Brutalism

14 Dec

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TL;DR.

This lecture explores the principles of brutalism in web design, focusing on its raw aesthetic and functionality. It provides insights into effective implementation while ensuring usability and accessibility for diverse audiences.

Main Points.

Principles of Brutalism:
- Emphasises rawness and honesty in design.
- Focuses on utility-first layouts for clarity.
- Utilises deliberate tension to enhance messaging.
Effective Contexts:
- Works well in editorial and artistic projects.
- Ideal for experimental spaces like showcases and portfolios.
- Caution against use in high-stakes transactional environments.
Implementation Strategies:
- Maintain usability and accessibility in designs.
- Conduct user testing to refine user experience.
- Prioritise clarity and direct messaging to avoid confusion.

Conclusion.

Embracing brutalism in web design offers a unique opportunity to create bold, memorable experiences that resonate with users. By understanding its principles and applying them thoughtfully, designers can foster genuine connections while maintaining usability and accessibility. This approach not only differentiates brands in a crowded market but also aligns with the growing demand for authenticity in digital interactions.

Key takeaways.

Brutalism prioritises rawness and authenticity in web design.
Utility-first layouts enhance clarity and user experience.
Deliberate tension can effectively communicate messages.
Brutalism works best in editorial and artistic contexts.
Avoid using brutalism in high-stakes transactional flows.
Maintain usability and accessibility in all designs.
Conduct user testing to refine design effectiveness.
Focus on clear messaging to avoid user confusion.
Embrace imperfections to foster authenticity and connection.
Continuously iterate on designs based on user feedback.

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Brutalism principles in web design.

Brutalism in web design is often misunderstood as “ugly on purpose”, when it is closer to an honest design posture: show the structure, keep the meaning obvious, and let the interface behave like a tool instead of a showroom. The aesthetic can look sharp, minimal, even confrontational, yet the intent is usually practical, reduce decorative noise, prioritise content, and make the mechanics of the page easy to read.

That honesty matters because many modern sites borrow trust through polish. Gloss can be useful, but it can also mask weak navigation, unclear offers, or content that is hard to scan. A more stripped approach forces the design to earn attention through clarity, and it pushes teams to decide what is essential versus what is merely ornamental.

Rawness and honesty in design.

The core of this approach is rawness that feels deliberate rather than careless. Instead of hiding the skeleton under layers of gradients, shadows, and micro-animations, the interface makes the underlying structure visible: headings look like headings, links look like links, and the layout reads like a hierarchy of intent.

Strip down to structure.

Expose the layout on purpose.

When a site prioritises transparency, the page stops pretending to be a glossy brochure and starts acting like an information system. Navigation becomes plainly navigational, content blocks stop competing for attention, and users can quickly understand where they are and what each element does. The absence of embellishment is not the goal by itself, it is a constraint that forces better decisions.

A practical way to apply this is to keep the “shape language” consistent. If buttons are rectangles, keep them rectangles. If borders are visible, use them to communicate grouping and separation rather than decoration. The goal is to make structure legible, so that users do not have to decode the design before they can use the site.

Raw design still benefits from intentional systems. Using a restrained palette, consistent spacing, and predictable component patterns can keep the experience coherent even when it looks rugged. The difference between “brutalist” and “broken” often comes down to whether the layout behaves consistently under real usage.

Intentional roughness, real clarity.

Rough edges can still be usable.

Many sites earn credibility through visual refinement, but authenticity can also be signalled by refusing to over-produce. Visible edges, plain typography, and direct copy can communicate “this is what it is”, which can feel refreshing when users are tired of decorative interfaces that hide basic information behind interactions.

The risk is that roughness can drift into confusion. Clear labels, scannable headings, and predictable interactions prevent the user from paying a “cognitive tax” just to move through the page. Even when the visuals are stark, the wayfinding should remain obvious, and the actions should remain discoverable.

Clarity is not the enemy of style.

Usability in a brutalist layout is often strengthened by removing ambiguous cues. A plain link with an underline can outperform a stylish, low-contrast button if the button is not clearly clickable. The same goes for navigation: a simple list of sections can be more effective than a clever menu pattern that hides structure until a user already knows where to look.

This is also where messaging matters. Direct language, short sentences, and explicit calls to action can make the interface feel honest rather than abrupt. The tone can be bold without being hostile, and the copy can be confident without being vague.

Embrace plain structure and direct messaging.
Utilise functional aesthetics over decorative elements.
Maintain clarity to avoid user confusion.
Signal trust through intentional rough edges.
Use utility-first layouts for readable hierarchy.

Utility-first layouts for clarity.

A brutalist interface often succeeds because the layout behaves like a tool: it helps users do something quickly. A utility-first layout treats every element as a functional part of the journey, not an accessory. That mindset naturally pushes designers toward strong hierarchy, predictable navigation, and content that is easy to scan.

Navigation is the product.

Make the path obvious at a glance.

When content is the centre, information architecture becomes the main design lever. If users cannot find what they need, the visual style does not matter. Brutalist layouts tend to make navigation more explicit: fewer hidden menus, fewer interaction-only cues, and more visible structure that communicates “start here, then go here”.

High contrast can support this, but contrast should be used as a semantic tool. Headings should look distinct from body text, links should stand out from static labels, and important actions should not be visually interchangeable with passive content. If everything is loud, nothing is loud, so brutalist design still benefits from prioritisation.

On platforms such as Squarespace, this often means working with the system instead of fighting it. Clear section headings, consistent spacing, and predictable button treatments can be implemented without turning the site into a custom-coded maze. When the platform is a constraint, good structure becomes even more valuable because it reduces the need for complicated interface tricks.

Typography does the heavy lifting.

Let type carry meaning, not decoration.

Typographic hierarchy is the brutalist designer’s power tool. When decoration is minimised, type must communicate structure, emphasis, and rhythm. That can mean stronger heading weight, clear subheading spacing, and consistent line lengths that make scanning comfortable even when the visual style is stark.

Typography also shapes tone. A plain, system-style font can feel utilitarian and direct. A more distinctive font can introduce personality without introducing clutter. The key is to avoid relying on visual flourishes to clarify meaning. If a section is important, it should be important because the hierarchy says so, not because it has an extra graphic behind it.

Reduce clutter by reducing decisions.

Brutalist layouts often improve reading flow by standardising choices. If every block has the same padding rules and every heading uses the same spacing pattern, users learn the page quickly. That “learnability” is a hidden advantage: once users know how one part behaves, they can predict the rest.

Whitespace and density control.

Give content room to breathe.

Whitespace is not decoration, it is navigation for the eye. In brutalist design, spacing can be the difference between “raw but readable” and “raw and exhausting”. When blocks are crowded, users feel the page is chaotic even if the typography is strong.

Density should match intent. A pricing table can be dense if it is scannable. A manifesto-style page can be spacious if it is meant to be read slowly. The goal is not maximum minimalism; it is choosing a density that supports the task the user came to complete.

It also helps to treat whitespace as a component rule rather than a manual adjustment. If spacing depends on one-off tweaks, the page will drift as content changes. If spacing is systemised, the site stays stable as new sections are added or older sections are edited.

Focus on content and intuitive navigation.
Implement high contrast and clear hierarchy.
Minimise reliance on decorative elements for meaning.
Ensure strong typographic structure supports the design.
Use whitespace deliberately to improve scanability.

Deliberate tension to enhance messaging.

Brutalist pages can feel energetic because they use contrast, interruption, and asymmetry in a controlled way. That deliberate tension can make a message land harder, but it must be handled like a sharp tool: purposeful, measured, and always tied to meaning.

Controlled disruption patterns.

Interrupt the eye, not the task.

Tension can be created through layout choices that break expectations. A slightly unexpected alignment, a bold headline placed off-grid, or a strong block of contrast can pull attention toward the right idea at the right moment. The point is not to confuse, it is to guide focus without relying on decorative cues.

One safe way to do this is to keep interaction patterns conventional while allowing visual composition to be more experimental. Users generally accept bold visuals as long as the page behaves predictably: buttons click, forms submit, links look like links, and navigation remains consistent.

Contrast should mean something specific.

Visual contrast works best when it signals importance, not style. If a warning is red, reserve that treatment for warnings. If a call to action is high-contrast, keep secondary actions calmer. If everything uses the same intensity, users lose the ability to triage what matters.

Tension without task failure.

Keep conversion paths frictionless.

Brutalist design can still support commerce, sign-ups, and onboarding, as long as the page respects task completion. A checkout flow should not become an art project. A form should not require interpretation. If the design introduces tension near a critical action, it should amplify confidence, not introduce doubt.

That means practical guardrails: clear error states, obvious field labels, readable help text, and predictable focus behaviour. Rough aesthetics do not excuse weak validation or unclear feedback. If a user makes a mistake, the interface should explain what happened and how to fix it in plain language.

If a team wants to deploy more expressive patterns on a Squarespace site, it can be useful to use targeted enhancements rather than global disruption. A plugin library like Cx+ can be used to add specific interaction upgrades, such as structured navigation behaviours or content toggles, while leaving core flows stable and familiar. The brutalist feel then comes from content and hierarchy, not from breaking fundamental usability expectations.

Pick one “tension lever” per page area, such as contrast, asymmetry, or typography.
Keep interaction conventions familiar, even if the visuals are bold.
Stress-test key flows, such as sign-up, contact, and purchase paths.
Use plain, direct microcopy for errors and confirmations.
Remove any disruption that does not support a clear message.

When tension is handled well, it becomes a brand asset. It can make a site feel confident, opinionated, and distinct, especially in markets where every competitor is using the same polished template. The difference is that the tension is earned by purpose, not by randomness.

Usability remains paramount in all designs.

Brutalism does not remove the responsibility to make things easy. A memorable aesthetic that frustrates users fails at its job. Protecting user experience means validating the design with real behaviour, not assumptions, and treating accessibility as part of quality, not a decorative add-on.

Test with real tasks.

Measure behaviour, then refine calmly.

Usability testing is especially important when a design intentionally breaks conventional polish. What feels “clear” to the designer can feel “unfinished” to the user, and what feels “bold” can feel “hard to use” if hierarchy and feedback are not strong enough. Testing should focus on tasks: can people find key pages, complete forms, understand pricing, and locate support information without help.

A simple method is to run short tests with a handful of people who match the audience and watch where they hesitate. Pair that with basic analytics to see where people drop off. If a brutalist page performs well in both comprehension and completion, the aesthetic becomes an advantage rather than a risk.

Iteration should be continuous. Sites change, content expands, and new user expectations emerge. A brutalist approach can remain stable over time if it is treated as a system with rules, not as a one-off style experiment.

Accessibility is non-negotiable.

Bold design still needs inclusive rules.

Brutalist design often uses strong contrast and clear structure, which can support accessibility when done carefully. Following WCAG guidance helps teams avoid common failures such as low-contrast text, unclear focus indicators, and interactive elements that are impossible to use from a keyboard.

Colour contrast is the obvious starting point, but it is not the only requirement. Interactive controls should be reachable without a mouse, focus states should be visible, and content should remain understandable when styles do not load perfectly. That last point matters because brutalist layouts sometimes rely on fewer layers, so any missing cue becomes more noticeable.

Accessibility is also about comprehension. Clear headings, descriptive links, and plain language benefit everyone, not only users with assistive needs. Brutalist design can be a strong match for accessibility when it treats structure as sacred and avoids hiding meaning behind style.

Maintain and iterate with intent.

Keep the site honest as it grows.

Long-term success comes from governance. Pages get added, offers change, and teams evolve. Without a maintenance rhythm, brutalist sites can drift into inconsistency, where some pages are stark, others are decorative, and users feel they have entered different products.

This is where an operational approach matters. A managed practice such as Pro Subs can support ongoing review of content structure, navigation consistency, and performance hygiene on Squarespace sites, keeping the “raw but intentional” system coherent as the site expands. The point is not constant redesign, it is steady refinement that protects clarity.

Help users find answers faster.

Brutalist interfaces often assume users want direct access to information, which makes search and support tooling a natural companion. A concierge pattern like CORE can fit cleanly into a brutalist mindset when it is used as a functional layer: fewer “contact us” dead ends, more immediate answers, and less friction when users are trying to locate specific details across a growing site or knowledge base.

When maintenance, support, and structure are treated as a single system, brutalism becomes less about a look and more about discipline. The site stays direct, content stays primary, and the design remains honest even as the business adds complexity.

Conduct thorough user testing to identify pain points.
Prioritise accessibility and follow relevant guidelines.
Ensure readable contrast and predictable focus behaviour.
Maintain usability while embracing bold design choices.

Handled well, brutalism becomes a useful constraint that forces better hierarchy, cleaner messaging, and more intentional interactions. It also sets up a natural bridge into adjacent design conversations, such as when to introduce warmth, when to lean into minimalism, and how to adjust visual intensity across different page types without losing consistency.

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When brutalism works.

Brutalism is at its best when a project wants to be felt as much as it is understood. It is not a universal “make it look edgy” switch; it is a deliberate communication choice that trades polish for presence. When the message, the stance, or the story needs to land with impact, this aesthetic can strip away decoration and push the content forward with unapologetic clarity.

In practice, the deciding factor is rarely taste alone. The more useful question is whether the interface can afford to be confrontational, unconventional, or visually loud without harming the user’s ability to do what they came to do. When that trade-off is favourable, brutalist design can cut through sameness and feel honest in a way that glossy templates often cannot.

Prioritise message-led contexts.

Message-driven contexts are the natural home for brutalism because the interface acts like a megaphone rather than a concierge. The purpose is to transmit meaning quickly, sometimes sharply, and to leave a memorable impression. Editorial, artistic, and experimental spaces often benefit because they can turn “breaking convention” into part of the narrative rather than a usability defect.

That does not mean the design should ignore structure. The strongest brutalist work is usually the most intentional: it chooses where to be blunt, where to be quiet, and how to guide attention without relying on familiar polish. The interface becomes a frame for the message, not a layer of decoration over it.

Editorial and storytelling formats.

Let content dominate the layout.

Editorial websites often succeed with brutalist cues because headlines, imagery, and pacing already do the heavy lifting. A stark grid, oversized type, or intentionally blunt spacing can reinforce the seriousness, urgency, or personality of the writing. When the goal is to hold attention on an argument or story, an interface that refuses to fade into the background can be an asset.

One practical pattern is to amplify hierarchy without adding complexity. A page can use a small number of type sizes, strong contrast, and predictable rhythm between headings and body copy. The result still feels raw, but it reads cleanly. That balance matters because long-form reading is unforgiving: if the layout becomes chaotic, the audience stops engaging with the message and starts fighting the page.

Use shock sparingly, not constantly.

Another useful approach is to concentrate intensity in specific moments. For example, a landing page can open with blunt typography and stark composition to establish tone, then soften slightly deeper into the content where comprehension matters more than provocation. This keeps the identity intact while respecting reading stamina and cognitive load.

Creative brands and portfolios.

Authenticity can be a design choice.

Artistic portfolios often benefit because the work itself is meant to be distinctive, and the interface can act as an extension of that identity. A raw presentation can signal confidence, independence, or refusal to follow the same patterns as everyone else. It can also communicate that the creator cares about ideas more than surface-level gloss.

What makes this work is alignment between style and substance. If the portfolio is experimental, conceptual, or visually challenging, a conventional interface can feel dishonest, like packaging that does not match the product. Brutalist presentation can tighten that alignment, especially when paired with short, direct descriptions that explain the intention behind the work.

Showcases for designers, photographers, illustrators, and experimental studios.
Micro-sites for limited-run releases, exhibitions, or concept collections.
Personal sites where the creator’s voice is part of the product.

Campaigns that break narratives.

Disruption works when it is justified.

Campaign design can use brutalist techniques to interrupt scrolling behaviour and force attention. When a message is meant to challenge a norm, the interface can mirror that disruption through aggressive contrast, unusual layout choices, or intentionally “uncomfortable” spacing. Done well, the friction is not accidental; it is a rhetorical device.

A practical example is a campaign that needs to feel urgent rather than soothing. A clean, friendly UI can accidentally soften urgency. A harsher visual language can signal that the topic is serious, that it should not be consumed passively, and that a response is expected. The key is to ensure the call to action remains easy to find and easy to complete, even if the surrounding visuals are bold.

Activations designed to provoke discussion or challenge expectations.
Launch pages for music, film, or culture projects leaning into avant-garde energy.
Non-profit messaging where urgency and clarity matter more than elegance.

Use experimental spaces carefully.

Experimental spaces are where brutalism can be explored without the same penalties as high-stakes product interfaces. Portfolios, showcases, concept microsites, and editorial experiments allow designers to push boundaries, test new compositions, and embrace rawness. These environments are more tolerant of surprise and unconventional rhythm because discovery is part of the experience.

Even so, experimentation is not a free pass to ignore how people navigate. The moment a visitor cannot find the next step, the design stops being “bold” and becomes “broken”. Strong work in this category usually pairs unconventional visuals with straightforward interaction rules.

Avoid high-stakes journeys.

Clarity beats aesthetic bravado.

Transactional flows are a common failure point. Checkout, sign-up, payments, booking, account recovery, and legal consent steps demand reliability and immediate comprehension. If brutalism introduces doubt at these moments, it increases abandonment, support requests, and user frustration. The cost of confusion is higher than the value of visual personality.

This is where hybrid approaches become useful. A brand can keep brutalist identity on editorial pages, lookbooks, and campaign surfaces while switching to a calmer, more conventional pattern for forms and payments. Consistency does not require uniformity; it requires a consistent logic for when the experience is loud and when it is quiet.

Test comprehension, not opinions.

Measure whether users understand quickly.

User testing is especially important here because bold design can create false confidence in the creator. People might say they like the aesthetic yet still fail basic tasks. The most useful tests focus on observable behaviour: can a visitor find navigation, identify interactive elements, understand hierarchy, and complete a key action without coaching?

Practical testing does not need a large lab or expensive tooling. A small set of tasks can reveal the biggest issues. For example: ask participants to find a specific article, locate contact details, identify pricing, or switch between sections. Watch for hesitation and backtracking. Those moments often signal that the design language is not communicating affordances clearly.

Define three to five tasks tied to the page’s real purpose.
Observe where people pause, misclick, or abandon navigation.
Adjust hierarchy, spacing, and link styling before changing “style”.

Keep accessibility guardrails.

Bold should still be usable.

Accessibility is not optional simply because the design is experimental. Brutalist visuals often rely on extreme contrast, dense typography, or unconventional layouts, which can create real barriers for people with low vision, dyslexia, motor limitations, or cognitive fatigue. Guardrails ensure the project remains inclusive and avoids accidental exclusion.

Common friction points include unclear link states, low-contrast text over imagery, and interactive elements that do not look interactive. A useful discipline is to treat every “raw” decision as a hypothesis that must still pass basic legibility and navigation checks. If the design’s message is meant for real people, the interface must not make the audience fight to access it.

Ensure headings and body copy have strong contrast and predictable hierarchy.
Make links visually distinct, not just subtly different in colour.
Support keyboard navigation and maintain sensible focus states.
Use descriptive labels for buttons and avoid vague “click here” patterns.

Avoid ugliness without intent.

Ugly for ugly’s sake is where brutalism collapses into parody. Rawness is not the same as carelessness. If the layout feels random, if typography looks accidental, or if spacing appears broken, users assume the same about the brand behind it. The visual message becomes “they did not bother” rather than “they meant it”.

Quality in brutalist work usually comes from restraint and internal rules. The surface may look harsh, but the underlying system is coherent. The design can be blunt while still being crafted.

Build a rationale for choices.

Every odd decision needs a purpose.

Design rationale protects teams from drifting into chaos. When a layout breaks convention, the reason should be explicit: to spotlight a story beat, to create tension, to mirror a theme, or to prioritise content over ornament. If the team cannot explain why a choice exists, it is usually noise.

A practical method is to map each unconventional element to an intended effect. For example, an oversized headline might exist to create urgency, while a stark monochrome palette might exist to remove distractions. When the purpose is known, it becomes easier to evaluate whether the choice is working and to adjust it without losing the identity.

Use typography as structure.

Type can replace decorative layout.

Typographic hierarchy is the backbone of readable brutalism. When ornament is stripped away, text becomes the interface. Headings, subheadings, captions, and body copy must guide the eye. This often means fewer fonts, stronger size contrast, and clearer rhythm between sections.

Spacing matters as much as type. Large gaps can create emphasis, but inconsistent gaps create confusion. Strong brutalist pages tend to feel “spacious” rather than “messy”, even when the visuals are aggressive. That spaciousness is not softness; it is control.

Keep patterns legible.

Consistency is how users learn.

Interaction patterns should not feel broken. If buttons look like plain text in one place and look like buttons elsewhere, the interface becomes a guessing game. If navigation shifts unpredictably between pages, users lose their sense of location. Brutalism can challenge aesthetics; it should not sabotage wayfinding.

One reliable principle is to keep a small set of conventions stable. For example: navigation location stays consistent; links always look like links; primary calls to action have a consistent style; headings follow a predictable rhythm. The page can still look radical, but it behaves in a way users can learn quickly.

Validate audience fit early.

Audience expectations determine whether brutalism reads as confident or careless. Some groups enjoy boldness, novelty, and raw expression. Others associate professionalism with calm, polished interfaces and interpret harsh design as low quality. The same visual language can be perceived as “authentic” in one context and “untrustworthy” in another.

Fit is not a moral judgement; it is alignment. If the audience comes to buy, book, or trust a service, the interface must support that trust. If the audience comes to explore culture, ideas, or creative identity, the interface can afford to be more confrontational.

Check brand alignment.

Style should match the promise.

Brand identity should lead the decision, not design trends. If a brand promises elegance, calm, and reassurance, a brutalist interface can undermine that promise. If a brand promises honesty, edge, experimentation, or counter-culture energy, brutalism can reinforce it.

One practical exercise is to write three adjectives the brand wants to be remembered for, then test whether the interface communicates them. If the adjectives are “reliable” and “clear”, rawness must be carefully controlled. If the adjectives are “bold” and “independent”, the aesthetic may fit naturally.

Use lightweight research.

Evidence beats assumptions every time.

Audience research does not need to be heavyweight to be useful. Simple surveys, short interviews, session recordings, and analytics review can reveal whether visitors are confused, engaged, or bouncing quickly. Patterns matter more than individual opinions: repeated friction points signal that the interface is not communicating clearly.

Competitor review is also useful, not to copy, but to understand category norms. If every competitor is polished and calm, a brutalist approach will stand out immediately, which can be good or risky depending on the goal. If the category already embraces unconventional design, brutalism may feel less disruptive and more expected.

Gather quick qualitative feedback from a small sample of real users.
Compare bounce, scroll depth, and click paths across key pages.
Review competitor patterns to understand what audiences are trained to expect.

Treat it as a strategy.

Authenticity is the deeper reason brutalism keeps resurfacing. Many audiences have become sceptical of overly polished branding that feels manufactured. A raw aesthetic can signal honesty, directness, and transparency, especially when paired with writing that avoids empty marketing language and focuses on real claims.

At the same time, brutalism is not automatically “real”. It can become a costume if it is used to disguise weak content or vague messaging. The aesthetic works when it supports substance: clear ideas, specific language, and a deliberate point of view.

Use it for social commentary.

Stark design can carry weight.

Social commentary is one of the strongest use cases because the aesthetic can visually reinforce seriousness and urgency. A campaign addressing climate issues, inequality, or public harm can benefit from blunt typography, harsh contrast, and reduced ornamentation. The interface can communicate that the topic is not entertainment and not optional.

For organisations that rely on persuasion, the important detail is to keep the path to action obvious. A visitor should not have to decode the interface to donate, volunteer, sign, or learn more. The emotional tone can be intense while the mechanics remain straightforward.

Simplify without becoming simplistic.

Strip decoration, keep meaning.

Design process shifts when teams embrace brutalist principles. Removing embellishment forces attention onto core structure: what the page is saying, what it wants the visitor to do, and how the hierarchy supports comprehension. This often leads to more intentional decisions because there is less visual noise available to hide weak thinking.

That discipline can be useful even for teams that do not fully commit to brutalism. Stripping a layout back during early drafts can expose where the message is unclear, where navigation is confusing, or where content needs stronger structure. The aesthetic becomes a tool for clarity, not just a final style choice.

Apply practical platform constraints.

Brutalism still ships through systems.

Squarespace and other site builders can support brutalist layouts, but the system constraints should shape the implementation plan. Templates, blocks, and responsive behaviour influence how far experimentation can go without breaking mobile readability. Strong results often come from using the platform’s strengths and customising only where it meaningfully improves the message.

If a team is experimenting on a live site, it helps to treat the brutalist layer as modular. Keep the core navigation and critical pages stable, then test bolder layouts on campaign pages or editorial sections. This reduces risk while still allowing creative exploration.

With that foundation in place, the next decision is where brutalism stops being helpful and starts creating friction. The difference is usually revealed by real behaviour: how quickly users find their way, how confidently they interact, and whether the design amplifies the message without obscuring it.

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Brutalism that stays usable.

In digital environments filled with polished templates and overly curated brand aesthetics, brutalist web design offers a deliberate alternative: a stance that prioritises honesty, legibility, and intent. The appeal is not “ugliness for attention”, but the idea that a website can feel more trustworthy when it stops trying to impress and starts trying to communicate. When the surface becomes quieter, the message carries more weight, and the visitor can understand what the organisation stands for without decoding layers of visual theatre.

This approach is not a free pass to ignore craft. Brutalism still needs structure, hierarchy, and measurable usability, otherwise it quickly becomes a style choice that punishes visitors. The most effective executions treat roughness as a controlled language, not as disorder. They choose directness, then engineer clarity so the website remains fast, findable, accessible, and consistent across devices and contexts.

Rawness and honesty.

Rawness works when it supports meaning. A site can feel transparent when it presents information plainly, uses fewer decorative distractions, and makes the “why” of the organisation easy to grasp. This is where information architecture quietly does the heavy lifting: if the structure is coherent, the design can be blunt without becoming confusing.

Use plain structure intentionally.

Make the page layout self-explanatory.

Plain structure is not the absence of design, it is design that chooses restraint. Layout decisions can prioritise obvious scanning patterns: headings that explain themselves, paragraphs that stay on-topic, and navigation that looks like navigation. When visitors do not have to interpret ornamental flourishes, they can spend attention on the content itself, which is often the real differentiator in services, SaaS, and e-commerce.

Reduce friction by removing ornament.

Plain structure also creates a practical advantage: fewer components to load, fewer layout shifts to manage, and fewer “clever” interactions that break across browsers. When the interface stays simple, the user journey becomes easier to predict and improve. That predictability matters when the goal is a purchase, a booking, a sign-up, or a support resolution rather than a gallery-style browsing experience.

Keep messaging direct and testable.

Write what matters, then prove it.

Direct messaging becomes powerful when it is precise enough to measure. Instead of vague brand statements, teams can use specific claims, outcomes, or constraints, then validate them with behaviour data. If a page says it helps users do one thing, the interface should make that action obvious, and the analytics should show whether visitors complete it or abandon it. That discipline turns tone into a measurable system rather than a subjective preference.

Direct messaging can also support credibility when the organisation needs trust quickly. A non-profit highlighting real-world impact, or a small business explaining lead times and limitations, can build confidence by stating facts plainly. The point is not negativity, it is clear communication that respects the visitor’s time and avoids overpromising.

Make mobile clarity non-negotiable.

Design for small screens first.

On mobile, brutalism either shines or fails immediately. A straightforward layout should translate cleanly to narrow viewports: readable type sizes, tap-friendly navigation, and prioritised content order. When screen real estate is limited, the interface cannot rely on side-by-side nuance; it must decide what matters most and put it where the thumb can reach without hunting.

Mobile clarity also benefits the organisation behind the website, because it reduces maintenance complexity. Fewer layout variants means fewer breakpoints to debug and fewer cases where a “desktop-only” idea breaks conversions. The brutalist preference for simplicity can become a mobile-first advantage when the structure is planned rather than improvised.

Use headings that state outcomes, not moods.
Keep navigation labels literal and predictable.
Prefer short paragraphs with one idea each.
Reserve visual emphasis for what must be noticed.

When this foundation is in place, rawness reads as confidence instead of chaos, and the rest of the design decisions become easier to justify.

Function over decoration.

Brutalism leans hard into “form follows function”, but the useful interpretation is practical: every interface choice should earn its place. functional aesthetics is not anti-beauty, it is beauty built from utility, where typography, contrast, spacing, and feedback loops exist primarily to help visitors understand and act.

Use contrast to serve reading.

Legibility is the primary visual effect.

High contrast and bold type are common brutalist signatures, but they work best when they support comprehension rather than shock. The aim is to make text scannable, headings distinct, and call-to-action elements obvious. If the page has to explain a service, a feature set, or a policy, the typography should behave like a guide, not like decoration.

Accessibility improves when the team treats contrast and size as functional requirements. Referencing WCAG guidelines during design decisions helps keep the aesthetic inclusive, especially for users with low vision, glare issues, or cognitive overload. Brutalism can actually make accessibility easier to achieve because it avoids subtle colour-on-colour effects that look stylish but reduce readability.

Optimise performance as part of style.

Speed is a design feature.

Simple pages often load faster, but only if the team avoids swapping ornament for other weight, such as oversized media, heavy scripts, or unnecessary third-party tags. A brutalist site that loads slowly undermines its own promise of directness. Practical performance work, such as compressing images, limiting font files, and removing unused code, keeps the aesthetic aligned with the experience.

Measure what the visitor experiences.

Performance should be assessed using real metrics, not just feelings. Tools like Google PageSpeed Insights can reveal whether the page is stable, responsive, and quick to render meaningful content. When issues appear, brutalist structure makes debugging easier because there are fewer moving parts and fewer layered components competing for resources.

Make usability the visual system.

Choose interaction patterns people recognise.

Functional aesthetics often means using familiar patterns: obvious buttons, straightforward links, predictable menus, and clear feedback states. When the site avoids novelty-for-novelty’s sake, users do not have to learn the interface before they can use it. That matters in transactional contexts where visitors arrive with intent and little patience.

For teams building on platforms like Squarespace, restraint can also be operationally efficient. Rather than forcing a theme into complex behaviours, a brutalist direction can focus on content clarity, navigation, and lightweight enhancements. When additional functionality is needed, minimal add-ons should improve the journey without turning the page into a patchwork. In practice, that might look like a small, focused plugin that improves navigation or content layout, such as a Cx+ enhancement, while keeping the overall interface clean and purposeful.

Define one primary action per page and make it visually dominant.
Use contrast and spacing to show hierarchy, not decoration.
Remove interaction gimmicks that add confusion or delay.
Validate choices with behaviour data, not internal preference.

When function drives the aesthetic, brutalism stops being a style trend and becomes a practical system for building trustworthy, easy-to-use experiences.

Rough edges with purpose.

Roughness signals authenticity only when it feels intentional. The point is not to look unfinished; it is to avoid the polished sameness that makes many sites feel interchangeable. Used well, intentional imperfection can create personality, help the brand stand out, and communicate that the organisation values substance over surface.

Use imperfections as a signal.

Let the interface feel human, not glossy.

Small choices can produce the “rough edge” feel without harming usability: slightly asymmetric layouts, blunt copy, visible grid decisions, or typography that feels editorial rather than corporate. These choices can imply a real operator behind the service, which can resonate with audiences that distrust overly polished marketing language.

Rough edges also work as differentiation in crowded markets, where many competitors use the same layouts, the same hero patterns, and the same soft gradients. A more raw presentation can create a memorable identity, especially when paired with content that carries genuine expertise. The key is that the roughness should never interfere with comprehension, navigation, or task completion.

Turn roughness into storytelling.

Show the journey, not the gloss.

Brutalism can support storytelling by letting the organisation speak plainly about constraints, trade-offs, and progress. That can be as simple as explaining why a process takes time, why a feature exists, or what the team learned from a change. When visitors see honest context, they can interpret the “roughness” as integrity rather than carelessness.

Storytelling should still be structured. If a page includes background, proof, and next steps, the visitor can follow the narrative quickly. This is where a controlled editorial approach helps: headings that guide, paragraphs that stay tight, and examples that feel grounded in real operations. It becomes a system for building trust through narrative clarity rather than through visual polish.

Avoid roughness that breaks tasks.

Do not confuse style with friction.

Some “brutalist” choices are simply anti-usability patterns: hidden navigation, cryptic labels, poor spacing that makes links hard to tap, or pages that overload users with dense text blocks. Those choices create frustration, not authenticity. The practical test is simple: if users cannot complete common tasks quickly, the design has failed, regardless of how “pure” the aesthetic looks.

Roughness can coexist with modern support expectations too. If a site embraces directness, visitors still need quick answers. A lightweight help layer, such as a search concierge like CORE, can sit comfortably inside a brutalist interface because it aligns with the same philosophy: reduce noise, deliver clarity, and keep the visitor moving without unnecessary detours.

Use blunt copy, but keep labels unambiguous.
Make visual roughness consistent across templates.
Keep interactive elements obvious and tappable.
Reserve “weirdness” for non-critical moments.

Handled this way, rough edges become a strategic asset: a visual signal that supports trust, identity, and differentiation without sacrificing the fundamentals of usability.

Clarity that prevents friction.

Brutalism works best when it is paired with disciplined clarity. The aesthetic can be raw, but the experience cannot be confusing. This is where usability heuristics matter: visible structure, predictable navigation, clear feedback, and content that answers questions at the moment they arise.

Build hierarchy that guides scanning.

Hierarchy is how users think.

Clarity starts with hierarchy. Visitors arrive with intent, even if they are not sure how to express it. Headings should map the page logically, and key messages should appear where scanning eyes expect them, near the top, near the action, and near the points of doubt. This reduces the cognitive load of interpreting the page and increases the chance that visitors move forward instead of leaving.

White space is often associated with minimalist design, but it is just as valuable in brutalism because it prevents density from turning into fatigue. The page can be blunt while still giving elements room to breathe. That balance supports comprehension and reduces the risk of visitors missing critical details like pricing, delivery constraints, or form requirements.

Test clarity with real behaviour.

Observe the user, then iterate.

User feedback is most useful when it is structured. Running user testing with a small set of representative visitors can reveal whether the navigation makes sense, whether the copy answers obvious questions, and whether the design helps or hinders task completion. The goal is not to defend the aesthetic, it is to refine the experience so the aesthetic can succeed without becoming a barrier.

Quantitative tracking strengthens this process. When teams monitor behavioural signals like bounce, scroll depth, and form drop-off, they can identify where clarity breaks down. A high bounce rate on a page that should convert often points to unclear messaging, missing trust signals, or confusing navigation rather than “bad traffic”. The brutalist preference for simplicity can make these issues easier to isolate and fix.

Keep it responsive and maintainable.

Consistency across devices builds trust.

Responsive behaviour is not optional. A brutalist layout must adapt cleanly to mobile, tablet, and desktop contexts without breaking hierarchy or hiding key actions. This means ensuring buttons remain tappable, text remains readable, and content order remains logical. The design can look raw, but it should feel dependable everywhere.

Teams managing content over time also benefit from process, not just design decisions. A sustainable workflow, sometimes supported through ongoing site management such as Pro Subs, helps keep pages consistent, reduces accidental drift in templates, and ensures clarity improvements are maintained rather than undone by future edits. This is not about constant redesign; it is about protecting the user experience through repeatable operational habits.

Define the key tasks visitors come to complete.
Map those tasks to obvious page paths and labels.
Validate the paths using feedback and analytics.
Refine copy and structure until confusion drops.

Once clarity is engineered into the foundation, brutalism becomes less risky. The next step is to look at how typography, spacing, and content density can be tuned so the interface remains distinctive while staying calm and readable as the site grows.

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Utility-first layouts.

Utility-first layouts treat a website like a working interface first, and a visual statement second. The goal is not to remove personality, it is to remove friction. When pages are designed around tasks, questions, and decision points, visitors spend less time decoding the interface and more time absorbing information, comparing options, and taking action.

This approach pairs naturally with brutalist web design, where clarity is valued over polish and every element is expected to justify its presence. The design does not hide the structure. It makes the structure visible, readable, and dependable, especially for content-heavy sites, documentation, service menus, and e-commerce journeys where speed of understanding matters more than ornamental detail.

Focus on content and navigation.

A utility-first layout begins by deciding what the page is for, then shaping everything around that purpose. If the page exists to answer questions, the layout should behave like an organised reference. If it exists to convert, the layout should behave like a guided path. In both cases, the interface should let visitors move with confidence, without guessing what to click next.

Build a predictable content map.

Structure reduces hesitation and rework.

Strong information architecture is the hidden engine behind “simple” pages. It decides what belongs together, what should be separated, and what needs to be findable from anywhere. When content is grouped by intent (learn, compare, buy, contact, support), visitors stop scanning randomly and start navigating deliberately.

The practical aim is to reduce cognitive load. Every extra decision a visitor has to make, such as “Which menu is correct?” or “Is this a link or a label?”, drains attention. A utility-first layout keeps choices obvious and consistent so the user’s mental effort goes into the content itself, not the mechanics of moving around it.

Use labels that match user language, not internal jargon.
Group related pages into a visible hierarchy (category, subcategory, detail).
Keep primary navigation stable across templates so behaviour does not change page-to-page.
Make “where am I?” answerable at a glance, especially on larger sites.

Help users backtrack cleanly.

Navigation should support exploration safely.

Breadcrumb trails are not a decorative flourish, they are a confidence tool. They reveal location, show how sections relate, and provide fast escape routes when a visitor has clicked deep into content. This matters most in multi-step journeys such as knowledge bases, service directories, and product collections, where visitors may need to compare pages without losing their place.

Breadcrumbs also support scanning behaviour. A visitor might land on a detail page from search, skim, then realise they want the broader category. If the interface offers a clear route upward, the visitor stays on-site and continues exploring, rather than bouncing back to the search results to start over.

Respect mobile constraints early.

Small screens expose weak structure fast.

Utility-first thinking becomes non-negotiable when responsive design is taken seriously. On mobile, every extra element competes with the content for space, and every unclear interaction turns into friction. Navigation patterns should be consistent, tap targets should be generous, and the page should prioritise the same core tasks as desktop, just arranged for vertical reading and thumb movement.

It helps to design “mobile-first” in logic, even if the visual design is finalised on desktop. That means deciding what must be visible immediately, what can be tucked into progressive disclosure, and what should be removed entirely when it does not support the page goal.

Offer search when structure is deep.

Let users skip the maze when needed.

A well-placed site search is a direct acknowledgement that some visitors arrive with a specific intent and do not want to browse. For content libraries, support hubs, and stores with wide catalogues, search reduces time-to-answer and prevents navigation from feeling like a chore.

On Squarespace sites, this often means being careful with page titles, SEO descriptions, and consistent naming, because those elements shape what a search tool can return. In more complex environments, tools like CORE can act as a layer above basic search by turning structured content into quick, conversational answers, but the same rule applies: the underlying content still needs clean structure to stay trustworthy.

Use high contrast and hierarchy.

High contrast is not about creating a harsh look for its own sake. It is about making content legible in real conditions: glare on a phone, low-quality screens, tired eyes, and mixed lighting. When contrast is strong and hierarchy is clear, the page becomes scannable, inclusive, and faster to understand.

Design for legibility metrics.

Readability is measurable, not vibes.

Contrast ratio determines whether text is readable against its background, especially for people with low vision. Treat it like a functional requirement. If body text needs effort to read, visitors will skim less, abandon sooner, and miss critical details such as pricing, terms, and instructions.

Using WCAG guidance as a baseline helps keep decisions grounded. It encourages sensible contrast, predictable focus states, and accessible interaction patterns. Even when a brand palette is limited, it is usually possible to adjust shades, weights, and background treatments so content remains readable without sacrificing identity.

Limit the colour palette so attention is earned, not scattered.
Use size and weight changes to signal importance before using colour as a crutch.
Keep interactive states clear (hover, focus, active) so elements do not feel “mysterious”.
Maintain consistent spacing so the page reads like a system, not a collage.

Make hierarchy do the work.

Headings should guide, not decorate.

A clear typographic hierarchy makes a long page feel shorter, because users can jump between meaningful landmarks. Headings signal topic shifts, subheadings signal structure, and consistent paragraph rhythm keeps reading comfortable. In brutalist-leaning layouts, typography often becomes the primary design language, which makes discipline even more important.

Hierarchy is also how a page avoids repeating itself. If every section looks the same weight, the visitor cannot tell what is primary versus supportive. When hierarchy is tuned properly, the page naturally communicates “start here, then go here,” without needing extra UI clutter.

Minimise decoration as meaning.

Decoration is not the enemy. The problem is decoration that pretends to communicate something it does not. Utility-first layouts favour honest signals: if an element is important, it should be important because of placement, wording, and structure, not because it has a flourish attached to it.

Cut ornaments that confuse.

Every element needs a job to do.

When a page relies on excessive visuals, visitors may struggle to identify what is actionable versus what is merely present. This is where minimalism becomes functional. Buttons should look like buttons. Links should look like links. Decorative flourishes that mimic interactive elements create hesitation and misclicks.

Images are most valuable when they increase understanding. Product photos, diagrams, before-and-after visuals, and interface screenshots earn their place. Generic imagery, especially when repeated, can dilute focus and slow down pages without giving users better decisions.

Use images only when they clarify a point, support trust, or reduce explanation time.
Avoid complex layouts that force visitors to “learn” the page before using it.
Write button labels that describe outcomes, not vague actions (for example, “View pricing” versus “Click here”).
Remove UI elements that do not support the primary task of the page.

Balance function with tone.

Emotional impact can be subtle and consistent.

Utility-first does not mean emotionless. Tone can come from restraint: a consistent palette, deliberate spacing, and a stable visual rhythm. A clean system can still feel premium, human, or bold depending on typography, copy style, and the way content is prioritised.

One practical accessibility edge case is colour blindness. If a design uses colour alone to indicate status (error, success, selected), some users will miss the signal. Redundancy solves this: use icons, text labels, and structural cues alongside colour so meaning survives different perception conditions.

Make typography carry structure.

Typography is not just styling, it is the delivery mechanism of the content. In a utility-first layout, type decisions determine scanning speed, comprehension, and how confident users feel while reading. If the typography is inconsistent, the experience feels unstable, even if the words are strong.

Choose typefaces with intent.

Type choices should match the content job.

Typefaces should reflect the brand, but they also need to perform. Headings may be bold and distinctive, while body text should prioritise comfort and clarity. When typography is doing heavy lifting, small details matter: line length, line spacing, paragraph spacing, and the predictability of heading patterns.

Whitespace is part of the typographic system, not empty space. It creates separation between ideas, makes lists easier to scan, and prevents dense pages from feeling exhausting. In practice, whitespace is what allows a brutalist or utility-first interface to feel intentional rather than unfinished.

Test, then standardise.

Consistency scales better than cleverness.

A practical way to validate decisions is usability testing, even at a small scale. Five to ten real users attempting real tasks will expose confusing labels, weak hierarchy, and navigation gaps quickly. The key is to observe behaviour rather than ask for opinions only, because many users cannot articulate friction until it blocks them.

Once patterns work, lock them into a design system. That does not require enterprise tooling. It can be a documented set of rules: heading levels, button styles, spacing, link behaviour, and content templates. For teams working across Squarespace, Knack, and custom tooling, a shared system prevents each page or view from becoming a one-off.

If development resources are available, turning repeated UI patterns into a component library reduces drift further. It ensures the same navigation module, card layout, and form pattern behave consistently, which makes the experience feel reliable and makes future updates cheaper.

Keep performance aligned with clarity.

Fast pages make structure feel smarter.

Utility-first layouts often win on performance because they avoid unnecessary visual weight. Still, it is worth treating performance as part of the layout strategy: compress images, limit heavy scripts, and avoid stacking multiple features that fight for the same attention. When pages load quickly, users trust the interface more, and the navigation work done earlier pays off because visitors are willing to explore.

For Squarespace sites, this is where carefully chosen enhancements can help, especially when they simplify interaction rather than add clutter. A well-designed Cx+ retrofit that improves navigation clarity or reduces friction in content interaction can support utility-first goals, provided it stays disciplined and does not introduce complexity that the layout is trying to remove.

To carry this approach forward, the next step is to treat each page as a system: identify the primary task, remove anything that competes with it, then reinforce structure using hierarchy, spacing, and predictable navigation. Once those foundations hold, expanding content becomes safer because the experience remains readable even as the site grows.

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Deliberate tension in design.

In digital design, tension is often misunderstood as “making something look edgy”. In practice, it is closer to purposeful friction that pulls attention, shapes interpretation, and helps a message land with clarity. When designers create a slight visual or conceptual mismatch, such as an intentionally rigid grid with one element that breaks alignment, the page gains a sense of energy. That energy can be used to steer focus, signal priority, and make a brand feel more distinctive without relying on decorative polish.

ProjektID’s view of digital reality applies neatly here: attention is not earned by adding more, but by making the right things feel unavoidable. Tension becomes a mechanism for meaning, not a style trend. It can support storytelling, guide task completion, and create memorable moments, as long as it remains controlled and accountable to usability.

Tension can carry meaning.

Designers use tension when they want the interface to say something beyond the literal text on the page. The simplest method is contrast, but the deeper method is making intentional trade-offs visible. A design can communicate confidence by being spare and direct, or it can communicate urgency by compressing spacing and increasing contrast around key actions. In both cases, the user senses intention, and intention makes the experience feel authored rather than accidental.

Contrast as a narrative device.

Use difference to signal importance.

Visual contrast is the most accessible form of tension because it works at a glance. Contrasting scale, weight, colour, or placement can make a single element feel “louder” than everything around it. That “loudness” is useful when the page has one critical job, such as onboarding, capturing an enquiry, or guiding someone into a product path. A small change in type weight, or a deliberate clash between a calm background and a vivid button, can make the action obvious without adding extra explanation.

When tension is used as narrative rather than decoration, it becomes easier to justify. Designers can ask: what is the page trying to say right now, and what should be felt first? That answer can then shape where contrast is applied, and where it is avoided. The goal is not to make every component compete, but to create a clear hierarchy where a few chosen elements carry the story.

Brutalism with intention.

Raw aesthetics still need structure.

Brutalist design often relies on rawness, blunt typography, and an “unpolished” feel that resists conventional refinement. That resistance can be valuable when a brand wants to feel direct, experimental, or anti-gimmick. Yet the approach works best when the underlying structure is solid. A brutalist interface still needs consistent spacing rules, predictable interaction patterns, and legible content flow, otherwise the rawness becomes noise.

Designers can treat brutalism as a surface language, while keeping the foundation conventional. For example, typography can be bold and irregular, while navigation remains consistent and predictable. Imagery can be unexpected, while the user always knows where to click next. This is where tension becomes productive: the surface challenges expectations, while the structure protects the user from getting lost.

Emotional and cognitive pull.

Direct attention, then justify it.

Humans notice differences quickly. Contrast in size, shape, rhythm, and placement is processed faster than long-form reading, which makes tension an efficient attention tool. Used well, it can create curiosity and invite exploration. Used poorly, it can create uncertainty and mistrust. The difference usually comes down to whether the tension is resolved. If a page creates a moment of visual friction, the next interaction should reward it with clarity.

This is why tension pairs well with purposeful messaging. If a designer wants a user to reflect, tension can slow the scan. If the goal is action, tension can sharpen focus around a single choice. If the goal is comprehension, tension can isolate concepts into digestible chunks. In each case, the interface creates a “pull” and then supports the next step.

Examples that stay readable.

Patterns that create controlled focus.

Contrasting colours to make a call to action unmistakable.
Asymmetrical layouts that guide attention across sections without relying on heavy decoration.
Bold typography that introduces priority, while body text remains calm and readable.
Unexpected imagery that reframes a message, paired with clear labels to remove ambiguity.
Layered elements that add depth, while spacing prevents visual congestion.

Controlled disruption beats chaos.

Chaos can look dramatic, but drama does not automatically produce understanding. Most websites fail when users feel uncertain about what to do next. Controlled disruption is the alternative: a deliberate break in pattern that catches attention, while the rest of the page maintains order. This approach allows a design to feel bold without becoming exhausting.

Disruption should be bounded.

Break one rule, keep the rest.

A useful mental model is to disrupt one dimension at a time. If layout becomes irregular, typography should remain consistent. If colour becomes bold, spacing should remain calm. If interaction becomes playful, navigation should remain standard. This creates a sense of experimentation that still feels safe to move through. Users can tolerate surprise when they still recognise the system underneath.

Designers can also treat disruption as a spotlight. A single block of unexpected colour can separate content into phases. A typographic shift can frame a key statement. A slightly unconventional animation can hint that something is interactive. These choices work because they create a contrast against an otherwise steady baseline.

Whitespace as a control mechanism.

Silence makes the loud parts work.

Whitespace is not empty space, it is structure. It controls pacing, reduces visual fatigue, and makes complex layouts feel intentional. When a design includes disruptive elements, whitespace becomes the stabiliser that prevents overwhelm. It can isolate a message, give a visual “breath”, and help users understand what belongs together.

In practical terms, whitespace can be used to “frame” disruption. A loud typographic statement becomes readable when it has generous margins. A layered image collage becomes navigable when interactive elements have clear separation. A brutalist grid becomes usable when content blocks are not pressed together. In each case, whitespace is doing the work of restraint.

Strategies for disruption.

Use surprise with predictable outcomes.

Introduce unexpected colour blocks to segment content into stages.
Use varied typography for headings, while body text stays consistent for readability.
Incorporate interactive elements that invite exploration, but keep labels explicit.
Use whitespace to create focus, especially around high-priority actions.
Experiment with overlap and layering, then test whether users can still scan quickly.

Technical depth on implementation.

Design systems make disruption safer.

When teams build controlled disruption repeatedly, the work benefits from a lightweight design system. Even on platforms like Squarespace, designers can define consistent spacing rules, button styles, and heading hierarchies, then selectively break them in specific places. This reduces the risk of “random” inconsistency, because every break has a known baseline.

On the engineering side, controlled disruption is easier to maintain when interactive behaviour is modular. Instead of scattering ad-hoc scripts across pages, teams can centralise patterns into reusable components or plugins. In ProjektID’s ecosystem, this is the logic behind tools like Cx+, where small, targeted behaviours can be applied consistently, then tuned per page. The goal is not novelty for its own sake, but repeatable improvement without fragile hacks.

Usability remains the baseline.

A design can be bold and still be kind to users. The moment core tasks become difficult, tension stops being expressive and starts being punitive. That is why usability has to be treated as the baseline, not an optional layer that gets added later. If a user cannot find navigation, cannot understand what is clickable, or cannot complete a purchase, the design has failed regardless of how memorable it looks.

Keep tasks friction-light.

Make actions obvious without clutter.

For conversion-focused flows, the interface needs a clear action path. This means buttons must look like buttons, links must look like links, and interactive elements must provide feedback. Designers can still use tension, but they should not use it to hide the mechanics. A stark layout can be paired with very explicit signposting, such as consistent button placement, clear labels, and a stable navigation region.

When brutalism is used, the temptation is to remove “obvious” affordances because they feel too conventional. Yet conventional cues exist because they reduce cognitive effort. A user should not have to decode the interface before engaging with the content. The more the layout challenges expectations, the more important it becomes to keep interactions predictable.

Hierarchy is non-negotiable.

Users scan before they read.

A clear visual hierarchy is what allows tension to exist without confusion. If everything is loud, nothing is loud. Designers can create hierarchy through scale, spacing, contrast, and placement. Headings should define structure. Supporting text should remain legible. The primary action should be easy to locate from anywhere on the page.

Hierarchy also protects users with mixed technical literacy. Some users skim quickly, others read carefully. A well-structured page supports both. It gives skimmers a map and gives readers a path. This matters even more on mobile screens, where attention is fragmented and space is tight.

Usability checks that matter.

Test the path, not just the page.

Ensure buttons and links are easily identifiable and consistently styled.
Test primary navigation paths to find bottlenecks and dead ends.
Use visual cues such as icons or motion sparingly, and confirm they clarify intent.
Confirm responsive behaviour across devices, not just desktop preview.
Verify that key pages still work with slow connections and reduced-motion settings.

Technical depth on measurement.

Track behaviour, then refine tension.

When teams want to justify tension decisions, they can treat the design as a hypothesis and validate it with behavioural signals. Basic analytics can show where users drop, which sections get attention, and whether calls to action are being used. Heatmaps and session replays can add detail, but even simple funnel tracking can reveal whether tension is helping or hurting.

What matters is turning design taste into observable outcomes. If a disruptive layout increases time-on-page but reduces checkout completion, the tension is likely slowing action too much. If a bold hero increases clicks but increases support queries, the tension may be creating confusion. In those cases, the correction is rarely “remove brutalism”. It is usually “restore clarity” through hierarchy, cues, and consistent interaction design.

Balance concept with function.

Bold design ideas are not the enemy of usability. The real risk is when concept is treated as separate from function, as if a site can be expressive first and usable later. Successful work blends both from the start. It treats every visual decision as part of the task flow, and every functional decision as part of the brand story.

Design choices must align.

Brand identity should not hide tasks.

A brand can be rebellious, minimal, maximal, playful, or stark, but the user still arrives with practical goals. They want information, reassurance, and progress. Designers can honour brand identity by shaping the tone and texture of the interface, while still respecting the user’s need for clarity. This is often achieved by keeping navigation and actions consistent, while letting content presentation be the expressive layer.

This balance becomes easier when teams define what must remain stable. Navigation placement, button styling, and content structure can be the consistent “rails”. Inside those rails, tension can be applied through typography, imagery, and layout rhythm. The result is a design that feels distinctive without feeling hostile.

Iterate with real feedback.

Refinement beats first-draft confidence.

Designers who use tension well tend to work iteratively. They test early, observe where people hesitate, and adjust. This does not require large budgets or formal research labs. Even lightweight user testing, short feedback sessions, and internal task walkthroughs can reveal where tension is productive and where it becomes obstructive.

Feedback also reduces cultural mismatch. A design that feels exciting to one audience can feel chaotic to another. If the brand serves multiple regions or age groups, tension should be tuned to the expectations of the core audience. The goal is not to avoid boldness, but to avoid accidentally excluding the people the site is meant to serve.

Strategies for balance.

Make creativity accountable to outcomes.

Conduct user testing focused on tasks, not opinions about style.
Iterate based on observed hesitation points and misunderstood elements.
Align expressive elements with messaging, ensuring clarity remains intact.
Use analytics to identify weak points, then adjust hierarchy or cues.
Keep a stable design baseline so disruption remains intentional.

Tension beyond visuals.

Tension is not limited to layouts and colours. It also exists in content structure, storytelling, interaction timing, and even sensory layers like sound. When designers treat the whole experience as a narrative, tension can be introduced and resolved over time, creating engagement that lasts beyond the first glance.

Storytelling creates momentum.

Build curiosity, then reward it.

Narrative tension is created when a page poses a question and then gradually answers it. This can be done through section sequencing, progressive disclosure, or content that introduces a problem before presenting a solution. A well-structured story encourages scrolling because the user senses an arc. The design supports that arc by emphasising key moments, using contrast at turning points, and simplifying the scan when the message becomes dense.

This is also where content teams and design teams can align. If the copy introduces conflict and resolution, the interface can reinforce it through pacing. For example, a dense block of explanation can be followed by a calmer “summary” panel, without using the banned cliché phrasing. The user feels guided rather than dumped into a wall of text.

Interaction timing as tension.

Micro-interactions can create anticipation.

Subtle motion can create a moment of anticipation. A hover state that gently changes a button, or a reveal animation that introduces content in a controlled way, can make the interface feel responsive and alive. The key is restraint. Motion should clarify state changes and invite interaction, not distract from comprehension.

Timing matters most in flows like onboarding, checkout, and multi-step forms. If each step reveals itself cleanly, the user stays focused. If the flow feels unpredictable, tension turns into anxiety. The best interactive tension feels like momentum, where the user is gently pulled forward without being rushed.

Culture affects interpretation.

Bold signals read differently across audiences.

Different audiences interpret tension in different ways. High contrast and asymmetry can signal modernity and confidence to one group, and signal disorder to another. This does not mean designers should dilute their work into blandness. It means the design should be tuned based on who the site serves, what the stakes are, and what the user expects from the brand category.

In practical terms, a portfolio site can take bigger risks than a payments interface. A campaign page can push harder than a knowledge base. The job is to match the intensity of tension to the context, then protect users with clear structure and task-first design.

Technology can reduce friction.

Support clarity when design is bold.

When an interface intentionally challenges convention, support mechanisms can keep users confident. Helpful microcopy, obvious navigation anchors, and on-page assistance reduce the risk that tension becomes confusion. For sites built on Squarespace or data-driven platforms, a search and guidance layer can act as a safety net, especially when content volume grows.

This is one of the moments where an on-site concierge like CORE can fit naturally. If a layout is deliberately unconventional, fast answers and clear content discovery can reduce frustration without compromising the visual language. The design remains bold, while the experience remains navigable.

The next step after establishing deliberate tension is learning how to calibrate intensity. Some pages benefit from high contrast and disruption, while others perform better with calmer structure. When tension is treated as a dial rather than a fixed style, teams can adapt design choices to page intent, user context, and measurable outcomes, and that opens the door to more reliable, scalable design decisions across an entire site.

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Message-driven brutalism for web storytelling.

In digital work that aims to persuade, inform, or provoke, Brutalism can act less like a visual trend and more like a delivery mechanism for intent. Where many modern sites optimise for smoothness, brutalist choices deliberately expose structure, friction, and contrast, which can make the message feel sharper and harder to ignore. That does not mean the experience should be careless; it means the design communicates that the brand has something to say, and it is saying it plainly.

ProjektID’s lens on this topic is practical: a design style is only useful if it supports comprehension, recall, and action. Brutalism can do that when it is applied with purpose, particularly for brands that rely on ideas, craft, or cultural positioning rather than product feature lists alone. The opportunity is not “make it ugly on purpose”; the opportunity is to use rawness as a tool for focus, clarity, and stance.

Find editorial opportunities in brutalism.

Editorial work lives or dies on readability and point of view, and a brutalist approach can amplify both when it is engineered with intent. When a site needs to feel like a publication, a manifesto, or a living notebook of ideas, the design can support an editorial voice that feels confident rather than ornamental. The interface becomes a frame for arguments, images, and quotes, not a polite wrapper that tries to disappear.

Use contrast to guide reading.

Clarity comes from deliberate hierarchy.

Brutalist layouts often feel bold because they rely on obvious structure: strong headings, stark spacing, and visible boundaries. The trick is to treat visual hierarchy as non-negotiable. If the page is loud, the reading path must be even louder, so users can instantly tell what is primary, what is supporting, and what is optional.

One practical method is to decide what the page is truly about, then enforce that through scale and placement. If an article’s thesis matters most, it gets the largest typographic presence and the cleanest surrounding space. If supporting links matter, they are grouped consistently and labelled in a way that matches the tone. Brutalism works when the user never has to guess what is important.

Lean into niche positioning.

Distinct aesthetics attract specific tribes.

In markets where audiences value taste, curation, and perspective, brutalism can become a shorthand for independence. That is why it often performs well in niche markets like cultural magazines, specialist studios, independent labels, experimental portfolios, and research-led communities. The design signals that the brand is not attempting to please everyone, which can be a powerful differentiator.

That differentiator only lands if the content earns it. A brutalist interface paired with vague copy creates a mismatch, because the visual stance implies conviction. When the writing is specific, opinionated, or evidence-led, the style becomes a supporting actor that reinforces credibility through consistency.

Use rawness as commentary.

Push back against polished sameness.

Modern web design trends can collapse into the same patterns: identical hero sections, identical card grids, identical gradients. Brutalism stands out because it rejects design homogeneity and makes that rejection visible. For audiences fatigued by predictable templates, the contrast can feel refreshing, as if the site is speaking in a different accent.

This can be especially effective when a brand’s message is itself about challenging assumptions. The interface becomes part of the argument: it demonstrates independence rather than simply claiming it. The goal is not nostalgia for its own sake, but a credible stance that says, “This work is not mass-produced.”

Borrow carefully from early web.

Nostalgia works when it is selective.

There is a version of brutalism that intentionally references early web aesthetics, such as rigid tables, high-contrast palettes, system-like typography, and blunt navigation. Used thoughtfully, these cues can create a strong emotional hook for audiences who remember the internet before it became heavily standardised.

The discipline here is to bring the feeling, not the flaws. Nostalgic cues should not reintroduce poor usability, broken spacing, or unreadable text. The design can nod to the past while still meeting modern expectations for navigation clarity, mobile responsiveness, and accessibility.

Use brutalism for artistic expression.

Brutalism gives designers permission to experiment, but experimentation still needs an internal logic. The style is often associated with sharp angles, exposed structure, and unapologetic type, yet the real value is that it legitimises creative risk. That can be useful for brands that want to look asymmetrical layouts in the eye and say, “Yes, this is intentional.”

Break the grid with intent.

Disruption should have a reason.

When brutalism breaks conventional layout rules, it should be because the content benefits from the disruption. A gallery can feel more alive when image blocks collide with text in a controlled way. A manifesto can feel more urgent when line lengths tighten and headings interrupt the flow like signposts. This is where artistic freedom becomes productive rather than random.

For organisations like creative agencies, studios, and institutions, the design can become part of the portfolio. If the brand sells taste, the interface should demonstrate taste. Brutalism can do that by making the craft visible, as long as the craft is consistent across pages.

Engineer curiosity and exploration.

Surprise invites deeper browsing.

People explore when they feel there is something to discover. Brutalist design can create that effect by introducing moments of tension and release, such as unexpected placements, bold type shifts, or intentional negative space. The underlying mechanism is the curiosity gap: the interface suggests there is more beneath the surface.

That curiosity should be rewarded with structure. If the page invites exploration but the navigation is confusing, the experience collapses into frustration. A brutalist site works best when the “weirdness” is confined to presentation, while the information architecture remains dependable.

Blend media without gimmicks.

Multimedia should clarify, not decorate.

When brands add video, interaction, or animation to a brutalist interface, the goal should be to increase comprehension or emotional impact, not to chase novelty. A short clip can demonstrate process. An interactive element can reveal context gradually. Done well, it increases dwell time because people are learning, not because they are trapped in confusion.

In practical terms, that means planning the media as part of the content outline. What question does the video answer? What decision does the interaction support? If there is no clear answer, the element is likely clutter, even if it looks interesting.

Keep convention breaking story-led.

Brutalism can easily slide into chaos, which is why the story must stay in charge. The design should amplify meaning, not compete with it. The easiest way to check this is to remove the visuals mentally and ask: would the content still make sense? If the message is unclear without the style, the style is masking a content problem.

Balance boldness with clarity.

Make impact measurable, not mythical.

When the interface becomes too noisy, users spend energy decoding instead of understanding. That is a cognitive load issue, not a taste issue. A brutalist page should still offer clear entry points: obvious headings, predictable navigation placement, and consistent interaction cues.

A useful approach is to define “guardrails” before design begins. Guardrails might include minimum type sizes, maximum line lengths for body text, consistent spacing rules, and a limited number of visual “shocks” per page. The page can still feel aggressive, but it remains readable and navigable.

Validate the effect with users.

Test whether the message lands.

Because brutalism is polarising, it benefits from early feedback loops. Even lightweight user testing can reveal whether people understand the narrative, whether the navigation feels stable, and where the design crosses the line from “distinct” to “difficult”. This is less about seeking permission and more about checking that the execution matches the intention.

If the brand has multiple audience segments, targeted sessions help. A small group of ideal users might love the design, while a broader group might struggle. That is not automatically a reason to abandon the style; it is a signal to clarify the pathway so the site remains usable even for newcomers.

When deeper qualitative insight is needed, focus groups can help identify emotional reactions and language patterns. People will often describe a brutalist site with specific words (bold, harsh, honest, confusing, refreshing). Those words become valuable inputs for refining both design and copy, so the final experience feels intentional rather than accidental.

Technical depth for implementation.

Build the look without breaking performance.

In practice, brutalism often relies on large typography, sharp contrast, and visible layout structure, which can be implemented cleanly with modern CSS and semantic headings. The important constraint is accessibility: high contrast is helpful, but pure black and pure white can cause glare, and small text on intense backgrounds can become uncomfortable over time.

For teams working in Squarespace, a brutalist direction can be achieved by controlling typography settings, spacing, and section structure, then extending the theme with small, targeted code injections for consistency. When site-wide patterns are required (navigation tweaks, content reveal patterns, structured typography), a plugin approach such as Cx+ can reduce the manual work of repeating changes across pages, provided the implementation is still aligned with the narrative goals rather than becoming a bundle of effects.

Align visuals with messaging.

Brutalism is not just a look; it is a tone. If the visuals feel blunt and direct, the copy cannot be vague and polite. The site needs coherence between what it says and how it appears. That coherence is what turns “interesting design” into a credible brand stance.

Design the tone as a system.

Consistency is what makes boldness believable.

A helpful exercise is to define brand tone in practical terms: what does the brand sound like when it is confident, when it is challenging, when it is helpful? Then map that tone to visual behaviour: heading weight, spacing rhythm, button language, error messages, and microcopy patterns.

That mapping works best when the team treats typography and spacing as a coherent typography system, not as one-off styling choices. If headlines are loud, they should be loud everywhere. If body text is intentionally plain, it should stay plain across pages. Brutalism becomes messy when every page reinvents the rules.

Use structure to reinforce meaning.

Layout choices communicate priorities.

Even the most raw-looking site still depends on a strong layout grid. The grid might be invisible, but it governs alignment, spacing, and flow. When the grid is consistent, the site feels deliberate. When the grid is inconsistent, the site feels broken, even if the intent was to feel rebellious.

Brands can also strengthen meaning through consistent motifs: repeated section patterns, repeated callouts, and repeated content groupings. These motifs become visual cues that teach the user how to scan the site quickly, which is especially important when the aesthetic is intense.

Keep brand elements coherent.

Strong identities are built from repetition.

Brutalism does not excuse inconsistency in logos, colours, or visual language. If anything, it demands discipline, because the style leaves nowhere to hide. Teams can manage this by defining design tokens (core values for colour, spacing, type scale, and component states) and sticking to them across templates and campaigns.

That discipline matters beyond the website. Social posts, email headers, landing pages, and printed materials should echo the same identity cues, so the audience experiences one continuous story rather than disconnected fragments. The result is recognisable presence without needing decorative “branding flourishes”.

Match tone to direct copy.

Brutalist visuals ask for language that is equally decisive. The copy should not be aggressive for the sake of it, but it should be clear, specific, and unafraid to state a position. When the design is bold and the words are timid, users sense the mismatch immediately.

Write like the interface looks.

Short sentences can carry heavy ideas.

A brutalist page often benefits from direct response copy patterns: clear headings, clear statements, and clear next steps. That does not mean everything must be a slogan. It means the writing respects the reader’s time and makes the argument obvious, then supports it with detail for those who want depth.

One practical technique is to lead with a plain statement, then follow with a short explanation and an example. This mirrors the visual rhythm of brutalism: strong shapes first, detail second. When the user skims, they still get the core idea. When they read deeply, they get nuance.

Turn narrative into a usable path.

Storytelling should still be navigable.

Brands often want to tell stories, but stories on the web also need structure. A strong value proposition can be woven through a narrative, yet users should still be able to jump to sections, find proof, and locate action points without hunting.

This is where editorial thinking helps: treat the page like an article with clear signposting. Give the reader a sequence, then make it easy to skip ahead. Brutalism can support this by making signposts visually unavoidable, but the underlying content needs to be organised first.

Use constraints to sharpen creativity.

Limits often produce stronger ideas.

Brutalism becomes stronger when the team sets clear constraints: limited palette, limited typefaces, limited component styles. Those constraints force the message to carry the weight, and they also make it easier to maintain consistency as the site grows. In content terms, constraints can include a clear storytelling arc for campaigns, with specific beats that repeat across channels.

When the constraints are defined, the creative work becomes more focused. The team is no longer debating endless stylistic options; they are refining the story and tightening the execution.

Design for novelty seeking audiences.

Some audiences actively seek novelty, experimentation, and authenticity. For them, a conventional design can feel like a warning sign that the brand is safe, predictable, and interchangeable. Brutalism can signal the opposite, particularly when the brand’s offer is built around originality.

Speak to younger expectations.

Authenticity is often treated as currency.

Gen Z audiences tend to detect performative polish quickly, partly because they have grown up surrounded by highly produced content. They often respond better to brands that feel human, opinionated, and direct. Brutalism can communicate that stance visually, but it still needs to be backed by honest content and clear behaviour.

Gen Alpha will likely push expectations even further, with even less patience for friction that is not rewarding. That creates an important design tension: the aesthetic can be raw, but the interaction must still be smooth. Loading, navigation, and clarity matter, because novelty does not excuse broken experiences.

Signal experimentation for early adopters.

Innovation needs visible proof points.

For brands targeting early adopters, brutalism can act as a signal that the organisation is comfortable taking risks. That signal is stronger when paired with evidence: clear product explanations, transparent roadmaps, and visible iteration. The design says “we move differently”, and the content proves it.

Interactive elements can support this when they reveal process, encourage exploration, or allow users to shape what they see. The key is that the interaction feels purposeful, not like a novelty layer added after the fact.

Build community through participation.

Let the audience contribute to meaning.

Brutalism can become a platform for collaboration when brands invite participation. This works well when the brand already benefits from community loops, such as feedback, submissions, showcases, or shared challenges. The design’s rawness can make the space feel more like a workshop than a showroom, which can lower the barrier to contribution.

Encouraging user-generated content is one route: invite users to share interpretations, projects, or stories that align with the brand’s theme. Another route is to run structured prompts, where the interface becomes a stage for small experiments that people can join without feeling judged.

Create interactive challenges responsibly.

Playful events can deepen connection.

A brutalist aesthetic pairs naturally with public experiments, such as a design challenge where users submit work based on a simple constraint. The constraint matters because it creates unity across submissions while leaving room for personal expression. It also keeps the brand’s role clear: the brand curates and hosts, rather than forcing a single interpretation.

To keep these events effective, the site should make the participation pathway obvious: what to submit, how to submit, what happens next, and how contributions are featured. Brutalism can make those instructions feel blunt and clear, which is exactly what people need when they are deciding whether to join in.

Bring creatives into the mix.

Creative professionals often appreciate style that takes a stance. Brutalism can attract designers, artists, writers, and makers because it treats the interface as a cultural object rather than just a utility. For brands that want to be part of creative discourse, that attraction can be valuable, as long as it is not performative.

Show work like a studio.

Portfolios can feel like exhibitions.

Brutalism can make portfolio presentation feel more like a gallery wall than a polished brochure. This can work well for agencies, independent designers, and institutions where the work itself benefits from being framed as raw, direct, and intentional.

The practical requirement is organisation. Even if the interface looks rebellious, the categorisation should be clear, the navigation predictable, and the content easy to compare. Professionals are often scanning for craft and thinking, not just visuals, so the site should make process, constraints, and outcomes easy to find.

Encourage collaboration and exchange.

Networks grow through visible conversation.

Brands can use brutalism to create spaces that feel open to collaboration, such as public resources, shared reading lists, and community showcases. The design can signal that the brand is building a workshop, not a pedestal. That is often more inviting for creatives, who value places where ideas are exchanged rather than merely consumed.

When the site supports this exchange, it can lead to organic advocacy. People share what feels distinctive, useful, and honest. Brutalism can support that distinctiveness, but it is the quality of the content and the integrity of the experience that turns style into long-term impact.

With the message, the audience, and the intent defined, the next step is to treat brutalism as a set of controllable choices rather than a costume. When teams translate the stance into clear structure, consistent patterns, and measurable user outcomes, the style stops being a risk and starts becoming a reliable tool for storytelling that can evolve alongside the brand.

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Experimental brutalist spaces on the web.

Brutalist web design works best when it is treated as an intentional environment, not a default template. It strips interfaces back to something blunt, high-contrast, and sometimes deliberately awkward, which can be perfect for creative work that needs to feel uncompromising. Used well, it is less about being “ugly on purpose” and more about signalling priorities: clarity of intent, a willingness to challenge convention, and a focus on what is being shown rather than how politely it is framed.

That framing matters because brutalism is not universally “better” or “worse” than polished minimalism. It is a choice with trade-offs. In one context it can make work feel bold and memorable; in another it can create friction that damages trust. The practical skill is knowing where experimentation adds meaning, where it distracts, and how to keep the user journey understandable even when the aesthetic is intentionally raw.

Showcases and portfolios first.

Showcases and portfolios are where brutalism tends to earn its keep. These spaces are usually about viewing, scanning, comparing, and forming an impression, rather than completing a long chain of tasks. That gives designers freedom to push typography, spacing, and composition in ways that feel like a statement, while still keeping the core goal intact: make the work easy to see, easy to judge, and easy to remember.

Let the work lead.

Reduce decoration, increase signal.

A strong brutalist portfolio often treats layout as a frame rather than a showroom. Bold typography can do most of the heavy lifting: crisp titles, blunt labels, and direct calls that guide attention without relying on gradients, shadows, and layered effects. The key is restraint in what is being added, even if the result looks intense. If everything shouts, nothing is heard, so the strongest work usually chooses one primary visual “voice” and keeps the rest quiet.

Contrast is a tool, not a gimmick.

High contrast can make projects pop, but it can also exhaust the eye if every surface is competing. A useful approach is to keep one dominant contrast relationship consistent, such as light background with dark type, then use occasional inversions as accents. That keeps the interface readable while preserving the punchy, unpolished feeling. A portfolio can still feel raw with disciplined spacing, consistent headings, and predictable navigation, even if the colour choices are harsh.

Structure beats decoration every time.

Brutalism becomes far easier to live with when it is anchored in a grid layout that makes scanning effortless. A grid does not have to look polite. It can be rigid, asymmetrical, or intentionally “too tight”, but it should still give users a reliable rhythm: project card, title, role, outcome, repeat. That rhythm is what allows experimentation elsewhere without turning the page into noise.

Narrative without polish.

Show process as part of the work.

One reason brutalist portfolios resonate is that they can carry a sense of authenticity. Instead of presenting only the final outputs, the design can support a “maker’s” narrative: sketches, constraints, iteration notes, rejected directions, and what changed after real feedback. The rawness becomes a storytelling tool, implying that the creator values truth over theatre.

Turn case studies into conversations.

A brutalist case study can read like a direct debrief rather than a marketing page. The tone can be factual and blunt: what the goal was, what broke, what was learned, what improved. When it is structured well, this approach builds credibility because it shows thinking, not just polish. It also helps potential clients or collaborators understand how decisions were made, which is often more persuasive than glossy visuals.

Brand fit and tone.

Design choices communicate values.

Brutalism is rarely neutral. It often signals rebellion, experimentation, or an unwillingness to smooth the edges for mass appeal. That can strengthen brand identity for creators who want to look distinctive, especially in crowded markets where many sites share the same visual language. The risk is mismatch: if the work being shown is delicate, calming, or luxury-led, brutalism can fight the message unless it is handled with care.

Nostalgia can be a strategy.

Brutalist design can evoke the early web, when content often came first and aesthetics were secondary. That retro feeling can attract audiences who are tired of over-produced digital experiences. Used sparingly, it can make a site feel like a deliberate refuge from modern sameness. Used lazily, it can look like a broken template. The difference is intent: consistent hierarchy, readable type, and a clear purpose behind the roughness.

Examples worth studying.

Real-world examples help clarify how brutalism can stay functional while still feeling bold. A useful way to read these sites is to ignore personal taste and instead ask practical questions: what is the primary content, how quickly can it be found, and where does the design intentionally introduce friction? That mindset turns “style browsing” into design analysis that can be applied to other projects.

Fashion and product brutalism.

Product grids with raw confidence.

KSENIASCHNAIDER is often referenced as a vivid example of e-commerce brutalism, using a clean structure while keeping visuals intentionally unrefined. The takeaway is not “copy the look”, but “copy the discipline”. Even when the aesthetic is raw, product imagery still benefits from consistent sizing, predictable spacing, and clear categorisation so browsing remains easy.

Agency geometry done well.

Expressiveness anchored in usability.

WHATTHEBRAND© demonstrates how strict grids and geometric layouts can support a brutalist feel without sacrificing navigation. The lesson is that visual intensity works best when the user always knows where they are and what to do next. Bold colour blocks and unconventional composition can still be paired with clear labels, consistent menus, and readable typography.

Exhibitions built for browsing.

Let images dominate the story.

Room 6x8 shows how an exhibition space can lean into large visuals and minimal text. For audiences exploring art or events, the interface can behave like a gallery wall: fewer words, more impact, and quick routes to deeper detail for those who want it. The practical insight is pacing. When text is minimal, image sequencing and navigation clarity become the main tools for guiding attention.

Fabrica is another example frequently associated with a brutalist approach that mixes bold type and grid structure to reflect experimentation. In contexts like research, culture, and creative labs, a slightly rough interface can feel aligned with curiosity and exploration, as long as the site’s structure helps visitors discover projects without getting lost.

Luxury restraint with edge.

Minimalism can still feel brutal.

Giorgio Armani is sometimes cited for incorporating brutalist elements while keeping the focus on the clothing. The useful point here is that brutalism does not always mean chaos. It can also mean restraint, directness, and a refusal to over-decorate. For premium brands, small brutalist signals can add modern edge, but they usually need to be balanced with clarity, calm spacing, and careful typographic choices.

Avoid risky transactional paths.

Transactional flows are where brutalism can do real damage if it is applied without restraint. When users are committing money, sharing sensitive information, or completing multi-step tasks, they want reassurance. If the interface looks intentionally harsh or unpredictable, the user may read that as a sign that the system itself is unreliable, even if it is technically secure and well-built.

Where clarity must win.

Reduce doubt during critical actions.

In high-stakes journeys, friction is expensive. Checkout, payment, form submission, booking, and account recovery are the moments where confusion becomes abandonment. If brutalism makes labels unclear, buttons ambiguous, or the layout visually noisy, conversion rates typically suffer because users hesitate at the exact moment the system needs confidence.

Trust is a design output.

Users interpret design as a signal. Clean structure, consistent UI patterns, and familiar form layouts read as trust signals, even before a single word is read. Brutalist styling can accidentally remove those signals by replacing familiar patterns with novelty. That novelty might look “cool”, but in finance, healthcare, and commerce, “cool” is rarely the primary requirement.

Aesthetic mismatch creates hesitation.

When the visual experience conflicts with what users expect from a reliable service, cognitive dissonance can appear. The user’s brain is trying to reconcile “this looks chaotic” with “this needs to be safe”. That internal conflict often becomes slower decision-making, more drop-offs, and fewer completed actions. The issue is not taste. It is psychology and risk perception.

Hybrid patterns that work.

Keep brutalism on the edges.

A practical compromise is to use brutalism in editorial and showcase spaces, then switch to conventional patterns for steps that involve payment, credentials, health information, or legal agreement. A landing page can be expressive, but the checkout can remain calm. The brand still feels distinctive, while the user journey remains dependable.

Borrow familiarity without losing voice.

Even within a brutalist framework, small choices can protect usability: consistent button placement, clear error messaging, predictable field labels, and sensible spacing. The interface can still feel raw while behaving in familiar ways. This is especially relevant on platforms like Squarespace, where a site may need to balance creativity with known navigation patterns to keep content discoverable and shopping journeys smooth.

Contexts to steer clear.

Some environments simply have too little tolerance for experimentation. The issue is not that brutalism is “wrong”, but that the cost of misunderstanding is high. When the consequences of a mistake feel serious, users look for calm signals: clarity, predictability, and reassurance.

Financial services websites, where trust and clarity are non-negotiable.
Healthcare platforms, where users often seek reassurance in sensitive contexts.
Corporate sites aiming for a highly professional impression, where brand reputation may depend on polish and stability.
Any platform handling sensitive user data, where security cues and confidence matter as much as functionality.
Educational websites that require clear navigation and accessibility, so all users can engage without extra effort.

In these settings, it can still be possible to borrow selective brutalist elements, such as bold typography or direct language, but the overall interaction design typically needs to remain conventional. The sharper the consequences, the more the interface should prioritise being understood instantly.

Accessibility in experimental layouts.

Accessibility is not a “nice extra” for experimental design. It is the foundation that ensures the experience works for everyone, including users with visual, motor, cognitive, or situational constraints. Brutalism can accidentally introduce barriers when it leans too hard on extreme contrast, unconventional navigation, or unclear hierarchy. That risk is manageable, but only if inclusion is treated as part of the design brief, not a compliance tick-box at the end.

Non-negotiables for inclusion.

Build bold, keep it readable.

Brutalist layouts can meet WCAG expectations when designers treat structure and readability as non-negotiable. Strong headings, logical reading order, and descriptive link text do more for inclusion than visual polish ever will. A site can look raw and still be considerate if it is navigable, predictable, and readable.

Test with assistive technology early.

Brutalism often uses unusual spacing and visual cues, which can hide problems that only appear when the content is read by a screen reader or navigated by keyboard alone. Early testing reveals whether headings are properly structured, whether interactive elements are labelled clearly, and whether the navigation flow makes sense without relying on visual styling.

Practical accessibility checks.

Small checks prevent big exclusions.

Accessibility best practices are not complex, but they require discipline. Brutalist design can still be inclusive when it respects the fundamentals and avoids turning “experimental” into “confusing”. The checklist below keeps experimentation grounded in usability.

Ensure sufficient colour contrast between text and backgrounds to enhance readability for all users.
Use clear, descriptive labels for navigation elements, so users understand the purpose of each link or button.
Test designs with screen readers to confirm compatibility and logical reading order.
Incorporate alternative text for images to provide context for users who rely on assistive technology.
Design responsive layouts that adapt to different devices and screen sizes, keeping navigation usable on mobile and desktop.
Regularly review accessibility features to keep pace with evolving standards and real user needs.

Accessibility also improves the experience for users without disabilities. Clear labels reduce scanning time, consistent hierarchy improves comprehension, and predictable navigation lowers frustration. In practice, inclusive brutalism tends to be more effective brutalism, because it keeps the raw aesthetic while removing unnecessary confusion.

Test comprehension and navigation.

User testing is what separates “bold but usable” from “bold but broken”. Brutalist design often makes strong assumptions about how people will read a page, interpret hierarchy, and find actions. Testing reveals whether those assumptions are true. It also helps designers understand where the aesthetic is helping the message and where it is distracting from it.

Qualitative testing methods.

Listen before measuring.

Start by observing how real users describe what they see. Short user interviews can reveal confusion that analytics will not explain, such as why a label feels unclear or why a page feels “unsafe”. This is especially useful for brutalist layouts because users may hesitate without being able to articulate the reason unless prompted to talk through their thinking.

Watch real tasks, not opinions.

Usability sessions should focus on actions: find a project, filter work, contact the creator, or locate a key detail. Brutalist designs can look impressive in screenshots but fail in task completion if the hierarchy is unclear. Observing navigation live highlights friction points quickly, particularly on mobile where space is tight and attention is limited.

Quantitative signals and metrics.

Track behaviour, then refine.

Qualitative insights become stronger when paired with data. Tools that generate heatmaps can show which elements attract attention and which are ignored, which is valuable when a layout intentionally breaks visual norms. If a bold design element draws the eye away from the intended action, heatmaps make that visible.

Compare variants to learn faster.

A/B testing can be used to compare different brutalist treatments, such as alternative navigation labels, different spacing strategies, or varying levels of contrast. The goal is not to dilute the aesthetic. It is to find the version that keeps the attitude while improving comprehension. Even small changes, like clearer microcopy or more consistent button placement, can reduce drop-offs without changing the “feel”.

Use drop-offs as a diagnostic.

Monitoring where users abandon tasks is often more useful than looking only at total bounce rate. If users consistently leave during a key step, it suggests uncertainty, confusion, or missing reassurance. That is often where brutalism clashes with expectations, and where the design needs calmer structure, clearer messaging, or more familiar patterns.

Keep iterating post-launch.

Testing is not a one-off.

Brutalist sites benefit from continuous iteration because user expectations shift and devices change. Post-launch feedback loops can be lightweight: short surveys, support messages, analytics reviews, and periodic usability checks. The point is to keep the design expressive while ensuring it remains understandable as the audience grows and content expands.

With brutalism, the best results come from treating experimentation as a controlled practice: bold choices supported by structure, expressive layouts backed by accessibility, and creativity verified through testing. That mindset sets up the next step naturally, exploring how experimental aesthetics can coexist with performance, SEO, and content operations without losing the personality that made the design distinctive in the first place.

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Avoiding ugly for ugly’s sake.

Start with purpose and structure.

Good brutalism is rarely an accident. When it works, it is because the roughness has been chosen to support a specific message, audience, and delivery context, rather than used as a shortcut around craft. The design may look abrupt, loud, or stripped back, yet it still behaves like a considered interface: it communicates hierarchy, it supports scanning, and it helps people complete tasks without guesswork.

Designers usually get into trouble when brutalism becomes a vibe instead of a system. A page can be visually raw but still organised, just as a minimalist page can be clean yet confusing. The difference is whether the layout is governed by intent. Intent shows up in repeatable decisions: why headings are large, why links are obvious, why spacing is tight or generous, and why certain imperfections are used to steer attention rather than distract from it.

Rationale turns roughness into a framework.

A practical way to keep the style honest is to write a short rationale before touching visuals. It can be as simple as: what the page is trying to achieve, who it is for, and which actions matter most. That small statement becomes a filter for every design choice. If an element looks chaotic, the test is whether it helps comprehension, pacing, or emotional tone. If it does not, it is decoration wearing a mask of rebellion.

In many projects, brutalism is adopted to push back against generic, polished templates that flatten personality. That pushback is valid, yet it still needs guardrails. Guardrails are not restrictions, they are the difference between intentional provocation and accidental friction. A site can challenge expectations while remaining coherent, especially when the underlying content structure is stable and the interaction model is predictable.

Decide what the design must do.

Clarity is the baseline, style is the layer.

Before typography, colour, or layout experiments, teams benefit from agreeing on what the interface must deliver. For a founder-led services site, that might be proof of capability, a clear path to contact, and scannable examples. For e-commerce, it might be product discovery, confidence-building information, and a checkout journey that never surprises. For a SaaS knowledge base, it might be fast retrieval and low support burden. The brutalist surface should then be applied in a way that strengthens those outcomes, not competes with them.

It also helps to define what “raw” means in context. Raw can mean plain HTML-like layouts, brutal contrast, utilitarian spacing, or intentionally unpolished imagery. It does not have to mean illegible text, hidden navigation, or inconsistent components. If a project cannot explain what rawness is doing for the user, it risks drifting into noise.

State the primary page goal in one sentence.
List the top three user tasks the design must support.
Define what “raw” means for the brand and what it does not mean.
Choose two measurable outcomes, such as time-to-find, scroll depth, or form completion.

Keep navigation dependable.

Brutalist sites often win attention quickly, then lose it when people cannot find their way. That is not a style problem, it is a structure problem. Interfaces can be visually aggressive while still offering dependable wayfinding. The aim is not to make everything feel comfortable, but to make the rules learnable within seconds.

One reliable approach is to separate the expressive layer from the navigational layer. The expressive layer can take risks with type scale, asymmetry, and stark layouts. The navigational layer should remain consistent: link styling, hover and focus states, menu placement, and page-to-page patterns should not change just to keep things “edgy”. Once users learn the rules, they tolerate boldness because they feel in control.

Anchor the information architecture.

Start with the map, then stylise it.

A stable information architecture reduces the pressure on visuals to do all the work. Navigation labels should be literal, not clever, especially on sites with dense content. Categories should reflect how people think, not how the business is internally organised. If a layout is intentionally stark, labels and structure become even more important because there are fewer decorative cues to compensate.

Edge cases matter here. If a site includes long articles, product variants, or multi-step processes, navigation needs to support “returning later” behaviour. That can mean clear breadcrumbs, consistent headings, and a predictable way to jump between sections. If the site is built on Squarespace, that often means being disciplined with collections, page structure, and internal linking so the platform’s navigation remains reliable even when the visual layer looks unconventional.

Make interaction cues obvious.

Obvious links beat clever ambiguity.

Brutalist aesthetics sometimes tempt designers to remove cues that feel “too standard”, such as underlines, button styling, or clear hover states. That choice usually backfires. If a link looks like body text, people miss it. If a button looks like decoration, people hesitate. Usability improves when clickable items behave consistently and are visually distinct, even if the styling is intentionally plain.

Where sites carry a lot of content, search can become part of that clarity layer. A straightforward on-site search, or a guided Q and A pattern, helps users recover when navigation is unfamiliar. In ProjektID’s ecosystem, a tool like CORE is relevant in this specific context because it prioritises content retrieval and reduces the need for users to guess where information lives, which is especially helpful when the layout is visually unconventional.

Let typography do the heavy lifting.

In brutalist design, text is often the interface. When backgrounds are plain, imagery is sparse, and layouts are severe, content clarity depends heavily on type. That is why typography choices are not “styling”, they are functional decisions about speed, comprehension, and credibility.

Strong typography in a brutalist layout is usually defined by hierarchy that can be understood instantly. Headings should be clearly headings, subheadings should clearly support them, and body copy should not fight the reader with cramped line lengths or inconsistent spacing. A bold type choice can still be readable. A raw type choice can still be controlled.

Build a clear type system.

Hierarchy is the navigation inside content.

Oversized headings work well in brutalism when they point to structure rather than ego. A simple system can be enough: one heading style, one subheading style, one body style, and one caption or utility style. The goal is consistency across pages so users do not need to relearn the rhythm. That rhythm is what makes a raw site feel intentional rather than unfinished.

Font choice should match the message. A blunt sans-serif can signal directness and modernity. A mono font can evoke technical honesty. A quirky face can suggest cultural edge, yet it should be used carefully, because novelty fonts often age badly and reduce comprehension. If the content is complex, clarity should win, and expressiveness should come from scale, spacing, and contrast rather than gimmicks.

Use spacing as a readability tool.

White space is not a luxury.

Spacing is where many brutalist attempts fail, because designers mistake density for authenticity. Density can work, but it must be deliberate. Tight layouts should still respect scanning: line height, paragraph separation, and consistent alignment prevent fatigue. Generous spacing can also fit brutalism when it emphasises content blocks and makes the experience feel calm within a stark aesthetic.

Alignment choices should also be stable. Even if the site uses asymmetry, there should be an internal logic to it, such as a repeating grid, consistent margins, or a predictable relationship between headings and body copy. That structure is what keeps the page from feeling like a collage of unrelated decisions.

Avoid broken patterns posing as style.

A common failure mode is “randomness as a design language”. Broken patterns can look interesting in a screenshot, yet they often collapse in real use because users rely on repetition to build confidence. Brutalism can break conventions, but it still needs internal conventions of its own.

The practical test is whether a pattern is intentionally broken to communicate something, or whether it is broken because the system was never defined. A deliberate break might highlight a warning, signal a tonal shift, or draw attention to an unusual content type. An accidental break is when buttons change style across pages, spacing varies without reason, and interaction rules shift from section to section.

Define the visual hierarchy.

Attention should be guided, not stolen.

Visual hierarchy is what stops brutalism from becoming a wall of noise. It is not only about big headings. It is about which elements lead, which support, and which stay quiet. If everything is loud, nothing is loud. If every block is styled as a hero, users cannot tell what matters.

Hierarchy becomes especially important in mixed-content pages, such as case studies with images, captions, quotes, and CTAs. Brutal layouts benefit from reducing the number of distinct component types, then using consistent rules for repetition. That consistency creates a sense of control even when the styling is intentionally abrasive.

Use grids, even when hiding them.

Order can exist under the surface.

A grid system is not the enemy of brutalism. It is often the reason brutalism feels sharp rather than sloppy. The grid does not have to be visible, but it should govern alignment, spacing, and responsive behaviour. Many brutalist designs are strongest when they look like they could have been built with basic HTML blocks, yet the spacing reveals quiet precision.

For teams working across platforms and contributors, a grid also prevents style drift. When multiple people publish content, small inconsistencies multiply. A stable grid, consistent heading hierarchy, and reusable content patterns make the experience feel curated even as new content is added over months.

Protect usability and accessibility.

Brutalism can be bold without being exclusionary. The point is not to make things harder, it is to make things honest. That honesty should include designing for different abilities, devices, and contexts. If the design depends on perfect vision, perfect motor control, or perfect attention, it will fail many real users.

Accessibility work is often framed as compliance, yet it is also practical design hygiene. It forces clarity. It forces consistency. It improves the experience for everyone, especially on mobile, in bright sunlight, on slow connections, or when users are tired and skimming.

Check contrast and focus behaviour.

High contrast must still be comfortable.

Brutalist palettes often rely on stark combinations, yet stark is not automatically readable. A basic contrast ratio check helps avoid text that vibrates against the background or becomes unreadable on certain screens. Focus states matter too, because keyboard users need a visible indicator of where they are. If a design removes outlines for aesthetic reasons, it should replace them with a clear alternative, not silence.

This is also where interactive density can hurt. If links are packed tightly, focus movement becomes difficult to track. If buttons are too close together, touch interactions become error-prone. A brutal layout can still respect spacing around interactive elements, even if the overall page feels dense.

Support keyboard and assistive use.

Every action should be reachable.

Keyboard navigation is a strong litmus test because it exposes hidden interaction problems quickly. If a site’s core paths cannot be completed without a mouse, something is wrong in the fundamentals. That includes menus, forms, accordions, and modals. It also includes ensuring images have meaningful alt text when they carry information rather than decoration.

Usability testing does not need to be heavy. A short session where someone tries to find key information, complete a form, or locate a product can reveal whether the roughness is helping or harming. When brutalism is intentional, feedback tends to focus on tone and clarity. When it is accidental, feedback tends to focus on confusion, missed links, and fatigue.

Test the main user journey using only the keyboard.
Run a basic contrast check on text and interactive elements.
Verify headings follow a logical order and support scanning.
Check that forms have clear labels and predictable error feedback.
Review images for meaningful alt text where needed.

Design for mobile reality.

Brutalism often looks strongest on large screens, yet most audiences browse on mobile for a large share of sessions. That reality forces discipline. Touch targets need breathing room. Text needs to remain legible without zoom. Layout experiments need to degrade gracefully when screen width collapses.

A mobile-first mindset does not mean designing only for phones. It means confirming that the core information and actions remain clear when constraints increase. A brutalist layout that depends on precise alignment, tiny type, or hover-only cues will break quickly on touch devices.

Prioritise performance and stability.

Fast pages make bold design feel deliberate.

Performance matters because rough aesthetics can be mistaken for low quality when pages load slowly or shift unexpectedly. If a layout is stark and immediate, the loading experience should match that promise: stable spacing, predictable content rendering, and minimal visual jank. That is partly design and partly implementation discipline, especially on platforms like Squarespace where template constraints and third-party scripts can quietly add weight.

This is where structured, well-tested enhancements can help rather than hinder. For example, using codified UI improvements, such as selected Cx+ patterns that standardise navigation or interaction behaviour, can support a brutalist aesthetic by keeping the functional layer consistent while allowing the visual layer to remain expressive. The same principle applies to ongoing maintenance, where a managed approach like Pro Subs is less about “adding polish” and more about protecting stability, keeping content organised, and preventing the slow drift into inconsistency that undermines intentional design.

Build repeatable rules for growth.

Consistency is what survives content growth.

Many brutalist designs launch strong, then decay as new pages and content types are added. The fix is to document the rules in plain language: heading usage, spacing expectations, link styling, image treatment, and component behaviour. A lightweight checklist is often enough. When new content is published, the checklist prevents accidental drift and keeps the experience coherent.

As the site grows, it helps to treat brutalism as a controlled constraint system rather than a one-time styling choice. When teams decide what must remain consistent, they can experiment safely elsewhere. That approach keeps the design expressive while protecting users from unpredictable interaction patterns.

Intentional brutalism is ultimately a negotiation between provocation and practicality. When structure, navigation, typography, accessibility, and mobile constraints are treated as non-negotiables, the roughness becomes a purposeful signal rather than a distraction. From there, the conversation can move into how brutalist principles translate into repeatable components, publishing workflows, and long-term governance so the style stays coherent as content, teams, and platforms evolve.

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Brutalism as a digital statement.

Brutalism in modern websites is less a “style choice” and more a public posture. It trades polish for presence, choosing raw structure, obvious hierarchy, and an intentionally unrefined finish to make a point: the brand values clarity, honesty, and direct interaction over decorative comfort. When it is done well, that posture can feel refreshing in a landscape dominated by similar templates, identical animations, and indistinguishable “premium” gradients. When it is done poorly, it can feel like laziness disguised as rebellion.

What makes brutalism powerful is that it can turn the interface into a message. The roughness is not merely visual; it signals how the organisation thinks. Some brands want their websites to feel like a showroom. Others want them to feel like a workshop. Brutalism tends to choose the workshop. It exposes joins, constraints, and decisions in a way that can build credibility for audiences who are tired of overproduced marketing. The key is that the website still has to work, across devices, for real people, in real conditions.

From a practical perspective, brutalism can also be a useful forcing function. It encourages teams to ask uncomfortable but productive questions: what is the page actually for, what content truly matters, what navigation paths must be obvious, and what can be removed without harming comprehension. That kind of pressure can improve information architecture and reduce bloat, even if the final design is not fully brutalist.

Why brutalism cuts through noise.

In web design, attention is a scarce resource, and familiarity is often the enemy of recall. Brutalism works because it breaks the pattern people have learned to ignore. It uses blunt typography, obvious grids, hard edges, and visible “system” cues to signal that this website is not trying to impersonate a glossy brochure. That difference alone can increase memorability, particularly for brands that compete in crowded categories where every site feels like a variation of the same theme.

There is also an emotional component. Brutalist sites can provoke a stronger reaction than neutral designs because they refuse to be background. That reaction might be delight, curiosity, irritation, or surprise, but it is rarely nothing. For certain brand positions, “not nothing” is a strategic win, as long as the experience remains coherent and accessible.

Authenticity as a design outcome.

Raw aesthetics can signal honest intent.

One of the strongest reasons brands adopt brutalism is the perceived link to authenticity. The interface feels less like a performance and more like a direct exchange: here is the information, here are the actions, here is the product or idea. That can resonate with audiences who have grown sceptical of “perfect” experiences that hide complexity behind layers of micro-interactions.

This is not a guarantee of trust, though. Trust is earned through accuracy, transparency, and reliability. Brutalism can support those qualities by removing distractions, but it cannot replace them. A brutally simple interface that contains vague claims, confusing pricing, or broken flows will still lose credibility. The visual honesty must be matched by operational honesty.

Functional plainness done right.

Simple does not mean careless.

Sites such as Craigslist are often cited because they prioritise utility over visual refinement. The important nuance is that functional plainness is rarely accidental. It is usually the result of ruthless prioritisation: clear categories, consistent link styling, predictable page layouts, and minimal ornamentation. Those choices reduce cognitive load and support fast scanning, even if the design is not conventionally “beautiful”.

For teams exploring brutalism, the lesson is not “make it ugly”. The lesson is “make the rules obvious”. That can mean consistent spacing, predictable component behaviour, and a strong sense of “where am I” at all times. Brutalism is most convincing when it feels deliberate, not when it feels unfinished.

Examples that prove it works.

Seeing brutalism applied in different contexts helps clarify what is flexible and what is essential. The following examples show how raw structure can still produce engaging experiences when the fundamentals are respected. Each demonstrates that brutalism is not a single look; it is a family of choices about hierarchy, contrast, and honesty.

Distinct brutalist references.

Different industries, same blunt clarity.

KSENIASCHNAIDER: A vivid example of brutalism in e-commerce, blending fashion presentation with raw layout choices.
Newkid: Reflects simplicity through direct navigation and restrained decoration.
Room 6x8: Uses vibrant brutal styling to combine art-forward presentation with function.
Shooll: Shows how bold type and layout can support an education context without becoming opaque.

When reviewing references like these, teams benefit from analysing the mechanics rather than copying the surface. What is the navigation model, how is hierarchy expressed, what content is prioritised above the fold, how does the design behave on mobile, and where are the friction points. Brutalism is highly sensitive to small mistakes because it removes the “softening layers” that often hide structural weaknesses.

Function first, aesthetics second.

A brutalist approach often begins by treating aesthetics as a consequence of structure. Instead of designing a “look” and then forcing content to fit, the team starts with the content and builds a system that makes it easy to find, understand, and act on. If the content is strong, the result can feel confident and modern, even when it is visually stark.

That philosophy fits particularly well with performance and clarity goals. By reducing decorative assets and complex animation, pages can become lighter and more predictable. More importantly, the interface can become more legible, especially when it uses strong contrast and straightforward layout patterns. The trap is assuming that fewer visual elements automatically means better usability. Without careful hierarchy, a “minimal” brutalist page can quickly become an overwhelming wall of text and links.

Build a typographic ladder.

Hierarchy must do the heavy lifting.

Because brutalism often reduces decorative cues, typographic hierarchy becomes the primary navigation tool inside the page. Headings must be clearly differentiated, body text must be readable at comfortable sizes, and spacing must reinforce the structure. If every block looks similar, users cannot quickly understand what matters and where to go next.

A strong typographic ladder also supports scanning. Many visitors do not read line by line; they scan for anchors, then decide where to invest attention. Clear headings, short lead paragraphs, and honest labels help them self-navigate without extra UI complexity.

Navigation should feel inevitable.

Obvious paths beat clever interactions.

Brutalist sites often benefit from “boring” navigation patterns because the visual language is already bold. Clear menus, visible links, and predictable page structures reduce friction. A visitor should not need to learn a new interface logic just to access a pricing page or understand a product category.

This is also where platforms and tooling matter. On systems like Squarespace, teams can keep the layout visually brutal while still using stable components for menus, collections, and responsive behaviour. If a brand wants extra utility without visual clutter, features like site-wide search and guided navigation can add clarity without undermining the aesthetic. In some contexts, an embedded concierge such as CORE can support self-serve discovery while the page layout stays intentionally minimal.

Practical strategies for functionality.

Small decisions that prevent user frustration.

Use clear navigation structures and name links based on outcomes, not internal jargon.
Reinforce hierarchy with consistent headings, spacing, and link styling.
Minimise decorative elements that compete with content, especially above the fold.
Keep load time low by being cautious with heavy media and non-essential scripts.
Make primary actions obvious, with consistent button placement and labels.

Brand fit and audience expectations.

Brutalism is not universally appropriate. It tends to work best for brands that can credibly carry a bold, unconventional tone, such as creative studios, experimental e-commerce, cultural projects, and tech products that want to communicate speed and directness. The aesthetic can also suit organisations that want to challenge established norms, because the interface itself feels like a challenge.

In more conservative categories, the same choices can backfire. Industries that rely heavily on perceived stability and reassurance may find that a raw interface raises doubts, even if the content is accurate. That does not mean brutalism is impossible in finance, healthcare, or legal services, but it does mean the execution must be more restrained and the usability must be impeccable. The interface cannot feel chaotic. It must feel controlled, intentional, and trustworthy.

Fit checks before committing.

Answer these before redesign begins.

Does the brand voice align with bold, direct presentation that challenges norms?
Will the audience interpret raw styling as honesty, or as low effort?
Which tasks must be effortless, and which can tolerate experimentation?
How will the design maintain trust cues, such as clarity, accuracy, and consistency?

Teams often benefit from running these checks against real audience segments. A founder might love brutalism, while a key buyer segment might interpret it as unprofessional. The goal is not to please everyone, but to avoid accidental mismatch where the design communicates the opposite of the brand’s intent.

Usability and accessibility guardrails.

Brutalism should never become an excuse to ignore usability. In fact, the style demands stronger discipline because it removes decorative cushioning. Every spacing choice, every label, every contrast decision, and every interaction pattern becomes more visible. That is why experimentation should be anchored to measurable behaviour: can users complete tasks quickly, do they understand the hierarchy, and do they feel confident about what will happen when they click.

This is also where inclusive design is non-negotiable. A brutally high-contrast palette might appear “accessible”, but contrast alone is not the full story. Focus states, keyboard navigation, readable line lengths, and predictable component behaviour matter just as much, especially for users navigating with assistive technologies.

Accessibility as a core constraint.

Design freedom still has rules.

Brutalist projects should treat WCAG compliance as a design constraint, not a final checklist. That means building with sufficient contrast, ensuring interactive elements are clearly indicated, and avoiding patterns that rely on colour alone to convey meaning. It also means thinking about motion sensitivity, readable font choices, and predictable interaction feedback.

Where teams struggle is often in the details: links that look like text, buttons that do not look clickable, focus outlines that disappear, and layouts that collapse poorly on smaller screens. These issues are not “style decisions”. They are usability failures that brutalism tends to amplify.

Mobile behaviour must be designed.

Raw layouts still need responsive logic.

Mobile responsiveness is a frequent breaking point for brutalist sites because bold typography and rigid grids can become unreadable on narrow screens. A strong approach is to define responsive rules early: which elements stack, how typography scales, how spacing adjusts, and what happens to navigation at small breakpoints.

Teams can also plan for real-world mobile conditions: glare, poor connectivity, one-handed use, and short attention windows. Brutalism can work well on mobile when the hierarchy is clear and the interactions are simple. It fails when the layout becomes cramped or when the site expects desktop-like precision.

Testing is not optional.

Experimentation needs real feedback loops.

User testing is particularly valuable for brutalist design because assumptions are easy to get wrong. A layout that feels “obvious” to the design team can feel confusing to a first-time visitor. Testing does not have to be expensive. Even lightweight sessions that observe how people navigate can reveal where labels mislead, where hierarchy fails, or where the design creates unnecessary hesitation.

Quantitative signals can help too: bounce patterns, scroll depth, search behaviour, and conversion drop-offs can highlight where brutalism is harming outcomes. The goal is not to dilute the aesthetic, but to ensure the experience remains effective.

A cautious experimentation playbook.

Brutalism works best when introduced deliberately rather than rolled out as a total overhaul without validation. Many brands benefit from staged experimentation: start with a brutalist landing page for a campaign, a micro-site for a product launch, or a redesign of a single collection template. That approach reduces risk, creates learnings, and helps the team refine a system before applying it across the whole site.

It also helps to define “non-negotiables” up front. For example: checkout must remain conventional, forms must remain obvious, and help content must remain easy to search. Brutalism can live around these constraints without breaking them. The goal is to keep the creative edge while protecting the business-critical flows.

Step-by-step iteration.

Build, measure, adjust, repeat.

Define the primary outcomes for the page, such as lead capture, product discovery, or content comprehension.
Create a brutalist layout that makes those outcomes visually and structurally dominant.
Run quick feedback sessions and analytics checks to identify confusion points.
Adjust hierarchy, spacing, labels, and responsive rules before changing the aesthetic direction.
Scale the system only after the patterns prove stable across devices and use cases.

This iteration mindset also fits modern workflow tooling. Teams using Squarespace, Knack, Replit, and Make.com often operate with rapid cycles, where a small change can be deployed, measured, and refined quickly. A brutalist design system benefits from that rhythm because it is sensitive to detail and relies on careful tuning rather than decorative fixes.

Practical edge cases to plan for.

Brutalism breaks where complexity hides.

Long-form content: ensure headings, summaries, and internal navigation keep reading comfortable.
E-commerce filters: keep sorting and filtering obvious, even if the styling is raw.
Forms and validation: error messages must be clear, visible, and helpful.
Multi-language sites: typography and spacing must handle longer words and different scripts.
Accessibility modes: focus states and keyboard paths must remain visible and logical.

Storytelling and community potential.

Brutalism can be an unusually strong backdrop for narrative, because it removes ornamental noise and forces the content to carry weight. That can help brands that rely on opinion, craft, process, or strong points of view. The layout becomes a stage for words, images, and structure, rather than a decorative frame trying to compete for attention.

Storytelling works best in brutalist contexts when the content is structured into clear segments: sharp headings, short lead paragraphs, and optional clusters that allow readers to skim or dive deeper. The design can also support honesty about process, including failures, constraints, and trade-offs, because the aesthetic does not demand perfection.

Inviting participation without clutter.

Community features can match the ethos.

Because brutalism often communicates openness, it can pair well with community elements such as comments, Q and A blocks, and simple forums, as long as moderation and usability are taken seriously. The point is not to bolt on interaction for novelty, but to create spaces where visitors can ask questions, share feedback, and become part of an ongoing conversation.

When teams want to keep the interface minimal while still enabling discovery, search and guided assistance can become a bridge. A lean layout can remain visually brutal while the support layer becomes smarter and more contextual, reducing the need for heavy navigation or excessive page furniture.

Modern technology, brutalist energy.

Brutalism does not have to be stuck in a “retro” interpretation. It can coexist with modern interaction models and emerging technologies, as long as the additions serve the experience rather than decorate it. The aesthetic can remain raw while the underlying system becomes more capable, faster, and more helpful.

This is where teams should separate “visual roughness” from “technical roughness”. A brutalist site can look sharp-edged and blunt while still being engineered with care: clean performance, strong accessibility, stable components, and thoughtful content structure. The style is not a licence to ship fragile experiences.

Immersive layers as optional depth.

Use novelty only when it clarifies.

Emerging interfaces such as augmented reality and virtual reality can complement brutalism when they deepen understanding rather than distract. For example, a product brand might use an optional AR preview to demonstrate scale or material detail, while keeping the main page layout blunt and minimal. The brutalist frame keeps the experience grounded, while the immersive layer becomes a purposeful tool.

The caution is that these technologies introduce complexity, accessibility considerations, and performance costs. If they become the main path, they can exclude users or slow down key journeys. If they remain optional, clearly signposted, and supported by conventional content, they can add memorable depth without undermining usability.

Brutalism as a disciplined choice.

Brutalism succeeds when it is treated as a disciplined system, not a shortcut. It asks teams to prioritise content, build explicit hierarchy, and respect usability constraints without hiding behind polish. It can be a strong fit for brands that want to signal directness, independence, and clarity, but it requires honest evaluation of audience expectations and category norms.

When the fundamentals are handled well, brutalism can create a distinctive presence that stands out and feels refreshingly candid. When the fundamentals are neglected, it becomes noise and friction. The difference is rarely aesthetic taste. It is structure, hierarchy, accessibility, and the willingness to test and refine until the rawness feels intentional.

Next, it helps to compare brutalism with other “anti-polish” design movements and identify which elements can be borrowed without committing to the full aesthetic, especially for brands that want differentiation while keeping conventional trust cues intact.

Frequently Asked Questions.

What is brutalism in web design?

Brutalism in web design refers to a raw, unpolished aesthetic that prioritises functionality and authenticity over decorative elements. It embraces simplicity and direct messaging.

When should I use brutalism in my designs?

Brutalism works well in contexts where boldness and authenticity are valued, such as editorial and artistic projects. However, it should be avoided in high-stakes transactional environments.

How can I ensure usability in brutalist designs?

To maintain usability, focus on clear navigation, conduct user testing, and prioritise accessibility features to cater to diverse user needs.

What are the key principles of brutalism?

The key principles include rawness and honesty, utility-first layouts, and the use of deliberate tension to enhance messaging and engagement.

Can brutalism be accessible?

Yes, brutalist designs can be accessible by adhering to WCAG guidelines, ensuring sufficient colour contrast, and providing clear navigation for all users.

What are some examples of successful brutalist websites?

Examples include KSENIASCHNAIDER and WHATTHEBRAND©, which effectively utilise brutalist principles to create memorable user experiences.

How does brutalism differ from traditional web design?

Brutalism differs from traditional web design by embracing raw aesthetics and functionality rather than polished, decorative designs that often dominate the web.

Is brutalism suitable for all brands?

Not all brands are suited for brutalism; it works best for those that value boldness and authenticity. Brands in traditional sectors may require a more polished approach.

How can I incorporate brutalism into my design process?

Incorporate brutalism by focusing on core content, utilising high-contrast colours, and embracing imperfections while ensuring usability and accessibility.

What are the risks of using brutalism?

The risks include potential user confusion and frustration if clarity and usability are not prioritised, especially in high-stakes environments.

References

Thank you for taking the time to read this lecture. Hopefully, this has provided you with insight to assist your career or business.

Obriy. (2025, May 07). Web Brutalism: Key Features and 5 Creative Examples. Obriy. https://www.obriy.design/post/web-brutalism-key-features-and-5-creative-examples
Cider House. (2025, January 29). What is Brutalism? A Guide to Brutalism in Web Design. Cider House. https://ciderhouse.media/brutalism-a-guide-to-architecture-web-design/
Designmantic. (2024, June 14). The rise of brutalism in website design: Unpacking the edgy new web design trend! Designmantic. https://www.designmantic.com/blog/brutalism-in-web-design/
CopyElement Blog. (2025, September 11). The rise of brutalism in web design 2025: Is it right for your brand? CopyElement Blog. https://blog.copyelement.com/the-rise-of-brutalism-in-web-design-2025-is-it-right-for-your-brand/
Potvin, P. (2017, November 15). Brutalist web design, minimalist web design, and the future of web UX. Medium. https://pascalpotvin.medium.com/brutalist-web-design-minimalist-web-design-and-the-future-of-web-ux-44741432d149
Elementor. (2022, April 7). What is brutalism in web design? and how to use it + 7 great examples. Elementor. https://elementor.com/blog/brutalism-in-web-design/
Think Design. (2025, June 2). Brutalism digital design: Embracing raw aesthetics. Medium. https://medium.com/@marketingtd64/brutalism-digital-design-embracing-raw-aesthetics-c1593caac6e7
DomizWebs Agency. (2025, November 29). Brutalism in web design: A bold trend worth trying? DomizWebs. https://domizwebs.com/brutalism-in-web-design-a-bold-trend-worth-trying/
Deivid Art. (2024, May 22). Brutalism in design. Deivid Art. https://www.deividart.com/en/blog/brutalism-in-design/

Key components mentioned

This lecture referenced a range of named technologies, systems, standards bodies, and platforms that collectively map how modern web experiences are built, delivered, measured, and governed. The list below is included as a transparency index of the specific items mentioned.

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