What Architecture Can Teach Us About Graphic Design

I've always been drawn to interesting architecture, particularly buildings with unusual geometry, bold colours, repeating patterns or a really good relationship with natural light. Sometimes it's an elaborate piece of modern architecture, but just as often it's an ordinary building with an interesting staircase, a strange window arrangement or a shadow falling across a wall at exactly the right angle.

There's something satisfying about a building that works visually without needing much decoration. A few strong shapes, good proportions and an interesting use of materials can be enough.

The more time I spend looking at architecture, the more I notice how much it has in common with graphic design. The same principles that make a building visually interesting can make a poster, website, photograph or brand identity work. Scale, proportion, rhythm, contrast and negative space all matter, regardless of whether you're designing something people walk through or something they scroll past.

I think designers sometimes get too comfortable looking at other design work for inspiration. We browse the same websites, save the same references and eventually start producing variations of things we've already seen. Architecture offers a useful way to get outside that cycle because it forces you to think about composition in a different context.

And unlike a carefully curated Pinterest board, you can actually walk around it.

1. Proportion: Getting the Relationships Right

One of the first things I notice about a building is its proportions. Not necessarily whether it's symmetrical, but whether the different elements feel like they belong together.

A huge concrete wall with one tiny window can be incredibly striking. So can a narrow building with exaggerated vertical lines or a facade broken into unusually sized geometric sections. These things work because of the relationships between their parts.

Graphic design is no different.

A headline doesn't need to be enormous to be effective. It needs to be the right size relative to everything around it. The same goes for images, margins, buttons, paragraphs and supporting details.

I think this is where a lot of design starts feeling generic. We rely on familiar proportions because they're safe. A large headline, medium-sized supporting copy, a rectangular image and a button underneath. There's nothing inherently wrong with that arrangement, but repeating it without much thought doesn't produce particularly interesting work.

Next time you're designing something, try changing the relationships rather than adding more elements. Make the image significantly larger. Reduce the headline. Increase the margins. Give one element an unusually dominant position.

Sometimes the difference between an ordinary layout and an interesting one is simply changing how much space everything occupies.

2. Negative Space: The Value of Leaving Things Alone

Architecture is particularly good at demonstrating how powerful empty space can be.

A large blank wall can make a single doorway feel important. An open courtyard can make the surrounding structure more dramatic. A building with relatively few details can feel more interesting than one covered in elaborate decoration.

The empty space isn't wasted. It's doing something.

I think the same principle gets misunderstood in graphic design, especially when working with clients. There's often a temptation to fill available space because leaving it empty feels like you're not using it properly.

A little more copy here. Another logo there. Maybe a supporting graphic in the corner. Before long, the original composition has lost whatever made it interesting.

Whitespace helps establish hierarchy, gives important elements room to exist and makes information easier to process. It can also create tension, particularly when an object or piece of typography is positioned somewhere unexpected.

That doesn't mean every design needs enormous margins and a minimalist aesthetic. Some of my favourite editorial layouts are dense, colourful and chaotic. But even those compositions rely on an understanding of where visual activity should happen and where the eye gets a chance to rest.

The useful question isn't whether there's enough on the page. It's whether everything on the page needs to be there.

3. Repetition: Creating Rhythm Without Becoming Boring

Look at an apartment building with rows of balconies, a brutalist facade with repeating concrete forms or a long corridor with evenly spaced columns. Repetition creates rhythm, and rhythm makes something feel organized.

But the most interesting examples often include small variations.

One window is open. A balcony has plants while the others don't. A shadow interrupts the pattern. The materials have aged differently. Those details stop the repetition from feeling completely mechanical.

Graphic design works in much the same way.

Repeating colours, typography, shapes and spacing creates consistency. It's how a collection of unrelated materials can start feeling like part of the same visual identity.

But consistency doesn't need to mean duplication.

I've never been particularly interested in the idea that every social media post should follow the exact same template. It's an easy way to maintain a consistent appearance, but it's also an easy way to make everything look interchangeable.

A stronger visual system gives you recognizable elements that can be rearranged, exaggerated or occasionally interrupted.

Think about an editorial magazine. The typography, grid and overall art direction might remain consistent across an entire issue, but individual spreads can have completely different compositions.

That's the kind of repetition I find interesting. Enough familiarity to establish a recognizable style, but enough variation to keep it alive.

4. Contrast: Making Things Worth Looking At

Some of my favourite architectural photographs are incredibly simple. A brightly painted wall against a blue sky. A dark concrete building in harsh sunlight. A small window surrounded by an enormous amount of uninterrupted colour.

There's very little happening, but the contrast makes it interesting.

Contrast isn't just about colour, either. Architecture uses differences in scale, texture, light, shape and material to create visual interest. Smooth concrete beside rough stone. A narrow opening in a massive wall. A curved staircase cutting through a rectangular building.

Those relationships are just as useful in graphic design.

A large headline becomes more dramatic beside small supporting text. A rough photographic texture can work beautifully against clean typography. A single bright colour can become much more effective when the rest of the composition is restrained.

I think there's a tendency to make everything equally interesting, particularly in marketing creative. Every element needs attention. Every message is important. Every offer needs a badge.

The result is often a design where nothing really stands out.

Contrast helps you make decisions about what matters. Instead of asking how to make every element more noticeable, decide which one deserves the attention and let everything else support it.

5. Materials: Texture Makes a Difference

One of the things I like most about architectural photography is how materials change the feeling of an image.

Painted concrete, weathered stucco, polished metal, glass, brick and natural stone all interact with light differently. They also carry different associations. A smooth white facade can feel clean and contemporary, while rough concrete might feel industrial or imposing.

The materials contribute to the personality of the building before you even start thinking about its shape.

Graphic design has its own version of this.

Paper stock, printing techniques, grain, texture, photography and even the way typography is rendered can completely change how something feels.

A beautifully designed poster printed on thin glossy paper has a different character from the same artwork printed on heavy uncoated stock. A brand identity using imperfect photography and tactile materials communicates something different from one built entirely around polished digital renders.

Even in digital design, texture matters. Subtle grain, natural photographic imperfections and variations in surface can add depth to something that would otherwise feel flat.

This is particularly relevant now that it's easier than ever to create technically perfect imagery. I don't think perfection is necessarily the goal. Sometimes a little unevenness, wear or texture makes the work more convincing and more interesting.

Of course, adding artificial grain to everything isn't a substitute for good art direction. The texture still needs to make sense.

Photography Is Where These Ideas Come Together

Architecture is also a useful subject for learning photography because it makes composition unusually obvious.

Buildings don't move around very much, which helps.

You can spend time looking at how lines intersect, how shadows divide a surface or how changing your position alters the relationship between shapes. Move a few metres to the left and an ordinary facade might suddenly become an interesting geometric composition.

I particularly like photographing architecture straight-on, where the building starts to feel almost like a graphic design layout. Windows become shapes, shadows become blocks of colour and repeating structural details create patterns.

But the interesting part is deciding what to include.

A photograph of an entire building might communicate its architecture clearly, while a tightly cropped image of one corner might produce something much more abstract. Neither is necessarily better. They're simply doing different things.

If you're trying to develop your eye for composition, I'd recommend photographing the same building in several ways:

• Straight-on: Look for symmetry, repetition and strong geometric relationships.

• Close-up: Isolate materials, textures, shadows or unusual details.

• From below: Experiment with exaggerated scale and perspective.

• At different times of day: Notice how direct sunlight, overcast skies and long shadows change the composition.

• With fewer elements: Try removing distractions through framing rather than relying on editing afterward.

You don't need a particularly interesting building or an expensive camera. A concrete staircase, parking garage or ordinary apartment facade can be enough.

The exercise is really about learning to notice things you would normally walk past.

Applying Architectural Thinking to Actual Design Work

The value of looking at architecture isn't necessarily to make your designs look architectural. It's to borrow the thinking behind it.

If I'm working on a website, I might look at how a building creates a sense of progression through different spaces. Some sections are open and minimal, while others are dense with information. The contrast between them creates pacing.

For packaging, I might look at how simple geometric forms and colour relationships can make something recognizable without relying on elaborate decoration.

For editorial design, architecture offers endless examples of grids, proportion, repetition and unexpected scale. And for photography, it provides a way to study composition without needing a studio, models or elaborate production.

A few practical ways to bring these ideas into your next project:

• Start with shapes, not details. Reduce your layout to basic blocks and see whether the composition works before adding decoration.

• Experiment with proportion. Change the scale of one major element rather than redesigning everything.

• Use repetition deliberately. Establish recognizable patterns, then introduce variation where it adds interest.

• Think about materials and texture. Consider how surfaces, photography and finishes influence the overall feeling.

• Pay attention to light and shadow. Even in flat graphic design, contrast can create a sense of depth and structure.

None of these principles are particularly revolutionary. They're fundamental design ideas that have existed for a very long time. I just think architecture makes them easier to see.

Look at Something Other Than a Screen

I don't think there's anything wrong with using design inspiration websites. I use them too. But I do think relying on them exclusively can make your creative references increasingly narrow.

When you're constantly looking at work made by other designers, it's easy to absorb the same trends, compositions and visual conventions without realizing it.

Architecture offers a different kind of reference. It's influenced by function, materials, engineering, geography, history and the people who use it. Sometimes the result is beautiful. Sometimes it's strange. Sometimes it's an ordinary building that happens to look incredible for about twenty minutes when the afternoon sun hits it.

Those are often the things I find most interesting.

And the more you pay attention to them, the more you start noticing the same relationships in other creative work. A magazine layout starts to resemble a facade. A website grid feels like a series of connected spaces. A photograph becomes an exercise in proportion and negative space.

I don't think good design comes from having an endless collection of references. It comes from understanding what makes those references interesting in the first place.

So the next time you're stuck on a layout, struggling with a composition or looking for a little creative direction, maybe close Pinterest for an afternoon and go for a walk.

There's a surprising amount of good design happening outside.