Design Is Lockpicking. An…Interesting Analogy.

Understanding the mystery of design through an analogy

We see people unlock locks every day. Keys are such a natural part of our world that it’s easy to assume that no matter what lock we face, we already have the right key ready to go on our keychain. We just pull out a key and unlock the door in front of us.

I’ve been wondering if that’s how non-designers think design works. They assume we have a hulking keyring in the background, with ready-made keys to problems. All we need to do is test a few keys in the lock, and boom—it’s solved. But most people know there are millions of locks out there. Even if you find the right brand of key, it won’t open the lock unless it matches the internal pattern precisely.

As designers, we know the world is full of problems that look just like those locks. Each has its own shape, complexity, and constraints. Most of the time, the right key doesn’t exist yet.

Design, then, isn’t about finding the perfect key. It’s about discovering the internal shape of the lock so we can create a key meant to fit it. And that process? It’s a lot like picking a lock.

Why Assuming You Already Have the Key Fails

Too often, teams approach design as if they already have the answer. They grab a pre-made key—maybe an industry best practice, a competitor’s approach, or a familiar design pattern—and try to jam it into the problem.

Sometimes it works well enough. The lock turns, and everything is fine. But more often than not, it doesn’t. The team wiggles the key, forces it, grinds it down slightly, or cycles through other keys, hoping something will catch. And when it doesn’t? They blame the lock… or the person holding the key.

But the real issue isn’t the lock or the key. It’s the assumption that the right key already exists when it actually needs to be created.

This is where lockpicking comes in.

Design as Lockpicking: Discovering the Shape of the Problem

A skilled lockpicker doesn’t see inside the lock. They don’t start with a perfect understanding of its internal shape. Instead, they pull out their lock pick set, applying tension, feeling for resistance, and making tiny adjustments. Each movement tells them something vitally important. A pin clicks into place, then another. They listen. They adapt. Slowly, the full shape of the lock reveals itself.

Before they even touch the lock, though, they gather clues. They check for wear marks, feel the resistance, and test how the keyway moves. This initial investigation is what research is to design—it informs how we approach the problem, helping us recognize patterns before we dive into solutions.

This is exactly how successful (and innovative) design methodology works.

You don’t start with a perfect solution. You start with ideas. Lots of them. Not because you expect them to be correct, but because each one teaches you something about the problem. You try a slight variation. You listen for feedback. You adjust. Every failed attempt brings a deeper understanding.

Lockpicking isn’t magic. But to outsiders, it looks magical. A skilled person has one or two tiny pieces of metal, wiggles them around a bit, and CLICK. You’re in. But it’s a skill—a highly refined one. It’s developed through patience, experimentation, and an understanding of how locks actually work.

Design is the same way. The best designers aren’t the ones who instantly know the right answer. They’re the ones who have mastered the art of discovering it. And just like lockpickers, they come prepared—not just with tools, but with experience, intuition, and an ability to learn from every failed attempt.

The (Un)Alone Lockpicker

OK, well, this is where my analogy breaks down a bit. Design doesn’t happen in isolation. In most digital experience design situations, the designers aren’t choosing the locks to pick. They work with someone who helps them identify which locks are worth picking. And once they’ve figured out the shape of the lock, they don’t make the key themselves. Someone with the right tools and materials ensures that the key is crafted properly.

For designers, this collaboration is critical.

Not every problem is worth solving, just like not every lock is worth picking. Some doors lead to a less helpful space than others. Some aren’t worth the effort. Others unlock entirely new opportunities. Working with product managers, strategists, and business leaders helps designers focus on the locks (problems) that actually matter.

And once the lock has been picked? That’s where engineering comes in. Designers don’t make the final production key. They discover the shape of the lock, even build a template to ensure the proposed pattern works, then work with material experts to manufacture the real key. This is where engineers and technical teams refine the solution—choosing the right materials, tolerances, and trade-offs based on real-world constraints.

How good the key needs to be depends on the balance between speed and precision, and that’s where engineering, operations, and other disciplines help refine and execute the solution.

Designers figure out the shape of the lock. Others help determine if it’s the right lock to pick, and once the shape is understood, they work together to manufacture the right key.

Become a Better Lockpicker

Many designers hesitate to “start picking the lock.” They stare at the problem for too long, trying to make sense of it without truly interacting with it. They wait until they feel they have a holistic understanding before trying any solutions. But here’s the thing: you don’t know the internal shape of the lock you’re dealing with until you start picking it.

Great designers embrace this reality. They test solutions early—not because they expect them to work, but because each attempt provides critical feedback. Every failed attempt refines their understanding of the problem. The solution emerges over time by interacting with the problem, not before then.

Rethinking our Use of Design

This is the shift you can help non-designers make. We don’t make things because they are right, but because we’re exploring the shape of the problem. It’s just like picking a lock. We don’t come to the problem with the answer. We come to the problem with our lock-picking set and begin testing until the right solution emerges with a CLICK.

Design isn’t about knowing the right answer ahead of time. It’s about uncovering the shape of the problem so that a key can be created—one that fits reliably. It’s not magic. It’s a craft, built on intentionality, refined skills, and iterative problem-solving.

I wonder what would happen if design was approached more like lockpicking. What opportunities for deeper innovation might emerge? What problems might be more quickly solved? What advantages might we bring to the user-business relationship?

What do you think?

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