Lessons on strength from old-growth pines

Years ago, when my wife and I were looking at our house, we had a home inspector out before making the purchase. One of the things they pointed out was the lumber used in its framing. The house was built in the early 60s, primarily with pine. But it wasn’t the kind of pine we see today. This was different lumber, from a different era of forestry.

Today’s pine trees are bred to grow fast to meet the demands of modern lumber production. They mature in about half the time, but with far fewer growth rings. And those rings matter. Fewer rings mean weaker lumber. The fibers are looser, the boards are lighter, and the structural integrity just isn’t the same.

Fast-growing trees also tend to have more knots and their lumber is prone to warping. So when you go to your local hardware store, you’re left picking through a stack of twisted 2x4s, trying to find one that’s reasonably straight. All in the name of speed.

Why am I telling you this? Because the design industry has grown just as fast as these modern pine trees. And I can’t help but wonder: Has all this rapid growth contributed to the fragility we’re seeing in our discipline?

There’s a growing impatience in the design world. An over-prioritization of fast growth and promotions. It’s not uncommon to see designers rise quickly, senior in three years, leading a team by five. In some cases, “Head of Design” in a few years. It looks like serious growth. But growth isn’t just about roles and titles. It’s about the time we put in. It’s about the strength that comes with design maturity. The slow, steady layering of wisdom that only comes from solving problems again and again and again, sometimes poorly, sometimes well, but always learning.

Each of those moments adds a growth ring to your capability, making you stronger, just like those old trees.

That’s the difference between fast growth and slow growth. One shoots up quickly but ends up weaker. The other takes its time, builds deep roots, weathers the storms, and slowly adds ring after ring to its structure. One might look impressive faster, but the other stands the test of time.

Design growth today can often resemble those modern pine trees. In just a few years, a designer can learn the tools, master process terminology, and ship polished work. They become efficient, confident, and visible in the org. It can feel unstoppable. And with bootcamps and courses galore, it adds to the expectation of speed.

But early speed is often deceptive. Our field is filled with familiar problems: login flows, shopping carts, checkout patterns, etc. It’s easy to lean on mimicry of what came before. And sometimes, that’s appropriate. There’s no need to reinvent the wheel every time.

But building a career in design isn’t about copying and pasting. It’s about understanding the problem well enough to decide what your next steps are, when to use a pattern, when not to, and when you need something new.

True design strength shows up over time. It shows up in designers who’ve encountered variations of the same problem across different contexts, and learned to adapt their approach. It shows up in people who can explain why one option works better than another and teach that thinking to someone newer to the field.

That kind of confidence and success doesn’t come from speed. It comes from time. And repetition.

So does this mean designers are stuck in a waiting game? Not at all. Time can multiply growth, but only when time is used with intention. It’s not about stacking years. It’s about repetition.

If a designer has solved a design challenge once, it’s tempting to assume they’ve mastered it. But have they? Was part of their success unintentional, or difficult to explain? Were there any new approaches or techniques they tried? Were they lost or stuck at any point?

Designers don’t grow by doing more projects. They grow by going deeper into the problems they’ve already seen, bringing new understanding to familiar territory. These opportunities can only come by increasing time served in the industry. Shorter time only allows for so many opportunities and projects. More time increases the potential for additional opportunities and chances to practice.

That’s how design becomes less of a mystery and more of a practiced discipline.

If you’re roughly 5–7 years into your career, this part is for you.

You’ve likely seen other designers in the industry rise quickly. Or, maybe you’ve risen quickly yourself. But you’re entering a phase of maturity where speed matters less than strength.

At the risk of mixing metaphors, let’s talk about weightlifting for a bit. You don’t get stronger by lifting the barbell once. You get stronger by showing up again, with better form, increasing weight, and consistency. You don’t just complete the task. You refine your process. You learn how to explain it. You know the difference between a clever solution and one that’s genuinely effective.

You’re in the thick of growth, stacking reps, and building your design muscle.

But, we should admit, repetition can start to feel like boredom. When you’ve solved a similar problem before, it’s easy to check out. But boredom can be a signal. It might mean you’re ready for a deeper challenge. That doesn’t always mean a new title or role.

1. Try a stretch activity: solve the same problem with new constraints, lead a project from start to finish, or mentor someone through the process.
2. Set personal challenges: like reducing friction or increasing clarity.
3. Don’t overlook side projects that flex different muscles: write, prototype, teach, explore, or work on a passion project.

Boredom isn’t a sign to quit. It’s a sign to go deeper.

And if it feels like you’ve hit a plateau, you’re not alone. It’s a natural part of growth. You’re capable and trusted, but the pace of growth feels slower. That doesn’t mean you’re stuck. It means you’re entering a deeper phase of growth. The gains feel smaller, quieter, harder to see. But this is when judgment, influence, and systems thinking start to take root. Keep going. Growth is still happening even if it’s beneath the surface.

Lean into the repetition. Don’t rush past it. Every project you revisit. Every ambiguous brief you tackle. Every solution path you refine, that’s where growth lives.

If you’re leading designers, your job isn’t just to identify potential, it’s to help develop it.

That means more than giving designers higher-profile work. It means giving them increasing and repeated exposure to ambiguity, tension, and long-term thinking. It means letting them revisit the same types of problems in new contexts, while you mentor and coach them through.

It means recognizing designers who are growing through repetition, not just visibility. Are they displaying consistent behaviors over time? Or just occasional wins? Are they stopping to think about the problem space or rushing in with a solution off the shelf? Are they leveraging their previous encounters with this theme, or beholden to it?

Intentional mentorship and coaching (yes, they’re different) can guide designers toward deeper capability.

Ask yourself:

• How independently capable were they in their last challenge?
• Are they showing increased awareness in how they approach similar problems?
• Do they know what to reuse and what to adapt?
• Are they building contextual awareness and adjusting accordingly?
• Are they applying previous experience without being boxed in by it?

These are the signs of depth. These are the growth rings you’re looking for.

When the evidence is there, that’s when you promote. Not because someone’s eager. Not because they are motivated. Not because they got a design award. Because they’re ready. Ready to handle more. Ready to support others. Ready to carry the increasing weight that comes with advancement.

That’s the kind of strength our discipline needs.

I want to take a moment to tell you these aren’t just armchair ideas. I’ve lived through this in my 15+ years as both a designer and design leader. I’ve been the designer pushing hard for the next level and being told I’m not ready. I’ve been the leader who’s failed to recognize when people are making steady progress. I’ve had to learn from my over-enthusiasm as well as my over-scrutiny. My hope is that this is an encouragement to you and provides a launching point for your next steps, whether as a designer or in design leadership.

Old-growth trees don’t rush. They grow slowly and steadily, adding a new ring each year. They survive storms. They stand among their peers. They don’t sprout unnecessary branches that weaken them. Their strength is in their endurance.

We need more designers like this.

Let the opportunities that come with time do the shaping. Let repetition build muscle. Keep solving, keep stretching, keep showing up. Not because it’s easy. But because it’s worth it.

You don’t have to grow fast. You just have to keep growing. Keep adding those rings.