Design is often taught as a set of rigid rules. And in principle, it makes sense. We may call them "rules" but perhaps it's better to call them fundamentals.
These fundamentals extend far beyond the canvas, spreading throughout every aspect of design, from graphic arts to cinema or even architecture.
Mastering them is essential to becoming a better designer. These guidelines serve as our foundation and they help novices to understand harmony, balance and proportion. All these "rules" provide a framework which hopefully help you achieve visually pleasing (some might say "correct") design solutions.
These "rules" have been around for many decades before "Design" as we know it today even existed. Starting with the rule of thirds in photography, the golden ratio in architecture or color theory in painting.
In the beginning these rules used to be more holistically inspired, but over time our fundamentals and guidelines became more granular and specific. Today we have design rules for almost anything. These rules have been mostly defined by accessibility, efficiency and productivity.
To an extent, it's reasonable. When something "works," we try to methodically take it apart and create some rules around it so we can replicate it and streamline the process in the future.
But over the past decade we've become increasingly reliant on these rules, for many good reasons I must say:
1) Following design rules is easy. It gives more people the tools, direction and ability to work within an industry they might not be naturally talented or seasoned at. It's not always a bad thing, especially when you are a novice.
2) Following rules is like a recipe for success. Almost like a "painting by numbers" where you just connect the numbers and suddenly you've painted a fairly decent picture. You drew it yourself, but you also kind of didn't.
3) It gives you the illusion of competency and this satisfied superior feeling when you can correct someone by saying "well, that's not how this is done according to Human Design Guidelines, paragraph 5, section 174." — Especially with social media and influencers this has become even more apparent.
So what happens when we become too religious about these rules? What happens when fundamentals become unquestionable laws? The work becomes boring. Or at best, the work becomes predictable.
"Learn the rules, then break them." This principle, often attributed to Pablo Picasso, suggests that mastering the fundamentals is essential – but real creativity lies in knowing when and how to take away power from those very rules.
The answer to all this lies in using our eyes and hearts.
Great designers don't just see, they perceive. They look beyond the surface, sensing the emotional impact of their work. A slightly off-center composition might create tension, while an unconventional color palette could evoke nostalgia. These choices might break the rules, but they FEEL RIGHT because they resonate on a deeper level.
This tension between "correct" and "feels right" is particularly evident in the film industry. On one side, we have blockbusters designed to sell—movies that follow a proven formula to maximize box office returns. These movies often adhere strictly to established design principles. Think of the ubiquitous orange-and-blue color grading in action movies, a technique that exploits color theory to make scenes pop. Or consider the perfectly timed story beats in romantic comedies, engineered to elicit predictable emotional responses.
While these techniques are effective, they can feel manipulative, like we're being guided through a pre-constructed emotional journey. The design is "correct" according to industry standards, but it lacks soul. It's as if these films were created by algorithm rather than artistry.
And in a way, we've all become slaves to the algorithm. Following overly strict and tedious design rules removes us from the "it just feels right" artistry and puts us almost at the same level as machines. Data-driven design is what we call it.
On the other hand, we have movies that are pure art — films that prioritize personal expression over commercial appeal. Directors like David Lynch, Wong Kar-wai, and Andrei Tarkovsky are known for their highly idiosyncratic visual styles.
These filmmakers design with their hearts, using their experience and personal perspective to capture feelings rather than just images. Their work might not always be "correct" by traditional standards, but it feels profoundly right to those who connect with it. These films don't just show us a story; they make us experience it viscerally.
In our increasingly data-driven world, where algorithms and analytics often dictate design decisions, we need more heart-led design. A/B testing and user metrics have their place, but they can't measure the ineffable qualities that make design truly resonate—qualities like charm, wit, or something that is just inherently human.
This isn't to say that design rules should be discarded entirely. A designer needs to know the rules to break them effectively. And of course, a UX designer or those working within a pre-existing and strict design system may only have so much room to break rules. The point is not making a square button a circle just for the hell of it, to fit in some of your personal flair wherever you possibly can. The point is to design more from the heart. If it feels right, it may be right. There are many ways to solve for something, and it doesn't always have to be the current standard.
Naturally, the more experience you have, the more you can trust your instincts and it will take many years to get there. As I said already, the rules are there at the beginning for a reason.