whispering whitespace

What happens when we choose not to design something?

“How much spacing should I give here?” That’s the surface-level question. Underneath it, I think the real question is: “What happens when we choose not to design something?”

I’ve been thinking about whitespace—margins, gaps, the empty in-between. Not just as a layout decision, but as a kind of presence.

In music, silence isn’t absence. It’s rhythm. In Japanese design philosophy, there’s a term—ma—the space between things that gives them meaning. A pause that allows you to feel.

In design, we rush to fill. We align, we decorate, we emphasize. But often, it’s the spacing that does the real lifting. A group of elements feels like a system—because of the space around them. A headline feels bold—because of the breath beneath it.

What we don’t design is still a design decision. Whitespace whispers while words work

Sometimes, that’s where the clarity lives.