If you want to communicate something, you'd better make sure that

“If you want to communicate something, you'd better make sure that your design piece is well-dressed and that its teeth are fixed. At the same time, I still believe that if it is only stylistically great and it has nothing to say, it still is not going to make a lasting impression on anybody.” Thus speaks Stefan Sagmeister, the philosopher of design, whose words cut through the surface of beauty to reveal the living heart beneath. His teaching is simple, yet profound: that form and meaning must walk hand in hand, for beauty without truth is hollow, and truth without form is mute. Like a wise craftsman of the old world, he reminds us that design—whether visual, verbal, or structural—is not decoration, but communication.

In this metaphor, Sagmeister likens a design piece to a person: it must be “well-dressed” and have “its teeth fixed.” This is no idle poetry. A well-dressed person commands attention through care and presentation; the one who neglects appearance may speak truth, but few will listen. So it is with design, or indeed any form of expression—its visual strength must first invite the eye before its message can reach the soul. Yet he warns us: appearance alone is not enough. A smile may gleam with polished teeth, but if behind that smile lies no warmth or honesty, it will soon be forgotten. Sagmeister speaks against the emptiness of style, the danger of work that dazzles the senses but leaves the heart untouched.

This wisdom echoes through history. The ancients knew that art was not mere ornamentation, but a mirror of truth. Socrates warned against the sophists who clothed empty rhetoric in elegant words, persuading without substance. Leonardo da Vinci, too, taught that painting was a science as much as an art—that proportion and beauty meant nothing if they did not reflect the divine harmony of nature. Even in architecture, the great builders of Greece and Rome designed their temples not for style alone, but to embody order, balance, and meaning. Sagmeister’s creed stands within this lineage: to make work that is not merely admired, but remembered.

His message also holds a mirror to our age—a time of glittering surfaces, when form is often mistaken for meaning. We live surrounded by images and designs that seduce the eye but feed the mind with little. Logos, advertisements, and digital creations abound, each polished and flawless, yet most whisper nothing new. Sagmeister, in his rebellion against the soulless perfection of modern aesthetics, calls us back to authentic communication. The purpose of design, he says, is not to impress, but to express—not to display mastery, but to move hearts. The well-dressed design must also speak with sincerity; its beauty must serve a message worth hearing.

Consider the story of Pablo Picasso. In his early years, he mastered every classical technique—his art was perfectly “well-dressed.” Yet when the tragedies of war came upon Spain, he realized that beauty alone could not speak to pain. Thus he created “Guernica,” a painting stripped of ornament, raw in its distortion, yet filled with terrible truth. It was not beautiful in the traditional sense, but it communicated—it shook the conscience of nations. This is Sagmeister’s principle in motion: form attracts, but meaning endures. The greatest works are those that marry both—the outer polish that welcomes, and the inner fire that transforms.

In this way, Sagmeister’s philosophy becomes a moral teaching as much as an artistic one. For it is not only designs that must be honest and well-formed, but people. A human being who adorns themselves with style but speaks no truth is like a poster with no message—pleasing, but empty. Conversely, a person of wisdom who neglects to express their gifts with care may never be heard. Thus, one must cultivate both substance and presentation. The wise must learn elegance, and the artist must seek truth. For only when these two halves are joined does creation become complete.

And so, O listener, take this lesson to heart: beauty is the garment of meaning, and meaning is the soul of beauty. Whether you design a poster, write a poem, or speak to another human being, do not seek only to impress the eyes—seek to awaken the heart. Make your work “well-dressed,” yes, but let its spirit shine brighter than its polish. For the things that endure are not the ones that merely look perfect—they are the ones that say something true.

Thus, in the wisdom of Stefan Sagmeister, we are reminded that design—like life—is a dialogue between the seen and the unseen. Let your craft be honest. Let it be beautiful. Let it speak. And when the eye and the soul both find nourishment in your creation, you will have made something not just stylish, but immortal.