Progress in design is often measured by aesthetic minimalism, yet we frequently overlook the raw, functional wisdom found in nature. Consider how monkeys handle bananas. They do not peel them from the stem as most humans do; instead, they pinch the base and twist the skin into lollipop-like shapes, intuitively utilising the fruit’s inherent affordances. This behaviour is a masterclass in design, highlighting how the physical properties of an object should naturally dictate how we interact with it.

In a previous post, I discussed the importance of "stepping away" to trigger micro-flow states, where 100% focus is given to a new task to refresh the mind. However, the success of those flow states relies heavily on the tools we use. If a tool is designed well, it becomes invisible, allowing us to stay in the zone. If it is designed poorly, it creates a cognitive tax that drains our mental energy before we even begin.

Modern design has begun to drift away from these tangible cues, often favouring abstract concepts over practical, graspable benefits. This is particularly glaring in the recent shift toward "Liquid Glass" aesthetics. In this design language, the interface is treated as a series of translucent, shimmering layers where the primary goal is to make the "chrome" of the software disappear so that content can shine. While visually stunning, this approach often erases the very affordances that make a tool usable. When buttons are reduced to ethereal blurs and controls are hidden to avoid cluttering the view, we lose the visual signposts that guide our hands.

This creates a constant, subtle friction. Instead of sliding into a flow state, the person using the software is forced to hunt for the "how," which keeps the brain trapped in short-term processing rather than allowing it to engage deeply with the project at hand.

This disconnect is also evident in the realm of Artificial Intelligence. We are currently building systems trained on gargantuan datasets that frequently lack the "texture" of real-world use. When AI is developed in a vacuum, divorced from the physical or logical affordances of daily life, the result is an experience that feels unintuitive. The person at the other end of the screen is left to guess how to navigate a system that has prioritised a "clean" look over clear function.

The implications of neglecting these cues are profound. When a product lacks clear affordances, people are forced to guess rather than act. This creates a friction that stifles adoption and breeds frustration, leading to a landscape where companies invest heavily in sophisticated tools that fail to meet basic human needs. We are, in effect, designing bananas that no one knows how to peel because we have prioritised the gloss of the skin over the accessibility of the fruit.

By returning to the principle of intuitive interaction, we can bridge the gap between complex technology and human instinct. Just as the monkey finds the most efficient path through the peel by observing the object’s natural form, we must ensure that AI and advanced systems are built with a deep understanding of how people actually move and think.

In the end, prioritising affordances is about more than just usability; it is about respect for the individual. As we lean further into an automated future, our goal should be to create technology that feels like a natural extension of our own capabilities. By doing so, we ensure that innovation remains a tool for empowerment rather than a source of confusion.