Lei Ye

I come from a background rooted in architecture and design. I studied architecture in both China and the U.S., and later pursued a Master in Design Studies at Harvard Graduate School of Design. My journey into design was never just about form-making—it has always been about using visual language to explore systems, human behavior, and social context. Growing up, my father was an architect, so creativity and spatial thinking were always around me. But it wasn’t until I started working across disciplines—between architecture, product design, and data storytelling—that I realized how powerful design can be in shaping not just experiences, but perspectives. I didn’t always know I’d become a designer, but I’ve always been curious and observant—drawn to the intersection of logic and emotion. That’s what design means to me today: the ability to translate complexity into clarity and beauty.

I currently work as a Senior Product Designer at McKinsey & Company, where I’m part of an internal design team focused on building enterprise tools that improve the firm’s efficiency and operations. Unlike client-facing design work, our team designs for McKinsey’s 50,000+ global employees—creating systems that support internal collaboration, data security, and workflow optimization. It’s a unique in-house environment where design is deeply integrated with engineering, research, and operations. We take on complex challenges—from data migration tools to internal design systems—and approach them with a blend of strategic thinking and user-centered design. What I appreciate most is the opportunity to work on meaningful problems at scale, where design directly improves how people work every day.

For me, design is not just about how things look—it’s about how they work, how they feel, and how they connect. It’s a way of thinking, a way of translating complexity into clarity. Whether it’s a system, an interface, or a piece of visual storytelling, design is the bridge between intention and experience. Design also carries responsibility. It has the power to influence behavior, shape perception, and even drive change. That’s why I see design as both craft and ethics—balancing beauty, logic, and impact. At its core, design is my way of making sense of the world and contributing to it—visually, functionally, and meaningfully.

I’m most drawn to projects that sit at the intersection of systems and storytelling—where design solves real problems but also sparks reflection. I enjoy designing tools and platforms that simplify complexity, like internal enterprise software, data dashboards, or interactive experiences that reveal hidden narratives. I also love creating work that blends design with social impact—projects that challenge people to see data or everyday systems in a new light. Whether it’s a migration app that helps thousands of employees work more securely and efficiently, or a digital installation that turns statistics into personal stories, I find the most fulfillment when design is both functional and thought-provoking.

One of my favorite designs is a project called BeyondNO (Beyond Number), which I created for the Data for Black Lives conference at the Pérez Art Museum Miami. It’s a digital storytelling platform that transforms data into personalized memory posters, encouraging users to reflect on the human stories behind social justice statistics. What makes this project meaningful to me is that it’s not just about visualizing data—it’s about designing a space where people can slow down, absorb the emotional weight of numbers, and take away something they can keep. The platform was exhibited both online and in-person, bridging art, activism, and technology. It challenged me to think beyond interface and into impact—to ask: how can design shape memory, emotion, and dialogue?

The first thing I designed for a company was a mobile health app tailored for seniors, during my time at a healthcare startup. It wasn’t just about making an app look good—I had to deeply understand our elderly users’ needs, simplify complex medical information, and rethink how interaction patterns could better suit aging hands and eyes. I worked on everything from branding and UI flows to onboarding experiences, and even conducted interviews with caregivers and patients. That project taught me early on that design isn’t decoration—it’s empathy in action. It also showed me how impactful thoughtful UX can be, especially when serving vulnerable populations.

Figma is definitely one of my favorite platforms—it’s not just a design tool, it’s a shared workspace for thinking, iterating, and collaborating in real time. I use it for everything from wireframes and UI systems to visual storytelling and interactive prototypes. Beyond tools, I’m also fascinated by data as a material. When used thoughtfully, data can unlock powerful narratives, shape behavior, and give voice to things often overlooked. That’s why many of my recent projects explore the intersection of data, design systems, and storytelling—using technology not just to build, but to reveal and reflect.

I feel the most creative when I’m navigating constraints—whether it’s a technical limitation, a tight timeline, or a complex problem no one has solved yet. Constraints force me to think differently, to simplify, and to find unexpected solutions. Creativity also strikes when I step away from the screen—during long walks, late-night sketching, or even while listening to music. It’s in those quiet, in-between moments that ideas start to connect and new perspectives emerge. Ultimately, I’m most creative when I’m curious—when I’m not trying to find the “right” answer, but exploring possibilities and asking better questions.

When I design, I focus on three main aspects: clarity, emotion, and context. Clarity means making sure the interface or visual story is intuitive—every element should have a purpose, and the user should never feel lost. Emotion is about crafting an experience that resonates—through tone, visuals, or interaction, I want people to feel something, not just use something. And context reminds me that design doesn’t live in a vacuum—it has to respond to the people, systems, and environment around it. Whether I’m designing a product or a narrative piece, I’m always balancing usability with meaning—making sure the solution not only works, but speaks.

Designing often brings a mix of emotions—it starts with curiosity, sometimes even a bit of chaos, as I try to untangle a problem or explore a new idea. Then comes excitement, especially when a concept starts to click or a visual form takes shape that feels just right. But I also feel responsibility. Especially when designing systems or experiences for others, I’m always aware that design decisions have real impact—on how people work, interact, or feel. And finally, there’s joy. The kind of quiet joy that comes from solving something well, or seeing someone use a design and feel understood—even if they don’t know why.

When a design is realized—especially after rounds of iteration, feedback, and collaboration—I feel a deep sense of fulfillment. There’s pride, of course, in seeing something move from a messy sketch or abstract idea into a functional, tangible experience. But more than that, I feel connection—knowing that something I helped create is now part of someone else’s day, solving a problem or sparking a moment of thought. There’s also humility. Once a design is live, I get to observe how people actually use it—what surprises them, what they ignore, where it succeeds or falls short. That real-world feedback is humbling, and it keeps me curious and motivated to keep improving.

To me, a design is successful when it balances three things: clarity, impact, and resonance. Clarity means the design communicates effortlessly—it’s intuitive, accessible, and easy to engage with. Impact means it solves the right problem—it actually makes something better, whether that’s improving a workflow, shifting a mindset, or streamlining a task. Resonance is the emotional side—it makes people feel seen, understood, or even inspired. A successful design doesn’t just look good or function well—it feels right. It fits into people’s lives in a way that’s meaningful and, ideally, invisible.

When judging whether a design is good or bad, the first things I consider are usability, clarity, and intent. Usability: Can people easily understand and use it? A beautiful design that confuses users is still a failure. Clarity: Is the message or purpose communicated effectively, without unnecessary noise? Intent: Does the design serve its goal? Sometimes, a design might look “off” visually but be perfect for its context and audience. Beyond that, I also look at emotional tone, consistency, and how well the design fits into its larger system—whether it’s a brand, platform, or product journey.

I believe designers have a responsibility not only to create useful and beautiful things, but to consider their broader impact on society and the environment. Every design decision—what we make, what we omit, what we optimize—shapes how people live, think, and behave. Socially, designers should aim to include, not exclude. That means designing with empathy, accessibility, and ethics in mind—whether you're creating a product, a system, or a story. Environmentally, it’s about designing with intention: minimizing waste, promoting sustainable practices, and being mindful of material and digital consumption. Even in digital design, we have the power to influence how systems scale, how mindful people are with their data and resources. Designers are translators between ideas and the world. That role carries weight—and with it, an opportunity to design not just for function, but for fairness, longevity, and care.

The design field is evolving rapidly—from being seen as just a craft to becoming a core part of strategy, innovation, and systems thinking. Today, design isn’t only about aesthetics or usability—it’s about shaping experiences, navigating complexity, and making sense of data, technology, and human needs all at once. I see the future of design moving in three key directions: 1. Systems over screens – Designers are increasingly tackling systemic challenges, like sustainability, equity, and ethical tech. 2. Human-AI collaboration – With the rise of generative AI, designers will move from just creating outputs to curating processes, setting guardrails, and shaping the intelligence behind interactions. 3. Design as storytelling – In a noisy world, the ability to communicate ideas clearly and emotionally is more critical than ever. Design will continue to bridge data and emotion, logic and narrative. The future of design is both more technical and more human. It will require us to stay curious, adaptable, and responsible.

My last exhibition was at the Pérez Art Museum Miami, as part of the 2024 Data for Black Lives conference, where I showcased BeyondNO—a digital storytelling platform that transforms data into personal memory posters. It was a powerful experience to see how design could engage people emotionally and socially within a museum context. For my next exhibition, I’m hoping to explore more public or hybrid spaces—either physical galleries or interactive online platforms—where design can invite participation and reflection. Ideally, I’d like to exhibit in New York or Berlin, where there’s strong dialogue around technology, design, and social impact.

My design inspiration often comes from systems, cities, and overlooked data. I’m fascinated by how invisible structures—like urban networks, digital interfaces, or behavioral patterns—shape our daily lives. I try to observe the gaps, tensions, or contradictions within these systems and translate them into visual or interactive experiences. To feed my creativity, I constantly switch between disciplines: I might explore architecture archives, read about sociology, or watch documentaries about science or philosophy. Walking through cities also inspires me—I like paying attention to signage, materials, rhythms of movement, and informal design in everyday spaces. I also draw from art, typography, and cultural narratives, especially when working on personal projects. And conversations—whether with users, colleagues, or friends—often spark the most unexpected ideas.

I would describe my design style as systematic yet expressive—balancing structure with emotion. I’m drawn to clean layouts, modular systems, and minimal palettes, but I always try to leave space for storytelling, surprise, and a bit of poetry. Whether it’s a product interface or a data-driven artwork, my work often blends precision with narrative. I think this style developed naturally from my background in architecture and my interest in visual systems. Over time, I realized that clarity doesn’t have to be cold—and that emotional resonance can coexist with structure. Core characteristics of my style include intentional typography, layered composition, and thoughtful use of white space. I also gravitate toward using data or real-world logic as a framework—but always with a human-centered lens. My approach is research-driven and iterative. I start by asking: What is the problem beneath the problem? From there, I move between high-level thinking and pixel-level detail—constantly shifting scales to ensure coherence and clarity.

I currently live in Boston, but I was born and raised in China, and my cultural heritage deeply influences how I think about design. Growing up surrounded by traditional Chinese aesthetics—like calligraphy, spatial balance, and material textures—gave me an early sensitivity to rhythm, composition, and restraint. At the same time, studying and working internationally exposed me to Western systems thinking and contemporary design methodologies. This dual perspective allows me to move fluidly between logic and intuition, structure and symbolism. I often incorporate subtle references to Chinese design language in my work—whether through visual metaphors, modular forms, or the use of negative space. One challenge of designing across cultures is the need to constantly translate—not just language, but values and expectations. But that’s also the advantage: it trains me to be more empathetic, adaptable, and nuanced as a designer.

I work with companies as both an in-house designer and an independent collaborator, depending on the project. In my current role at McKinsey, I’m embedded within cross-functional teams, working closely with product managers, engineers, and business stakeholders to build internal tools that improve how the firm operates. It’s a highly collaborative environment where design drives both user experience and strategic outcomes. Outside of that, I also collaborate with companies and nonprofits on branding, product innovation, and data storytelling. My approach is always research-driven and user-centered: I begin by deeply understanding the problem, aligning on the goals, and then moving iteratively from concept to execution—with clear communication throughout. Whether it’s an enterprise system or a cultural platform, I see my role as a translator between ideas, users, and technology—shaping solutions that are both functional and meaningful.

When working with a designer, I think the most important thing companies can do is bring us in early—not just at the visual stage, but during problem framing and strategy discussions. Design isn’t just how something looks; it’s how it works, how it's understood, and how it connects with people. Treating design as a strategic partner—not just a service—leads to better outcomes. To select a good designer, look beyond portfolios. Of course, craft matters, but also ask: Do they ask the right questions? Can they navigate ambiguity and collaborate across functions? Do they show empathy—for both the user and the business? A good designer doesn’t just create beautiful things—they solve the right problems, communicate clearly, and adapt to different contexts. Look for someone who listens deeply, thinks systemically, and brings clarity to complexity.

My design process is research-driven, collaborative, and iterative. I usually follow four overlapping phases: Understand – I start by learning everything I can: talking to users, reviewing data, and aligning with stakeholders. I try to uncover not just the symptoms of a problem, but the root causes. Frame – Once I understand the landscape, I define the problem clearly and explore different directions. This might include journey maps, system diagrams, or design principles to guide the work. Design & Iterate – I move quickly between low- and high-fidelity concepts, using Figma to prototype and test ideas early. Feedback—both from users and the team—is key to shaping the direction. Deliver & Refine – Once the design is implemented, I stay involved to ensure quality and usability. I also track impact through analytics or feedback and continue to iterate if needed. Throughout, I keep communication open and make the process visible—whether through design reviews, documentation, or workshops. I believe great design is a team sport, and the best ideas often come from cross-functional dialogue.

Five of my favorite design items at home are: A Japanese ceramic teapot – Minimal, beautifully balanced, and handcrafted. It reminds me that good design can be both humble and intentional. A Braun AB1 alarm clock – Classic Dieter Rams. It’s a perfect example of clarity and timeless form that still feels modern. A Muji wall-mounted CD player – I love how it turns something functional into a sculptural, interactive object. It also sparks nostalgia. A poster from the Copenhagen Architecture Festival – It’s bold, typographically sharp, and a reminder of one of my past exhibitions. My mechanical keyboard – Customized with soft tactile switches and a neutral color palette. It’s designed for comfort, but it also makes working feel satisfying and personal. Each of these items brings together form, function, and emotion—something I try to achieve in my own design work as well.

A typical day in my life blends focus, curiosity, and a bit of creative chaos. I usually start early with coffee and quiet time—reviewing notes, sketching ideas, or reading something unrelated to design to spark new thinking. Then I dive into my work at McKinsey, where I collaborate with PMs and engineers on enterprise tools. Most of my time is spent in Figma or Miro—prototyping, documenting design logic, or iterating based on user research. Afternoons often involve syncs with global teams or user feedback sessions. I always try to carve out at least an hour for deep design work—no meetings, just flow. In the evening, I might shift gears to work on personal projects like BeyondNO or prepare visuals for exhibitions or award submissions. I walk a lot—it's how I process ideas. I also journal or sketch before bed if something’s on my mind. No two days are the same, but I always try to end feeling like I moved something forward, no matter how small.

To young designers, I’d say this: 1. Design is not just about making things pretty—it’s about making things work. Focus on solving the right problems, not just creating beautiful screens. 2. Stay curious. Read outside of design. Explore architecture, sociology, cinema, literature—your best ideas often come from outside your field. 3. Learn to listen. Good design comes from empathy. Listen to users, teammates, mentors—and yourself. 4. Share your process, not just your results. Don’t wait for your work to be perfect before putting it out there. Document, reflect, and show your thinking. 5. Be patient with your path. Everyone grows at a different pace. Your style, voice, and confidence will evolve with time. What matters most is that you keep moving forward. And finally—don’t be afraid to care deeply. Design with intention, and use your voice to shape the world, even in small ways.

Being a designer is incredibly rewarding, but it comes with its own set of challenges. The positives: Design allows you to shape experiences, solve real-world problems, and make ideas visible. There’s a deep sense of fulfillment in seeing your work help others—whether it’s improving how someone uses a product or how they understand a story. It’s also a field that constantly evolves, so there’s always something new to learn, explore, and respond to. The negatives: Design can often be misunderstood or undervalued, especially when it's treated as just “decoration” rather than a strategic tool. Sometimes the invisible effort—research, iteration, communication—goes unnoticed. And because design is subjective, it can be emotionally taxing to defend your work or see it compromised due to constraints. But ultimately, the opportunity to create meaningful change outweighs the challenges. Design is a responsibility, but it’s also a privilege.

My golden rule in design is: “Design with intention, not decoration.” Every element—whether visual, interactive, or structural—should have a clear purpose. It should support the experience, communicate meaning, or solve a specific problem. If something doesn’t serve the user or the story, it doesn’t belong. This mindset keeps my work grounded, especially when navigating complexity. It helps me balance aesthetics with logic, and ensures that design always works in service of clarity, impact, and empathy.

The most important skills for a designer go beyond just visual craft. I’d highlight: Empathy – Understanding users, clients, and context is the foundation of meaningful design. Systems thinking – Great design isn’t isolated—it fits into a broader ecosystem of tools, behaviors, and goals. Visual clarity – The ability to organize, simplify, and guide attention through composition, typography, and hierarchy. Communication – Whether it's presenting ideas, receiving feedback, or aligning with teams, strong communication turns design into impact. Curiosity – Design is always evolving. A willingness to explore new tools, disciplines, and perspectives keeps your work fresh and relevant. And perhaps most importantly—resilience. Because iteration, critique, and ambiguity are all part of the journey.

My design toolbox includes a mix of digital tools, analog methods, and sources of inspiration that help me move fluidly from concept to execution. Software & Applications: Figma – My primary tool for UI/UX design, prototyping, and design systems Adobe Illustrator – For vector graphics and branding work Miro – For mapping journeys, workshop facilitation, and brainstorming Notion – To organize research, track projects, and document insights ChatGPT – For creative writing, naming, and even generating prompts when I hit a block Hardware: MacBook Pro iPad + Apple Pencil (for sketching or annotating) A mechanical keyboard (customized—it makes the process more tactile and joyful) Books & Inspiration: Designing Design by Kenya Hara Don’t Make Me Think by Steve Krug Works by Dieter Rams, Issey Miyake, and studio Nendo Offline inspiration: museum visits, architectural photography, typography in cities, and walking through bookstores Online: Pinterest, Are.na, and award platforms like A’ Design Award, Red Dot, and TDC I also keep a physical notebook nearby. Sometimes the best ideas start with a messy sketch or half-formed sentence.

Design can definitely be time-consuming, especially when you're aiming for both function and polish. I manage my time by breaking the work into clear phases—discovery, ideation, prototyping, and refinement—so I know what kind of thinking each stage requires. I also set intentional constraints: timeboxing explorations, limiting the number of concepts per round, and knowing when something is “good enough” to test, rather than over-perfecting. Tools like Notion and Figma help me stay organized and collaborative, and I block out dedicated focus time on my calendar—no meetings, just deep work. And when I’m stuck, I take a walk. Sometimes stepping away saves more time than pushing through. For me, it’s about balance—designing efficiently without compromising thoughtfulness.

The timeline really depends on the scope and complexity of the project. For something focused like a poster or visual identity, it might take a few days to a couple of weeks—including research, exploration, and refinement. For larger systems—like a digital product or interactive platform—it can take several months, especially when factoring in research, stakeholder alignment, iteration cycles, testing, and handoff to development. For example, designing the Box Migration App took multiple quarters of work, evolving with user feedback and technical constraints. I’ve learned that good design isn’t just about speed—it’s about knowing when to move fast and when to slow down and go deeper. The key is to define clear milestones and stay adaptable as things unfold.

The most frequently asked question I get is: “How do you balance creativity with business needs or technical constraints?” It’s a great question because it gets to the heart of design. My answer is: I don’t see them as opposites. Creativity isn’t just about wild ideas—it’s about finding elegant, effective solutions within constraints. In fact, limitations often push better thinking. Whether I’m working on an internal enterprise tool or a data-driven art project, I always start by understanding the “why.” Once the intent is clear, it becomes easier to balance user needs, business goals, and technical realities without losing the creative spark.

My most important job experience has been working as a Senior Product Designer in a large global organization, where I’ve had the opportunity to collaborate with cross-functional teams and design solutions used at scale. What made it meaningful was the level of complexity, impact, and trust involved. It taught me how to balance user needs with business goals, navigate ambiguity, and design systems that are both strategic and human-centered. It also reinforced the importance of clear communication and thoughtful collaboration in driving real change through design.

I’ve worked with a range of clients across industries, including global consulting firms, healthcare startups, academic institutions, and nonprofit organizations. My collaborations span internal tools, product design, branding, and data storytelling—always with a focus on clarity, impact, and human-centered design.

I enjoy design work that sits at the intersection of systems and storytelling—where complex ideas or processes are transformed into clear, engaging experiences. Whether it's an internal tool, a data visualization, or an interactive platform, I’m most fulfilled when design helps people understand, act, or feel differently. I’m especially drawn to projects that blend functionality with emotional depth—where logic and empathy work side by side. This kind of work challenges me to think critically, collaborate closely, and always design with intention.

Looking ahead, I plan to keep expanding at the intersection of product design, systems thinking, and social storytelling. I want to work on projects that not only solve problems but also spark reflection—whether through internal tools that improve how organizations work, or public-facing platforms that reveal hidden narratives through data. I’m also interested in exploring more opportunities for exhibitions, teaching, and writing, as ways to share ideas and engage with the design community more broadly. The next step for me is to keep pushing the boundaries of what design can do—strategically, socially, and creatively.

I do both. In my full-time role, I work closely with cross-functional teams—product managers, engineers, researchers—to co-create solutions. Design is deeply collaborative in that context, and I see my role as both a creator and a connector. At the same time, I also develop independent projects where I take on everything from concept to execution. These solo projects allow me to explore ideas more freely and experiment with new formats, especially in data storytelling and visual research. I enjoy moving between the two modes—teamwork keeps me sharp, and solo work keeps me grounded in my creative voice.

Yes—I’m currently working on an extended version of BeyondNO, a digital storytelling platform that explores the emotional narratives behind social justice data. The next phase will include more interactive elements and personalized visuals, with the goal of making the experience even more immersive and reflective. I’m also developing new concepts that blend generative design, memory, and civic engagement, experimenting with how people interact with data in both digital and physical spaces. These projects are helping me push my practice beyond functionality—toward something more poetic, participatory, and human-centered.