Anatomy of a button
A button isn't a clickable rectangle. It's a promise of action, a small physical contract between finger and screen. We take it apart here, piece by piece.
A playground in chapters
A personal journey through UX, motion design and typography.
The best UX lets the user be elsewhere in their mind — because the interface is doing the work. Everything that happens without the user noticing is the real power of an interface. Here I collect its fragments, one chapter at a time.
6 finished explorations
A button isn't a clickable rectangle. It's a promise of action, a small physical contract between finger and screen. We take it apart here, piece by piece.
The network is slow, the user is not. The best UX pretends it already knows — and is right almost every time. Skeletons, optimistic UI, errors that don't shout: the vocabulary of an interface that trusts its next click.
An interface with nothing to show isn't mute — it's the moment its voice is heard most clearly. 404s, empty lists, fruitless searches: small voids that weigh a lot, and that care distinguishes from abandonment.
A dialog is an interruption that asks permission. When it really must speak, it does so with the keyboard in hand: focus where it belongs, Escape that mends, motion that enters like a sigh and never like a shout.
Scrolling is the most transparent gesture we have. It asks no permission, it interrupts nothing, it needs no teaching: we already know how to do it. A page that goes along with it — instead of chasing it — is a page that lets itself be read to the end.
Numbers are never just numbers: they are digits with typographic weight, a sign that speaks first, a local convention. The interface that handles them with care doesn't display them — it lets them be read.