Hi designer,
I wrote this letter to my future self for those moments when I'm paralyzed by doubt about being a generalist, overwhelmed by new technologies popping up everywhere, unsure what to learn and what to ignore, and needing a reminder that this path has always been my strength, not my weakness.
In a world obsessed with specialization, Julie Zhuo's recent article discusses how AI is reshaping product development toward rapid prototyping. The future requires "people who can prototype quickly, evaluate ideas across disciplines, and pivot when something isn't working."
I've thought deeply about what it means to be a generalist in design today. With AI tools launching daily and everyone rushing to explore them, imposter syndrome creeps in, that sense of knowing "some of everything, but nothing in detail."
When I began at Last.fm nearly 18 years ago, I didn't know I was becoming a generalist. I was following my curiosity, jumping between design, web development, and marketing. That pattern continued throughout my career, and looking back, it wasn't a conscious choice. It's how I'm wired.
What Being a Generalist Means to Me
The "jack of all trades, master of none" critique has always bothered me. But examining what being a generalist has actually given me reveals something different:
- The ability to make ideas tangible enough to tell a story and trigger important questions
- Speaking the language of different disciplines quickly, adapting to each environment
- Connecting people with diverse backgrounds who might not otherwise collaborate
- Switching gears when something isn't working instead of doubling down
At pganalyze, I hover between product and design roles, working on a complex developer tool that helps engineers identify and fix database query performance issues. Figma couldn't handle the complex interactions I needed to prototype, so I switched to code. With a working prototype, teammates could interact with the tool and see query scenarios play out, revealing edge cases static mockups simply couldn't show.
That ability to pivot, to recognize when one approach isn't working and try another, is invaluable. It's not about knowing everything; it's about knowing enough to ask the right questions and connect the dots.
Navigating the AI Wave
This isn't my first technological wave. I started in Web 2.0, rode through the mobile revolution, shifted to Enterprise B2B, and now we're in the early days of AI. Each wave felt exciting and overwhelming, yet each gave my career new trajectory and brought new questions.
When I feel lost in endless technological streams, I've learned to:
- Take a breath and step back. Turn off social feeds when they overwhelm you.
- Focus on real problems rather than tools. Tools come and go. Problem-solving ability remains.
- Be selective. It's okay to skip developments, try things quickly, and move on if they don't click.
- Trust that timing matters. Some tools won't make sense until you have an actual need for them.
I see designers rushing to master every new AI tool, just as I used to see them spending days in Figma moving frames around without asking "What problem are we solving?" The tool changes, but the mistake stays the same.
When the Doubt Creeps In
My most persistent doubt has always been that shallow knowledge isn't enough. I believe that's true in some contexts. For example, I would never claim to be an expert in business, even though I've worked with many different business models and ran my own companies. Also, I don't have a traditional design degree, though I've been designing for nearly two decades.
But here's what I've learned: expertise comes in different forms. While specialists go deep in one area, generalists develop pattern recognition across many. Both have value. Both can make impact.
I've never had trouble finding a job as a generalist. I'm good at unlearning skills and practices to free up mental space, abandoning tools and approaches that no longer serve me while adopting new ones that do. What leaders value is not that I know everything, but that I can adapt to anything. I don't advertise myself as an expert in every discipline, but I've cultivated enough breadth to recognize patterns across fields, to pivot when needed, and to make tangible things that bring abstract ideas to life. In a world where the definition of "designer" shifts constantly, this adaptability has been my greatest asset.
Looking Forward
As AI makes producing design artifacts easier, our value won't come from frames arranged on screens. (Never really did, but it is more obvious than ever before.) It will come from how we shape teams, gather customer insights, and solve real problems. In other words, the very skills that generalists have been cultivating all along.
So when you feel that doubt, when it seems like everyone else is becoming an AI specialist while you're still trying to figure out which tools even matter, remember that your journey as a generalist has prepared you for exactly this moment.
You don't have to know everything. You have to stay curious, stay open, and trust the patterns you've learned to recognize.
And most importantly: keep making tangible things. In a world of increasing abstraction, your ability to create something real, something people can touch, use, and respond to, continue to set you apart.
Thanks for reading, Jens