Introduction: What Taste Is (and Isn't)

This chapter sets up the vocabulary: the difference between preference, taste, and expertise, and why taste is worth building on purpose.

A Working Definition

Taste is the ability to make aesthetic judgments that are articulate, consistent, and informed. It is not mystery. It is not innate. It is not reserved for a few anointed people.

You can think of it as three ascending levels:

Preference     I like this
Taste          I can say why, and my reasons travel
Expertise      My reasons are informed by history, discipline, and craft

Preference is cheap. Everyone has it. You like blue, you don't like broccoli, you think that one song is great. These are facts about you. They don't need defending.

Taste is more demanding. You can describe what you see. Your judgments hang together. Given a new thing, you can predict whether you'd like it based on its properties, not its vibes. You can articulate why you admire something you don't personally want in your life.

Expertise sits beyond taste. It is taste plus history: knowing what came before, who did what, why the field moved where it did. A strong critic has expertise; a strong maker usually has taste but may or may not have expertise in the formal sense.

Most of this tutorial is about taste: the middle level. Preference takes care of itself; expertise is a lifetime of work. Taste is the interesting middle, and it's trainable.

What Taste Is Not

A few things taste keeps getting confused with:

Taste is not refinement

Refinement is a narrowing of tolerance: you can no longer stand things you used to like. Some refinement follows taste-building; much is just becoming fussy. A person with good taste can enjoy low-brow work for what it is. A person who only tolerates the rarefied has narrowed preferences, not taste.

Taste is not snobbery

Snobbery is taste as weapon: using your judgments to sort people above or below you. This has nothing to do with aesthetic judgment and everything to do with social positioning. People with strong taste rarely feel the need to flaunt it; people anxious about their taste frequently do.

Taste is not certainty

Trained taste is less certain than untrained taste, not more. The beginner is certain: they know what's good. The expert is aware of edge cases, counterexamples, different traditions that would value different things. Confidence in your judgments should grow; certainty should shrink.

Taste is not mysticism

There is no ineffable quality that some people have and others don't. Taste is built from exposure, attention, and articulation. It can be taught, though not quickly. Believing taste is mystical mostly helps the mystified keep people out of it.

Why Taste Matters

Four reasons, roughly in order of practical importance:

1. Your work looks like what you look at

A writer who only reads airport thrillers writes airport thrillers. A designer whose visual diet is Instagram explore feed produces Instagram-explore-feed work. The inputs determine the outputs much more than most people admit.

This isn't a moral claim; airport thrillers are fine. It's a mechanical one: you can only generate variations of things you've absorbed. Control your inputs and you control the range of your outputs.

2. Taste is the uncopyable part

Two designers with the same software, same skills, same client, same brief, will produce different work. The difference is their taste. In a world where tools are commodified, taste is the thing left that distinguishes people.

This will matter more as AI tools get better. Technical execution is increasingly commodity. Knowing what to make and what to leave out is what remains.

3. Most bad work isn't bad from lack of effort

The worst websites are not undesigned; they are badly designed, sometimes with more care than good ones. The author put hours in. They didn't see the difference between what they made and what would have been better.

Taste is the eye that sees that difference. Without it, you can work infinitely hard and still produce mediocre work.

4. Taste travels

Someone with trained taste in prose often has useful views on design. A musician often has something to say about typography. The underlying principles repeat across surfaces. A person who has built taste in one domain builds it faster in the next.

Why Taste Is Worth Being Careful About

Taste writing attracts three diseases: snobbery, moralism, and grand claims. Watch for all three:

  • Snobbery: "people who like X are lesser." Usually untrue, always ugly
  • Moralism: treating aesthetic choices as ethical ones. Sometimes they are. Often they aren't
  • Grand claims: "this shows the decline of Western civilisation." Almost always wrong. Almost always a bid for importance

A useful test: if you removed the moral framing, the ethnographic condescension, or the civilisational doom, would the aesthetic observation still be interesting? If yes, keep the observation; cut the other parts.

Taste Is Not Democratic, But It Isn't Aristocratic Either

A pet peeve: the framing of taste as either "all opinions are equally valid" or "only experts can judge".

Both are wrong. Some judgments are better than others, but not because of the credentials of the person making them. An articulate reason beats an inarticulate reason. A claim supported by specifics beats a claim of general vibes. Two judgments, both well-reasoned from different premises, can coexist.

The way to respect your own taste without being a snob: articulate your reasons, hold them open to revision, and listen when someone else articulates theirs. You don't have to agree. You do have to engage.

A Starter Exercise

Pick something you genuinely admire. A book, an album, a product, a building, a piece of code. Write down three reasons it works. Make the reasons specific.

Then pick something you genuinely dislike, same category. Write three specific reasons it doesn't work.

Read both back. Notice:

  • Are your reasons concrete or vague?
  • Do the reasons generalise? Could a different work fail or succeed for the same reasons?
  • Are you saying what's there, or what you feel about what's there?

Most people start with a lot of feeling and very little specificity. That's the starting point. Getting from there to specificity is most of what this tutorial is about.

What's Ahead

  • Chapter 02: the long-arc nature of taste-building
  • Chapters 03, 04, and 05: looking, principles, and vocabulary. The three basic tools
  • Chapter 06: reference works and the canon
  • Chapters 07 to 09: working across disciplines, mixing registers, distinguishing trend from classic
  • Chapters 10 and 11: taste for makers vs critics, and finding your own angle
  • Chapter 12: habits for the long game

The thread: taste is a practice, not a trait. People who think it's a trait spend their lives waiting for theirs to appear. People who treat it as a practice watch it grow.

Common Pitfalls

"I already know what I like." You know your preferences. That's not the same as taste. Taste requires articulation; preference does not

"I don't want to be pretentious." Valid concern. Pretension is pretending to taste you don't have. Real taste is not pretentious; it's specific. The fix for pretension is more attention to the work, less attention to yourself

"Taste is subjective." Partly. Preferences are subjective. Quality has a subjective component and an objective component. People who wave away the whole field as subjective are usually not interested in the subject. That's fine; skip the tutorial

"I should just make things; thinking about this is overthinking." Making and thinking are not opposed. The makers whose work you respect think more about this than you do, not less. They just hide the thinking in the work

Next Steps

Continue to 02-how-taste-is-built.md for the honest answer about how taste actually develops.