Let's talk about why it's both fun and a bit puzzling to come from an architecture background and then jump into the world of UX Design. Architects, you know the type, those amazing problem solvers who can sometimes be a tad full of themselves. They're like that charmingly confident friend who thinks they know everything.
So, here's the scoop: our esteemed educational institutions pump us full of knowledge and ego, making us believe the world can't function without us—almost like we're surgeons. But then reality hits, and we discover that, everyone’s architectur-ing, and architects are only good for their license numbers. (COA number in India).
Now, these license numbers might seem like magic tickets, but architects also hold the power to shape a city's infrastructure and go all eco-warrior on it. However, they've got this other thing hanging over their heads - if a building they design goes south, it's not just a fail; it can be a tragic loss of life. So yeah, every time an architect puts pen to paper and scribbles their COA number, they're practically signing a pact to be responsible for human lives. Oh, and let's not forget, they're legally on the hook for damages.
That sense of responsibility (of human lives) doesn't just vanish. Nope, it sticks around like an overeager puppy. They tackle UX design like it's a life-or-death mission, making them extremely critical about everything they put out there.
Even though digital mishaps, don’t come with judiciary consequences, architects are conditioned to understand the impact they can have and the fallout from a botched design.
Imagine a world where every design field carried legal consequences for their work. The sense of ownership and meticulous care for our creations would skyrocket. People would inherently feel the weight of responsibility, and mediocre or subpar designers would naturally be sifted out, leaving room for remarkable innovations to thrive.
However, I haven't quite figured out how this could ever become a reality. It's challenging because in the digital realm, tracing what happens to someone's experience, let alone determining who should be held accountable for it, becomes difficult due to the lack of a direct impact.
What stayed with me was not the tools or the process, but the weight of knowing that decisions outlive intent. That belief quietly shapes how I design today.