Pixels to Product: Simplifying a Portfolio Design (Part 1)
A series of thoughts and stories as I rebuilt my personal website. Originally posted on Jul 6, 2021 at leeyungtyng.com
Every designer grapples with their portfolio — it’s that nagging project we may need but often put off. Whether it’s a lack of time, uncertainty about the effort required, or a project that never feels complete, the portfolio can feel like a designer’s albatross.
So, two years ago, I turned my portfolio off.
Disabling Squarespace’s auto-renewal, I allowed my website to expire, marking the end of its presence online, especially as it saw little use while I concentrated on Gridhaus.
This portfolio-free period coincided with a deep dive into the pressure-cooked world of product design, a shift from my visual design roots. This new field, while vastly different, clarified my understanding, allowing me to draw parallels between the two disciplines and appreciate the nuances of my journey through design.
Rediscovering portfolio design
While I pondered over what insights to share first, the decision of turning on my website to migrate old articles sparked the inspiration needed. I dove into sketching wireframes for a revamped portfolio, guided by a sharp focus. This project was more than a showcase; it was an opportunity to weave a narrative through my work and continue my explorations in writing.
My objectives were clear:
- Enhance clarity for visitors
- Emphasize the process and storytelling
- Simplify navigation and the reading experience
This approach led to:
- Engaging, conversational content
- Uniform design elements
- Straightforward, user-friendly navigation
The clutter, the convoluted copy, the overwhelming details — they all had to go. This new site should be a simple shell, a container for curating the stories and insights I’ve accumulated.
A Quest for Simplicity
Eagerly renewing my Squarespace subscription, I aimed for a simple, clean design. Yet, simplicity proved to be a complex quest:
- Paid for an annual subscription.
- Found out my desired template was incompatible.
- Browsed their help centre multiple times.
- Learnt my site was on version 7.0, but the template needed 7.1.
- Found no direct migration path between versions.
- Cancelled my subscription to start afresh with 7.1.
- Concerned about my $144 refund.
- Voiced my frustration to customer support.
- Launched a new 7.1 site.
- Backed up old content to Notion and Medium.
- Lost $10 due to currency exchange during the refund.
This search for simplicity became ironically convoluted.
Exploring alternatives like Webflow and Wix, I found they also demanded significant setup time. The idea of using Notion as a CMS, fronted by Super was tempting, yet it didn’t feel scalable in the long term. Despite enrolling in a SuperHi course, I wasn’t confident enough to craft my own site. Assistance from tech-savvy friends was an option, but not without its burdens.
Longing for a hassle-free solution, a public Notion wiki was an alternative, but it wouldn’t resonate with my target audience: potential collaborators and design enthusiasts.
Ultimately, I stuck with Squarespace. Despite its imperfections, it remained user-friendly enough and met my needs — embodying the paradox of pricing simplicity amidst inherent complexity.
Into the wayback machine
In 2007, brimming with youthful optimism, I embarked on creating my first website, hoping to reach a modest 1,000 hits.¹ Little did I know, the digital metrics I’d encounter a decade later would dwarf that number. Inspired by iconic sites like Cool Hunting and Scott Hansen’s ISO50, I yearned to craft something simple yet impactful.
At 15, equipped with first-generation broadband and an iMac G3, Blogger was the most accessible platform. Its minimalist single-column layout was a blank canvas, inviting customization. Countless after-school hours were spent deciphering CSS and HTML, guided by W3 documentation. Through trial and error, I honed my understanding, eventually designing bespoke blogs for friends and events.
This new passion for design was insatiable. With every iteration of my blog, I revelled in the creative process. Upon acquiring Adobe CS2, I expanded my digital art collection, culminating in a portfolio gallery on Blogger. This required meticulous hardcoding, as Blogger’s rudimentary system lacked advanced content management.
Amidst the dreariness of the Malaysian school curriculum, this self-taught site-building journey was exhilarating. In an era where computer classes barely scratched the surface of Microsoft Office, this early foray into web design and portfolios felt empowering.
At digital crossroads
Reflecting on 2006–2010, we stood on the brink of a digital revolution, although many of us didn’t fully grasp its magnitude. New platforms like Twitter, Tumblr, Pinterest, and Instagram were emerging, while Facebook began to eclipse older favourites like Friendster and MySpace.
For most, this digital surge was a novelty rather than a career path. The tech industry, startups, and Silicon Valley were alien concepts. Coding and product design seemed distant and untapped fields.
During this transitional period, my peers and I found ourselves in a unique limbo. The previous generation either seized these tech opportunities or pioneered them, while the younger generation would soon recognise tech as a viable career, worthy of formal education.
Guided by traditional values, I’d wager most of us pursued conventional careers in law, medicine, accounting, or engineering.² My venture into design was an outlier, influenced by my family’s advertising background. However, even design was anchored to the soon-to-be outdated norms of the local advertising industry.
Tech remained an enigma, particularly in our region. To my knowledge, only my co-founder from high school transitioned into tech early, self-teaching programming while studying bioengineering.
By 2010, as I entered college, my coding activities waned. In 2013, I launched my first Squarespace site to showcase my visual design work without a clear purpose. By January 2019, as I delved deeper into product design, the site’s relevance faded, prompting me to disable it.
Returning to Simplicity
A decade later, I find myself back at the beginning, setting up a website anew.³ With more experience and clarity, I yearn for the simplicity I once knew: no subscriptions, no complex tech stacks, just pure content. It’s no wonder figures like Paul Graham have maintained such minimalist sites for decades.
The tech landscape has transformed dramatically over the past 10 years. Coding in 2021 feels more daunting than it did in 2008. The choice is clear: invest time in learning or money in outsourcing.
Yet, I hope to reacquaint myself with the basics, enough to design and construct a functional website. My only regret is drifting from the simplicity I first grasped. But every past oversight paves the way for new learning. If a graphic designer can pivot from difficult clients to decent business, maybe it’s not too late for a product designer to grasp coding? One can hope.
Notes
¹ Upon revisiting Blogger, I noticed Google’s revamp, introducing analytics tools. My old blog garnered 32,000 hits before its retirement. While many might be bots, I guess it’s a decent count for a 15-year-old who was oblivious to funnels.
² In the future, I hope the parental mantra of “tuition, swimming, piano lessons, and a set career path” might evolve to a simpler “How about trying coding lessons?” for our children.
³ A phrase borrowed from Frank Chimero’s article. His 2018 piece on this subject offers a more eloquent and comprehensive perspective than my musings. I’d urge you to explore it, along with his series on redesigning his website.
