Now that this phase of my research is coming to an end, the question becomes: how can all of this lead to something more tangible?
The answer, for now, is: I don’t know yet.
What I do know is that I want to keep working with fragments, randomness, and the unnoticed. I want to turn my growing archive of textures, messages, and spontaneous compositions into something. A publication? A zine? A projection? Maybe even a spatial installation? Something that feels more like a collection of evidence than a portfolio.
One idea I’ve been returning to is the “Randomness Manifesto”, a visual and written experiment that acts as both critique and celebration. Critique of overdesigned culture. Celebration of accidents, layers, and non-linear thinking. It might combine screenshots, photography, found type, short texts, print experiments. A design that reflects how we actually experience the world: not as clean grids, but as overlapping, constantly shifting impressions.
Another direction might explore design as documentation. Not designing something but noticing, framing, and amplifying what’s already there. A form of communication design that starts with observing instead of inventing.
Whatever it becomes, I know I want to stay close to the questions that guided me:
– What are we not noticing?
– What are we designing for?
– Can design help us reconnect not just with each other, but with what’s already in front of us?
Design doesn’t always need to answer. Sometimes it just needs to ask better questions. In a time when artificial intelligence can generate thousands of visuals in seconds, maybe the role of the designer is shifting. It’s no longer just about creating new things, it’s about curating, framing, and giving weight to what already exists. The designer becomes less of a maker, more of a connector. Someone who can read between the lines, trace meaning in chaos, and slow down the endless scroll of content to say: “Look closer, this matters.” In that sense, embracing the unfinished and the overlooked isn’t stepping away from design, it’s returning to its core purpose: helping people make sense of the world.
Sources:
Berger, John. Ways of Seeing. Penguin, 1972.
