Every website that’s made me oooo and aaahhh lately has been of a special kind; they’re written and designed like essays. There’s an argument, a playfulness in the way that they’re not so much selling me something as they are trying to convince me of the thing. They use words and type and color in a way that makes me sit up and listen. And I think that framing our work in this way lets us web designers explore exciting new possibilities. Instead of throwing a big carousel on the page and being done with it, thinking about making a website like an essay encourages us to focus on the tough questions. We need an introduction, we need to provide evidence for our statements, we need a conclusion, etc. This way we don’t have to get so caught up in the same old patterns that we’ve tried again and again in our work.

Everyone is tired of lifeless, humorless copywriting. They’ve seen all the animations, witnessed all the cool fonts, and in the face of all that stuff, they yawn. They yawn because it supports a bad argument, or more precisely, a bad essay; one that doesn’t charm the reader, or give them a reason to care.

Right now I see a lot of Swiss-style, minimalist portfolios. So the ones that stand out do something playful and different, whether that’s with animations, color, copy, type or layout.

Neglecting case studies. Dumping a bunch of images on a page and leaving it up to the user to guess what they’re looking at. Or, on the other extreme, writing case studies so long and boring I can’t make it past the first two sentences. "I want to understand your process, but I don’t need to know your user persona better than I know my own mother." It’s all about finding the perfect balance.

The person reading your case study is busy. They’ve probably looked at dozens of portfolios today. Respect their time. Write something that makes them smile. Tell a story, but get to the point. With our own portfolio, it’s easy to forget the design and web practices we know so well. Things like: People scan, they don’t read. They want captions, not chapters. They’ll exit fast unless you keep them wanting more.

Make readers want to keep reading to find out how you got to that point. Practically speaking, a full-width banner image with bold colors and appropriate branding, as well as a mockup or two (mirroring your homepage thumbnail) is the most effective. Follow this with a short paragraph of what the project is about and its background. You should also include a list of details such as the project duration, how big the team was, tools used, and most importantly, what your specific role in the project was.

Following this, make your problem statement bold and clear. It doesn’t have to be too formal. Juxtapose this with your solution. This could be a parallel statement, or a combination of words and graphics once again showing your final product, but more specifically highlighting sections or screens that demonstrate how it solves the problem you just stated.

Everything you’ve written up to this point should be enough to give the casual reader a good idea of the project background and what the final product looks like. They’d probably be fine moving on to another page on your portfolio. But for people who want to read more on this case study, make sure to clearly but concisely tell everything that relates to the work that you did. Structure the rest of your case study after the introduction like this: Research — E.g. competitive analysis, interview and survey results, and personas (if any). User flow(s) — Important to give an idea of how the app is meant to be used. Ideation — E.g. information architecture/site map, sketches, low-progressing-to-high fidelity wireframes, usability testing feedback, annotated iterations, and before/after examples. Final design — Complete prototype containing your highest fidelity wireframes. You could walk through a specific user flow, or just showcase different screens. Here is where gifs, an embedded prototype (more on this later), and demonstration videos should be placed. Conclusion — All good pieces of writing need a conclusion to stick the landing. Talk about next steps first, because readers’ minds are still on the prototype. Then, if applicable, mention direct impacts of the work you did, such as specific growth or revenue metrics. Then, give it a personal touch by talking about what you thought of the project, and the lessons learned.

What if getting a (design) job were human-centered?How might we reconsider this system of collecting a pool of resumes and dwindling them down to a few dozen potential candidates? With so many qualified individuals in the job market, from new grads to seasoned professionals, there has to be a fit somewhere.Call me an idealist — I am.In an ideal world, somehow the complexity of what makes a person unique could be captured and understood easily and quickly without any technological translators. But until then, a resume and a portfolio will have to do, in addition to the pre-screening interviews and design challenges. Without diving into a speculative design fiction, what if getting a (design) job were human-centered? How might the system be a bit more personal, yet still efficient enough to give the hundreds of qualified job seekers a chance in a span of weeks or months?

despite our human-centered mantra, the system of getting a job is anything but human-centered.For the sake of efficiency, consistency is key. Resumes should have some consistent nature to them so HR knows what the heck they’re looking at and the software can accurately pick out whose qualified. Even portfolios fall prey to these expectations for new grads and transitional job seekers. Go through enough examples of resumes and portfolios and they can begin to blur together. Yet, if I’m following a standard, how do I stand out when a lot of us are in the same boat?

Many case studies read to me like school homework: they knew what the answer and the process were “supposed to be” according to the textbook, so made up the story to fit. In reality, as you point out, it’s never smooth and linear. It’s messy and loopish. If you’re doing a good job, you rarely end up with anything remotely like you anticipated when you started out.

abandon your dogmatic and idealistic view of the design process, and keep learning about how flexible, messy, and beautiful it is.

I don’t speak about the “ideal” design process for a simple reason: it doesn’t exist. Design is never linear, and all projects are unique. The point is to show and explain your path from the kick-off to the final result in the portfolio.

If you tell a story, include the details and the things that didn’t work and how you adapted to overcome the problem, the design manager will empathise with you. For the five minutes it takes to read your case study, they’ll be in your shoes. It’ll remind them of all the times when they had similar problems and it’ll make them appreciate you and your struggles as a designer.