Since the early 1990s, Samsung and IDEO have shared a history of influential and award-winning collaboration. Together, the two companies have worked on more than 50 projects, the offerings created by this partnership spanning a broad spectrum, from a series of conceptual multimedia devices to industry-changing monitors, TVs, laptops, mobile phones and interfaces, computer peripherals, and mobile platform strategies. But beyond the design of products brought to their global market, the Samsung/IDEO partnership used the human-centered design approach to produce the innovation that ended up transforming the electronics giant’s entire business.

After years of being an industry fast-follower, Samsung approached IDEO with the idea of an immersive cultural exchange. Samsung designers, marketers, and strategists came to Palo Alto and set up a studio near IDEO to learn everything they could from the US consumer market and IDEO’s design approach. Together, the teams began to design groundbreaking electronics products, while using design thinking to look at the entire business through a new lens. By putting users at the center of the process, and beginning to understand their needs and emerging behaviors, Samsung found it could not only satisfy existing customers, but also begin to anticipate market shifts. This tipping point led Samsung to evolve into a market leader.

Samsung and IDEO created a design powerhouse, following a journey from designing products to services to experiences, interactions, and innovation that moved Samsung away from consumer electronics toward an even bigger market of back-end services and interactive and systems-based services.

Culturally, the partnership with IDEO has helped Samsung adopt new ways to integrate internal teams, a human-centered design approach and iterative prototyping, and the methodologies to merge technology and design to create a leading-edge consumer line and brand. As evidence of Samsung’s rise to being one of the world’s largest design-driven companies, the company has more than doubled its internal design teams since 2000, according to the article “Samsung Design” in BusinessWeek Online.

Some of the projects include:

LCD Computer monitors
Samsung and IDEO created the industry-standard 970P and 971P monitors, featuring clean surfaces, contrasting textures, and a simple design for a premium look and feel. Designed with IDEO founder Mike Nuttall, they won both the 2009 iF Award and a 2007 IDEA Gold award.

Brand awareness for Samsung Memory
Wanting to raise awareness about Samsung Memory’s products that enhance the performance of electronic devices, IDEO and Samsung designed a humorous campaign that highlighted consumers’ need for Samsung Memory.

SimpleMedia and TotalMedia home entertainment concepts
IDEO and Samsung designed two concepts: SimpleMedia combined a computer, television, DVD, fax, and telephone; TotalMedia featured an adjustable screen and LCD projector combination. Although neither was ever produced, they were honored with design awards from ID Magazine and BusinessWeek, respectively.

SyncMaster 400TFT Flat Panel Display
Samsung and IDEO designed the SyncMaster LCD flatscreen multimedia monitor to be thin and elegant, and it garnered several design awards in Korea, Germany, and the U.S. The British magazine T3 called it “the sexiest monitor we’ve ever seen.”

Nana Joes, a beloved San Francisco granola company, was born from an avid surfer’s desire to bring healthy breakfast back to the kitchen table. Embracing the philosophy that good food is about wholesome ingredients prepared with care, the startup took pride in carefully scraping each vanilla bean by hand and soon gained a devoted following at farmers markets around the Bay Area.

As Nana Joes’ reputation grew beyond the hills of San Francisco, the company asked IDEO to explore how to take a small company and scale the brand for national distribution, while keeping its heart and handcrafted ethos at its core.

A team of IDEO designers set out to position Nana Joes for growth by developing a brand identity and packaging system that would resonate with customers and reduce operational complexity. The entire team went on factory tours and met with packaging suppliers to identify solutions that would be easily manufactured en masse, but still retain the familiar handcrafted feel. With mock-up packaging in hand, they hit local farmers markets to conduct live in-market prototyping with both loyal and new customers and met with retail buyers to get their real-time reactions to how the brand and packaging stood out on shelves.

The final deliverables included new branding and packaging for the entire line of granola, granola bars, and cookie products, as well as a guide for Nana Joes to operationalize the rollout by 2016.

The legacy company that produced the first phone book in Australia more than 130 years ago—and the disruptive change it represented—became directories company Sensis. As Sensis made the transition from a print directory to a digital service in recent years, the company came to IDEO to foster a startup mindset.

Together, Sensis and IDEO identified four ways for Sensis to become more agile: Focus on the company’s core skills, revitalize the product development process, develop insights about Sensis’ global competitors, and strengthen connections to current and potential customers.

After prototyping more than 65 ideas, the team decided on an app, Skip, with which a customer connects remotely to her favorite café right from her phone, sends her order, and schedules a time to pick it up. Then she breezes past the line when she arrives at the café.

To understand how this app might work in the real world, the team fanned out across Melbourne, talked directly with café owners and their customers, gathering data, and watching behavior, then launched the live app just 10 weeks after developing the first prototype.

Watch: Team members from Sensis and IDEO share their experiences.

Fueled by a mission to “help everyone love what they eat,” the Chicago-based food-tech startup Food Genius created a consumer-facing mobile app that used a complex algorithm to track more than 16 million restaurant menu items and classify consumers’ dining-out behaviors.

After the year-old startup became part of IDEO’s Startup in Residence program in Chicago, the company changed its focus from consumers to the food industry.

To build their food industry-focused platform, the designers collaborated on a number of business and technological development strategies, product road-mapping, and a prototype viral marketing experience called Curry Crawl to test the usability of the new API.

In April 2016, Food Genius was acquired by US Foods. "What was really striking about US Foods is that they take a very analytics-driven approach to their business," said Justin Massa, founder and former CEO of Food Genius. "They bought the technology knowing it's going to be able to do great stuff."

From a very young age, we’re praised for knowing the right answer—and on the quick! But as designers, that’s almost never possible. Our job is to help create a future that is, by definition, uncertain; so we're forced to face ambiguity on every project. There are always times when we don’t know where to go next, don’t have an answer, or get stuck. So how do we deal? What are ways to get more comfortable with being uncomfortable?

Here are three things I’ve learned to help me remain calm in the face of uncertainty.

1. Plan to not know

Imagine you’re in a meeting, surrounded by important clients, when someone hits you with an unexpected hardball question. All heads turn to you, awaiting a brilliant response. You freeze up, your mouth goes dry. You know you should have an answer, but your mind goes blank.

Rather than going into a silent state of paralysis, take a breath and remember that you have an answer prepared for this very moment: “I don’t know yet.”

Obvious-sounding? Sure. Easy to own up to? Not so much.

I used to be afraid to say, “I don’t know yet,” because I thought I’d sound ill-equipped and uninformed. After all, our clients hire us to find answers, so to not have an answer when put on the spot can feel disconcerting.

But by allowing yourself to be vulnerable, you win trust. Owning the process makes you more credible as someone who’s calm and collected in the face of uncertainty. Because let’s be honest: No one has all the answers, not even the experts.

2. Shift from should to could

Let’s go back to the feeling in the meeting room when all eyes are on you and you feel like you should know what to do next (but don’t). You’re getting ready to go into panic mode.

Oh yes, I know the feeling well.

Ever since I was young, I felt the pressure to do things as they should be done. And that pressure has followed me through adulthood.

When I first started leading projects at IDEO, I often thought to myself:

“If I were smart enough, I should be able to impress the client with my answer.”

“If I were a great leader, I should know what to tell my team.”

“If I were talented enough, I should know exactly what to design next.”

Should, should, should. It’s the “shoulds” that block your way forward.

“Should” suggests that there is one way forward, which is a sure way to set yourself up for creative blackout — a high pressure situation where you must find the single, bright and shining solution. There is no one right answer.

So whenever I find myself questioning what should be, I remind myself to ask: what could be?

What could be is a springboard for generating new ideas, brainstorming options for what to do next. It takes me from a place of oppression to optimism.

By shifting my mindset from should to could, I no longer have to come up with a single, right answer; instead, I have endless options for moving forward.

3. Change the context

Even when you are not under pressure, anxiety around not knowing the answer can find a way to creep in.

There are many times I’ve found myself glued to the screen, on the third cup of coffee, hardly stopping for a bite to eat. No matter how hard I try, it feels like I’m doing nothing more than pushing pixels around a screen.

How to get unstuck?

I have to force myself to remember that if I’m not getting anywhere (as hard as it may be to pry myself away from the screen), I need to stop, change my context, and gather new inputs.

Stepping away from the screen and focusing on something else for a while can bring fresh perspective to the problem.

Go for a walk, tour an art gallery, seek out a new experience that takes you out of your comfort zone. Invite another designer to look at your work and offer feedback, revisit stories from your research. By stopping and taking a step back, you create more mental space for unexpected sparks of inspiration to slip through.

Sometimes the biggest barrier to finding a way through the darkness is the pressure we put on ourselves to have all the answers. To break through, make peace with the I don’t knows, the could bes, and take a step back in order to more confidently take a step forward.

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“Embrace Ambiguity.” It's a value we take very seriously here at IDEO. The phrase invites designers to go with the flow in the face of the unknown. On paper, the freedom sounds liberating. But in practice, navigating ambiguity can be downright stress-inducing.

First came the jolt of panic, followed by furious digging through my bag, and slapping my pockets, the whole time chanting, “Please say I didn’t forget my phone!” There I was, standing just past the airport security checkpoint on my way to catch my connecting flight home from Japan, totally empty-handed. Bye, phone.

Once I stopped hyperventilating, I had a few hours strapped to an airplane seat to consider the following: What would it feel like to live without a smartphone?

Since I was already stuck without one, I decided to turn my predicament into a personal experiment: one month, no smart devices of any kind. Here’s what those 30 days taught me—and how the experiment made me rethink the way I approach design.

Less might be more

My first observation was that I was suddenly fully engaged with everything—my surroundings, the people around me, even that TV show that I thought I liked, but really just glanced at between text messages. I was pleased to find that conversations suddenly became much more meaningful. When I had my phone in hand, I was always subconsciously waiting for a buzz, and partially disengaged from the people in front of me. And when the buzz happened, I stopped listening to them completely. Without the added distraction, interactions became much more fulfilling.

As an interaction designer, I spend a lot of time creating user-friendly interfaces, but this experience made me wonder exactly how accessible things should be. Now I ask myself, are there elements that are competing with instead of enhancing an experience? Would a user benefit from something just a little less sticky?

Lose the escape hatch

Some of you may remember a time when you couldn’t just text your friend to say that you’re running late or *cough*cough* aren’t feeling well and can’t make it. We’re all guilty of it. The beauty of not having a phone was that it forced me and my flaky friends and family to pre-plan and be on time*. By removing the option to be late or back out, there’s much less to think about besides showing up and enjoying each other’s company.

When we’re designing technology, do we always need a back or undo button? How does that affect outcome and behavior, and can we use it to our advantage? For instance, with questionnaires, how do answers vary if there’s no way to change them?

*side note: Do look up where you are going ahead of time, because no phone = no maps.

It really, truly can wait

At the beginning of the experiment, I had a few phantom limb moments where I went to grab my phone to check tomorrow’s weather, or look up the definition of apocryphal, or text that random gif to a friend. In most situations, my first instinct was to whip out my phone. Not having access to everything forced me to slow my pace, and made my world feel a whole lot smaller, and, in some ways, less overwhelming.

In an era where you can shop for a pair of pants online and have it delivered to you within the hour, are there moments that can be enhanced by building in pause? What can a little friendly friction do to help slow things down to enhance and experience?

Automation isn't always rewarding

There’s no question that the smartphone affords us many conveniences—I’ve undoubtedly plundered every mobile subscription, delivery, and transaction possible. But streamlining every aspect of my life left me longing for those small moments of accomplishment that I used to get from figuring it out on my own. For instance, without access to ridesharing services, I found myself walking or taking public transit everywhere. Great for my lungs, the environment, and my wallet. The same goes for social sharing: Much of the reason we share online, is for the reactions we get in return. And by moving from an asynchronous share to a synchronous share, you’re rewarded by actually seeing someone laugh instead of an emoji reply posted 34 minutes later. Mic drop.

Just because we can automate, doesn’t always mean we should. The unpredictability of human behaviors is what makes the mundane more interesting, after all. How can we integrate these real life moments into the designs we create?

Since the big experiment, I’ve rejoined the flock and am now wielding a shiny, new phone with a notch in it. But I haven’t forgotten the lessons I learned—or how important it is for designers to get out of their comfort zone. And next time I need a little inspiration, I may just leave it at home.

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As an interaction designer, I have a love-hate relationship with my phone. On one hand, my job requires instant access to apps, prototypes, Slack... the list goes on. On the other, tech addiction is real. Even if I might try to ignore the invisible handcuffs that tie me to my phone, I was always reaching for it.

Until, of course, I lost it.

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Moving trucks aren’t always built for convenience. After all, they’re meant for hauling cargo, not a luxurious drive. But they are chock full of packing tape. When I hopped in the front of our mover’s truck to pick up some furniture at the storage unit, I smiled to see this ingenious workaround. A cup holder for your soda pop using a roll of packing tape, secured with—what else—packing tape.

Human-centered design requires us to observe human behavior with beginner's eyes, so that we can spot the innate ways people interact with the world around them. We call these intuitive and unconscious reactions Thoughtless Acts, and IDEO designers collect photos of them to inspire their work.

The idea came to me on a Saturday in June, before I had told anyone I was pregnant. I was flopped out on a sandy couch with my niece and nephew after a day at the beach, their level of post-sun exhaustion matching my first trimester fatigue. Their mom, my sister-in-law, recognized an opportunity to steal away for a shower, and put on an early 80s episode of Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood. Both of these kids have been raised mostly screen-free, and their mom was just starting to let them watch what she called “slow TV”: mostly nature documentaries, the occasional Aquanauts episode, and of course, Mr. Rogers.

This particular episode began with Fred Rogers trying to fix a leaky faucet with a new rubber washer. But he didn’t have the right size washer, so he goes to visit a local handyman. Rogers asks some questions about a shovel the handyman is fixing, and then is shown a wide selection of washers, and takes his time picking out one of the correct size. This takes place over the course of roughly 10 minutes, in real time. It’s a prime example of “slow.”

My niece and nephew were transfixed, mouths open. Seeing Mr. Rogers select a piece of kitchen hardware appeared to be the most incredible thing they had ever witnessed.

I want the same thing for my son.

I’m a software designer with a background in web development and computer science. I grew up loving computers and the internet. We had an Apple IIE for as long as I can remember, and my engineer dad taught me BASIC as soon as I could read. My first introduction to the internet was when our family got a CompuServe subscription in 1994. I couldn’t do a whole lot on it, but I’d jump into chat rooms and talk about the X-Files and Monty Python. Technology was always a part of my life.

But when I look back on all this, I realize how lucky it was that I got to grow up in this particular moment of technological disruption. I wasn’t plopped into a world governed by technology—the internet’s control over the world grew right along with my own.

Now, though, I keep reading articles about the ways the internet is changing our brains. Social networking is making us more isolated and risk-averse. The current generation of teens growing up, digital natives all, are the safest and the most depressed yet. And I worry about what it will mean for my child, born into a world moving at the speed of Twitter. This anxiety has become more real and intense every week of the 39 I’ve been pregnant. I assume it will let up sometime in the next three or four decades.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about calm technology—a term coined by Mark Weiser and John Seely Brown of Xerox PARC in a 1995 white paper, researched further and developed into a book by Amber Case. Here are the Cliffs Notes: Calm technology should require the smallest amount of attention possible from the user; it stays at the periphery rather than being center stage; and it should “amplify the best of technology and the best of humanity.” It’s that last one that stuck with me.

I don’t have to be a luddite to protect my child—I can use my skills as a technologist, including basic hardware hacking, to moderate the world I want my child to live in. By creating this TV, I can give him the calm environment I was lucky to grow up in. While he’s small, his TV will be a 30-pound, wood-paneled monster that I found the on the street, with a dial and 12 channels he can flip between—no more, no less—all programmed by me. So far, none of the content goes above a PG-rating, and one channel is all Mr. Rogers, pleasantly chatting with his handyman neighbor, carefully choosing just the right washer.

Eventually, my son will know about Netflix and binge-watching. He will know about YouTube and those bizarre AI-generated children’s shows. He will know about games that have been designed by the best minds of our generation to be more addictive than the cigarettes I hope he’ll avoid when he’s older. He will know about so much more that I can’t begin to predict. But for a while, he’ll be blissfully unaware, able to grow and think and develop at a child’s pace.

I am making a TV for my future son. It’s nearly finished, though I’m still working out a few kinks in the scheduling API, and I need to solder the hardware channel switcher. It’s a side project that’s been simmering for several months now that I plan to release soon—not unlike my baby.

I help organizations cut through complexity by shaping how they show up, through brand strategy, identity, and storytelling.

Working at the intersection of brand and business, I bring an editorial eye and a bias toward making—turning ideas into tangible experiences that people can understand, trust, and believe in.

My work spans government, healthcare, financial services, media, and consumer goods, from launching Gen Z-focused ventures to building innovation labs and reimagining legacy brands. I relish moments of ambiguity and enjoy translating across teams, perspectives, and priorities to move ideas forward.

I started my career in editorial and digital design, shaping cross-platform experiences and identity systems in publishing and agency environments. That foundation still shapes how I work today: I’m detail-oriented, collaborative, and overreliant on the Oxford comma. I hold a BFA in Visual Communication from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago.

For 25 years, I've asked the same question: Who does this design exclude—and what are we going to do about it?

My work spans human-centered strategy, inclusive design, and qualitative research, with clients ranging from Microsoft, Google, and Verizon to the National Science Foundation, and San Francisco Unified School District.

Before IDEO, I taught elementary school in East Palo Alto and spent a decade doing design work with social service organizations—where I learned firsthand what it costs people when systems are built without them in mind.

I am currently writing User Error, a nonfiction book about digital access and the design decisions behind it. I live in Oakland, California.

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My expertise spans brand, communication, and product design across tech, education, the arts, and social impact.

I believe great work demands both high-level vision and obsessive attention to detail, and only happens through collaboration.

I bring an inclusive, hands-on approach and a deep understanding of business, which enables me to consistently deliver excellence while always asking why.

Before joining IDEO, I worked at the brand firms Pentagram and VSA Partners. I began my career as a designer, leading teams at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago and the Milwaukee Art Museum. I hold an MFA in graphic design from Maryland Institute College of Art and a BFA in communication design from the Milwaukee Institute of Art & Design, and have taught at some of the best design schools in the US.

I am responsible for IDEO’s long-term success in China and working with clients to use design as a tool to enable growth. Specifically, I have helped Chinese companies design holistic brand solutions through the development of their products, communication, services, and innovation teams, and I have helped multinationals expand their presence and influence in China.

I advise global leaders on developing China-led innovation and capabilities.

In over 15 years in IDEO Shanghai, I have worked on projects that use design to elevate the quality of the experience of healthcare products and services, streamline processes that increase productivity, create spaces and programs that promote and enable inclusive communities, and build next generation mobility solutions that are planet-positive.

Before joining IDEO, I worked at Philips Electronics and the Electrolux Group in Italy, the Netherlands, and Singapore on a number of breakthrough commercial products. I am a member of the Young President Organization in Shanghai.