I’ve spent a little over ten years working as a professional web designer, mostly for small businesses that rely on their sites to bring in real work—contractors, service companies, consultants, and a few e-commerce brands. Over that time, I’ve learned that web site design is rarely about being clever or trendy. It’s about clarity, restraint, and understanding how real people behave when they land on a page with a problem they want solved.
Early in my career, I made the same mistake many designers do: I designed for other designers. I obsessed over animations, layered effects, and visual flourishes that looked great in a portfolio. One of my first clients—a local service business—politely told me after launch that customers were calling confused. They couldn’t tell what the company actually did without scrolling. That feedback stung, but it changed how I work. The site looked good, but it failed at its job.
From that point on, I started approaching web site design like a conversation, not a canvas. When someone lands on a homepage, they’re usually asking three silent questions: “Am I in the right place?”, “Can this help me?”, and “What do I do next?” If the design doesn’t answer those quickly, no amount of polish will save it.
One example that stands out was a redesign I did for a trades business a couple of years back. Their old site had every service listed equally, spread across dense text blocks. In reality, most of their calls came from just two services. We simplified the layout, gave visual priority to what actually mattered, and removed half the pages entirely. Traffic didn’t change much, but inquiries did. The design didn’t get fancier—it got clearer.
I’ve also learned that clients often confuse visual complexity with professionalism. I once worked with a business owner who insisted on sliders, background videos, and multiple font styles because competitors had them. After launch, the site loaded slowly and felt exhausting to navigate. A few months later, we stripped it back to a simpler structure with fewer moving parts. The response from users improved immediately. Good web site design doesn’t try to impress everyone; it tries to guide the right people.
Another mistake I see constantly is ignoring how sites are actually used day to day. I’ve watched clients open their own websites on a phone for the first time and realize buttons are hard to tap or text feels cramped. Designing mobile-first isn’t a buzzword to me—it’s practical. Most visitors won’t experience the site on a large monitor in perfect conditions. Designing with that reality in mind changes everything from spacing to navigation choices.
Content and design also have to work together. I’ve been handed beautifully written copy that was buried under awkward layouts, and I’ve seen strong designs undermined by walls of unfocused text. One project involved reorganizing content rather than rewriting it. Simply changing hierarchy—what appears first, what gets emphasis—made the site feel entirely different without changing the words. That’s the quiet power of thoughtful web site design.
I’m cautious about trends. I’ve seen minimalist designs taken so far they become empty, and bold experimental layouts that confuse users who just want information. Trends age quickly; usability doesn’t. I always ask whether a design choice helps someone understand or act faster. If it doesn’t, it usually doesn’t belong.
After a decade in this field, my perspective is steady. Web site design works best when it respects the visitor’s time, reduces friction, and makes decisions obvious without shouting. It’s less about showing what you can do and more about making sure someone else can do what they came for.
The most successful sites I’ve worked on don’t draw attention to themselves. They feel easy. And in my experience, that’s rarely an accident—it’s the result of deliberate choices made with real users in mind.