LEARNING BY DOING IS LEARNING BY FAILURE

On creativity, risk and failure and the opportunity that this means in the design process

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“Learning by doing” is a phrase so often repeated in design that it has become almost invisible. It appears in classrooms, in briefs, in conversations at conferences. It sounds reassuring, as if practice alone will inevitably lead to mastery. But the reality is sharper. To learn by doing is not simply to rehearse a skill. It is to step into situations where you lack certainty, to test ideas before they are ready, and to fail. Not once, but repeatedly.

This is the part rarely said aloud. In design schools, in project kick-offs, among peers, failure is seldom framed as the real substance of learning. It is easier to speak of “iteration” or “refinement” than to admit that progress comes from breakdowns. Yet this is the paradox at the heart of the discipline: design, celebrated for creativity and problem-solving, advances through cycles of collapse. Prototypes fall apart, workshops drift off course, service concepts prove unworkable. These moments feel like setbacks, but they are in fact the conditions through which knowledge takes shape.

When prototypes crumble

Consider a digital interface being tested in low fidelity. The flow is clunky, buttons are confusing, interactions fail. At first glance, this looks like failure in the simplest sense: the design does not work. But for the designer, the moment of collapse is a window. Observing exactly where users stumble, noting what was assumed incorrectly, testing why an interaction failed—this is raw material. A service blueprint that works perfectly on paper often fails in reality. Only by confronting these fractures can we discover the subtle tensions in user behaviour that truly matter.

Why failing early is not a flaw

The concept of “productive failure” comes from education research. Professor Manu Kapur’s studies show that struggling with complex problems before receiving guidance leads to deeper understanding than being told the solution upfront. The first encounter with failure primes the mind. Knowledge gaps become visible, assumptions are tested, and learning consolidates more effectively.

For designers, the implication is clear. Early failure is not a mark of incompetence; it is evidence that an idea is being tested, pushed, and interrogated. Innovation workshops produce dozens of unworkable concepts. Rebranding projects look convincing in decks but fail in public reception. Each collapse is a step toward refinement, a way to sharpen judgement.

Creativity thrives on risk

Iteration is just a polite word for repeated failure. The safest, most familiar solution rarely surprises anyone. True creativity demands exposure to uncertainty. A UX designer experimenting with a new interaction pattern risks confusion. A service designer testing a complex journey map risks exposing gaps in logic. A branding concept released for early feedback risks rejection. The willingness to step into these situations is what separates incremental improvement from innovation.

Research supports this. Studies on innovation show that individuals willing to tolerate uncertainty and mistakes consistently produce more original solutions. In practice, creativity is inseparable from risk and, inevitably, from failure.

The emotional side of failing

Failure is painful. Frustration, disappointment, self-doubt—these are the natural companions of any challenging design project. Yet psychologists have found that negative emotions, if acknowledged and managed, can be productive. Frustration can sharpen focus, disappointment can prompt re-evaluation, and irritation can motivate persistence.

This is where resilience matters. Far from being a fixed trait, resilience is a skill that can be cultivated. Cognitive reappraisal, structured problem-solving, stress regulation—these are techniques that allow designers to treat failure as material rather than catastrophe. Logging failed experiments, discussing them with peers, and using the insights to inform the next iteration transforms frustration into fuel.

The solution : Failing with intention

Failure is not inherently beneficial. In hostile environments, a single mistake can have significant consequences. That is why “fail fast” is misleading. Deliberate failure is different: it involves testing small bets, documenting insights, sharing results, and controlling exposure.

In my experience, the difference between wasted effort and productive learning lies in intention. When I launched OleOla, my first product concepts collapsed under user testing. My instinct was to defend the designs. Instead, I documented the feedback, reframed the problem, and ran small experiments to test alternatives. Those experiments shifted the project onto a path that worked. The failure was still uncomfortable, but it became the trigger for insight.

A method for practice

Over time, I developed a simple loop for handling failure: analyse what went wrong, accept the emotional response, define small experiments, and mobilise the resources needed to try again. Applied consistently, it transforms repeated setbacks into a rhythm of learning. This is what “learning by doing” looks like in practice: a cycle of challenge, reflection, adjustment, and action.

Design schools and organisations could benefit from teaching this explicitly. Instead of presenting failure as a by-product, they could show how to fail deliberately, safely, and with a clear learning intention. Doing so would make resilience a core part of professional skill, rather than a personal gamble.

Turning failure into opportunity

When conditions allow, failure stops being a verdict on competence and becomes a source of insight. Every collapsed prototype, workshop misstep, or flawed blueprint contains information about the design problem and the designer’s approach. Recognising this is what turns repeated setbacks into growth. Creativity, risk, and resilience are not separate qualities—they form a single rhythm in professional practice.

The lesson for any designer is simple: design is not about avoiding mistakes, it is about creating the conditions in which mistakes become material for learning. Failure is not a barrier, it is a tool. It is the engine of reflection, experimentation, and, ultimately, innovation.

Far from ending the process, failure is often its beginning.

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