Ways We Make: Quiddale O’Sullivan, Chapter Two
Chapter Two from Quiddale, Q for short, on Motivation and Influence.
Q for short
Previously of Google, Meta, the UN, and Foster & Partners, Quiddale (Q for short) is a London-based product designer specialising in AR/VR and AI. He now works at Helsing, developing AI-powered civil defence systems.
Portfolio: https://www.qforshort.com/
LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/quiddaleosullivan
Pronouns: he/him
Motivation
What non-design thing makes you a better designer?
Without a doubt, it's writing science fiction.
We're not just designing products; we're designing the context for entirely new technologies to exist in the world. You can't just design a self-driving car; you have to design for the city, the laws, the social norms, and the human behaviors that will surround it.
Writing science fiction is the formal practice of that kind of world-building. It forces you to think beyond the object and explore its ripple effects: the social, cultural, and ethical consequences. It's the ultimate tool for practicing "optimistic skepticism": you write the story where the technology creates a utopia, and then you write the story where it creates a dystopia. The insights from those narratives are more valuable than any traditional design brief.
If you had a design motto, what would it be?
"Let's turn 'what if' into 'what's next'."
How do you stay creatively nourished?
I don't seek nourishment, I seek out productive friction.
Creativity isn't a solitary act; it's a contact sport. My creative energy comes from the beautiful friction of putting a machine learning expert, a robotics engineer, and a fashion designer in the same room and pointing them at a huge, unsolved problem.
The process of them challenging each other's core assumptions is what nourishes the entire enterprise. That friction is what helps us find the fatal flaw in an idea quickly, or reveals the unconventional path forward. Real breakthroughs don't come from comfort, they come from rigorously stress-testing ideas from every possible, uncomfortable angle.
How do you define “good” design now and how has that evolved?
So now, I would define good design in a single word: considerate.
It's considerate of the user's time, attention, and well-being.
It's considerate of the people who have to build, sell, and support it.
And it's considerate of the planet, from the sourcing of its materials to its end-of-life.
A beautifully designed product that burns out its user, frustrates its support staff, or ends up in a landfill after a year is no longer "good design" to me.
If you weren’t designing for a living, how would you still be creating?
I'd host elaborate dinner parties.
For me, the creative impulse has never been just about making beautiful objects; it's about designing thoughtful experiences and systems for people. Hosting a dinner party is a perfect microcosm of a design project.
Is there someone whose career or work you admire that has influenced your own approach?
I've always been influenced by the work of Vannevar Bush, who ran American scientific research during World War II.
He wasn't just a great scientist; he was a master of orchestrating scientific talent to solve the defining technological challenge of his era. He didn't just build a single invention; he built the system – the Manhattan Project – that marshaled the collective intelligence of a generation to create a new foundational capability for the world.
His work is a powerful reminder that the most important thing you can do is not just to solve a problem, but to build the platform that enables thousands of other people to solve problems you can't even imagine yet. In many ways, that's what we are trying to do with Artificial General Intelligence.
Tell us about an unexpected or insightful piece of feedback that has shaped your work.
The Unexpected Feedback
We ran an experiment where we A/B tested two systems. System A was our absolute best effort, the lowest-latency version we could build. System B was identical, but we intentionally added a few milliseconds of extra latency back in, but timed it perfectly with a subtle, low-frequency haptic response.
Technically, System B was worse. But the feedback from users was undeniable: they reported that System B felt more responsive and provided a stronger sense of presence.
The Insight
That was a profound lesson. It taught me that presence is a perceptual illusion, not a performance spec. The goal is not to perfectly replicate reality for a computer, but to provide just enough of the right, synchronized sensory cues to convince the human brain. The brain is the ultimate rendering engine, and it will fill in the gaps if you give it the right prompts.
This feedback shaped all my subsequent work, shifting our focus from a narrow, spec-sheet optimization problem to a much broader, more fascinating human perception problem.
Is there a particular product or object whose design has influenced your approach or philosophy?
The Real Lesson: Designing for Social Context
That project taught me that you can't separate the design of a technology from the design of its social contract. The biggest challenges weren't about the battery life or the display; they were about privacy, etiquette, and perception. We learned that a product's design isn't just the hardware and software; it's how it makes the user and the people around them feel.
The public "failure" of that experiment was, in hindsight, one of the most valuable user studies ever conducted. It provided priceless, real-world data on the complex relationship between wearable technology and society. That experience cemented my belief that you can't just design in a lab. You have to put things into the world, see how they interact with human culture, and be prepared to learn from the often uncomfortable results.
What’s the weirdest thing that ever influenced your work?
While working as a futures designer focused on what the next product or impact drones could have on our lives, I was collaborating with John Cale on an art installation. His work was all about creating rich, complex musical "drones" – long, sustained, overlapping notes on his viola. Watching him work, I realized he could convey an incredible range of emotion: calm, tension, anticipation; not by adding new notes, but by subtly shifting the internal harmonics and texture of a single, sustained sound.
If your design approach had a soundtrack, what would it be?
Jóhann Jóhannsson's score for the film Arrival.
What’s one hill you’ll always die on as a designer?
The Common Heresy: "We'll Fix It Later"
There's a pervasive and dangerous belief that you can design a system for functionality first and then "optimize for speed" later. This is fundamentally wrong. A system that is functionally correct but too slow is, for all practical purposes, a broken system. For the user, there is no difference.
What’s the question you wish more people asked you?
People often focus on the distant, speculative questions like, "When will we achieve AGI?" or fixate on existential risks. While those are important long-term discussions, they can sometimes distract from the more immediate and actionable challenges.
The question I wish more people asked is: "How can we best collaborate with these AI systems, and what are the new workflows we need to invent to get the most out of them?"
If you could redesign any everyday object, what would it be and why?
iPhone
Reimagining the iPhone means pursuing radical simplicity, deep humanity, and technological elegance – transforming it from a device into a seamless, intuitive extension of the user. The design would eliminate all unnecessary complexity, resulting in a truly minimalist form: no buttons, no ports, no visible camera bumps, achieved through advanced materials and under-display technology for a flawless, uninterrupted surface. Interaction would feel effortless and ambient, centered on natural language, subtle gestures, and a fluid interface that adapts to context and intent, rather than relying on static apps or screens.
The iPhone would feel alive in the hand, crafted from warm, textured materials that evolve with use, creating an emotional connection that makes it feel less like a tool and more like a trusted companion. Sustainability and longevity would be foundational, with modular, repairable components, self-healing surfaces, and energy-harvesting capabilities, ensuring the device remains relevant and personal for decades. In the end, this wouldn’t just be a product, it would be a relationship, a timeless object that understands and anticipates your needs, blurring the boundary between technology and humanity.
What’s your most-used emoji?
🚀 (Rocket) – for innovation, acceleration, and launching into the future.
What's your favorite podcast, book, or film?
Each of these recommendations offers a unique lens for viewing the hidden systems that govern our world, ultimately providing fresh insights into the nature of creativity and communication.
Books
Keller Easterling (Extrastatecraft): I think of this as a "field guide" to the invisible, infrastructural forces that actually shape our world, from free trade zones to fiber optic cables.
J.G. Ballard (High-Rise, Crash): I admire Ballard's ability to explore the strange, often dark psychological effects that modern technology and architecture have on humanity.
Gödel, Escher, Bach: an Eternal Golden Braid by Douglas Hofstadter
Films
Koyaanisqatsi: This non-narrative film is a powerful visual poem about the collision between technology, urbanism, and the natural environment, which is a central theme in Young's own work.
Adam Curtis's Documentaries (HyperNormalisation): He's influenced by Curtis's unique documentary style, which uses a collage of archival footage to tell sprawling stories about how power, technology, and ideas shape our reality.
Her (2013): A beautiful and melancholic film that explores the future of communication and relationships in a world where technology and consciousness are merging. It thoughtfully questions what it means to love and connect when the lines between human and artificial are blurred.
Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022): An incredibly inventive film that uses the sci-fi concept of the multiverse to tell a deeply personal story about family, communication breakdowns, and finding meaning in chaos. Its visual style is a masterclass in creative expression.
Primer (2004): Famously complex, this film treats time travel not as a magical plot device, but as a dense technical problem that its characters discover. It forces the viewer to piece together the logic of its world, making you an active participant in uncovering its hidden system.
Podcasts
I'm drawn to those that reveal the hidden designs and infrastructures that govern our lives, such as 99% Invisible. This podcast is a perfect thematic fit, as its entire mission is to explore the unseen and unexamined design that shapes our world, from city flags to hostile architecture.
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