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Interview with Yi Chen

Yi Chen is a product designer and creative practitioner working at the intersection of technology, design systems, and cultural research.

Designer Interview

3 July 2026

I was born and raised in China and later studied and worked across the United States, China, and Japan, so my design background has always been shaped by different cultures and languages. I started from a graphic design foundation and gradually expanded into typography, printmaking, and digital product design.

I hold a BFA in Graphic Design from Rochester Institute of Technology, and later completed an MS in Information Experience Design at Pratt Institute. This combination trained both my visual sensibility and my ability to think about systems, interactions, and information architecture.

I became a designer because I was always fascinated by how visuals, language, and interaction can shape behavior. Early on I was interested in print, books, and typography; over time I became more focused on digital products, where a single design decision can affect millions of people. Design for me is a way to turn personal obsessions—about structure, rhythm, and small rituals in daily life—into something that can quietly improve other people’s routines.

In that sense, I did not always have the “job title” of designer in mind, but I always knew I wanted to create experiences that are both expressive and useful. Design became the most natural way to do that.

I currently work at Neon as a Product Design Lead, focusing on our core dashboard, developer experience, and monetization surfaces. Neon is a technology company, and design plays a central role in making a complex technical product understandable and approachable for a broad range of developers.

Besides my role at Neon, I also work independently under the name Natsume Design. My independent practice spans digital product design, visual/UI design, and art direction, as well as illustration and animation commissions.

Across both corporate and independent work, I like to integrate rigorous product thinking with an artistic, typographic sensitivity.

For me, design is the choreography of everyday rituals. It is less about decoration and more about structuring how people move through time, space, and information.

Design sits at the intersection of intention and behavior: it translates abstract goals—learning a language, managing your money, building a product—into concrete interactions, micro-decisions, and feedback loops. Good design makes complex systems feel humane and legible, so people can build their own habits and agency within them.

In my work, I often describe my philosophy as “design through rituals.” I am interested in how small, repeatable interfaces—like a daily practice streak, a purchase flow, or a dashboard you open every morning—can accumulate into long-term change. Design, then, is about carefully constructing these repeated moments so they are meaningful, ethical, and emotionally sustainable.

I enjoy designing products and experiences that sit at the intersection of utility and emotion: tools people use every day, but that still carry a sense of personality and craft.

More concretely, I like working on:

- In‑product monetization and in‑app purchase experiences, where behavioral design, business goals, and user trust must be balanced very carefully.

- Learning and self‑improvement products, such as language learning, personal knowledge management, and productivity/focus tools.

- Typographically driven interfaces and systems, where hierarchy, rhythm, and type choices become the main way to communicate structure and mood.

- Experimental visual projects, such as printed works, lettering archives, and animation pieces that explore narrative and atmosphere.

I’m most engaged when I can move between systems-level product thinking and very detailed visual and interaction polish.

One of the projects I am most proud of is leading the redesign of the Duolingo Shop experience. The work involved rethinking how virtual goods and in‑app purchases were presented inside a playful language learning environment, and how monetization could support, rather than distract from, learning habits.

We restructured the shop to be clearer, more aspirational, and more transparent, while still aligning with Duolingo’s distinctive visual language and character-driven world. This required balancing user psychology, game design, and business metrics. The redesign ultimately contributed significantly to annual revenue growth—around $800k per year—while maintaining a user-friendly, ethical approach to upsells.

I like this project because it embodies what I care about: careful systems thinking, delightful details, and a design that quietly aligns the motivations of both the company and the learner.

Early in my career, my first substantial professional work was in digital product interfaces for technology companies. One of my first notable projects involved designing interface components and flows for a consumer tech brand, where I had to translate a strong visual identity into a coherent set of interactive patterns.

That experience taught me how to move from school projects into real constraints: engineering limitations, timelines, existing users, and cross-functional collaboration. It also made me understand that even “small” UI changes can have real impact when shipped to a large user base.

My main medium is digital: product interfaces, web and mobile applications, and digital illustration and animation. I am most at home designing for screens, where interaction, motion, and data can all be used as materials.

At the same time, I have a deep affection for typography and printmaking, so I also enjoy working with physical outputs—posters, books, and print pieces that allow for a slower, more tactile reading experience.

On the technical side, I rely heavily on modern design tools and prototyping software, but I am less attached to specific brands and more interested in any platform that lets me quickly explore flows, behaviors, and visual systems.

I feel most creative when I am moving between modes: after reading or researching deeply, then stepping away to draw, play music, or simply observe people and city life. I often get breakthroughs in the “in-between” moments—walking, commuting, or late at night when my mind is slightly detached from day-to-day tasks.

I also become very creative when there is a clear constraint or a strong narrative: a product metric to move, a cultural reference to translate, or a character and world to build around. Those boundaries give my imagination something to push against.

I tend to focus on three layers at the same time:

First is the underlying system: user journeys, states, edge cases, data flows, and business logic. If this structure is weak, no amount of visual polish can save the experience.

Second is the emotional and behavioral layer: what habits we are encouraging, what feelings the interface evokes at each step (confidence, curiosity, safety, playfulness), and how feedback and rewards are structured.

Third is the visual and typographic execution: hierarchy, rhythm, type choices, spacing, motion, and micro‑interactions. I care a lot about clarity and legibility, but also about giving the interface a distinct voice that fits the product.

I constantly move up and down between these levels throughout the design process.

When I design, I often feel a mix of curiosity, focus, and a quiet form of joy. There is a very specific satisfaction that comes from resolving a complex interaction, or from seeing messy ideas converge into a clear, coherent system.

Of course, there are also moments of frustration and doubt, especially when the problem is ambiguous or there are many competing constraints. But these moments are part of the process; they usually signal that the right questions have not yet been asked.

Overall, the dominant emotion for me is a sense of responsibility and care: I am aware that the interfaces I design mediate people’s time, money, and attention. That awareness keeps me grounded, even when I am experimenting or playing visually.

When a design is finally realized and in the hands of real users, I feel a mixture of relief, quiet pride, and humility. There is relief because so many small decisions, debates, and experiments have finally converged into a concrete release. There is pride when I see people naturally using something that existed only as sketches and prototypes a few months earlier.

At the same time, there is also humility and a sense of responsibility. Real usage always reveals behaviors and edge cases that we could not fully anticipate. Seeing those reactions reminds me that design is never “finished”; it is an ongoing conversation with users. That realization keeps me curious and grounded.

A design is successful when it aligns three dimensions at the same time: user value, business value, and ethical responsibility.

On the user side, a successful design genuinely helps people achieve what they came for, with clarity and confidence. It reduces friction at the right places, adds friction where reflection is needed, and leaves users feeling more in control rather than manipulated.

On the business side, it should support sustainable growth and long-term relationships—not just short-term metrics. I am especially careful in monetization work to ensure that gains in revenue are tied to real improvements in user experience or options, not to dark patterns.

Finally, a successful design is responsible to society and to the environment. It should avoid exploiting vulnerabilities or encouraging unhealthy behaviors, and instead try to support healthier, more meaningful rituals.

When evaluating a design, I usually look at:

First, clarity: can a new user understand what this is for and what to do next, without over-explaining?

Second, consistency and structure: do the flows, patterns, and language feel coherent across the experience, or are they fragmented?

Third, emotional tone: how does it feel to move through the interface—rushed, pressured, calm, playful, serious? Is that tone appropriate to the context?

Finally, I look at impact: does the design actually move the right behaviors and outcomes, both for the user and for the business?

Designers shape the invisible rules of everyday life: what we pay attention to, where we spend our time, how we make decisions. Because of that, I believe designers have a responsibility to:

- Avoid creating addictive loops or deceptive patterns that exploit cognitive biases.

- Make complex information more understandable, so people can make informed choices.

- Consider accessibility and inclusion, so that products do not silently exclude large groups.

- Be mindful of the broader system: for example, how a digital product influences people’s mental health, time, or financial wellbeing.

Even though many of my projects are digital, they still influence physical behaviors and resource use. I see design as a chance to encourage more sustainable patterns at scale, even if the changes are subtle.

The design field is moving from “making things look good” to orchestrating complex systems that combine data, AI, and human judgment. Designers are increasingly working at the level of strategy, operations, and long-term product ecosystems.

AI will automate some of the production layers of design—such as generating variations or assisting with layout—but that will make human judgment, taste, and ethics even more important. Designers will need to be strong at framing problems, setting constraints, and understanding human behavior in depth.

I think the future of design will be more interdisciplinary: designers will collaborate closely with engineers, researchers, data scientists, and domain experts, and the boundaries between “product design,” “service design,” and “experience design” will become more fluid.

My recent work has been more focused on digital products and self-initiated projects than on formal gallery exhibitions. In the past I have shown printmaking and visual works in academic and design contexts, but in recent years my “exhibitions” have often taken place through digital platforms, product launches, and online archives.

In the future, I would like to create an exhibition that connects my product work, typographic experiments, and personal illustration/animation into a coherent narrative—perhaps in New York or in a city in China where I have a personal connection.

My inspirations come from three main streams.

The first is everyday rituals and objects: small routines like making coffee, commuting, or checking a daily dashboard. I like to observe how people naturally adapt tools to fit their habits.

The second is visual culture, especially typography, printmaking, manga, animation, and graphic design from East Asia and beyond. I am drawn to works that balance density and clarity, and that use text and image as equal partners.

The third is literature, games, and music. Stories and game systems influence how I think about pacing, feedback, and world-building in digital products, while music teaches me about rhythm and repetition—both important in interface design.

To feed my creativity, I read, collect references, maintain small archives (like lettering or color collections), and experiment with side projects that are not bound by commercial constraints.

I would describe my style as structured yet expressive—grounded in clear systems and typography, but with emotional and sometimes playful details.

The main characteristics of my style include:

- Strong typographic hierarchy and rhythm.

- Careful use of color to create mood and focus, often inspired by editorial design and anime/game palettes.

- Interfaces that feel “alive” through micro‑interactions, motion, and character, without overwhelming usability.

- A focus on rituals and long-term use rather than one-time spectacle.

I explored this style because I come from both graphic design and product design backgrounds. I am drawn to the discipline of grids, type, and information design, but I also enjoy narrative, characters, and atmospheric worlds. My approach is to start from the problem and system, and then gradually layer in personality and nuance.

I currently live in Brooklyn, New York, and I was born and raised in China. I have also studied and worked in the United States and Japan. This combination of places and languages has deeply influenced how I see design.

Growing up in China and being exposed to East Asian visual culture made me comfortable with dense information, vertical and horizontal text systems, and a wide range of typographic and illustrative traditions. Living in the US, especially in New York, sharpened my awareness of branding, editorial design, and product thinking at scale.

The advantage of this background is that I can move between different visual systems and user expectations. I am comfortable designing for both Western and Asian audiences and thinking cross-culturally. The challenge is that I am constantly negotiating between different standards, tools, and communication styles—but that negotiation is also a source of creativity.

I work with companies in two main modes.

As a Product Design Lead at Neon, I am embedded in cross-functional teams, collaborating daily with product managers, engineers, marketing, and leadership. I am involved from early discovery and strategy through to detailed design, implementation, and iteration.

As an independent designer under Natsume Design, I collaborate with clients on specific projects—such as product design, visual identity, illustration, or art direction. In these cases, I usually start with understanding their goals, users, and constraints, then propose a clear scope, timeline, and communication rhythm. I value transparency, frequent check-ins, and shared documentation to keep everyone aligned.

For companies, I would suggest:

- Involve designers early, when you are still defining the problem and strategy, not only when you need “polish” at the end.

- Share real constraints and metrics, so designers can propose realistic and impactful solutions.

- Treat design as a partner to product and engineering, not as a service that simply executes requests.

When selecting a designer, look beyond visual style alone. A good designer should be able to explain their process, show how they balance user needs and business goals, and demonstrate how their work performed in the real world. Case studies, not just final screens, are very important. Also pay attention to how they communicate and how they respond to feedback—that will affect collaboration as much as their craft.

My design process is iterative and layered.

I usually begin with understanding the problem: talking to stakeholders, looking at data, reviewing existing flows, and, if possible, listening to real users. I try to define clear goals, constraints, and success metrics.

Next, I map the system and user journeys, identify key moments, and sketch different conceptual directions. At this stage, I work quickly and roughly, exploring multiple options.

Then I move into more detailed flows and interaction design, building prototypes to test behaviors and edge cases. Visual and typographic decisions start to crystallize here, and I collaborate closely with engineers to ensure feasibility.

Finally, I refine the experience through micro‑interactions, motion, and content. After launch, I monitor performance and feedback, and iterate as needed. Documentation and knowledge sharing are important throughout, especially when working on large, evolving products.

Five design items I especially appreciate at home are:

1. A well-designed mechanical keyboard that balances tactility, sound, and layout, making long hours of writing and designing more comfortable.

2. A compact, high-quality notebook and pen that I use for quick sketches, storyboards, and notes.

3. My digital drawing tablet, which lets me move fluidly between illustration and interface design.

4. A selection of art and design books that I revisit regularly for inspiration—especially those focused on typography, animation, and visual storytelling.

5. A few carefully chosen posters and prints that remind me of specific projects, exhibitions, or artists I admire.

A typical day for me usually starts with a quiet morning ritual: coffee, music, and a quick review of my calendar and tasks. I like to reserve early hours for deep work, such as system design, flows, or writing, before meetings begin.

During the workday, I switch between collaboration and focused design time: syncing with product managers and engineers, reviewing work with other designers, and refining prototypes or visual designs. I also spend time in documentation—writing design specs, sharing updates, and aligning with stakeholders.

In the evening, I often shift to personal projects or learning: drawing, exploring new tools, practicing guitar, or watching films and animation that inspire me visually. I try to keep some time unplugged from screens to reset and let ideas incubate.

For young designers, I would suggest:

- Focus on learning how to think, not only how to use tools. Tools will change; your way of understanding problems and people will stay with you.

- Build case studies that tell stories: what was the problem, what did you try, what failed, what did you learn, and what impact did it have?

- Develop your own taste by looking at a lot of work outside your immediate field—books, films, games, architecture, music.

- Be curious and generous: ask questions, share your process, and learn from other disciplines.

- Protect your relationship with your craft. It is easy to burn out when design becomes only about deadlines and metrics. Personal projects and play are important for long-term growth.

The positive side of being a designer is that you get to shape experiences that affect real people. You are constantly learning about new domains, collaborating with different kinds of experts, and translating abstract ideas into tangible forms. It is both intellectual and creative.

The challenging side is that design is often done under constraints: limited time, competing priorities, and sometimes misunderstood expectations. Your work can be subjective to others, and you may need to advocate for users and quality in environments that do not always value them.

However, I see these challenges as part of the role. Learning to negotiate, communicate, and prioritize is as important as learning craft.

My golden rule is: design for sustainable rituals, not just for immediate reactions.

This means that when I design, I think about what it feels like to use this product every day, every week, over months—not only what the first impression is. I ask whether the design supports healthy, meaningful patterns of use for both users and the business.

Beyond visual and interaction skills, I believe the most important skills are:

- Problem framing: being able to ask the right questions and define the real problem.

- Communication: explaining your decisions, listening to stakeholders, and telling clear stories through your work.

- Systems thinking: understanding how different parts of a product, business, and user journey connect.

- Empathy and observation: noticing how people actually behave, not just how they say they behave.

- Adaptability: learning new tools, methods, and domains as the field evolves.

My toolbox includes standard digital design tools for interface design, prototyping, and collaboration, as well as illustration and animation software. I also rely heavily on note-taking and knowledge management tools to organize research, references, and ideas.

In terms of hardware, I use a reliable laptop, an external monitor, a drawing tablet, and photography equipment. Books on typography, interaction design, psychology, and art history are also a big part of my reference library.

For inspiration, I look at design communities, archives of lettering and color palettes, independent publications, animation studios, and games.

I manage my time by distinguishing between exploration and execution phases.

During exploration, I allow more freedom to experiment, but I still set boundaries—for example, time-boxing a day to generate as many ideas as possible without judging them. During execution, I create a clear plan: milestones, handoff dates, and review moments with stakeholders.

I also try to batch meetings together and protect blocks of deep work time. Documentation and communication help reduce back-and-forth later, which saves time overall.

The duration varies widely depending on the scope and complexity. A small interface improvement can be designed, tested, and shipped within days or weeks, while a large feature, system, or product area may take several months from discovery to launch.

In general, I prefer to work iteratively: release a minimal but coherent version, learn from real usage, and then refine. So the “end” is often not a fixed point, but a series of improvements over time.

One of the most frequent questions I receive is: “How did you get into product design from a more traditional graphic/visual design background?” People are often curious about how to combine visual craft with product thinking, especially across different cultures and platforms.

One of my most important job experiences was leading key monetization and in‑app purchase design projects at Duolingo. Working on a product used by millions, and designing systems that could significantly influence both learning behavior and business outcomes, taught me how to balance growth, ethics, and user trust.

Similarly, my current role at Neon, where I lead core product areas like the dashboard and developer experience, continues to shape how I think about complex, technical products and long-term product evolution.

Over the years, I have worked with technology companies and organizations of different sizes, including well-known consumer apps as well as emerging products. My roles have ranged from in‑house product designer and design lead to independent collaborator providing product, visual, and art direction services.

I enjoy work that lives at the intersection of behavior, business, and visual storytelling—especially monetization, learning, and self‑improvement products. These areas require careful ethical consideration and offer many chances to design long-term rituals.

I also enjoy projects that allow me to bring in my love for typography, illustration, and narrative, whether that’s through character design, motion, or the atmosphere of an interface.

Looking ahead, I want to deepen my role as a design leader and thinker, while continuing to build hands-on products and self-initiated projects. I am interested in exploring how AI and new interfaces can support personal knowledge, learning, and creative work in a more humane way.

I also hope to develop more independent, expression-driven projects that connect my product design practice with my artistic interests in printmaking, storytelling, and animation.

I do both. In my full-time role, I work as part of a team, collaborating closely with other designers, product managers, engineers, and stakeholders. Many of the most impactful projects I’ve been part of were only possible because of strong cross-functional collaboration.

In my personal and independent projects, I often work solo or in small collectives, which lets me explore ideas more experimentally and quickly. I enjoy switching between these modes; each teaches me different skills.

I am continuously exploring personal projects that connect design, narrative, and daily rituals—such as tools for reflection, learning, or managing one’s attention. I also maintain and expand visual archives and side projects that focus on typography, color, and visual storytelling.

These works-in-progress often start as small experiments and may eventually evolve into more formal products, publications, or exhibitions.

People can contact me through my professional website or by email. I am also active on selected social platforms where I share work-in-progress, case studies, and visual experiments.

Perhaps one more thing is that I see design not only as a profession but as a long-term practice of attention. Designing requires noticing details that others may overlook, listening to what people need but cannot always articulate, and taking care in how we shape their time and experience.

I feel grateful to be able to work in a field where this kind of attention can have real impact, and I hope to continue learning and contributing through both my product work and my personal projects.

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