Your design team isn't stuck because you lack talent or tools—it's stuck because you're solving the wrong problems. When Dean Broadley walked into a banking design team, he found 150+ designers trapped in the same patterns, unable to see what was really holding them back.
I recently talked with Dean about what makes design teams succeed or fail. His perspective flipped my understanding of leadership upside down and made me question how I've been approaching design problems all along.
Breaking Boundaries from Day One
Dean's path to design began in high school when a substitute teacher—who happened to be the design teacher—caught him doodling instead of paying attention in class. "You should think about doing design as a subject when you get to choose your subject," the teacher suggested. That simple nudge opened a door Dean hadn't considered before.
What followed was an exploration of illustration, character design, and manga art. By 15, Dean had landed his first paid gig creating comic book work. "I was terrible looking back at it," he admits with a laugh, "but at the time, you know, you're like, 'Oh, I'll do that.'"
As he transitioned to college, Dean encountered his first real creative obstacle. While studying advertising, he realized the institution was stuck in the past—focused entirely on billboards, TV ads, and magazines while the digital world was rapidly evolving. The prescribed career path felt limiting: study, complete an internship, and hope someone would hire you.
"I thought it was quite an expensive path to get a job," Dean explains. "So I figured I'd do something else."
That "something else" became a pattern of creative rebellion. When assignments called for print deliverables, Dean submitted digital versions instead. His lecturer pushed back: "You're doing something very different from what I asked for." But Dean persisted, choosing to solve the core problems rather than checking arbitrary boxes.
This boundary-breaking approach led him to Formula D Interactive, a design agency doing pioneering work with interactive installations and digital experiences. After seeing their innovative holographic touchscreen technology online—essentially a pane of glass with a special film that created touch-responsive projections—Dean was captivated.
"This is minority report. It lives, it's real. I want to do that thing," he remembers thinking. So he did something most students wouldn't: he found their email address and reached out directly, asking if he could simply observe how they created such technology.
To his surprise, they not only welcomed him but offered to pay him. When I asked what gave him such confidence to make that leap, Dean's response was illuminating: "I don't really see some boundaries that I think other people do."
From Rule-Breaker to Leader
Dean's willingness to ignore conventional boundaries served him well as he progressed through his career. He moved from agency work to product design, eventually landing in the banking sector where his approach to problem-solving would evolve significantly.
By this point, Dean was leading a team of over 150 designers spread across multiple countries, handling everything from branch experiences to corporate investment banking. The scale and complexity of the work forced him to look beyond design methodologies to understand why some teams thrived while others struggled.
"Nine times out of ten, when a system's not working, it has nothing to do with what you drew on a slide," he explained to me. The actual problem? People not talking to each other effectively. Design issues almost always masked deeper communication challenges.
This insight became a turning point. One of his design directors made an observation that would change Dean's approach forever: "You're not designing experiences or products. You're designing humans."
The Birth of Designing Humans
That powerful insight led Dean to found Designing Humans in 2018, a consultancy focused on helping companies build effective design teams. The name directly reflected his philosophy that the people creating the products matter more than the processes they follow.
"My key skill really is people," Dean explained. Through expanding his network and conversations with other leaders, he discovered a common struggle: companies simply couldn't get their design teams working effectively.
Designing Humans aimed to solve two key problems: first, how to widen the talent pool without lowering standards, and second, how to organize teams so businesses get value while designers do work they're proud of.
"I'd rather make the entire pool bigger, which increases the catchment zone for talent," Dean says. This meant focusing on career development and team structure simultaneously—bringing more people into design while ensuring they could thrive once there.
Think about what this means for how we approach UX. All those tools and frameworks we obsess over? Secondary. What truly matters is understanding ourselves and how we relate to others.
"You cannot be in any relationship that works without knowing yourself really well," Dean explains. "And if you want to build products people actually love, you've got to know what is creating that product."
How to Spot When You're Stuck
Through his work with designers at various career stages, Dean developed a keen eye for identifying when someone is stuck—often before they realize it themselves.
"They seem like they're held together with elastic bands," he says, describing the visible anxiety and rigidity that appears when designers hit a wall. The physical manifestation of being stuck is unmistakable: tense body language, circular thinking, and a growing frustration that compounds the problem.
Dean shared a story that perfectly captures both the problem and his unconventional approach to solving it. Early in his current role, he noticed a designer struggling with the same problem for hours. Dean observed him from a distance, left for meetings, and returned to find the designer still in the exact same spot, wrestling with the same issue.
After watching this continue, Dean walked over, picked up a pen, and wrote two words on the designer's notebook: "Try harder."
"He looked at me and said, 'This is so rude. This is exactly what I'm doing,'" Dean recalls. The designer was understandably frustrated—he was clearly putting in effort.
Dean's response cut to the heart of being stuck: "You're getting no different result, so we should do something different. You are trying hard. But you're not pivoting."
That's the crucial insight: Being stuck rarely comes from lack of effort. It comes from continuing to apply the same approach even when it's not working. The inability to pivot—to try a fundamentally different angle—is what keeps talented designers trapped in unproductive cycles.
Embracing the Power of Mistakes
Dean's approach to mistakes runs counter to design culture's perfectionism. In an industry often obsessed with flawless execution, his perspective feels revolutionary.
"Until you see a zombie, it's not the end of the world," he tells his team to put things in perspective. "It's not a Slack message. It's not a design review. It's not your prototype."
Dean operates with the assumption that mistakes are inevitable. He doesn't know what they'll be, but he knows they're coming—and that mindset allows him to start moving instead of being paralyzed by the fear of getting things wrong.
When facing a tight deadline before the year-end break, he told his team: "Just get stuck in. There's no time for perfection. There's only time for effectiveness. Even if you break something but learn something, that's better than being perfect."
He frames mistakes as cognitive fitness training. We readily accept that physical workouts are uncomfortable but make us stronger. Yet somehow, we expect our thinking work to be painless and perfect on the first try.
"For some reason, cognitively we're like, 'Oh my gosh, it's all death and destruction if I get something wrong,'" Dean explains. "That for me is just a fitness issue."
This reframing helps his team push boundaries without the paralyzing fear of failure. It's not about being reckless—it's about recognizing that mistakes are often the fastest path to learning.
How to Unstick Your Team (And Yourself)
Dean's approach to helping stuck designers isn't about providing answers—it's about creating situations that force new perspectives.
One of his design leads captured this perfectly: "I just gotta remember we're all guinea pigs to Dean. He's just poking us to see where we'll go next."
Rather than being offended, Dean embraced the description. "I provide situations that help people reflect in a safe environment. If I can stretch you, you become more marketable. My team gets stronger."
Through his coaching work, Dean has identified three types of designers who typically get stuck:
The anxiety-driven ones who seem "held together with elastic bands"—where anxiety is visibly holding them back
Those explicitly asking for help—the "I wish somebody would help me" type who recognize they're stuck
Motivated people who simply don't know where to start—eager but lacking direction
For each type, Dean tailors his approach while following a common principle: use their current work as the teaching tool. He creates what he calls "teachable moments" by drawing unexpected analogies to help designers see their problems differently.
These analogies range widely—from comparing team dynamics to plant growth patterns, to using car mechanics as a metaphor for design systems, to a particularly vivid comparison about perspective that uses the Titanic.
"I used one of the Titanic the other day," Dean explains, "which had to do with perspective of being in the engine room versus on the deck just after the iceberg hit. Some people are running around screaming and others are drinking champagne."
The analogy highlights how different roles in an organization can have completely different perspectives on the same crisis—a crucial insight for designers trying to navigate complex organizational dynamics.
His underlying philosophy ties back to his self-described nature: "I am long-term lazy. I'll work hard now so I don't have to later. I invest in people until they don't need me anymore."
The Humility Factor: You're Just a Participant
The most striking perspective Dean shared was his view on how designers should think about their relationship with users.
"We ask permission to participate in the lives of our customers," he says. "They're not thinking about us. And that's okay."
This perspective is refreshingly humble in an industry where designers often believe their work is central to users' lives. The reality? We're not the main characters in our users' stories—we're just visitors who need permission to be there at all.
Dean observed this misconception particularly in advertising and then later in tech: the belief that users are constantly thinking about our products, brands, or experiences. The truth is far more humbling—we're competing for brief moments of attention in lives that are full of more important priorities.
"The more self-aware you are, the more you realize it's not about you," he explains. "You shouldn't force your full design process on everything just because you can. Remember who you're actually trying to help."
This perspective shift fundamentally changes how we approach problems. Instead of imposing our process or preferences, we begin with the humble recognition that we're guests in our users' lives—and that shapes everything from research to final delivery.
Start With Self-Awareness
If there's one actionable practice you can adopt after reading about Dean's approach, it's developing better self-awareness—both for yourself and your team.
Dean suggests a simple weekly reflection ritual: spend 30 minutes every Friday afternoon contemplating what frustrated you, excited you, and made you happy that week. The simple act of writing it down helps you externalize these thoughts and look at them objectively.
"Just the act of doing that is already getting it out of your brain. And then you're looking at it as if somebody else wrote it, in a way," he explains.
Then comes the crucial step: share these reflections with two specific people—someone you trust completely and someone you don't get along with. "The truth is somewhere between their perspectives," Dean says.
This structured approach to self-reflection isn't just personal development—it directly impacts your design work. Understanding yourself better helps you collaborate more effectively, recognize your biases, and create products that genuinely serve users rather than feeding your ego.
The practice also helps you identify when you're stuck in your own patterns, giving you the awareness to pivot before investing too much time in unproductive directions.
As Dean puts it, summing up his philosophy: "If you know yourself best, you're also at your most valuable."
Want more insights from Dean Broadley? Listen to our full conversation where we dig deeper into his journey, leadership approach, and practical advice for designers at every career stage.
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