Is Programming Art?

Sean H — Sat, 27 Jun 2026 17:25:09 +0000

Christopher Pitt asked a simple question: Can a developer be called a creative?

I am talking about whether systems architects or PHP developers (like me!) can be called a creative, even though we predominantly deal with code, and our grasp of colours, layout and iconography is limited to the unicode characters we appropriate for console and log messages.

To be honest it never crossed my mind that programming was anything but a creative pursuit, and I’m happy to call myself an artist to anyone that will listen, but I understand why civilians (non-programmers) could see things differently.

A girlfriend once told me programming “looks boring” when I suggested learning a bit of JavaScript and HTML, and many years ago I was roommates with a painter, who, on hearing me proclaim my code was artwork, replied with a condescending, “Yeah, uh huh, sure!”

Yes, I get it. To the casual observer it may appear terribly dreary staring at a monitor all day and night, with the steady drone of click, click, click coming from a keyboard, and I understand why a classic artist (writer, painter, musician) may scoff at the idea of programming as an art form. No one is going to look at my finished work in a gallery, and discuss the artist’s soul while sipping expensive wine.

What people don’t see is the explosion of activity happening in my head while I stare at those bright monitors with my bloodshot eyes. I’ve never surfed the waves of Hawaii, but I get an adrenaline rush from conquering problems. I’ve never played a hit single to a crowed of adoring fans — and certainly never had a hot groupie throw their bra at me — but I know the feeling of being taken to a higher conscience level when I get into a groove.

I know passion and excitement, and I know what it’s like to feel drained, exhausted, high, and elated when a project is finished. Most importantly though, I know how nerve-racking it can be to finally give my work to the world. Will people love it or hate it? Will people understand and appreciate the nuance of my work, or will they think it’s boring and stupid?

Make no mistake about it, programming is a creative pursuit, and I am an artist. I may work with a keyboard and IDE instead of a paint brush or guitar, but I have the same passion and dreams as an artist, and I live and die by the acceptance or rejection of my work by fans. My work may never be seen in a Soho art gallery, but it will be seen by millions of people.

Heck, I even occasionally sit back and admire my code while sipping expensive wine.

The Case for Standardizing the Design of Websites

Sean H — Sat, 27 Jun 2026 15:32:28 +0000

People complain that websites are all starting to look the same. They are not entirely wrong. A lot of modern websites do look alike. They have familiar navigation bars, predictable layouts, large hero sections, cards, and responsive grids. Buttons look like buttons. Forms look like forms.

But, I would argue that's a good thing. Software is supposed to feel familiar.

A website is not a painting. It is not a brand mood board. A website is usually a tool that someone is trying to use to accomplish something. They want to read, buy, search, compare, book, or solve a problem. And when people are trying to get something done, originality is not always a virtue.

Familiarity Is a Feature

Jakob's Law says:

Users spend most of their time on other sites. This means that users prefer your site to work the same way as all the other sites they already know.

Users do not arrive at your website as blank slates. They bring expectations from every other website and app they have used. They expect the logo to link home. They expect navigation to be near the top or side. They expect search to look like search. They expect account settings under an avatar or profile menu. They expect mobile navigation to collapse into a menu.

When your site follows those expectations, users can spend their mental energy on the task instead of the interface. That is the point. Good design reduces cognitive load. It does not force users to relearn basic interaction patterns just because a company wanted to look different.

Different Is Not Automatically Better

There is a common mistake in web design: confusing distinctiveness with quality. A site can be visually unique and still be frustrating to use. It can win design awards while annoying the actual people who need to navigate it.

Novelty has a cost. Every unusual layout, hidden interaction, custom scroll behavior, strange menu, or clever visual metaphor asks the user to stop and figure out what is going on.

If you are building a portfolio, an art project, a game, an interactive story, or a highly expressive brand experience, originality may be the product. In those cases, the interface itself is part of the message.

But most websites are not that. Most websites are closer to software. They exist to help users do something. And software benefits from conventions. Nobody complains that every desktop app has menus, windows, buttons, scrollbars, keyboard shortcuts, and settings screens. Nobody wants each text editor to invent a new way to save a file. Nobody wants every checkout flow to completely reinvent how payment forms work.

The Early Web Was More Like a Brochure

Part of the reason people expect websites to look different is historical. In the early days of the web, most websites were not applications. A company website was often a digital brochure: a homepage, an about page, a contact page, maybe a product page, maybe some animated graphics. The web was a publishing medium first. It was closer to a magazine rack than an app store.

So companies treated websites like marketing materials. The goal was to express the brand. Be memorable. Look different. That made sense at the time.

But the web changed. Today, websites are often full applications. Banking, email, project management, analytics, design tools, developer tools, ecommerce, healthcare portals, tax software, maps, calendars, document editors, CRMs, dashboards, admin panels, and social platforms all run in the browser.

From a user experience standpoint, these things should not behave like brochures. They should behave like software. And software works best when users can transfer knowledge from one tool to another.

Standardization Helps Users Move Faster

When websites share common design patterns, users get faster. They know where to look. They know what to click. They know what will happen next. They can predict the system. That predictability creates confidence.

This is especially important for functional websites. A developer using an API dashboard does not want to decode an experimental interface. A shopper checking out does not want to hunt for the cart. A patient using a medical portal does not want a creative navigation system. A small business owner using accounting software does not want the invoice editor to be a visual puzzle.

They want clarity. Standard layouts are not lazy. They are respectful. They tell the user, "You already know how this works." That is powerful.

Responsiveness Pushes Designs Toward Similarity

There is another practical reason websites are starting to look alike: responsive design. A modern website has to work on large desktop monitors, laptops, tablets, foldables, and phones. It has to handle different screen widths, input methods, font sizes, accessibility settings, and network conditions.

That naturally pushes designers toward patterns that survive across contexts. A three-column desktop layout becomes a single-column mobile layout. Navigation collapses. Cards stack. Tables become lists. Buttons become full-width. Sidebars move behind menus. Content is broken into modular sections. Interfaces become more grid-based and component-driven.

Once you design for responsiveness, some choices become obvious because they are durable. Cards are popular because they adapt well. Navigation bars are popular because users understand them. Responsive grids are popular because they scale. Reusable components are popular because they keep interfaces consistent across pages and devices.

A wildly unique desktop design may look impressive in a mockup. Then it falls apart on a phone.

Standardization Is Not Boring. It Is Useful.

A lot of complaints about websites looking the same come from people who spend a lot of time looking at websites as objects. Designers look at websites. Developers look at websites. Marketers look at websites. Founders look at competitors' websites. We notice patterns. We get bored. We want something fresh.

But users are not usually studying websites as creative artifacts. They are trying to get something done. For them, sameness can be a relief. Familiarity means less thinking, fewer mistakes, faster decisions, and lower frustration. That is not boring. That is good design.

The web has grown up. Websites are no longer just digital brochures. They are tools, workspaces, stores, dashboards, editors, communication systems, and applications. And applications should be predictable.

So yes, many websites are starting to look the same. Good. That means the web is slowly learning what software has known all along: users do not want every tool to be a new adventure. They want it to work.

DEV Community: Sean H