty characters at a time.

Update: Here’s Twitter’s announcement on the blog.