Chunjia Ouyang and Qihang Zhang

Chunjia Ouyang: I’m a multidisciplinary designer with experience across graphic, brand, and product design. I’ve worked as a freelance graphic designer, helping startups and organizations shape their visual identity and communicate their values through clear, compelling brand systems. At the Aspen Institute, I served as a strategy designer, where I collaborated with cross-functional teams to develop creative solutions for social impact initiatives — combining design thinking with long-term planning. I later worked as a product designer at DC Comics, contributing to digital experiences that connected global audiences through narrative and interaction. My background has always been rooted in aesthetics, but what truly shaped my design journey was discovering service design. It helped me realize that I’m not just drawn to how things look, but how they function within systems — and how they can be more inclusive, intuitive, and emotionally resonant. Design became the medium through which I could turn empathy into action. Qihang Zhang: I’m a product and visual designer specializing in data-driven digital tools for music, AI, and public service. My background spans communication, education, and research — fields that taught me to distill complexity, tell compelling stories, and prioritize clarity over noise. Before formally entering the design world, I worked as a strategist and researcher. But I soon realized that design allowed me to go beyond observation — it gave me a way to build solutions. My design career began by bridging storytelling and structure, and eventually evolved into creating full-scale platforms for music analytics, civic safety, and creative workflows. What made me stay in design is its transformative potential: good design can shift power, bring transparency to opaque systems, and help people make confident, informed decisions. I didn’t always know I’d be a designer, but looking back, it’s the most natural convergence of how I think, what I care about, and the kind of impact I want to make.

Blueline is not a traditional design studio — it’s a professional partnership built around a shared belief: that design can be a tool for civic trust, structural empathy, and systemic clarity. We came together as a cross-functional team with backgrounds in product design, strategy, communication, and research, united by a common goal: to create meaningful, socially impactful design at the intersection of public systems and user experience. Blueline was originally formed to explore a single question: what would it look like to rebuild public safety from a human-centered perspective? Our collaboration began with that purpose — and evolved into a tightly aligned design practice grounded in care, critical thinking, and cross-disciplinary rigor. We approach every project as a collaborative inquiry, blending individual strengths with shared responsibility. Rather than scaling for commercial output, we prioritize intentional design that addresses overlooked needs. Our process is deeply research-driven, shaped by systems mapping, prototyping, and iterative co-creation with real communities. As a professional partnership, Blueline reflects not just our work, but our values — transparency, justice, and dignity in design. We believe the most powerful design happens when people come together not just to build products, but to ask better questions and design for lasting impact.

Chunjia Ouyang: For me, design is a form of care. It’s the act of shaping environments, systems, and interactions to make people feel seen, supported, and empowered. Good design doesn’t just solve problems — it creates emotional clarity. It helps people move through the world with less friction and more dignity. I see design as something deeply human. It’s about listening closely, noticing what others might overlook, and creating with intention. Whether I’m designing an interface or a service flow, I try to ask: how will this feel for someone who’s tired, distracted, or unsure? That question keeps me grounded in empathy. Design, to me, is less about what you make — and more about how you think, how you notice, and how you choose to respond to the needs of others. Qihang Zhang: To me, design is a system for revealing truth and enabling trust. It’s not just about aesthetics or usability — it’s about structuring information, choices, and relationships in a way that helps people act with clarity and confidence. I often work in complex, high-stakes environments — like music data, public safety, or AI tools — where users are overwhelmed by ambiguity. In those contexts, design becomes a form of translation. It transforms noise into signal, intention into interface. Good design doesn’t just make things look better — it reshapes access, agency, and power. I see it as both a craft and an ethical responsibility. It’s how we build bridges between people and the systems they live within — responsibly, transparently, and with care.

Chunjia Ouyang: I’m most drawn to designing experiences that combine clarity, emotion, and purpose. Whether it’s a service flow, a digital interface, or a communication system, I love the challenge of simplifying complexity in a way that feels thoughtful and human. I especially enjoy working on projects where design can create emotional safety — for example, tools that support mental health, community engagement, or access to social services. These are the spaces where empathy isn’t just a bonus — it’s essential. I also enjoy the craft of visual storytelling — translating a brand’s values or a user’s journey into something that feels both intuitive and emotionally resonant. For me, the most fulfilling design work is grounded in people, purpose, and the possibility of quiet transformation. Qihang Zhang: I gravitate toward projects that involve systems-level thinking — tools, platforms, and workflows that help people make decisions in high-friction or high-stakes environments. I especially enjoy designing for contexts where clarity is critical: civic tech, AI, music analytics, and public infrastructure. I like working on products that require aligning multiple constraints — user needs, technical feasibility, ethical considerations, and organizational complexity. When those tensions are balanced well, the outcome can feel seamless even if the process was anything but. Most of all, I enjoy designing tools that empower — platforms that give users more agency, insight, or access than they had before. When design helps shift power or reveal truth, that’s when I feel the work really matters.

Our favorite design project is also one of our most personal: Blueline, a public safety tool designed to rebuild trust between communities and law enforcement. It’s a project that challenged us not only as designers, but as people — asking us to listen more deeply, design more carefully, and consider how fear, trauma, and bureaucracy intersect in everyday life. What makes Blueline our favorite isn’t just the final product — it’s the process. The act of sitting with community members, listening to their frustrations and hopes, and turning that complexity into something usable and empowering was both humbling and energizing. We weren’t just designing screens — we were designing for dignity. The details are what stay with us. A button that feels safe instead of exposed. A form flow that allows for anonymity without friction. The challenge of balancing transparency and discretion, clarity and calm. Every design decision felt like a quiet act of advocacy. Blueline reminded us why we became designers in the first place. It’s our favorite project not because it’s perfect, but because it made a difference — and because it asked us to grow.

Chunjia Ouyang: The first thing I designed for a company was a human-centered wearable interface for a healthcare device targeted at sepsis survivors. It was a wrist-worn monitor intended to help users track their daily health indicators. My role was to improve the interaction experience — making it intuitive, gentle, and encouraging — so users would feel more motivated and less overwhelmed when managing their recovery. It was also my first time working on a product that directly impacted people’s physical well-being, and it made me realize how meaningful interaction design can be. Qihang Zhang: The first thing I designed for a company was part of the World Heritage Journeys: China social media storytelling campaign with National Geographic, in collaboration with UNESCO. My role focused on designing a digital content system that visualized cultural narratives across platforms — from travel stories and heritage maps to real-time engagement on Chinese social channels. It was my first time working on a global-facing campaign tied to public education and cultural preservation. I was tasked with making complex, multilingual content feel coherent, emotionally resonant, and sharable. It wasn’t flashy, but it taught me how design could help bridge institutional messaging and public storytelling. That project fundamentally shaped how I think about narrative structure, information hierarchy, and cross-cultural communication through design.

We don’t have a single favorite platform or tool — what matters most to us is using the right medium to bring clarity and connection to a design. That said, we both appreciate tools that allow us to move quickly between ideation and execution. Figma has been a go-to for its collaborative nature — it helps us design, iterate, and communicate with clarity across teams and time zones. We also value Webflow and Framer when we want to bridge the gap between design and interaction, especially for rapid prototyping or storytelling-heavy presentations. But beyond the platforms themselves, we care deeply about accessibility technologies — from multilingual frameworks to WCAG-compliant components. In projects like Blueline, these tools weren’t just “nice to have” — they were essential to making the experience inclusive and meaningful. Ultimately, our favorite “technology” is anything that helps people feel understood.

We feel most creative when we’re not rushing — when there’s space to think, question, and let ideas unfold. Sometimes that creativity comes in quiet moments — late at night sketching in Figma, or during a walk when our minds are finally free from notifications. Other times, it’s sparked by a conversation: when we’re bouncing ideas off each other, challenging assumptions, or finding a better question to ask. We’ve learned that creativity doesn’t always feel like inspiration — it often feels like clarity. That moment when a messy problem suddenly makes sense, or when we realize the simplest solution is also the most powerful. That’s when we feel most alive as designers. We also find creativity in constraints. Whether it's designing for multilingual users, accessibility needs, or limited resources, the boundaries often push us to think more deeply and design more intentionally.

We always start with clarity and empathy. No matter the project, our first priority is understanding who we’re designing for — what they’re feeling, what they need, and what might be standing in their way. That informs everything: the flow, the tone, the smallest interaction detail. We pay a lot of attention to structure — making sure the experience feels intuitive and frictionless. But at the same time, we care deeply about emotional tone. How does the design make someone feel? Safe? Confident? Seen? Accessibility is another non-negotiable. We’re always thinking about how to make the product work for as many people as possible — across languages, abilities, and situations. In Blueline, for example, we prioritized multilingual access and anonymous use from the start, because those features weren’t just functional — they were fundamental to trust. In short, we focus on how design feels, how it flows, and whether it’s genuinely serving its purpose — not just how it looks.

Designing is often an emotional journey for us — it starts with curiosity, moves through frustration and discovery, and often lands in a place of quiet satisfaction. At the beginning, there’s always a sense of wonder: What’s really going on here? What do people need? That curiosity drives us to dig deeper, to listen more closely, to test more thoughtfully. Then comes the messy middle — the part where nothing works the way you expect. There’s tension, self-doubt, and dozens of iterations that don’t quite feel right. But oddly, we enjoy that part too. That’s where we learn the most — about the problem, about the user, and about ourselves. And finally, there’s a kind of peace that comes when everything clicks. When the design not only works but feels right. It’s not always dramatic — often, it’s quiet. Like solving a puzzle where every piece matters. Designing can be emotionally demanding, but that’s also what makes it so meaningful. It keeps us present, thoughtful, and connected to the people we’re designing for.

There’s always a quiet sense of joy — and sometimes even disbelief — when something we’ve imagined becomes real and starts helping people. Seeing a design go from sketches and prototypes to something someone interacts with in their everyday life is incredibly rewarding. It’s not just pride; it’s a kind of gratitude. Gratitude that the ideas held up, that the collaboration worked, and that someone, somewhere, is benefiting from the thing we created. Especially for projects like Blueline, where the stakes are personal and the impact can be deeply emotional, the moment it goes live is powerful. We often feel a mix of relief, responsibility, and renewed purpose — because when a design is out in the world, it’s no longer just ours. It belongs to the people using it. That feeling — of making something that matters — is why we do what we do.

A successful design is one that quietly does its job — and does it well. To us, success isn’t just about metrics or visual appeal. It’s about whether the design makes someone’s life easier, more dignified, or more connected. Does it remove friction? Does it build trust? Does it serve the people it was meant for? We also think a successful design respects its context. It understands the constraints — whether technical, cultural, or emotional — and still manages to offer clarity, usefulness, and even moments of delight. Most importantly, success is often invisible. The best design doesn’t draw attention to itself — it simply works, seamlessly and intuitively, allowing people to focus on what they came to do. We’ve seen this in projects like Blueline, where success wasn’t measured in downloads or likes, but in whether someone felt safe enough to use it, understood enough to navigate it, and supported enough to return.

The first thing we look for is intention — does the design serve a clear purpose, and does it succeed in meeting the needs of its users? Aesthetics and polish matter, of course, but a beautiful interface that confuses or excludes people isn’t good design. We pay close attention to clarity, accessibility, and how seamlessly a design fits into its context. Is it intuitive? Does it feel respectful of the user’s time, emotions, or abilities? Does it solve the right problem? We’re also drawn to designs that demonstrate restraint. Sometimes, the best designs are the quietest ones — the ones that don’t try to do too much, but do one thing really well. And finally, we think about impact. A “good” design isn’t just usable — it leaves behind something meaningful. It might make someone feel safer, more seen, or more empowered. That’s the kind of work we aspire to, and the lens we use when evaluating others’ designs too.

We believe designers have a responsibility to make things better — not just more beautiful. That means thinking beyond the screen or object, and considering the broader impact of our work on people, communities, and the environment. Design choices shape how people access information, how they feel in public spaces, how they trust systems — and sometimes, whether they’re included at all. As designers, we try to ask not only “can we build this?” but also “should we?” Who does this serve? Who might be left out? What values are we reinforcing? These questions are especially important when working on civic, social, or data-driven projects like Blueline. In terms of the environment, we believe in digital sustainability too — designing products that are thoughtful, not wasteful. Simple, intuitive interfaces reduce cognitive load and energy consumption. Fewer screens, less friction, more care. Ultimately, our responsibility is to design with empathy, intention, and awareness — because design doesn’t exist in a vacuum. It’s part of a much larger ecosystem, and we’re all accountable for the future it helps shape.

Design is evolving from a discipline of “making things look good” to a practice of shaping systems, behavior, and trust. We’re seeing a shift from surface-level polish to deeper questions: How do we design for transparency? For inclusivity? For long-term impact, not just short-term delight? Today’s designers are being asked to navigate not just pixels, but ethics, power structures, and complexity — and that’s a good thing. At the same time, technology is moving fast. AI, automation, and generative tools are changing what it means to “design.” But we don’t see that as a threat — we see it as an opportunity. The future of design is not just about using new tools, but about asking better questions. It’s about staying human in the loop — bringing empathy, context, and care into every decision. We believe the next era of design will be defined by collaboration across disciplines, radical accessibility, and a return to purpose-driven thinking. The most powerful designs won’t be the most complex — they’ll be the ones that make the most people feel seen, heard, and included.

Chunjia Ouyang: My last exhibition was in 2020 at the Spring Show of Academy of Art University, where I was selected as one of the outstanding representatives of my department. It was a meaningful milestone for me, as it showcased not only my visual design skills but also the conceptual thinking behind my work. I hope to hold my next exhibition sometime this year — ideally one that reflects my recent explorations in user-centered design, storytelling, and social impact. I'm excited to share how my work has evolved since then. Qihang Zhang: My most recent exhibition was in May 2025 at ICFF New York, as part of the Re:Craft showcase curated by Dezeen. The piece I exhibited explored how memory, data, and digital interfaces can carry emotional meaning in civic and cultural contexts. It was shown alongside other international works that bridge physical design and digital interaction. For my next exhibition, I hope to present something more collaborative — ideally an interactive, systems-based piece that reflects my current focus on public tools, trust-building, and participatory design.

Our inspiration often comes from everyday moments — things people struggle with, systems that don’t feel fair, or conversations where someone says, “I wish this were easier.” We pay close attention to emotional friction — those small, often invisible points where people feel lost, frustrated, or left out. That’s usually where the design opportunity lives. We also draw inspiration from outside the design field — literature, architecture, public spaces, films, even overheard conversations on the subway. These sources help us think beyond screens and remember that design is about life, not just interfaces. To stay creatively grounded, we try to keep asking questions: What if this were simpler? What if it felt kinder? What if it worked better for someone who’s usually ignored? These “what ifs” often spark our most meaningful ideas. And of course, we find a lot of inspiration in collaboration. Talking through messy problems together — especially from our different perspectives — often leads to ideas neither of us would’ve reached alone.

Our design style is clean, intentional, and human-centered — we care deeply about clarity, emotional tone, and inclusive functionality. Visually, we tend to favor simplicity with warmth. We lean into soft contrasts, generous spacing, and type systems that feel calm and respectful. We believe that design doesn’t need to shout to be powerful — it just needs to speak clearly to the people it’s meant for. At the same time, our style is shaped by our values. We’re drawn to problems that involve trust, access, and vulnerability — and that influences our visual decisions too. We avoid unnecessary complexity or aesthetic trends that might alienate certain users. Instead, we focus on what feels honest, intuitive, and empowering. What led us here is experience. Working across industries — from news and e-commerce to civic tech and public safety — showed us that no matter how different the product, people always want to feel understood. That’s why our approach is always grounded in listening first, designing second. To us, good design should feel invisible — until the moment you need it most.

We’re both originally from China, and our cultural background continues to shape how we think, create, and collaborate — even when we’re working internationally. Growing up in China gave us a deep appreciation for balance, subtlety, and visual storytelling. Chinese design traditions often emphasize harmony, rhythm, and meaning beneath the surface — qualities that influence how we approach interface design, layout, and user flow. We’re also very aware of how language, symbolism, and context can vary dramatically across cultures, which makes us more thoughtful when designing for global audiences. At the same time, working as designers in China comes with unique challenges. The pace is fast, expectations are high, and design is often seen as a tool for delivery rather than discovery. But these pressures have also made us more resilient, adaptable, and detail-oriented. We’ve learned how to think quickly, iterate often, and still hold onto our values as designers. In many ways, our roots give us a dual lens — one that respects tradition while embracing innovation. And that combination continues to guide us as we build bridges between cultures through design.

We approach every collaboration as a partnership. Whether we’re working with startups, nonprofits, or larger organizations, our goal is to listen first — to understand not just the product requirements, but the people behind them, the users they serve, and the challenges they’re facing. We work best when brought in early, where we can help shape not only how something looks, but why it exists and how it should feel. We’re highly collaborative — we love working alongside product managers, engineers, and researchers to build a shared language and process. Clear communication, thoughtful feedback, and flexibility are core to how we operate. Our approach is both strategic and hands-on. We balance systems thinking with pixel-level care, and we’re not afraid to ask difficult questions if it helps uncover better solutions. We also believe in co-creating with our partners — bringing transparency to every step of the process, from wireframes to launch. Ultimately, we aim to create lasting relationships, not just deliverables. The best outcomes come from mutual respect, shared purpose, and a willingness to build something meaningful together.

The best collaborations happen when companies see designers as partners, not just executors. A good designer brings much more than visuals — they bring perspective. They help teams ask the right questions, challenge assumptions, and turn complexity into clarity. So when selecting a designer, we always encourage companies to look beyond aesthetics. Pay attention to how a designer thinks, how they solve problems, and how well they listen. Once you start working together, involve them early and share context generously — not just the “what,” but the “why.” The more a designer understands your users, your goals, and even your challenges, the better they can contribute. Great design doesn’t happen in isolation — it thrives on collaboration, transparency, and mutual respect. And finally, trust the process. Design takes exploration, iteration, and sometimes a little patience. But when companies invest in that process, the results are not only more thoughtful — they’re often more impactful.

Our process always begins with listening. Before we design anything, we make space to understand the context — who we’re designing for, what they need, and what might be standing in their way. That often means conducting user interviews, reviewing research, or mapping out emotional journeys. Once we’ve built that foundation, we move into exploration. We sketch out ideas, test concepts, and ask a lot of “what if” questions — sometimes with low-fi prototypes, sometimes just through conversation. We’re not afraid to iterate early and often, especially when the problem is ambiguous. As the direction becomes clearer, we shift into systems and structure — defining flows, creating design components, and refining interaction details. Throughout, we stay close to collaborators: working with engineers, product teams, and stakeholders to make sure the work is both visionary and buildable. We also make a point to revisit the emotional tone at every stage. Even when the layout is functional and the UX makes sense, we ask: Does this feel right? Does it support the user emotionally as well as practically? In short, our process is intentional, iterative, and human-centered — focused not just on solving problems, but on designing experiences that truly resonate.

Muji Wall Clock – Its simplicity is timeless. No branding, no extra lines — just quiet clarity. It reminds us that restraint can be powerful. Xiaomi Desk Lamp – Smart, minimal, and beautifully engineered. We admire how it balances functionality and form without feeling cold or clinical. Leuchtturm1917 Notebook – As much as we work digitally, there's something grounding about sketching or writing by hand. The paper quality, spacing, and tactile experience all reflect careful design. Anglepoise Lamp – A classic piece of British industrial design. The adjustability, weight, and rhythm of movement are a daily reminder of what thoughtful mechanics feel like. A hand-thrown ceramic cup from Jingdezhen – It’s imperfect, but that’s what makes it special. It holds a story, a texture, and a kind of quietness that we’re always trying to bring into our own work. These aren’t flashy objects, but they all have something in common: they respect the user. They’re useful, beautiful in a quiet way, and built with care — which is what we hope to bring into every project we work on.

Our days usually begin quietly — coffee, sunlight, and a few moments away from screens. We both like to ease into the day with intention, whether that’s reviewing our to-do list, reading something unrelated to design, or sketching loosely to get ideas flowing. Most of our work time is structured around collaboration. We often start with a sync: sharing progress, questions, or feedback with each other and with any team members we’re working alongside. From there, it’s a mix of deep focus and dialogue — some hours spent building wireframes or refining interactions, others jumping into Figma together or testing user flows side-by-side. In between, we make space for reflection. That could mean walking, journaling, or just stepping away to look at a design from a different angle. Evenings are usually less about productivity and more about nourishment — cooking, music, or seeing friends. And sometimes, when inspiration strikes late, we’re right back in Figma at midnight, refining something we couldn’t leave alone. Every day is a little different, but the rhythm stays consistent: listen, make, refine, and stay present. It’s not always glamorous, but it’s always meaningful.

Design is not about knowing all the answers — it’s about learning how to ask better questions. To young designers, we’d say: stay curious, stay kind, and stay close to the people you’re designing for. Great design doesn’t come from perfection — it comes from listening, iterating, and caring deeply about the impact of your work. Don’t be afraid to slow down. In a world that moves fast, clarity and empathy take time. You’ll grow more by understanding one problem deeply than by rushing through ten shallow ones. Also, find your people. Design can be isolating if you let it — but it’s so much more powerful when it’s collaborative, when you have peers to share with, mentors to learn from, and communities to grow in. And lastly, don’t lose your voice. Trends will change. Tools will change. But your values, your perspective, and your way of seeing the world — that’s what will make your work truly yours.

One of the biggest positives is the privilege of creating things that didn’t exist before — and seeing them make a real difference in someone’s life. As designers, we get to shape how people interact with the world, how they access information, feel supported, or even just feel seen. That’s powerful, and never something we take for granted. Another positive is the constant learning. Design keeps you curious. Every project is a chance to enter a new domain, understand new users, and grow not just as a professional — but as a person. But it’s not without its challenges. One of the harder parts is the emotional weight — designing responsibly means thinking deeply about ethics, inclusion, and unintended consequences. And in fast-moving industries, design is sometimes undervalued or rushed, treated more as decoration than strategy. There’s also the challenge of balance — between creative vision and business needs, between advocating for users and working within constraints. It can be draining if you’re not in an environment that respects the process. Still, for all its ups and downs, we’ve found design to be a deeply meaningful way to engage with the world — one problem, one interface, one person at a time.

Design with care — and design like someone you love will use it. We always remind ourselves that behind every screen, there’s a real person — someone who might be stressed, confused, or just trying to get through their day. If we design with that in mind — with empathy, clarity, and responsibility — then we’re on the right path. Good design isn’t just about solving problems. It’s about doing so with respect — for the user’s time, their dignity, and their context. That’s our golden rule: never lose sight of the human on the other side.

We believe the most important skills for a designer go beyond software or tools — they’re about how you think, listen, and collaborate. At the core, good designers are good observers. The ability to listen deeply — to users, to teammates, to what's not being said — is what helps us design with intention and empathy. Critical thinking is just as essential. It’s not enough to make things look good — we have to understand context, question assumptions, and connect the dots between needs, systems, and outcomes. Communication is another key skill. Whether we’re presenting an idea, giving feedback, or aligning with engineers, how we tell the story of a design can be just as important as the design itself. And of course, adaptability. The tools will always change. Trends come and go. What stays relevant is your ability to learn fast, stay curious, and keep your values at the center of your work. So while craft is important, the most impactful designers lead with clarity, empathy, and thoughtfulness — and never stop growing.

Our design toolbox is a thoughtful blend of software, habits, and inspiration sources that help us stay creative, focused, and intentional throughout the process. We use Figma as our primary workspace — from early wireframes to high-fidelity UI and system components, it’s where most of our collaboration lives. For more narrative or interactive projects, we turn to tools like Framer and Webflow, which allow us to prototype with motion and responsiveness in mind. Adobe Creative Suite supports our work when illustration, branding, or visual storytelling elements come into play, while tools like FigJam or Whimsical help us quickly map out ideas, user flows, or early-stage thinking. Beyond software, we rely on simple but essential hardware: our MacBooks, secondary displays for multitasking, and good headphones to protect focus during deep work. That said, we believe the most important “hardware” is actually uninterrupted time and mental clarity — even the best tools can’t substitute for that. Inspiration-wise, we draw from both classic and emerging voices in design. Books like The Design of Everyday Things, Speculative Everything, and Ruined by Design continue to shape how we think about systems, responsibility, and possibility. We also stay connected to current conversations through museum catalogs, award showcases, and independent publications that explore design at the intersection of culture and ethics. At the core of everything, though, is listening. Tools help us create — but listening is what helps us design with care.

Design can definitely be time-consuming — especially when you care deeply about the details. We’ve learned over time that managing our energy is just as important as managing our hours. We try to start every project by aligning on priorities and outcomes. What are we solving? What actually needs to be perfect, and what can evolve over time? This helps us focus our attention where it matters most, rather than getting lost in perfectionism. We also work in intentional cycles — alternating between focused solo time and collaborative check-ins. This rhythm allows us to go deep when needed, while still making space for feedback and iteration. When possible, we set internal “soft deadlines” to create healthy constraints and keep momentum going without burning out. But more than anything, we give ourselves permission to pause. Sometimes the best solution comes when we step away — whether it’s a walk, a nap, or just letting an idea sit overnight. Creativity needs room to breathe, and sustainable design work isn’t about always going faster — it’s about knowing when to slow down. Time management, for us, isn’t about squeezing more in. It’s about working with clarity, purpose, and enough space to do the work with care.

It really depends on the complexity of the project — and what “finished” even means. Some smaller features or interface updates can be designed in a few days with focused collaboration. But for more meaningful, human-centered products like Blueline, the process can take weeks or even months — not because the visuals are complicated, but because the problems are. Research, iteration, testing, and refining all take time, especially when the stakes involve accessibility, trust, or vulnerable users. That said, we try not to treat design as something that starts and stops at fixed points. Good design is often ongoing — it evolves as we learn more, as the context shifts, or as users give us new insights. What matters is not how fast we finish, but how well we respond. So while timelines vary, our goal stays the same: to move with clarity and care, and to ensure the final result truly serves the people it’s meant for.

Probably: “Can you make it look better?” It’s a fair question — most people associate design with visuals first. But it always opens the door for a deeper conversation: “Better for whom? In what context? And what are we trying to communicate?” We’ve found that many of the most common design questions — about color, layout, or style — are actually surface-level expressions of something deeper: clarity, trust, or usability. So we welcome those questions, because they give us a chance to dig into the “why” together. Sometimes we’re also asked: “How do you come up with ideas?” And the truth is, it’s not magic. It’s listening, testing, iterating — and caring enough to get it right.

Chunjia Ouyang: One of my most important job experiences was working as a product designer at DC Comics. I collaborated closely with engineers, product managers, and stakeholders to design a digital platform that connected fans with stories, merchandise, and behind-the-scenes content. It was my first time working on a large-scale product with such a strong existing brand identity and passionate user base. I had to carefully balance visual storytelling, user needs, and technical constraints. This experience helped me grow not only as a designer, but also as a communicator and problem-solver. It taught me that great design happens at the intersection of creativity, structure, and teamwork. Qihang Zhang: One of my most formative job experiences was working as a senior product designer at Chartmetric, a music data analytics platform used by record labels and artists worldwide. I led the design of several high-impact tools — including Talent Search and the Chartmetric Mobile App — both of which have since been recognized by international design awards. What made the role so meaningful wasn’t just the scale or the data — it was the challenge of making complex music trends feel understandable, actionable, and empowering for people with vastly different levels of access. It pushed me to become a better systems thinker, and reminded me that clarity is a form of equity.

Chunjia Ouyang: Throughout my career, I’ve worked with a wide range of companies — from early-stage startups to established brands. Some of my notable collaborations include DC Comics, where I designed an innovative entertainment app concept, and Artisk, a tech startup where I continue to work part-time on AI-based creative tools. I’ve also contributed to health tech and news platforms, helping teams bring user-centered thinking into complex, high-impact spaces. Qihang Zhang: My design work has spanned media, tech, and the music industry. I’ve designed for organizations like National Geographic, where I created social media graphics for cultural campaigns in China, and Born This Way Foundation, where I helped reimagine internal research systems. In recent years, I’ve worked as Senior Product Designer at Chartmetric, collaborating with clients such as Universal Music Group, Warner Music Group, Sony Music, SM Entertainment, and Disney. My focus there was on music data products — from mobile analytics apps to tools that support artist discovery and industry transparency.

We enjoy design work that feels deeply human — projects where the goal isn’t just to sell or entertain, but to help someone feel understood, empowered, or supported. Whether it’s civic tech like Blueline, mental health tools, or community-focused platforms, we’re drawn to problems that involve real people navigating real challenges. These projects often require more than just visual skill — they ask for empathy, listening, and thoughtful decision-making. That’s where design becomes more than just a job — it becomes a way to serve. We also enjoy working on experiences that require emotional nuance. Designing for moments of uncertainty, vulnerability, or trust — where every interaction matters — is both challenging and rewarding. That kind of work reminds us that design isn’t about perfection. It’s about presence, responsibility, and care. The type of design we love most is the kind that makes someone’s day a little easier — even if they never know who made it that way.

Chunjia Ouyang: I hope to continue designing products that prioritize people — especially those often overlooked by mainstream tech. I'm excited to explore more opportunities at the intersection of design, AI, and social impact. Whether it’s through startups, public service, or cross-disciplinary collaborations, I want my work to contribute to something meaningful. Long term, I’d love to help build a studio or platform that supports underrepresented voices in product and UX design — something that grows with both integrity and care. Qihang Zhang: I plan to continue working on design-led products that bring clarity, equity, and storytelling into complex digital spaces. I’m especially interested in civic tech, music data, and creative tools — areas where design can truly shape trust and access. In the near future, I’ll be exploring opportunities that combine systems thinking with social impact, whether through entrepreneurship, cross-functional collaboration, or mission-driven product teams. I’m also committed to mentoring emerging designers and staying involved in design communities that value openness and long-term responsibility.

We work as a team — and not just in a logistical sense, but as true thought partners. Every idea we develop goes through cycles of shared sketching, open critique, and aligned decision-making. We push each other to go deeper: to ask better questions, clarify intent, and challenge our own assumptions. That back-and-forth isn’t just helpful — it’s essential to the way we design. At the same time, we each bring our own strengths — from systems thinking to visual storytelling — and often develop parts of the work individually before coming together to refine and align. It’s a rhythm of trust and autonomy. We believe the best design doesn’t come from isolation or consensus — it comes from collaboration built on clarity, care, and mutual respect. And Blueline is the product of that exact kind of partnership.

Yes — we’re currently exploring a few new directions, both individually and collaboratively. One area we’re both excited about is how AI tools can be designed more ethically and transparently — not just as powerful technologies, but as experiences that are understandable, inclusive, and human-first. We're working on concepts that focus on giving users more agency and clarity when interacting with intelligent systems. We’re also developing ideas around cross-cultural communication tools, especially for multilingual or diaspora communities who often fall through the cracks of mainstream design. It’s still early, but the goal is to create experiences that honor language, memory, and emotional nuance — much like we aimed for in Blueline, but through a broader lens. At the same time, we continue to mentor younger designers, contribute to design communities, and stay involved in conversations around social impact, accessibility, and civic tech. Some of our work-in-progress isn’t a product — it’s the systems and support networks we want to help shape behind the scenes.

People can contact us and learn more about Blueline through our official website: https://www.bluelineapp.us/. On our website, you can find more information about our mission, services, and ways to get in touch with our team. We welcome questions, collaborations, and feedback from anyone interested in improving community and law enforcement relationships.

If there’s one thing we’d like to add, it’s this: some of the most important design work happens in places no one sees. The backend tool for a caseworker. The intake form that prevents someone from giving up. The quiet system that helps a family feel safe enough to speak. These are not always the most glamorous parts of design — but they’re often the most meaningful. We’re grateful to have had the chance to share our process through this platform, and we hope it encourages more designers to explore the spaces where empathy, systems, and service quietly meet. And if you’re doing work like this — often invisible, but deeply human — we see you. Keep going.

Chunjia Ouyang: I’m a multidisciplinary designer with experience across graphic, brand, and product design. I’ve worked as a freelance graphic designer, helping startups and organizations shape their visual identity and communicate their values through clear, compelling brand systems. At the Aspen Institute, I served as a strategy designer, where I collaborated with cross-functional teams to develop creative solutions for social impact initiatives — combining design thinking with long-term planning. Additionally, I worked as a product designer at DC Comics, where I contributed to enhancing digital product experiences for a global fan base, blending storytelling with user-centered design. I care deeply about user experience — I believe design is ultimately about serving people. To me, good design is not just about how things look, but how they work and how they align with the broader goals of a product or business. I find purpose in using design to bridge communication, drive engagement, and create positive change. Qihang Zhang: I’m a product and visual designer specializing in data-driven digital tools for music, AI, and public service. My work combines systems thinking with emotional clarity—especially in fast-moving, information-heavy environments. I served as Senior Product Designer at Chartmetric, where I led the design of Talent Search and the mobile app—platforms now used by professionals at Universal Music Group, Sony Music, Warner Music Group, and more. These products have received international recognition, including the iF Design Award, A’ Design Award, and Indigo Design Award. Outside of music tech, I’ve designed for nonprofits, education, and civic tech—including partnerships with Harvard, Born This Way Foundation, and National Geographic. My approach is grounded in the belief that good design makes the complex feel intuitive, and that even in B2B products, we should never lose sight of human impact. I see design as a tool to empower—not just to decorate—and to make systems more transparent, inclusive, and actionable.

Chunjia Ouyang: From a young age, I’ve been naturally drawn to aesthetics. I loved fashion and had a habit of surrounding myself with beautiful, well-designed things. That early curiosity led me to explore drawing, which gave me a solid foundation in visual expression. Later, I moved into the digital space — learning how to bring my ideas to life through software and design tools. I experimented with various media: print magazines, packaging, videos, and eventually user interfaces for apps and websites. In many ways, my creative journey has always been guided by a passion for beauty. But what truly shaped my path as a designer was discovering service design. It helped me realize that I’m not just passionate about visuals — I’m also deeply interested in how people interact with systems, products, and environments. Today, my work focuses on crafting experiences that are not only visually refined but also intuitive and human-centered. To me, the most powerful design happens when aesthetics and function work hand in hand. Qihang Zhang: I became a designer because I’ve always been fascinated by how things work—and more importantly, how they can work better for people. Growing up, I loved dissecting systems, whether it was the structure of a news article, the interface of a mobile app, or the narrative arc of a concert. Design became my way of connecting those pieces: form, function, and feeling. What keeps me motivated today is the idea that design can shift power. In many of the industries I work in—like music, public safety, or AI—information is often inaccessible, confusing, or reserved for insiders. Through design, I aim to bring clarity to that complexity and give people tools that feel empowering, not overwhelming. At its core, I see design as a service. It’s about amplifying human decisions, making systems more transparent, and building experiences that earn trust. That belief continues to guide my work, especially when designing for high-stakes or underserved contexts.

Chunjia Ouyang: In my design process, I prioritize three key aspects: understanding user pain points, conducting user and market research, and aligning with the company’s overall business goals. To me, design doesn’t start with visuals — it starts with empathy. My core philosophy is to follow the user. True design inspiration comes from uncovering real needs and behavioral insights. When we understand who we are designing for and what they truly need, design becomes purposeful and effective. In terms of technique, I enjoy combining freehand sketching with digital tools. Sketching helps me capture spontaneous ideas without limitation, while digital tools like Figma or Adobe allow me to refine those ideas with structure and precision. I rely on this hybrid process to maintain both creative freedom and execution quality. When starting a new project, I always begin by stepping back and asking: What problem are we trying to solve? Who are the people affected? What context are they in? I map out the ecosystem — from users to stakeholders — and look for patterns, unmet needs, or friction points. Only after this phase do I begin sketching or prototyping. This human-first, research-grounded approach helps me build solutions that are both visually compelling and strategically grounded. In every project, my goal is to balance user experience with long-term business impact — creating designs that feel intuitive, emotionally resonant, and aligned with larger goals. Qihang Zhang: My design process is grounded in three priorities: systems clarity, emotional resonance, and responsible impact. I believe the best design doesn’t just solve a problem—it reveals a deeper truth about how people navigate information, power, and trust. When I take on a new project, I start by mapping the system: Who are the users? What are the workflows? Where are the bottlenecks or blind spots? I look for the invisible forces shaping behavior—whether it’s organizational structure, legacy tools, or unspoken anxieties. From there, I define a design strategy that doesn’t just patch the issue, but reframes it with clarity. My style is clean, accessible, and emotionally intelligent. I often rely on Figma, Webflow, and code-based tools for precision and iteration—but I always sketch and map first to think spatially. I also prioritize accessibility and inclusivity standards early in the process, not as a final polish. In every project, I try to balance logic and feeling: designing with both the mind and the gut. Whether I’m working on a mobile app or a civic platform, I aim to create tools that feel transparent, empowering, and honest—designs that not only function, but resonate with purpose.

Chunjia Ouyang: When I’m designing, I often feel a strong mix of curiosity and responsibility. I’ve always been drawn to practical, human-centered design — not just abstract ideas, but solutions that can be used, felt, and experienced by real people. I want my work to serve actual communities and meet real needs. My favorite part of the process is user research. It’s where all my ideas begin, and where I get the clearest understanding of who I’m designing for. Listening to people — their frustrations, habits, expectations — helps me build not only better products but also more empathy-driven systems. Design brings me deep fulfillment and joy, especially when I see it improving someone’s quality of life. That’s when I feel like what I do truly matters. I continue to design because I genuinely love solving problems — and I’ve come to realize that I have a natural talent for it. In life, I tend to be someone who notices and cares about how others feel. That same sensitivity shows up in my work. What motivates me the most is user feedback. When someone tells me that my design made their day easier, clearer, or safer, it reminds me that I’m creating value — and that is the most powerful feeling. Qihang Zhang: Designing fills me with a blend of curiosity, urgency, and quiet joy. There’s something deeply fulfilling about turning ambiguity into clarity—about taking a mess of data, opinions, or constraints and shaping it into something that feels simple, intuitive, and kind. That transformation process is what I live for. The most exciting phase for me is the moment when things start to click—when I’ve mapped the system, listened to users, tested ideas, and suddenly the pieces align. It’s not a single spark, but a slow reveal. That moment carries a mix of calm and exhilaration—like solving a puzzle while knowing someone else’s life might be improved because of it. I feel most emotionally connected during usability testing and feedback moments. When a user says, “This makes me feel seen,” or “I didn’t think this tool could work for someone like me,” it’s incredibly moving. It reminds me that design isn’t just a job—it’s a way to show care, to build trust, and to bridge gaps that systems often leave behind. Design gives me purpose because it turns observation into action. It lets me respond to injustice with clarity, and to complexity with compassion. That sense of contribution—of building something that helps someone navigate their world more confidently—is where my fulfillment truly comes from.

Chunjia Ouyang: My background has always been rooted in a strong sensitivity to aesthetics and people. Since I was a child, I’ve had a deep interest in visual beauty — from fashion to composition to how objects relate to the body and space. I naturally gravitated toward drawing, which laid the foundation for my visual literacy. Later, I transitioned from traditional media to digital design, where I learned to bring my ideas into more practical, scalable formats — such as branding, print, video, packaging, websites, and apps. This shift helped me realize that design is not just about expressing beauty, but also about solving problems and improving how people experience the world. One of the biggest turning points in my path was discovering service design and user experience. I realized that beyond just making things look good, I could use design to create systems that are intuitive, inclusive, and helpful — especially for people in vulnerable or underserved communities. Another key influence is my personality: I tend to be someone who notices details, empathizes with others, and enjoys being the one who “figures things out” for people. That sense of attentiveness and care naturally translated into how I design. So, in short: my background in aesthetics, drawing, digital tools, and empathy — all came together to shape the kind of designer I am today. Qihang Zhang: My background in communication, education, and social impact work has had a huge influence on how I design. Before formally studying design, I worked as a researcher and strategist, where I learned how to distill complex ideas, conduct interviews, and tell stories that resonate. These skills helped me build strong foundations in narrative, empathy, and systems thinking—long before I touched a design tool. One of the most valuable non-design skills I carry is listening. Whether it’s sitting with a user, unpacking team tensions, or interpreting conflicting feedback, I’ve learned that much of design success comes from being able to hear what’s really being said beneath the surface. I also bring skills in writing and facilitation, which help me align stakeholders and articulate why design choices matter. Another influence has been my lived experience navigating different cultures and institutions—from UCLA to Oxford to Harvard. That cross-cultural perspective has made me more attuned to edge cases, inclusivity, and the unspoken rules that shape how people use products. My design journey wasn’t linear. I didn’t start in art school—I came from storytelling, policy, and teaching. But that detour gave me a wider lens. Today, it allows me to approach design not just as interface work, but as a way to structure power, access, and opportunity.

Chunjia Ouyang: My growth as a designer has followed a path from aesthetics to systems thinking. I started with a love for visual storytelling and illustration, then moved into digital tools to create more scalable and practical designs — websites, apps, brand identities. Over time, I found myself drawn more and more to service design, user research, and strategy, especially in areas where design can improve people’s lives in concrete ways. Now, I focus not only on how things look, but how systems feel — how intuitive, inclusive, or dignified they are for the people using them. That shift changed everything for me. In the future, I want to continue growing in design for public good — especially in civic design, community platforms, and products that serve vulnerable or overlooked populations. I’d like to work more with interdisciplinary teams — including policy makers, engineers, and social workers — to create solutions that are both humane and scalable. My dream project would be something that combines social impact, behavioral change, and systemic design — like reimagining how urban communities report and resolve non-emergency incidents, or building a multilingual platform that bridges immigrant families with local services. Design, to me, has always been a tool for care. I want to use it to make things that are not just beautiful or efficient, but deeply human. Qihang Zhang: My growth as a designer has been shaped by a shift from communication to computation—and now, toward impact at scale. I started in media and research, learning how to tell stories and simplify complexity. Over time, I moved into product design, building platforms that combine data with emotion—especially in music, safety, and AI. What’s guided me throughout is a desire to make tools that empower people—not just serve institutions. I’m especially drawn to products that sit at the intersection of public systems and private tech: tools that help individuals navigate complex services, from finding emergency aid to understanding algorithmic decisions. In the future, I hope to build design teams that tackle structural problems—like the opacity of public records, the stigma around mental health, or the inaccessibility of creative tools for underserved artists. I want to keep collaborating with engineers, researchers, and policymakers to build systems that are not only efficient, but dignified. My dream project would be designing a platform that helps people reclaim agency—whether it’s a data transparency dashboard, an AI companion that explains government documents, or a civic reporting tool designed for non-English speakers. Ultimately, I want to be remembered not just for clean interfaces, but for helping create more honest, inclusive systems—designs that quietly change how people relate to power, and to each other.

To designers just starting out, our biggest advice is to embrace ambiguity and stay curious. Great design rarely starts from a clear brief—it often begins in the mess, where things are uncertain, goals are evolving, and constraints are still emerging. Don’t be afraid of that. The discomfort is where the most meaningful design happens. It’s also important not to confuse visual polish with thoughtful problem-solving. Learn to ask better questions before jumping into solutions. Understand who you're designing for, what systems you're operating within, and where the real friction points lie. User research and systems thinking are your best allies. Another lesson we've learned is to stay grounded in process, not just outcomes. Some of your best work may never launch, or it may change drastically due to external forces. That doesn't mean it wasn’t worthwhile. Every iteration strengthens your instincts, resilience, and creative voice. And don’t rush to specialize. Try different mediums—print, product, brand, interaction. You’ll find that the broader your toolkit, the more versatile and valuable you become. Stay interdisciplinary. Read widely. Talk to people outside the design world. Teach others, even if you're still learning yourself. Finally, remember: your worth as a designer isn’t defined by your portfolio, job title, or the number of likes on a project. It’s in how well you listen, how thoughtfully you solve, and how human your work feels. That’s what truly lasts.

Success in design isn’t just about talent—it’s about how you navigate ambiguity, advocate for users, and build systems that scale without losing soul. One principle we live by is this: clarity is more powerful than cleverness. Whether you’re designing a button, a policy flow, or a brand identity, aim for decisions that feel inevitable, not just impressive. Another core belief is that design is not neutral. Every color choice, layout, or feature prioritization reflects values and assumptions. Be intentional. Ask whose needs are being centered—and whose are being left out. Build processes that include diverse voices early, not as a final check. We’ve also learned that the best designers think beyond interfaces. Don’t just design screens—design outcomes. Spend more time understanding upstream context: the team dynamics, the data limitations, the business incentives. When you understand the full system, you’ll stop treating symptoms and start solving root causes. Prototyping early—even before you're ready—can unlock collaboration and alignment across teams. Writing clearly and intentionally can sharpen your thinking and build trust, especially in interdisciplinary environments. And creative growth often happens when you take on projects that feel slightly out of your depth—those are the moments that stretch your capabilities the most. Finally, it's important to protect your energy. Creative work is emotionally demanding. Learning when to rest, when to ask for help, and when to say no is just as important as any technical skill. At the end of the day, good design is often invisible. If your work helped someone feel seen, respected, or empowered—even if they never know your name—that is success.

Chunjia Ouyang: My daily routine starts with setting the tone for the day — usually by reviewing my to-do list, catching up on messages, and checking in on project timelines. I try to reserve the morning for heads-down work like ideating, sketching, or building out designs in Figma. That’s when I feel most focused and creative. Midday usually brings meetings — design reviews, team check-ins, or syncs with engineers and product managers. I enjoy those collaborative moments, especially when we’re problem-solving together and shaping a shared vision. In the afternoon, I often spend time refining visual details or organizing handoff files. I find a lot of joy in making things feel both polished and purposeful. Sometimes I’ll also read design blogs or newsletters to stay in touch with what’s happening in the field. Even on the most routine days, there are little things that make me happy — like solving a tricky UI interaction, hearing a teammate say “this just feels right,” or catching a bit of design humor in a Slack thread. Those moments remind me how lucky I am to do what I love. Qihang Zhang: My day-to-day as a designer is a dynamic mix of independent focus and team leadership. On one hand, I dive deep into research, prototyping, and refining design flows using tools like Figma and Notion. On the other hand, I often take the lead in defining project direction, setting stage-based goals, and coordinating with cross-functional teams — including PMs, engineers, researchers, and stakeholders. In some projects, I also serve as a design mentor, helping junior designers clarify their ideas and improve their process. I really enjoy that aspect — design is a collaborative craft, and being able to guide others gives me a broader perspective as well. What keeps me inspired every day is the balance between creative problem-solving and strategic planning. I love translating insights into clear, human-centered solutions — and making sure the team stays aligned on both the "why" and the "how." Even in a routine day, those moments of alignment and shared clarity are deeply fulfilling.

Chunjia Ouyang: I do keep an eye on design trends — not to follow them blindly, but to stay in conversation with the wider design culture. I regularly browse design blogs, newsletters, and visual inspiration platforms like Behance and Pinterest, and I enjoy observing how color palettes, typography, and layout conventions evolve over time. That said, I don’t believe in designing just to fit what’s popular. My goal is to create work that feels timeless, grounded in clarity and intention. If a trend supports that — for example, if it helps make an interface feel more accessible or delightful — I’m happy to embrace it. But I’m equally comfortable deviating from trends when a project calls for it. Ultimately, my style is rooted in emotional clarity and thoughtful structure. I want my designs to resonate with people, not just reflect what’s “in” at the moment. For me, inspiration often comes from outside the design world — art, architecture, nature, fashion. Trends can be a helpful reference, but they’re never the goal. Qihang Zhang: I treat design trends more as signals than as rules. I stay aware of them by reading design publications, monitoring emerging interaction patterns in new apps, and attending cross-disciplinary conferences. Trends often reflect deeper shifts in culture, tech, or behavior — and I find that fascinating. But I don’t let trends dictate my decisions. My work tends to prioritize systems thinking, accessibility, and emotional resonance over surface-level novelty. I’m more interested in designing tools that remain relevant five years from now than ones that feel trendy today but age poorly. That said, I do study trends critically — to understand what’s resonating, what’s being overused, and where the gaps are. Sometimes, I’ll draw from a trend not to blend in, but to subvert or reframe it in a more meaningful way. My inspiration comes from diverse sources: policy design, music visualizations, editorial layouts, even subway signage. I believe great design balances awareness of the moment with a deeper commitment to timelessness and integrity.

Chunjia Ouyang: To me, good design is measured by its impact — not just how it looks, but how well it solves the right problem for the right people. I know a product is well-designed when: It feels intuitive and frictionless to the user; It addresses a real pain point in a clear and human-centered way; It aligns with the broader business or social objectives, and contributes to long-term value; And it evolves based on feedback — because good design is rarely a one-time decision, it’s a continuous process of listening, testing, and improving. A well-designed experience should make people feel understood, respected, and empowered — not confused or left out. That’s why I always ask: “Who is this for? Are we truly helping them? Can they navigate this with clarity and confidence?” So for me, good design is not about perfection — it's about purpose, empathy, and effectiveness. When these three things come together, we create work that is both beautiful and meaningful. Qihang Zhang: I define good design as clarity that creates confidence. A product is well-designed when it makes complex tasks feel simple, helps users make better decisions, and honors their time, attention, and emotional state. When I evaluate a project, I ask: Does it reduce friction without removing agency? Does it align with real user needs, not just imagined ones? And does it hold up under pressure—across edge cases, accessibility challenges, and long-term use? To me, good design should feel inevitable in hindsight, even if it took a hundred drafts to get there. It’s not about cleverness or novelty; it’s about doing the hard work to make something feel natural. One mistake I often see is over-design—when the solution tries to say too much, solve too much, or stand out for the wrong reasons. The best designs often stay out of the way while delivering value with grace. Above all, I believe good design earns trust. And trust comes from consistency, care, and the courage to prioritize what truly matters.

Chunjia Ouyang: I consider a design ready when it has gone through thoughtful validation and meaningful alignment. For me, it’s never just about how polished something looks — it’s about whether it solves a real problem for real users in a clear and intuitive way. I usually rely on user interviews, usability testing, or behavior feedback to make sure the design works in actual scenarios, not just in theory. At the same time, I make sure the design aligns with technical feasibility, business goals, and brand consistency. This often involves collaboration with developers, product managers, and other stakeholders to ensure the experience is solid from all angles. Even when a design is ready to ship, I still view it as part of an ongoing process. Good design doesn’t stop at launch — I leave space for iteration based on real-world usage and learning. But when a design is understandable, feasible, purposeful, and ready to live in the hands of users, that’s when I know it’s ready. Qihang Zhang: For me, a design is “ready” not when it feels perfect, but when it holds up under pressure—from users, systems, and time. I look for a moment when the design is clear enough to explain in one sentence, stable enough to ship without surprises, and flexible enough to evolve without breaking. I don’t believe in absolute completion. There’s always something that could be refined, but I’ve learned to ask: does this version serve its purpose well, and does further iteration bring meaningful value—or just personal satisfaction? That line helps me decide when to move forward. I rely on both qualitative feedback and behavioral data to determine readiness. Usability tests, internal critiques, and cross-functional reviews all play a role. I also look for emotional signals—when users say, “Oh, this makes sense now,” or when engineers say, “This is clean to build,” I know we’re close. Even after launch, I keep a light mental tab open. Sometimes the real insights only emerge in production. But the moment I feel confident that the design empowers its users, aligns with its context, and carries its weight without needing to be explained—that’s when I consider it ready.

Our most meaningful and ambitious project to date is Blueline, a public safety platform designed to rebuild trust between law enforcement and underserved communities. It’s a project rooted in urgency, empathy, and systems thinking — and one that challenged us to rethink how design can shape institutional relationships in moments of crisis. We began Blueline in response to a fundamental question: What does safety feel like — and who gets to define it? In many communities, particularly those marginalized by race, class, or immigration status, reporting crimes or seeking help can feel unsafe in itself. We wanted to create a tool that restored a sense of dignity and agency to those who need protection the most. The platform is built around a few key principles: accessibility, anonymity, real-time transparency, and multilingual support. It allows users to file and track cases without fear of retaliation, while providing departments with a streamlined, ethically-informed interface for responding. From typography and color to form structure and tone of voice, every design decision was made with care — balancing clarity, discretion, and emotional sensitivity. Blueline was technically and emotionally demanding. We had to design for edge cases, legal constraints, and real human fears — all while maintaining usability and trust. One of the biggest challenges was aligning multiple stakeholders: users, officers, lawyers, and community advocates. But those tensions made the project stronger. They forced us to listen deeply, prototype responsibly, and iterate toward shared understanding. We’re proud of Blueline not only for its interface, but for the questions it asks — about power, protection, and responsibility. It’s our biggest work not because of its size, but because of its stakes. It’s a reminder that good design doesn’t just make things easier. It can make systems more just.

As a team, we’re especially inspired by designers who reshape the relationship between form, clarity, and interaction at a systemic level. One recent example that truly resonated with us is the Apple Human Interface Team’s visual direction in iOS 26 — particularly their continued evolution of the “Liquid Glass” aesthetic first hinted at in VisionOS. This design language blends depth, translucency, and light in a way that feels fluid, breathable, and quietly futuristic. It’s not just visually beautiful — it reflects a thoughtful shift in how we perceive digital space, transparency, and tactility across interfaces. While Apple doesn’t credit individual designers, we deeply admire the collective philosophy and execution from the team, and would love the chance to learn how they approached such a multi-sensory, scalable experience. Beyond Apple, we’ve long admired the clarity of Dieter Rams, the poetic restraint of Kenya Hara, and the enduring influence of Raymond Loewy. These designers remind us that great design is timeless not because it resists change, but because it embraces purpose, feeling, and systems thinking. To us, the most iconic designers are those who don’t just follow trends — they build frameworks for how the future can feel.

Both of us come from China, and that shared cultural background deeply informs how we see the world — and how we design. Growing up in a place where tradition and innovation coexist, we developed a strong sensitivity to nuance, symbolism, and rhythm. Chinese culture values balance — between form and function, restraint and expression — and that principle continues to guide our design work today. We draw inspiration not only from the rich visual language of Chinese calligraphy, ceramics, and architecture, but also from everyday systems — the order of a tea ritual, the pace of urban life, the patterns of conversation. These subtle influences shape our attention to detail, our approach to layout and flow, and our belief in clarity as a form of respect. While we’ve lived and worked in global cities like Beijing, Shanghai, Boston, New York, and San Francisco, we often return to our cultural roots to re-ground ourselves. Music is a big part of our process — ambient sounds or instrumental tracks often help us enter a deep focus state when prototyping or refining. Design, for us, is not just a profession — it’s a philosophy that extends into daily life. It has taught us to be more intentional in how we structure our time, how we communicate with others, and how we build systems that are gentle, clear, and inclusive. Even small changes — like simplifying our digital workspace or adjusting how we give feedback — become ways to practice design ethics in everyday life. We believe good design is essential for a more equitable society. In a world that’s increasingly complex and fragmented, thoughtful design can restore a sense of connection, dignity, and trust — values that resonate deeply with both our culture and our personal journeys.

As the team behind Blueline, our work culture is built on trust, clarity, and shared responsibility. We believe that great design comes not from individual brilliance, but from a collaborative process where everyone feels heard, challenged, and respected. We work closely across disciplines — from research and UX to visual design, content strategy, and product management. Our process is transparent and iterative. We ask hard questions early, welcome critique often, and treat ambiguity as part of the creative terrain. There’s no ego in the room — just a shared commitment to doing work that matters. When we choose collaborators or teammates, we look for curiosity, empathy, and a systems mindset. We value people who listen before speaking, who care about real users more than visual trends, and who are comfortable operating in complex, high-stakes environments. Design is not just what you do — it’s how you think, how you communicate, and how you hold space for others. We also believe in emotional safety as part of creative safety. That means fostering an environment where it’s okay to say “I don’t know,” to ask naïve questions, and to challenge assumptions without fear. Our best ideas often come from unexpected angles — from conversations with junior teammates, or insights shared in informal moments of reflection. The core challenge of our work is designing for impact without oversimplifying the realities of the systems we’re working within — especially in areas like public safety or social infrastructure. We aim to build tools that are not only functional and ethical, but also emotionally intelligent. If there’s one thing that defines our team culture, it’s this: we’re not designing for screens — we’re designing for people. And people are complex, evolving, and deserving of care.

As designers, we believe that our role extends far beyond client briefs or commercial deliverables. Design is a tool for equity, and we’re committed to using it in service of communities that are often overlooked, underserved, or misrepresented. Blueline itself was born from that mindset — a pro bono initiative that began with the question: How can we make public safety more humane, accessible, and accountable? We didn’t design Blueline for recognition or revenue. We designed it because we saw a systemic gap — and we knew that thoughtful, ethical design could help close it. Outside of project work, we actively mentor emerging designers through programs like hackathons, community accelerators, and university partnerships. We’ve judged student designathons, reviewed portfolios, and given career talks — especially to students from underrepresented backgrounds who may not have traditional access to design networks. We remember how valuable guidance and encouragement were in our own journeys, and we’re committed to paying that forward. We also support nonprofits and civic groups with strategic design advice — whether it's simplifying a government form, improving a volunteer onboarding experience, or rethinking communication flows for a mental health helpline. These smaller moments of contribution often have outsized impact. To us, good design is not only beautiful or functional — it’s generous. It gives people dignity, agency, and clarity. And the more we center that generosity in our practice, the closer we get to building systems that are truly just.

Participating in the A’ Design Award has been an incredibly affirming experience — not only as a form of recognition, but as an opportunity to reflect more deeply on the purpose and process behind our work. As a team, we often work in complex, emotionally charged spaces like public safety and social infrastructure. Winning the award for Blueline reminded us that thoughtful, systems-driven design — even when it’s quiet or difficult — matters on a global stage. It helped validate the idea that design can serve not only business goals, but civic and human needs as well. One of the most valuable aspects of the A’ Design Award is its emphasis on storytelling. The application process pushed us to articulate our design philosophy more clearly, to frame the context of our work, and to connect our decisions with the values we care about. That reflection alone strengthened how we present and advocate for our work moving forward. Three main benefits of participating in design competitions are: First, exposure — your work reaches a wider, more diverse audience that may include collaborators, clients, or mentors you wouldn’t otherwise meet. Second, credibility — being recognized by a respected international jury helps establish trust, especially in socially impactful design where legitimacy is critical. Third, growth — the act of documenting and defending your work sharpens your clarity and confidence as a designer. Being selected as Designer of the Day was a humbling honor. It gave us a moment to celebrate not just the outcome of our project, but the values, relationships, and risks that shaped it. More than anything, it reminded us that design is a shared journey — and that visibility can be a powerful tool for advocacy. We’re deeply grateful to the A’ Design Award for creating a platform that elevates thoughtful, interdisciplinary design and connects designers from across the world.

Chunjia Ouyang: I studied design with a strong foundation in visual communication and service systems. My education focused on combining aesthetics with strategic thinking — exploring how branding, UI/UX, and human-centered research can work together to create meaningful experiences. Throughout my studies and early career, I sought out multidisciplinary experiences — from working in cultural institutions to collaborating with social impact organizations. These experiences shaped the way I design today: with intention, empathy, and an awareness of how visual systems operate within larger societal frameworks. My training emphasized not just execution, but critical thinking — how to listen, observe, and translate insights into design that truly serves people. Qihang Zhang: My design background is rooted in communication, education, and systems thinking. I studied at UCLA, the University of Oxford, and later completed my Master’s degree at Harvard, where I focused on learning design and technology. Although I didn’t begin in a traditional design program, I was always interested in how information flows, how people interact with systems, and how structure influences behavior. Over time, I transitioned into design through storytelling, research, and product strategy — realizing that design was the most powerful medium to bring clarity, equity, and usability into complex spaces. My academic path gave me a strong interdisciplinary lens, and that’s still reflected in how I approach design: not just as a visual practice, but as a way to make systems more human.

Chunjia Ouyang: From a young age, I’ve been naturally drawn to aesthetics. I loved fashion and had a habit of surrounding myself with beautiful, well-designed things. That early curiosity led me to explore drawing, which gave me a solid foundation in visual expression. Later, I moved into the digital space — learning how to bring my ideas to life through software and design tools. I experimented with various media: print magazines, packaging, videos, and eventually user interfaces for apps and websites. In many ways, my creative journey has always been guided by a passion for beauty. But what truly shaped my path as a designer was discovering service design. It helped me realize that I’m not just passionate about visuals — I’m also deeply interested in how people interact with systems, products, and environments. Today, my work focuses on crafting experiences that are not only visually refined but also intuitive and human-centered. To me, the most powerful design happens when aesthetics and function work hand in hand. Qihang Zhang: I became a designer because I’ve always been fascinated by how things work—and more importantly, how they can work better for people. Growing up, I loved dissecting systems, whether it was the structure of a news article, the interface of a mobile app, or the narrative arc of a concert. Design became my way of connecting those pieces: form, function, and feeling. What keeps me motivated today is the idea that design can shift power. In many of the industries I work in—like music, public safety, or AI—information is often inaccessible, confusing, or reserved for insiders. Through design, I aim to bring clarity to that complexity and give people tools that feel empowering, not overwhelming. At its core, I see design as a service. It’s about amplifying human decisions, making systems more transparent, and building experiences that earn trust. That belief continues to guide my work, especially when designing for high-stakes or underserved contexts.

Chunjia Ouyang: I absolutely chose to become a designer — though the path wasn’t linear. I didn’t always know it would be my career, but I was always drawn to beauty, systems, and how people experience the world around them. Once I discovered design as a discipline that could blend emotional insight with structured thinking, it felt like home. There were definitely moments of uncertainty, but choosing design was ultimately a decision rooted in alignment — between who I am, what I care about, and how I want to contribute. Qihang Zhang: I chose design — but only after exploring a lot of other paths first. I started in research, policy, and storytelling, trying to make sense of complex systems through words and strategy. But over time, I realized that design could do something none of those fields could: it could translate insight into action, and give people tools to navigate their world more confidently. So in a way, design chose me too. It was the natural outcome of my curiosity, my love for systems, and my desire to make invisible structures more human and clear.

We design systems that meet people where they are — especially in moments of uncertainty, vulnerability, or institutional friction. Our work often focuses on public tools, civic platforms, and data-driven services that are meant to serve people who have historically been overlooked or underserved. What excites us most is designing clarity into complexity. Whether it’s helping someone safely report a public safety incident (as in Blueline), apply for social support, or navigate high-stakes workflows, we’re drawn to the invisible layers of design: information flows, emotional friction, micro-decisions, and trust. We’d love to design more tools that live in places most designers don’t look — government portals, legal systems, case management software, infrastructure that affects real lives but rarely feels usable or kind. These are the places where small design decisions can have an outsized impact. Ultimately, we want to keep designing products that are less about visual delight and more about emotional clarity, equity, and long-term care.

If there’s one thing we’ve learned, it’s that becoming a “design legend” isn’t about fame, followers, or visual style. It’s about showing up — again and again — with curiosity, humility, and care. Our advice to young designers would be: listen more than you speak. Get close to real problems, especially the messy, overlooked ones. Learn to sit with discomfort. Ask who’s not in the room — and why. And don’t just design what looks good — design what works, what lasts, and what helps. Work on teams that challenge you. Give credit generously. Share your process. And understand that the real impact of your work may never be visible — but it will matter deeply to someone navigating a hard system or a hard day. And finally: remember that design is not a destination, it’s a stance. The legendary part isn’t in the portfolio. It’s in how you think, how you care, and what you choose to make possible.

We believe the difference between a good designer and a great designer isn’t just skill — it’s perspective. A good designer solves the problem they were asked to solve. A great designer questions whether that’s the right problem to begin with — and who gets left out of the original brief. Great designers zoom out. They ask harder questions, they sit with discomfort, and they’re willing to balance user needs with systemic realities, ethical tensions, and long-term consequences. Great designers also bring emotional intelligence to their process. They know when to lead and when to listen. They create space for feedback, dissent, and co-creation — not because it’s easy, but because they understand that the best ideas often emerge from dialogue, not isolation. And most importantly, great designers carry a sense of responsibility. Not just to aesthetics or performance, but to the people, systems, and futures their work touches. That awareness transforms design from a product into a practice — one rooted in care.

To us, a good design becomes a really good design when it does more than just function — when it builds trust, supports emotionally complex moments, and honors the realities of the people using it. We evaluate great design based on four interconnected qualities. First, clarity: is the purpose and flow of the experience immediately understandable, even in moments of stress or uncertainty? Second, empathy: does the design reflect real user needs, constraints, and emotional states — especially for people who are often excluded from dominant systems? Third, systemic alignment: can the design hold up under real-world pressures, including technical, legal, and ethical constraints, and still deliver meaningful outcomes? And finally, adaptability: does the design evolve in response to feedback, rather than staying fixed to an idealized or limited scenario? In Blueline, for example, we knew the design was truly working not just because people completed tasks, but because they said things like, “I finally feel safe enough to report this.” That emotional signal mattered as much as any efficiency or usability metric. Ultimately, great design earns its place in people’s lives — not because it’s flashy, but because it makes things feel possible, understandable, and human.

Good design isn’t just what makes something look better — it’s what makes something work better, feel better, and mean something to the people it serves. At its best, design creates clarity in complexity, trust in uncertainty, and dignity in systems that often feel impersonal or punitive. It reduces friction, amplifies intention, and quietly tells people: you matter. Everyone should invest in good design not just because it delights users — but because it saves time, prevents confusion, and builds credibility. In critical spaces like healthcare, public safety, or education, good design isn’t a luxury — it’s a form of responsibility. We’ve seen firsthand, through Blueline, how design can make emotionally and logistically complex processes feel manageable and humane. That transformation isn’t just aesthetic — it changes how people move through the world. Investing in good design is investing in clarity, equity, and care. And those are things no system can afford to overlook.

If we had the time and resources, we would design for people who are navigating public systems at their most vulnerable moments — immigrants applying for residency, families trying to access housing, caregivers managing government paperwork, or anyone who feels overwhelmed by institutions not built with them in mind. We’d love to design tools that translate bureaucracy into clarity — platforms that walk with people through complex processes, in their own language, at their own pace, with emotional sensitivity baked in. Not just forms and flows, but guidance, reassurance, and reminders that their time and dignity matter. There’s immense design potential in places where people are often ignored — the waiting room, the intake form, the automated rejection email. That’s where we’d focus. Because good design shouldn’t only serve the tech-savvy or well-resourced. It should serve the tired, the anxious, the underrepresented. We’d design with these communities — not just for them. That’s the kind of work we believe leaves a lasting impact.

Our dream project is to design a public-facing civic platform that helps people navigate housing, immigration, and family services — especially in moments of instability, transition, or language barriers. There are so many people trying to access help — from shelters to healthcare to legal aid — but the systems meant to serve them are often fragmented, opaque, and emotionally exhausting. We imagine a tool that brings clarity to that process: one that’s multilingual, trauma-informed, and designed from the ground up with frontline staff and vulnerable users in the loop. We’d love to partner with city agencies, legal aid orgs, and social workers to rethink how intake forms, appointment flows, and document management systems work — not just to be faster, but to feel safer. Like Blueline, it would be a system that restores dignity through structure. This dream isn’t flashy. It’s not about futuristic tech. It’s about designing infrastructure for care — and building digital tools that feel like they’re really on your side.

If we had to name a secret ingredient, it would be clarity with care. We don’t chase trends or complexity for its own sake. Our work is rooted in the belief that design should reduce friction, earn trust, and create space for people to feel understood — especially in systems where that hasn’t always been the case. In projects like Blueline, our process is equal parts systems thinking and emotional intelligence. We dig deep into constraints, flows, and behaviors — but we also ask how a single button, tone of voice, or moment of pause might affect someone’s experience emotionally. We also treat collaboration as core to success. We listen to each other, to users, and to every signal that the system gives us — even the inconvenient ones. That openness helps us build products that are not just polished, but alive. So if there’s a “recipe,” it’s this: start with empathy, layer with rigor, finish with clarity — and test with real people, always.

We’re inspired by designers and thinkers who see design not just as craft, but as a form of cultural translation and ethical responsibility. Dieter Rams is foundational — his principles on clarity, restraint, and functional integrity continue to guide how we approach systems and hierarchy. His work reminds us that good design doesn’t need to shout; it just needs to work beautifully and honestly. We also admire Kenya Hara, whose philosophy of emptiness, subtlety, and perception expands how we think about trust and presence in design. His work pushes us to consider how space, texture, and silence can create emotional resonance — a perspective that deeply informs projects like Blueline. Ayako Takase and Cutter Hutton (of Observatory) inspire us through their human-centered approach to public and healthcare environments. Their work demonstrates how design can uphold dignity in even the most institutional systems. From a digital systems perspective, we deeply respect the Apple Human Interface Team, especially their recent evolution of spatial, tactile design in VisionOS. The elegance and intentionality behind their design language sets a high bar for digital calm and visual intelligence. These designers — across disciplines and geographies — have helped us see design not just as an outcome, but as a stance. A way of being in the world.

We’re especially inspired by work that combines systems-level thinking with emotional subtlety — designs that are not only functional, but also thoughtful, quiet, and clear. One recent favorite is the Apple Human Interface Team’s work on iOS 26 and VisionOS, particularly the evolution of the “Liquid Glass” aesthetic. It blends depth, materiality, and translucency in a way that feels both futuristic and calming. What we admire most is not just the style, but the underlying intent — to make digital experiences feel spatial, breathable, and human. We’ve also been deeply influenced by Dieter Rams, whose philosophy of “less, but better” continues to guide how we think about hierarchy, clarity, and restraint. His work reminds us that great design often disappears — not because it’s weak, but because it’s so intuitive that it becomes part of life. Another key influence is Kenya Hara, particularly his work with MUJI. His emphasis on emptiness, perception, and sensory design has helped us think about how space, silence, and subtlety can shape trust — especially in emotionally complex systems like Blueline. These designers have one thing in common: they design not to impress, but to respect. And that’s what we aspire to as well.

Our greatest design so far is Blueline — not because of its visual polish, but because of what it stands for and how it was built. What makes it great, in our view, is threefold: First, it serves a real need in a space where design is often missing. Public safety tools are rarely designed with empathy. Blueline fills that gap by prioritizing clarity, anonymity, and trust — especially for communities who have been historically underserved or harmed by existing systems. Second, it balances complexity with emotional clarity. The workflows behind reporting, tracking, and responding to incidents are legally and logistically intricate. But we distilled those processes into something people can actually understand and use — without sacrificing nuance. Third, it was co-created with users, not just for them. From community interviews to legal consultations, every aspect of Blueline was shaped by the people it aims to support. That collaborative process is what made the design both grounded and resilient. Blueline is great not because it’s perfect, but because it was designed with purpose, precision, and care — and it continues to evolve in response to the real world.

To become better designers, we believe people need to first become better listeners. The foundation of good design isn’t visual — it’s relational. Pay attention to what people say, what they don’t say, and how systems shape their choices. Great design begins with deep curiosity and respect. We also think it’s important to embrace interdisciplinary learning. Some of our most useful design instincts came from outside the traditional design world — from writing, teaching, policy, research. If you want to design for real complexity, learn from complex systems. Another key: work on problems that scare you a little. The moments where we grew most weren’t when we had all the answers, but when we had to ask better questions — about power, equity, trust, and impact. Projects like Blueline pushed us to stretch beyond visual skill into ethical reasoning and service design. And finally: share what you’re learning. Teach, mentor, write things down. You’ll become clearer by explaining your process to others. Design isn’t just what you create — it’s also how you bring others along with you.

Chunjia Ouyang: If I hadn’t become a designer, I would probably be an independent artist or working in a field closely related to aesthetics. Since childhood, I’ve been drawing constantly and have always had a strong sensitivity to beauty, composition, and visual balance. Visual expression comes naturally to me, and I think I would have still found a way to use that ability — perhaps through illustration, fashion, or even curation. No matter the form, I think I would always be drawn to creating meaningful visuals that communicate something deeper. Qihang Zhang: If I hadn’t become a designer, I would probably have gone into music marketing and promotions. Before formally entering the design field, I worked on several campaigns in the music and entertainment industry — helping artists connect with their audiences through storytelling, branding, and social engagement. I’ve always been fascinated by how music travels, how audiences form emotional bonds with artists, and how data can support creative discovery. Even now, much of my design work sits at the intersection of music, media, and communication. If not through design, I think I would still be telling those stories — just through campaigns, strategy decks, and fan activations.

For us, design is the practice of turning complexity into clarity — not by simplifying the problem, but by understanding it deeply enough to build something human, intentional, and empowering. Design is not decoration. It’s not just about how something looks, but how it works, how it feels, and who it truly serves. It’s the invisible structure that shapes whether someone feels respected, confused, anxious, or confident while navigating a system. In our work — especially on projects like Blueline — design means building trust at scale. It means asking: How do we make this feel safe? How do we give people more agency, more transparency, more dignity? The answers often live in small details: a form field label, a loading animation, a word choice. But when done well, those details become a kind of care. To us, design is ultimately about listening. And building something in response to what you’ve heard — not louder, but clearer.

We’ve been fortunate to have many supporters along the way — mentors, collaborators, and communities who believed in our work even before we fully believed in it ourselves. Some of our biggest supporters were each other. Working as a design partnership taught us how to navigate complexity together, how to balance strengths and blind spots, and how to keep going when the work felt overwhelming. That sense of mutual trust became one of our greatest assets. We’re also incredibly grateful to the people who participated in early user interviews, advocacy sessions, and design critiques — especially for Blueline. Their honesty, lived experience, and willingness to engage made the work possible. They weren’t just users — they were co-creators. Finally, we owe a lot to the design mentors who taught us that impact matters more than polish, and that design isn’t about making things look good — it’s about making things work better for real people. We didn’t get here alone. And we carry that truth into every project we take on.