Indhu
Product Designer
based in Seattle
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About

Hello there!

I'm a product designer who thinks in systems — less interested in what a screen looks like than in why it exists, how the pieces underneath it hold together, and whether people can actually trust it. That's taken me from a three-screen prototype to a founding-designer role, and from a university research project to an ML platform that earned 95% adoption inside a skeptical institution.

I still can't look at a product without asking why it exists — and lately, why now — before I let myself get excited about what it should be. It's a compulsion.

Most recently that's pulled me toward a harder question: what guardrails and accessibility should look like as AI decides more of what people see, trust, and act on. Building an enterprise ML platform that had to earn trust inside a cautious institution, and a media-literacy tool built on the idea that people should be equipped to judge for themselves, taught me the same lesson twice — the interface is rarely the hard part. Deciding who the system should defer to is.

The best products I know are invisible. An Apple Watch that detects a heartbeat and calls for help. A tool that fits so naturally into someone's day they forget they're using it. That's the bar I actually care about. Pretty isn't enough. If someone notices they're using your product, it hasn't done its job yet. (I notice I'm using most apps about as much as I notice I'm wearing shoes with a rock in them. Which is to say: constantly, and with growing resentment.)

I take a lot of photos of stuff most people just walk past. Fog swallowing a road through sequoias. A library that looks like it's about to unfold itself onto the sidewalk. I'm not sure why my eyes default to working that way, but I can't turn it off.

I've lived in Chicago, Milwaukee, LA, New York, and now Seattle. Each city left something behind, mostly strong opinions about public transit that nobody asked for. I collect things that make people lean in for a second look, and I lose sleep over problems that were never actually part of the assignment. Design superpower or boundary-setting problem, depending who you ask. Probably both.

When I'm in my 60s, I want a barn full of animals, surrounded by tall trees, reading every day. Until then, I'll be the one asking why the button needs to move at all.

The road, in no hurry to become a metaphor
A building on wheels, still deciding what it wants to be
Even the fog stopped in for a little retail therapy
Nature's way of saying there's a chance of drama
The boots, doing their best impression of standing on water
A serious meeting between sneakers and caution tape
Grayland Beach, moonlighting as the actual moon
A man, a path, and several thousand unbothered leaves
A hundred tiny suns, none of them on speaking terms
A corgi conducting urgent business at the shoreline
Trees, holding a very tall and very quiet meeting
Everyone waiting on a wave with other plans
Birds, apparently the only ones with somewhere to be
A man and a dog, both convinced they're winning
A shipwreck, still dressed for the occasion
Strangers, evenly spaced, pretending not to notice each other
A parking lot, viewed through several hundred tiny lenses
A barn, blurred just enough to seem like a good idea
One person, a coastline, no immediate plans
A parking lot, briefly forgiven by the light
The sky, showing off in two places at once
A room of puppets, mid-argument about who's in charge
A building leaning in like it has gossip
Snow, performing for an audience of one streetlamp
A church that clearly did not believe in small gestures
A commute reimagined as a trip down someone's throat
A car, parked with tremendous confidence, in the middle of nowhere
The city, refusing to hold still for the photo
A cathedral that's been 'almost done' since 1882
A library that looks mid-collapse and rather pleased about it
Skyscrapers, playing a modest game of hide and seek
One small human, negotiating with the entire Pacific
A house quietly returning the property to the prairie
A ceiling with clear main-character energy
Another ceiling, equally sure of itself
Foam, doing the most for a Tuesday

Same angle, same obsession, 2016–2024. I've apparently been doing user research on pavement the whole time.