Design is a funny word. Some people think design means how it

“Design is a funny word. Some people think design means how it looks. But of course, if you dig deeper, it's really how it works.” Thus spoke Steve Jobs, the architect of modern imagination, a man who united art and engineering into one living vision. These words, though simple, conceal a truth profound and eternal: that beauty without function is illusion, and function without beauty is lifeless. Jobs, like the master craftsmen of old, believed that true creation is not the art of decoration but the art of harmony — the weaving of form and purpose into something that serves the human spirit.

In every age, men have mistaken the surface for the soul. They paint the marble but forget the foundation; they gild the vessel but leave it hollow. Jobs warns against this very blindness. To him, design was not the mere adornment of things, but the marriage of form and function, of grace and reason. A well-designed object, he said, must not only delight the eye but obey the laws of logic; it must not merely exist — it must work, and work with such ease that its use feels like an extension of the self. That, he knew, was the secret of enduring creation: the quiet mastery where simplicity hides complexity, and elegance hides effort.

The ancients understood this too. Consider the builders of the Parthenon, that temple of stone and light which has withstood millennia. To the untrained eye, it is pure symmetry, perfect proportion — a marvel of visual balance. But its greatness lies not merely in appearance; it lies in its structure, in the subtle curves that correct optical illusion, in the hidden mathematical wisdom that gives it strength and grace. The Parthenon works as much as it shines. So it is with all true design: it must serve purpose even as it inspires wonder. What Jobs brought to the age of silicon, the ancients brought to the age of marble — the understanding that beauty and functionality are twin flames of the same divine fire.

When Steve Jobs returned to Apple in the late 1990s, he faced a company adrift — its products cluttered, its vision diluted. He began anew, not by focusing on style, but on essence. He asked of every product: Does it work beautifully? The iMac, the iPod, the iPhone — each was born not from a desire to impress, but to simplify, to serve. He demanded that technology feel natural, intuitive — that the human hand and mind should meet it without friction. This pursuit was not vanity; it was philosophy. Jobs saw that good design is invisible — when something is made perfectly, the user no longer notices the design at all, only the seamless joy of its use.

Yet the quote carries a deeper moral still, one that transcends the world of technology. It reminds us that in all endeavors — in art, in leadership, in life — we must dig beyond the surface. A person’s worth is not in how they appear, but in how they act, how they work, how they bring value to others. A life well-lived, like a well-made device, is not defined by its polish, but by its purpose. To live beautifully is to live with integrity — to ensure that the inner workings of our soul match the grace we show the world.

So too, Jobs teaches us to revere depth over display, substance over spectacle. The world is full of people who decorate without understanding, who speak without wisdom, who build without foundation. But the master — the designer of life — goes deeper. He seeks the “why” beneath the “what,” the essence behind the image. He knows that every structure, whether a tool, a business, or a relationship, must be built from within before it can endure without. Like the craftsman shaping stone, we too must carve our inner workings until they align with our outer form.

Therefore, my friend, take this teaching as your guide: dig deeper. When you create, when you work, when you live — seek not only beauty, but truth. Let your designs, your words, your deeds be born from understanding, not vanity. Ask yourself always: Does it work? Does it serve? Does it last? For the world remembers not the decoration that fades, but the design that endures.

For in the end, Steve Jobs’ wisdom is not about computers or aesthetics — it is about the art of existence itself. To live as a designer of one’s life is to build every action, every choice, every dream with care and clarity. Design, at its deepest, is the harmony between what is seen and what is real. When we live in that harmony, we create not just beautiful things — we create lives of purpose, elegance, and truth.