Lauren Lee: Could you describe the design process for the Social Software identity design project?

Carlos Sanchez: The thing that defines each project for me is the development of something that I call a “structural motif,” which is an underlying conceptual dynamic that eventually serves to guide the logic of the system.

For Social Software, we started in the most obvious place, which was looking at social and software as two independent words that were being brought together. I was thinking specifically about:

What’s in the public imagination when we think of social and when we think of software?

When we think of social, it infers humanity, intuitiveness, something fluid—whereas software suggests something algorithmic, systematic, or rigid. I was really interested in that contrast, and in thinking about it in relation to what Social Software is actually doing—its purpose as an organization.

The visual strategy became: develop an identity and graphic system that uses the dichotomies between Social as “soft” and Software as “hard.” 

Once we solidified that framework, it became a way to map out all kinds of design decisions by asking: how does this structural motif play into this specific part of the identity? So rather than setting up a system of hard rules like, “you must do this,” it became more of a logical framework—a place to begin thinking through certain decisions.

Lauren: What were some of your inspirations or reference points for this project?

Carlos: Yeah, to find the right reference points, I started from the motif of this imaginary binary between Social and Software and began looking for visual metaphors or analogies that somehow spoke to it. We landed pretty quickly on the concept of Kiki and Bouba which I think we were all quite excited about. It spoke quite directly to the concept we were working with and opened up a lot of exciting possibilities, especially in regards to the interplay between kiki and bouba. 

It’s not as present rhetorically in the final identity, but it was a really useful conceptual springboard. It helped us think: if software is the kiki—sharp, angular, structured—and we’re starting with the coding interface, which is inherently kiki, then the question becomes, “How do we bouba this?” How do we bring in softness, or a sense of human energy, into that kind of structure?

Lauren: Totally. I'm glad you brought up both of those, because they weren’t explicit questions here, but they did feel like important reference points to me.

Okay, so getting into the system itself— to me, the system you designed kind of feels like a piece of social software in itself, maybe. Can you tell me about the SoSoft design system?

Carlos: I’d almost characterize the system as a collection of binaries, where the designer makes choices between opposites. They function like a series of switches.

But then, there are also moments where the designer has a lot of free reign, just within a defined context.

At a high level, some of the primary binaries include the orthogonal line vs. the Kiki Bouba line, or the two modes of layout/composition: either really rigid, grid-based, and prescribed, or total freeform, where the designer can do whatever they want.

I was trying to strike a balance between, “Here are your options with clear guardrails,” and “Here are moments where you have creative freedom.” The idea was to make room for surprise or intuition—for things that might not be expected, even by me. Hopefully even things I wouldn’t have thought to do in the future.

I think the system really thrives on that tension between precise control and open-ended play.

Lauren: Yeah, definitely. I remember one thing we talked a lot about was the fact that, because Social Software is a project that involves so much collaboration, we wanted to have a design system that left room for that—that didn’t force every activity or collaborator into a narrow schema. We wanted assets and web pages to reflect the style of the collaborators or the projects we’re working on. And I think the system you created really opens up that space in a nice way. So going more into specific pieces—can you tell me more about the SoSoft logotype?

Carlos: I think the SoSoft logotype is a great distillation of a lot of these concepts. It actually came out of a sketch I made to visualize what code looks like—specifically how what I’m calling “energy” moves through code. It’s orthogonal: left to right, top to bottom, then left to right again. It’s very prescriptive, governed by orthogonal spatial principles.

So, with the logo, I started with two blocks—“so” and “soft”—connected by a right-angle line. Then I made two simple interventions. One: tilt the blocks slightly, somewhere between 2 and 10 degrees. Two: apply the kiki-bouba logic to the connecting line—so instead of a perfectly rigid connector, you get a line made up of points that feel a bit sporadic, soft, or sharp depending on the moment.

The whole idea was to reflect how Social Software approaches software. It’s taking something people usually associate with rigidity, productivity, or even a kind of techno-capitalist structure, and introducing a different spirit—something more human, more social.

The logo tries to do that in a really distilled way—taking this familiar format and injecting a moment of spontaneity and play that speaks to the larger spirit of the organization.

Lauren: Thank you. Yeah, I remember at some point in the process, Casey and I were brainstorming and thinking, “Maybe we can write some code to generate different iterations.” And then we’d come to the meeting and you’d be like, “Yeah, I just sketched some things by hand,” and we were like, “Okay, we don’t need the code after all.” You far exceeded those ideas. I thought that was such an interesting part of the process—how we were thinking about software, using it, not using it, or using a more human interpretation of software principles.

Okay, so how did you land on Arial as the typeface?

Carlos: For that I came back to the metaphor of the coding interface. I was thinking about the role of type in that space—how it’s used in a functional way to spell out big blocks of text. In a coding interface, the type isn’t the main event. It’s not meant to be expressive. So I was trying to see how that principle could carry over into the brand—like, how can the typeface be a functional workhorse rather than something that announces, “This is SoSoft!”

Arial has this quality of neutrality, but also this history in digital environments. It was digitized by Patricia Saunders specifically for Windows in the ’90s, as a screen-friendly riff on Helvetica. And since then, it’s stuck around—it’s become a kind of default in digital contexts. So it felt like it had the neutrality we needed, but also a subtle elegance when scaled up. It met the brief of acting like the type in a coding interface—it serves the larger system without drawing too much attention to itself.

Lauren: That totally makes sense. Typically in a coding interface, you’d see a monospace font, which has become this shorthand for “tech” or “code” in graphic design. Did you ever consider going that route? Or was it a conscious choice not to?

Carlos: Yeah, I think I moved away from that direction for that exact reason. Using a monospace font is kind of the obvious move when you're trying to represent software or a coding environment.

But my goal wasn’t to replicate or directly reference the coding interface—it was to use it as a structural foundation and then interject other logics into it.

So I wanted to get away from just representing and move toward something more conceptual or foundational.

Lauren: That ties in really nicely with how we’re thinking about Social Software overall. It’s not just about code—it’s about software in an expanded sense. The structures and ideas of software are impacting everyone, and we’re trying to say, “SoSoft isn’t just for coders.” It’s for anyone interested in thinking through those ideas. And your typeface decision really connects to that.

Can you tell me more about the patterns—like the backgrounds or those little squares we used throughout?

Carlos: The patterns were inspired by box-drawing characters and the history of those within software interfaces. These were basically the original forms of UI—they were used to create hierarchy and structure and draw little boxes. I used those characters as a starting point and then removed them from their original function.

In contrast to the typography—which is intentionally not meant to carry the brand identity—I think the patterns do a lot of the heavy lifting when it comes to recognizability. They're expressive, loud, and playful. And even though they follow a very rigid formula to be created, there's a lot of freedom. You can use any box character, and the palette is pretty large—I think around 48 colors.

So it’s a repurposing of something utilitarian into something expressive and vibrant. I was really happy when we stumbled on that—it felt like a good fit for the spirit of the project.

Lauren: What were some surprises or breakthrough moments in designing the system? Were there any moments where you had to change direction?

Carlos: Yeah, in the early conceptual phase—before we landed on the binary and the kiki-bouba idea—

We were exploring a concept based on ant colonies. Specifically, the idea that there’s no centralized leader, like a queen bee. Instead, all action is distributed and happens ant by ant.

So you get these large, emergent changes through local interactions—kind of organic but also algorithmic.

We didn’t end up pursuing that idea directly, but I think it still shaped how I approached the identity—as something open-ended, something where participants in the system have the authority to influence its character. That idea of an identity as a flexible framework or a toolkit really came out of that. It made the whole thing fun to think about.

Lauren: Yeah, that’s so interesting. I was just thinking back to those early directions—we really did go on a journey. 

I want to talk more about your practice overall. How long have you been a designer, and how did you get started?

Carlos: I’ve been working professionally for about 10 years, and I really started exploring design in college. The thing that sold me on it was a couple of exercises in a Design 101 class. It was very classical—we were setting type by hand on a letterpress, and although we used computers too, the focus was more on thinking than on tools.

One of the first projects was simple: we were each given a household object and told to make a poster using just that object. We also got to choose a word that we felt embodied the object. I got a steel measuring cup and chose the word “precision.” I ended up scanning it and layering the image in a way that made it feel almost like a technical, alien instrument.

It was a small project, but it stuck with me because it really underscored what I love about design now—it’s about making meaning. It’s about looking at how things are perceived and playing with those perceptions. Less about technical mastery and more about shaping interpretation.

Lauren: That's very cool. Okay. And so how do you describe your practice specifically or what you do?

Carlos: I think I’d double down on that my practice exists on a spectrum of meaning-making. As a designer, I’m often working to help people unearth the meaning behind what they do—helping founders or organizations articulate their internal logic and then bringing that to life visually. Ideally, the process is clarifying for them too.

And then, in my art practice—which I do part-time—it’s sort of the opposite.

I’m often fracturing meaning, rejecting clarity. I play with semiotics, symbols, and abstraction and try to find that line between an idea being legible and illegible.

I have a lot of fun doing that. Both of these practices are very much centered on, “How are we cultivating meaning?”—and playing with that in the world perception and language.

Lauren: Love that. You were so good at facilitating those conversations during our process—it really helped guide the design, but also pushed our thinking forward about the studio, especially with SoSoft being so early-stage. So thank you.

What are some of your favorite projects you’ve worked on?

Carlos: One of my favorites was a recent project for an organization called Gemma Projects, which was a DAO supporting artists through collection and curation. The idea of a “structural motif” really clicked there too.

The founders told me that, before landing on the name “Gemma,” they were considering the name “Silent Partner”—this idea of an invisible, disembodied, supportive presence for artists. Gemma became the name for that spirit. Gemma was eventually chosen because they decided to give a name to that presence. 

So my guiding question became: “What’s a cultural motif for support that comes from a disembodied place?” Eventually, we landed on the Magic 8 Ball—a ubiquitous symbol where you ask a question, and an answer comes back from this strange, non-human place.

Everyone really connected with that. It led us into the world of what I’d call the “consumer occult.” That’s where the typography came from, and the logo is almost like the letters of the word having a seance of their own—rotating in space.

So it was one of those projects where the conceptual structural motif was really solid, and it just cleared the way for everything else. We were able to have a lot of fun with it.

Lauren: Which people, communities, works, or ideas are most important to your practice?

Carlos: I’m most drawn to people who are using technology as a medium for cultural inquiry, emotional depth, or unexpected resonance.

I find myself returning again and again to communities that sit at the edge of what’s possible with software: artists, toolmakers, and founders who are building frameworks for new kinds of human connection, creative expression, or shared meaning.

Those are the people who tend to be most open to design as a generative process—where ideas are in flux, and the work can evolve in surprising ways.

I think of my practice as being idea-forward, but not in a detached or academic sense. I like to play seriously—to build systems where rigor and intuition can co-exist. So I gravitate toward collaborators who want to think deeply, experiment boldly, and stay open to where the process might lead. Projects like Social Software stand out to me because they create space for that kind of thinking. And ultimately, that’s the kind of work I want to keep doing: helping bring ambitious, unconventional ideas into visual form.