Somewhere between the sleek efficiency of a well-designed interface and the maddening frustration of a broken one, there is a strange kind of poetry. A misplaced button, an endless loading screen, an error message looping into infinity, these are not just failures of design, they are digital manifestations of the absurd. Like a David Lynch film where characters are trapped in eerie, nonsensical loops, bad UX forces us to confront something deeply human: imperfection, limitation, and the fragile mechanics of our own decision-making.
We designers like to believe we are creating seamless, intuitive experiences, a frictionless utopia where users flow effortlessly from one action to the next. But reality is rarely that kind. People misclick, systems crash, and the promise of a "smart" experience often collapses into an illogical mess. The chaos of bad UX reveals a deeper truth, one that Fellini might have appreciated: Life itself is not intuitive, yet we navigate it anyway.
When Frustration Becomes Art
Think of the last time an app infuriated you. Maybe it was a checkout process that refused to recognize your address, or an airline website designed like an Escher painting of endless drop-down menus. In these moments, we are not just users, we are performers in an existential drama, trying to reason with a machine that does not care. And yet, isn’t there something almost poetic about it?
Jaron Lanier, one of the fathers of virtual reality, once said that technology should be like an instrument, something that responds to human nuance, rather than dictating behavior. But most modern digital experiences are the opposite: rigid, opaque, and indifferent to our expectations. When a system fails us, it reminds us of our own limitations. It forces us to slow down, improvise, and if nothing else find humor in the absurdity of it all.
Designing for Imperfection
What if we stopped chasing perfection and started designing for the beautifully flawed? Instead of aiming for sterile efficiency, what if we embraced unpredictability building experiences that acknowledge error, encourage exploration, and make space for serendipity?
A few ideas:
UI that responds playfully to mistakes. What if a 404 page wasn’t just an error, but an interactive experience that rewarded curiosity?
Interfaces that reveal the "why" behind friction. Imagine an app that explains its own design choices, treating users like collaborators rather than obstacles.
Intentional design chaos. Could we create digital spaces that, like a great film or a surreal painting, leave room for interpretation and discovery?
Final Click
UX designers dream of invisible design, an experience so natural that users never notice it. But maybe there's something valuable in being noticed, in forcing engagement with the weird, messy, and unpredictable nature of digital life. Because, in the end, what is a perfectly designed experience but another illusion?