Use AI—but trust your taste.
We’re not at the AI finish line but at the beginning.
It’s not the norm yet. But soon, it will be like spellcheck, GPS, or Slack.
The difference? This time, the tool thinks back.
AI isn’t replacing designers—but it is reshaping how we work. Not with fanfare. Quietly. It’s becoming ambient—a background layer in our creative operating system. And like any system update, the real shift happens not when the tool shows up—but when it’s deeply adopted, integrated, and trusted.
I’ve felt that shift myself.
- I’ve used AI to brainstorm, draft, and sharpen most blog posts I’ve published so far.
- I’ve used it to guide my job search, refine interview strategies, and navigate transitions.
- I’ve even used it to coach others—reviewing design challenges, summarizing feedback, and helping others grow.
But the magic isn’t in what it gave me.
It’s in what I chose to do with it.
AI makes me faster. But it doesn’t make my choices.
AI is fluent. Logical. Pattern-driven.
But great design isn’t always logical.
Sometimes it requires breaking the grid. Trusting your gut. Making a call that looks wrong on paper—but feels right to the person using it.
• I’ve discarded AI-generated layouts that were technically perfect but lacked soul.
• I’ve rewritten perfectly “correct” sentences because they didn’t sound like me.
• I’ve kept wild, unexpected outputs because they sparked something better.
That’s the point: AI gets you to 80% faster—but the last 20% is taste.
And that’s where the value lies.
Using AI is a creative act
Prompting isn’t just input. It’s dialogue.
And sometimes, that dialogue is uncertain.
There are moments I find myself asking it:
• What’s the best choice here?
• How do you think this will land?
• Can you pick one? What would you recommend?
That moment—that impulse to outsource a decision—is deeply human.
Sometimes I just want it to tell me what to do. And it tries.
I’ve used AI to guide my job search, refine interview strategies, and navigate transitions.
Even help me script a portfolio review.
And sometimes, I’ve ignored it completely.
I prompted it to help me change my pacing, rework the structure, cut down the personal bits. It kept telling me to sharpen, rationalize, streamline.
But I didn’t want to. I was stubborn—insistent that the personal story mattered. That wit, warmth, even a little messiness belonged. That those were the parts people would actually remember.
AI couldn’t quite grasp that. No matter how often I tried to reinsert those human notes, it kept trimming them out.
So I ignored the prompt.
But I didn’t ignore everything.
• It helped me see where I was repeating myself.
• It gave me clean summaries I could sharpen.
• It let me ask, “Did I actually cover the brief?”—and reflected back what I had missed.
That’s the dance. AI helps me think—but it can’t always feel.
And the parts that make something stick? Those live in the feel.
It’s not the authority. It’s the collaborator.
And like any good collaborator, you have to know when to take the note—and when to trust your gut.
How AI helped—but instinct led
During my recent job search, I used AI almost every day—not just to create, but to think.
It was part of how I reflected, rehearsed, and found clarity. But I wasn’t trying to optimize for the “right” choice on paper. I wasn’t chasing prestige or compensation. I was trying to tune into what felt right. What aligned with my values, pace, and way of working.
AI helped me compare opportunities across leadership alignment, culture, and team structure—well beyond role descriptions.
• It helped me prep for conversations by simulating interview questions and helping me rehearse my portfolio presentation.
• It helped me refactor my case studies to tighten story arcs, clarify impact, and reflect on where I needed stronger framing.
• It helped me debrief after meetings—summarizing what I’d said, what landed, and what threads to carry forward.
• It helped me review presentation drafts against a brief—telling me what was missing, where I could tighten or cut, and how to frame a sharper point of view.
But again, the clarity was only part of it.
AI helped me structure the story. But I still had to bring the tone, the conviction, the why it mattered.
It didn’t know the weight of the tradeoffs I made. Or the specific conversations that changed someone’s trajectory.
I did.
And in another case study, I asked AI to identify the most compelling features of a product, surface points of differentiation, and contrast the company against competitors. From that, I was able to build a draft proposal—connecting the dots between positioning, product fit, and opportunity.
It got me to a good draft. But it didn’t get me to a strong POV.
What was missing was specificity. AI could summarize and synthesize, but it couldn’t prioritize. It couldn’t help me say: this is the standout, this is where we push harder, this is where we zag while others zig.
That had to come from me. From instinct. From choice.
I even uploaded past decks and asked, “What am I missing based on the brief?” or “How can I amplify the POV here?” It helped me move quickly—polishing clarity, improving structure, and suggesting transitions.
But AI didn’t get my delivery style.
I speak fast. I use contrast. Humor. I let moments breathe, then break the tension. No matter how I tried to train the AI—through voice cues, past examples, or reworded prompts—it just didn’t get it.
One time, it told me to remove a personal story from my case study deck.
I kept it in.
It was the one moment the room leaned forward.
In another instance, it recommended flattening sections to meet time constraints—but I knew which moment would make them remember me. I left it in—and they did.
AI gave me the scaffolding. My intuition filled in the rest.
It helped me think. But the decision—always—was a felt one.
Because I wasn’t choosing based on logic.
I was choosing based on resonance.
When one opportunity looked great on paper but didn’t feel aligned with how I lead—I said no.
When another didn’t check every box, but felt full of potential—I leaned in.
AI gave me a mirror. A map. A sketch of what could be.
But intuition made the call.
And while I produced depth and a lot of work in a short amount of time, it still didn’t reflect my taste.
That part couldn’t be generated. It had to be chosen.
AI can surprise us—and surface something real
A few of my girlfriends—people I met through work but stayed connected to through something deeper—started meeting regularly around the time of the pandemic. We live in different cities, have different roles, and very little in common on paper. But there was a shared desire to make time for each other—and somehow, it stuck.
At a recent gathering, someone pulled out an AI app that turned our photos into dogs. It analyzed our expressions and mapped traits to match—a visual joke, at first. But then it generated a story about us. We giggled… and then we listened.
And oddly, it captured something.
The tone. The personalities. Even emotional threads we hadn’t quite articulated.
Left Person (in orange top):
Suggested Purebred Match: Smooth Collie
Why: Elegant, intelligent eyes, an alert and friendly presence, and smooth dark coat with white markings echo your features. Smooth Collies are known for their loyalty, sociability, and expressive faces—just like your easy smile and warm demeanor.
Right Person (in patterned top):
Suggested Purebred Match: Irish Setter
Why: Long, wavy chestnut hair, confident stance, and a joyful, adventurous personality. Irish Setters are vibrant, affectionate, and a bit cheeky—which suits your confident smile and lively expression. They’re also graceful and strong, much like your visible energy.
We were surprised. Not because it was perfect—but because it reflected back a version of ourselves that felt just a little too accurate. Like it had picked up on the intuition between us—our moods, quirks, bonds—and made them visible.
That’s the part of AI that fascinates me. It doesn’t just generate—it exposes.
And the value isn’t in whether it’s right.
It’s in what it makes you notice. About yourself. About each other.
Sometimes, it takes an artificial mirror to show you something deeply human.
Taste is the edge—and it’s earned
Taste isn’t something you prompt. It’s something you cultivate.
It’s the residue of thousands of decisions: what you shipped, regretted, revised, stood by.
It’s built from life as much as work—shaped by the edge cases, the emotional pivots, the experiences that don’t live inside any dataset.
AI doesn’t have those.
It’s never navigated team tension, fought for an idea that flopped, or seen a customer smile when something just worked.
It doesn’t carry the weird story from a failed pitch that still makes you laugh five years later.
Those moments?
They don’t fit in an algorithm.
But they shape your instincts. They shape your taste.
That’s why taste is so powerful. It’s not just aesthetic—it’s editorial. It’s strategic. It’s your ability to know:
• What’s technically correct but emotionally flat.
• What fits the pattern, but isn’t unique.
• What breaks convention—but makes something better.
AI can remix what exists. But taste is how we decide what should exist.
It’s how we lead the work, not just execute it.
The future belongs to those who stay human
Everyone should be using AI.
Not just designers.
Writers. Strategists. Researchers. Operators.
Anyone who needs to think, create, analyze, or communicate.
It will improve your workflow. Surface insights faster. Present ideas in a click.
But here’s the catch:
It still can’t feel for you.
It can’t sense nuance, read a room, or know what your team actually needs right now.
That’s where you come in.
Your intuition. Your judgment. Your taste.
In a designer’s case, that might mean knowing when something’s technically right but emotionally wrong.
In any case, it means remembering that speed and volume don’t equal value.
Use AI dramatically. Let it amplify your thinking, deepen your research, and sharpen your delivery.
But don’t outsource your instincts.
That’s the part only you can bring.
*Do I trust AI long term? I’m not sure yet. I have questions—around data security, creative ownership, and how it’s trained. I also wonder if we’re just deepening the same algorithmic bubbles we already live in. As AI agents get smarter, will they help us see new perspectives—or just double down on the tribes we’re already part of?