On the power and joy of collaborative design
One of the first products I worked on from ideation all the way to market commercialization was a small accessory that I developed together with a designer I was freelancing for. One evening, he approached me with an idea he’d dreamt up the night before. He showed me a quick sketch and explained how it would work. I immediately saw the potential, but as we walked through the use cases, several weaknesses became apparent. When I pointed these out and suggested changes he initially resisted, wanting to hold onto his original concept. Fortunately, my eyes landed on an image in an open magazine that sparked an idea. I sketched a new revised direction on the whiteboard, and to his credit, he embraced it. What followed was a few hours of intense, collaborative energy as we refined the idea together, bouncing ideas back and forth until we had something truly exciting. The air felt electrified as we worked and while there were disagreements along the way we worked through them and the end result spoke for itself.
Driving home that night, I felt a deep sense of fulfillment—this was why I became a designer. This was a perfect example of what could be done when creative minds work together! But that joy was to be short-lived. A few nights later, as my friend presented the concept to a group of clients and investors, he claimed sole credit for it. I later confronted him about this, only to be told that my input was minimal and that this was the idea he had originally dreamt up, not the very different initial direction. I argued about the value we created working together and how far the design evolved that great night but to no avail. In his mind the end result was what he had dreamt up along. It was a tough lesson in how people often view ideas as scarce resources to be guarded closely.
As I continued working with him, I saw this pattern repeat often—at times he would even take credit for others’ ideas. Eventually, I ended our partnership because I couldn’t trust him, and that lack of trust began to affect both the quality of my work and my enjoyment of it.
Life is short, we can either look at it through the expansive lens of abundance, or the restrictive lens of scarcity. The choice is ours.
Ultimately, the real tragedy in this scenario was the lost potential for even more amazing products that we could have created together if he had been less focused on maintaining sole ownership of any idea. I resolved to learn from this and to remember the joy of that first collaboration. I wanted to experience that energy over and over, which meant recognizing and valuing the ideas and input of others, especially as I grew in my career and found myself in similar situations with younger designers.
I have come to believe that there is an endless supply of good ideas to be found, but truly great ones require something more—a willingness to create an environment where everyone feels recognized for their contributions. When people feel safe and valued, they share their ideas freely, leading to unexpected and exciting outcomes.
When it works well, it tends to follow a path similar to the outline below:
This kind of trust and collaboration is where the best ideas come from, and it’s one of the things I love most about design. For it to work however, we have to let go of fear and ego—fear that good ideas are scarce and the ego that demands all the recognition. Life is short, we can either view it through the expansive lens of abundance, or the restrictive lens of scarcity. The choice is ours.
Header Image: Bristle Cone Pine, Bryce Canyon, Utah
Photo by: Cameron Bigler