I'm Not a Designer. And That's Exactly Why I Needed to Learn Design Principles.
What a crowded flyer, some uncomfortable feedback, and a stubborn AI taught me about strategic communications.
I'm not a graphic designer.
I'm a communications strategist, writer, and systems thinker who happens to spend a considerable amount of time making things in Canva.
Flyers. Social media graphics. Newsletters. Promotional materials. The things small organizations need when they don't have an entire communications department at their disposal.
I know how to use the tools. I have creative instincts. And I understand the importance of communicating information clearly.
But knowing how to operate design software doesn't automatically mean you understand design.
I recently received a rather practical reminder of that distinction.
And, because I use artificial intelligence extensively in my work, AI got to participate in the learning experience.
Not always helpfully.
The Flyer That Started Everything
I was preparing to teach a Canva workshop for people involved in community
organizations.
The class had a straightforward purpose: help participants create practical materials they could use in their own organizations, even if they had little or no design experience.
I needed a promotional flyer.
I asked ChatGPT to help design the promotional flyer. It developed the layout, content, and visual direction, and I assembled the design in Canva using its instructions.
Five minutes after I submitted it, I received a text asking whether I had 15 minutes to meet.
Well, shit.
The executive director of an art center walked me through some fundamental design principles and shared educational resources to help me understand what wasn't working.
We discussed emphasis, contrast, white space, movement, repetition, proportion, alignment, and balance.
These aren't mysterious design secrets. They're established principles that help organize visual information and guide the viewer's attention.
And they immediately gave me a different way to evaluate what ChatGPT and I had produced.
My flyer had information. Lots of information.
What it lacked was discipline.
Too many elements competed for attention. Text, color, images, and decorative flourishes created a composition that demanded more work from the viewer than necessary.
The design wasn't failing because we hadn't included enough.
It was struggling because we hadn't made enough decisions about what mattered most.
A Different Approach
I returned to the project with a better understanding of the principles involved.
The revised flyer was dramatically simpler, but the decisions weren't arbitrary.
I used Canva's recognizable wordmark as the dominant visual element and drew on its signature blue-to-purple gradient for the background. These weren't simply attractive design choices. They immediately connected the flyer to the software participants would be learning.
The oversized typography established a clear hierarchy, while the essential event information remained easy to find. White space gave each element room to breathe.
Instead of competing for attention, the elements worked together to communicate a single message.
The additional workshop details could live on the registration website, where interested participants would find everything they needed.
The flyer wasn't just advertising a design class. Its design was demonstrating some of the principles the class would teach.
The original concept attempted to communicate nearly everything about the workshop. The revision established a clearer hierarchy and assigned detailed information to the website. Identifying organizational details have been changed.
That redesign wasn't simply about making something look better.
It reflected a more fundamental change in how I understood the assignment.
I had been thinking about what information the organization wanted to provide.
I needed to think about what information the audience needed at that particular moment.
Those aren't always the same thing.
Then I Looked at My Own Work
With those design principles fresh in my mind, I revisited another flyer.
This one was mine.
I had created it for a recurring LGBTQ+ community craft gathering.
The original design featured colorful shapes, multiple photographs, decorative rainbows, background patterns, several text blocks, and a lengthy list of possible crafts.
I wanted the piece to communicate creativity, warmth, and belonging.
And I wanted everyone to understand how many different activities they could bring to the gathering.
Looking at it again, I could see the problem.
I'd included so many visual elements that they were competing with the invitation itself.
Even worse, the composition didn't quite reflect the atmosphere I was promoting.
I was inviting people into a relaxed, welcoming creative space with a flyer that gave their eyes very little opportunity to rest.
So I decided to apply what I'd learned.
And I brought ChatGPT back into the process.
The AI Kept Making It Prettier. That Wasn't the Problem.
I asked for a better version of the craft flyer.
ChatGPT produced something more polished.
It had coordinated colors, attractive imagery, and a warmer overall presentation.
It also had too many photographs, decorative elements, slogans, patterns, and competing focal points.
In other words, it recreated the very problem I was trying to eliminate.
I rejected it.
We tried again.
The next version was different, but the fundamental issue remained.
I rejected that one, too.
At one point, the AI was effectively responding to my concerns about visual clutter by introducing new forms of visual clutter.
The irony was not lost on me.
But something important was happening in those exchanges.
I was no longer evaluating the results based primarily on whether I liked how they looked.
I was evaluating them against the principles I'd been studying.
Was the emphasis clear?
Did the composition have sufficient white space?
Was the viewer's attention guided deliberately?
Did the artwork reinforce the message?
Were the visual elements balanced and cohesive?
And perhaps most importantly, could someone understand the invitation without working their way through an obstacle course of competing information?
Eventually, the direction changed.
The revised concept used a strong typographic focal point, a more restrained visual composition, and generous space between the elements.
It still conveyed creativity and belonging.
But the design no longer needed to show every possible craft activity to communicate what the gathering was about.
The initial AI-generated redesign retained excessive imagery, decorative elements, and detailed descriptions. The human-directed final concept uses a clearer visual hierarchy, more deliberate spacing, and a restrained approach to artwork. Identifying details have been changed.
The difference was substantial.
Not because AI had suddenly become a better designer.
Because I had become more intentional about evaluating what it produced.
The Tool Wasn't Making the Decisions
Here's what I find fascinating about this experience.
ChatGPT was capable of generating visually sophisticated material throughout the process.
That wasn't the problem.
The problem was that visual sophistication and effective communication are not the same thing.
And AI can reproduce an ineffective approach with remarkable enthusiasm.
Give it a crowded flyer and ask for something prettier, and it may produce a prettier crowded flyer.
Give it unclear instructions and no meaningful evaluation criteria, and it may generate endless alternatives without resolving the underlying issue.
That's why understanding fundamental principles matters.
And that's why I don't believe AI eliminates the need for human expertise.
In my experience, it makes the quality of human judgment even more consequential.
I use AI as a thinking partner. We explore ideas, identify patterns, examine alternatives, and challenge conclusions.
Sometimes it helps me recognize something I hadn't considered.
Sometimes I have to tell it that its proposed solution is terrible.
Occasionally, I have to tell it several times.
The value comes from the interaction between technological capability, established knowledge, and human judgment.
The technology expands what's possible.
It doesn't relieve me of responsibility for deciding what's appropriate.
The Bigger Problem With Making More Stuff
Although these experiences involved flyers, I don't think the lesson is limited to graphic design.
Small organizations frequently operate with limited time, staffing, and resources.
Someone needs an announcement, so we make an announcement.
Someone needs a flyer, so we make a flyer.
Someone wants greater visibility, so we produce more social media content.
And with AI, producing those materials is becoming easier and faster than ever.
But faster production doesn't necessarily mean better communication.
Sometimes we're so busy making things that we haven't adequately considered whether those things address the actual problem.
Low event attendance might be related to unclear promotional materials.
It might also reflect inconvenient scheduling, limited awareness, registration barriers, or an event that doesn't match the intended audience's needs.
Staff confusion might require clearer written instructions.
Or it might reflect an organizational process that nobody has adequately defined.
A social media campaign might improve visibility.
But visibility alone doesn't establish that an organization is reaching the right people or inspiring meaningful action.
Each situation requires judgment.
And sometimes the most valuable question isn't how to produce a better communication piece.
It's whether that piece is the right response in the first place.
What the Experience Actually Demonstrated
I want to be careful about making claims here.
The revised flyers demonstrate changes in visual hierarchy, information organization, and application of design principles.
They do not prove that the new designs would generate more registrations, increase attendance, or produce better audience engagement.
Those outcomes would require additional evidence.
The workshop's publication and registration process are separate from the question of whether the redesign improved its promotional effectiveness.
Likewise, the craft flyer redesign was an illustrative exercise, not a measured campaign.
What these examples do demonstrate is the importance of approaching communications work with explicit objectives and informed judgment.
And they remind me that professional growth sometimes begins with recognizing the limitations of your own work.
I'm still not a graphic designer.
But I have a stronger understanding of how design decisions affect communication, and I'm better equipped to evaluate the materials I create with AI.
That matters to my work as a communications strategist.
Because my responsibility isn't simply to make things.
It's to help organizations communicate with greater clarity, intention, and purpose.
Before You Make Another Flyer
If your organization is producing newsletters, flyers, social media graphics, and announcements but still struggling to communicate effectively, the answer may not be another template.
It may not be another platform.
And it may not be a more sophisticated AI tool.
It may be a better understanding of the problem you're trying to solve.
That's why JJ Holmes Communications offers a $295 Communications Diagnostic.
It's a focused opportunity to examine your existing communications before investing additional resources in another solution.
The service includes a review of up to three communication touchpoints, a 60-minute diagnostic session, and a written summary of findings and priorities delivered within three business days.
It's an assessment and prioritization service, not an implementation engagement.
The purpose is to help your organization understand where its communications may need attention and what deserves consideration next.
Because the goal of strategic communications isn't to produce more material.
It's to communicate what matters, in ways that serve the people you're trying to reach.
And sometimes the best place to start is by asking whether you need another flyer at all.
Joy Holmes is the Founder & Lead Strategist of JJ Holmes Communications, serving nonprofits, community organizations, advocacy groups, and other mission-driven clients.
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