Design Leadership in a Remote World

Leadership doesn’t always begin with a title. Sometimes it starts with a quiet decision to try something different, to solve a problem in a way that feels both strategic and human. For me, one of the most transformative leadership experiences emerged not from a formal promotion, but from a self-initiated practice: sending short, personalized design strategy videos to internal stakeholders. What began as a simple effort to bridge communication gaps in a remote work environment evolved into a leadership practice that changed not only how I worked but how I thought about design, influence, and advocacy.

Working as a senior designer within a remote corporate environment posed a familiar set of challenges: feedback loops often dragged, misalignment was common, and the humanity of design work frequently got lost behind email threads and sterile slide decks. I realized that if I wanted to foster real collaboration, I needed to rethink how I communicated design decisions and their strategic value. That was when I started recording one- to two-minute videos for every design I delivered. These were quick walk-throughs that explained not just what I designed, but why.

Each video served multiple purposes. Unlike most designers who simply email their work and hope it speaks for itself, I chose to present mine through short videos. I realized early on that people are far more likely to watch a video than read a dense explanation. Our inboxes are flooded. Attention spans are short. And when you add design terminology or a long list of image attachments, the likelihood that someone will engage with the content drops dramatically. But video breaks through. It feels immediate and human. It’s like I’m sitting down across from the person, explaining my thinking, anticipating their questions, and walking them through the narrative. These recordings gave me a chance to talk directly to stakeholders, cutting through misinterpretation and helping them understand the why behind every choice. It humanized me, putting a face to the name behind the designs.

It also educated stakeholders by demystifying the design process and showing how each visual decision connected directly to their project goals. Most importantly, it shifted the dynamic. Instead of feeling like they had to defend their requests or challenge my work, stakeholders began to see me as a partner. The pushback lessened. Feedback became more constructive. Edits became fewer and more precise. We were finally speaking the same language.

Over time, this practice became second nature. I sent hundreds of design strategy videos across hundreds of projects. And as I did, something inside me shifted. I started to think of myself not just as a designer, but as a design leader.

The core principles of design leadership—fostering collaboration, driving innovation, and advocating for design’s strategic value—were all embedded in this small but powerful communication habit. The videos opened up space for real-time collaboration even in asynchronous environments. They allowed me to drive innovation by presenting ideas clearly and confidently, inviting dialogue rather than defensiveness. And they positioned design as an active, strategic partner in business success, not just a service to be briefed and executed.

As my confidence grew, I began to mentor others on how to do the same. I led mini workshops within my team about the power of visual storytelling and strategic communication. I encouraged newer designers to try filming themselves too—not because it was comfortable, but because it worked. We practiced scripting, speaking naturally, and keeping things concise yet impactful. I shared my templates and my early videos (even the cringey ones), and I was honest about how weird it feels at first. Because it does.

I even expanded this concept to my personal projects, launching the Clearly Creative Podcast to talk openly about the emotional and strategic aspects of creative work. The podcast and the accompanying Creative Empowerment Blog became platforms where I could articulate the lessons I was learning in real time and offer others tools to lead from wherever they are. The feedback I received was deeply validating—people were hungry for permission to lead in their own quiet, thoughtful ways.

Of course, this journey wasn’t without its challenges. Early on, I worried about how these videos would be received. Would stakeholders find them annoying? Would they even watch them? I also had to battle my own inner critic, that voice saying, "Who are you to explain strategy?" And then there was the camera. Filming myself felt strange at first. Nobody really likes the way they look or sound on camera—I was no exception. The lighting never felt quite right, my voice sounded different than I imagined, and I questioned whether I was coming across as confident or awkward. But I quickly got over it. The benefits of showing up with transparency and clarity outweighed the discomfort. I reminded myself that the point wasn’t perfection. It was connection. And that made it easier to hit record, again and again.

That awkwardness faded over time, replaced by a kind of rhythm and ease. I became more comfortable framing my message, adapting my tone, even laughing at myself when I stumbled. It became less about presenting and more about communicating. That shift made all the difference. When people see you being real—when you’re willing to explain your thought process with sincerity and clarity—they respond in kind. The feedback I received validated that choice. Stakeholders appreciated the effort. They listened more attentively. They remembered the designs. Projects moved more smoothly. And I found joy in the process of explaining design with clarity and purpose.

Navigating communication dynamics was a constant learning curve. Each stakeholder had a different level of design fluency, a different communication style, and a different set of expectations. But rather than letting that frustrate me, I used it as a design challenge in itself. How could I tailor each video to resonate with that specific audience? Sometimes that meant using metaphors. Other times it meant showing before-and-after visuals or walking through a user flow step-by-step. Whatever the method, the goal was always the same: connection.

One of the biggest surprises was how stakeholders began referring to insights I had shared in the videos when speaking to others. That told me they weren’t just watching, they were internalizing the design strategy. And that ripple effect—one person understanding a bit more about design, then passing that along to their team—was a subtle but powerful form of influence.

Managing stakeholder relationships became easier as trust deepened. I no longer had to "sell" my designs in the traditional sense. The strategy videos did the heavy lifting, not only explaining the rationale but demonstrating thoughtfulness, care, and a shared commitment to success. I became a go-to partner for other teams, not because I said yes to everything, but because I took the time to explain my thinking and involve them in the process.

This experience has profoundly shaped my aspirations for future leadership roles in design. I now see leadership not as a destination, but as a practice. It is a daily choice to communicate clearly, to empower others, and to advocate for the long-term value of design. I want to build teams where this kind of communication is the norm, not the exception. I want to foster environments where designers feel confident talking about strategy and where stakeholders feel genuinely heard and respected.

I imagine building an internal design communication toolkit someday—a simple guide that teaches others how to articulate design decisions through video, audio, or even live walkthroughs. I see the potential for this approach to scale across organizations, breaking down silos between design, product, and business teams. It’s not about being a great speaker, it’s about being a thoughtful communicator.

If there is one thing I have learned, it is that leadership does not require a corner office or a fancy title. It requires vision, empathy, and the courage to try something new. Sending design strategy videos may seem small, but it was a catalyst for a much larger transformation in how I show up as a creative professional. It taught me to lead with clarity, to speak the language of business and design, and to believe that change is possible. One conversation, one project, one video at a time.

Here is a real life example of one of my Design Strategy Videos

With this project I was designing a pitch deck for a CRE firm aiming to acquire the new business of an office building in Phoenix