I ran into a very ordinary problem recently. Just finished a UX/UI project, I wanted to create a short sliding animation to show the layout designs. As usual, the tools got in the way. Photoshop’s timeline lacks flexibility; After Effects takes a bit of a learning curve.
I found myself hovering over tutorials, googling workarounds, and already spent some time without starting anything and just wanted the tool that fit my need to exist. This small moment ended up changing how I think about the design process.
The Shift From Selecting Tools to Shaping Them
Rather than picking a piece of software to start with, I tried vibe coding. I described what I wanted to AI: a sliding image sequence, a specific speed, clean and minimal controls…etc. I adjusted it by writing, refining the behaviour as I went. In about an hour, I had a small, functional tool that did exactly what I needed. It wasn’t an impressive animation tool. An animator might find it inflexible. A programmer would probably spot bugs immediately. But it solved a very specific problem of mine. That was the shift in design process.
The interesting part wasn’t that I “made an app.” It was how I had to think to make it happen. To get usable results, I had to be precise about my design intentions. I needed to break the idea down, structure it, and understand what I was actually asking for. Every adjustment required clarity. Every refinement forced a decision. In that sense, it felt closer to writing than coding — a kind of conversational design thinking, where language becomes the interface. AI didn’t replace creative judgment. If anything, it demanded more of it.
Building Tools that Fit the Problem
Designers are used to adapting themselves to tools. The workflow is familiar: identify a problem, find the right software, learn just enough of it, then work around its limitations. Over time, that process becomes second nature. We get good at memorising shortcuts, bending tools to fit ideas, and accepting certain constraints as inevitable. What AI quietly introduces is another option. Sometimes, instead of reshaping the idea to fit the tool, you can build something that fits the problem.
This doesn’t suddenly turn designers into programmers, and it doesn’t remove craft from the process. It simply shortens the distance between intention and outcome. The focus shifts away from technical mastery and back toward decision-making, taste, and clarity — the parts of the work that were always the point.
Why AI Still Feels Awkward for Some Designers
Using AI doesn’t have to mean letting a machine “be creative” for you. It can simply mean removing the technical friction that sits between an idea and its expression. A lot of the discomfort around AI comes from the assumption that it’s only useful for generating visuals or replacing creative labour. That using it somehow undermines authorship or signals a lack of skill. But my most meaningful use of AI so far has been almost invisible. A small utility. A temporary tool. Something made to solve one problem, then quietly disappear.
Less time spent fighting tools means more time spent deciding what actually matters. Maybe the real shift isn’t about what AI makes possible visually, but how quietly it allows designers to work beyond their traditional technical boundaries.
The animation tool:
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