What is design? What does it mean to be a designer? These are questions every designer likely contemplates at some point in their journey. In my opinion, there is no single answer. The field of design is so vast, so layered, that it's impossible to contain it within one definition. However, one thing is certain: design is messy. 

The design process is a constant attempt to capture one's ideas on paper—but just as our thoughts run back and forth, so do our pens. And what we often end up with is... a scribble. This messiness isn’t just physical—it extends to teamwork, conversations, and decision-making. Design, by nature, is full of back-and-forth. 

So why does this side of the process stay hidden until you actually sit down to design something yourself? I think the answer lies in the portrayal of design. Lately, there’s been an intense epidemic sweeping through the design field: beautification. Beautification is the attempt to make design appear linear when, in reality, it is iterative. 

Designers often present their final version as if they arrived at it effortlessly, as if it was always meant to be. But that’s not honesty—that’s curation. Portfolios, Instagram posts, and polished case studies tend to hide the chaos that came before. Doing so creates a false expectation for younger designers: that good design is clean, fast, and beautiful from the start. It’s not. Good design is a mess cleaned up after the storm has passed. 

It makes me wonder: where does this pressure to beautify our work come from? 

It stems from a mix of cultural, commercial, and psychological forces. In design education, students are often rewarded more for polished presentations than for honest exploration. Portfolio culture encourages work that appears linear and flawless. On social media, platforms like Instagram and Behance reward aesthetics over substance, setting a skewed standard where messy thinking has no place on the grid. In the professional world, clients and stakeholders often expect visual impressiveness early on—pushing designers to prioritize appearance over meaningful iteration. This is only amplified by insecurity; many designers feel the need to prove their worth through perfection. As a result, the scribbles, missteps, and real-time problem-solving that define the design process are hidden or over-polished, even though they are the very core of the work. And when beauty overshadows thinking, we risk losing what design is meant to be: thoughtful, inclusive, and truly human. 

Don’t get me wrong—our work should always be legible and presentable, but where do we draw the line? 

A presentable design communicates clearly. It shows the thinking, the process, and the reasoning behind decisions. It respects the viewer’s time and attention by being organized, intentional, and purposeful. It doesn’t hide the mess—it frames it. Presentable design invites feedback, dialogue, and growth. 

Pretty design, on the other hand, often aims to impress—sometimes at the cost of clarity. It can prioritize surface aesthetics over depth, polish ideas too early, and mask unresolved thinking. Beauty isn’t inherently bad (in fact, it can be a powerful tool), but the problem arises when “pretty” becomes a substitute for substance. 

In the end, design isn’t a performance—it’s a process. And when that process is shared with care and confidence, it becomes presentable and powerful—even in its messiest moments.