Architects and Urban Planners as UX/UI Designers at the Human and City Scale

• Introduction
• A Common Framework: Designing for Human Experience
• Parallels in Design Principles and Strategies
• Accessibility and Inclusivity
• Usability, Intuitiveness and Wayfinding
• Affordances, Signifiers, and Feedback
• Flow and Navigation
• Aesthetics and Emotional Design
• Responsiveness and Adaptability
• Feedback Loops and Iteration
• Influence on Behavior and Feedback Loops in Use
• Summary of Parallels
• Key Differences and Limitations of the Analogy
• Processes, Methods, and Tools: A Comparative Look
• Design Process and Methodology
• Research and User Involvement
• Tools and Techniques
• Example – Comparing Tools & Methods (Table)
• Convergence and Divergence in Tools
• Learning From Each Other
• Conclusion

Introduction

Architects (including interior and exterior designers) and urban planners have long designed with human experiences in mind, even if they rarely use the terms “UX” or “UI.” In essence, both groups create environments for people to navigate and use – architects shape physical buildings and spaces, urban planners shape cities and streets, and UX/UI designers shape digital interfaces. All are concerned with how a “user” experiences the designed environment. This has led many to draw an analogy between these fields: architecture and planning as user experience (UX) and user interface (UI) design at a larger scale. As one designer-architect put it, “Architectural design is basically user experience design on a physical and spatial level, where space is just another medium and buildings and structures are the interfaces and frameworks that users can interact with”. Similarly, urban planners can be seen as UX designers of the city, orchestrating how people interact with urban “interfaces” like streets, parks, and infrastructure.

This report delves deeply into this analogy. First, we establish a common conceptual framework that links UX/UI design principles with those of architecture and urban planning, drawing on historical and contemporary perspectives worldwide. Next, we compare specific design principles – such as accessibility, usability, intuitiveness, feedback, affordances, flow, scalability, modularity, aesthetics, and more – highlighting detailed parallels between digital and spatial design. We then examine key differences and limitations of this analogy, acknowledging where the comparison breaks down. Finally, we compare the processes, methods, and tools used by UX/UI designers versus architects and planners, noting overlaps (like iterative prototyping or research techniques) and divergences (such as agile vs. linear workflows). Examples from different geographic and cultural contexts are included to show the universality (and variations) of these principles.

By understanding these parallels, we not only gain insight into each discipline’s practices but also see how lessons from one domain (say, software UX) can inform the other (physical design) and vice versa. Ultimately, as this analysis will show, both architects and UX designers are in the business of designing experiences for people – one in physical space, the other in digital space – and many core design tenets transcend the medium.

A Common Framework: Designing for Human Experience

At the heart of the analogy is a shared human-centered design ethos. All good design – whether of a website, a building, or a city – aims to meet human needs, enable intended activities, and create a positive experience. This idea is not new; architects have implicitly been “UX designers” for centuries, even if they used different words. Vitruvius, the 1st c. BCE Roman architect, famously defined three goals for architecture: firmitas, utilitas, venustas (firmness, utility, and beauty). “Utilitas” – usefulness or functionality – speaks to an early focus on the user’s needs (shelter, convenient use of space), much like usability in modern UX. In the modern era, architects like Louis Sullivan and the Bauhaus school explicitly prioritized functional, human-centric design. Sullivan coined “form follows function”, arguing that a building’s shape and features should directly serve its purpose and users. A protege of Sullivan, Frank Lloyd Wright, even spoke of uniting form and function “in a spiritual union” – underscoring that a well-designed environment should be intuitive, useful, and often beautiful, the same qualities we seek in intuitive user interfaces. The 1920s Bauhaus movement further formalized designing “for simplicity and ease-of-use” in physical products and buildings, a philosophy that guides UX design to this day.

Urban planners, too, have long centered human experience (though not always successfully). As cities grew rapidly in the 19th–20th centuries, thinkers worldwide began advocating for “livable” human-scale cities. For example, Ebenezer Howard’s Garden City idea in England (1902) aimed to balance urban growth with quality of life. In the U.S., Jane Jacobs (1961) fought for city planning that respects how people actually use sidewalks and neighborhoods, rather than imposing abstract plans – a very user-centered approach. Danish urban designer Jan Gehl later echoed that “cities must be built at a human scale” to be humane and livable, lamenting that many modern architects forgot this. Indeed, the term “urban user experience” has entered the lexicon of planners seeking to optimize how people feel and behave in city spaces.

In parallel, the digital UX/UI field emerged in the late 20th century (Don Norman popularized “user experience” around 1995) with an explicit focus on human-centered design. Despite being much newer than architecture, UX design shares the same core question: “Who is our design for, and how will it best serve them?”. As one article notes, all design fields – whether graphic, architectural, or digital – “focus on the intended user, seek to minimize friction between user and their goals, and assist in the tasks at hand”. This often leads to “convergence on ideal design choices” across disciplines. In other words, when designing for humans, common solutions arise (for example, doors, spoons, or smartphone apps have standardized shapes and interactions over time because those patterns simply work best for users).

A powerful conceptual bridge is viewing spaces as interfaces. Urban theorist Kevin Lynch did not explicitly say “a city is a user interface,” but effectively described one. In The Image of the City (1960), Lynch studied how people perceive and navigate urban environments, identifying five key elements that make a city legible to its users: paths, edges, districts, nodes, and landmarks. These elements form a mental map for residents – analogous to how a well-designed website has consistent navigation paths, sections, and landmarks (icons or logos) to orient users. Just as a clear website menu helps a user form a mental model of an app, a well-planned city layout helps inhabitants form a reliable mental image of their city. Lynch’s goal was a city that is “highly imageable – clear, legible, and inviting” to people. In UI terms, that equates to an interface that is easy to understand, navigate, and inviting to use. It’s no coincidence that urban planners still use Lynch’s principles to evaluate city designs, much as UX designers use heuristics for interface usability. In fact, an urban planner-turned-UX designer notes that “cities and software…both seek to connect people to each other, services, and places of interest in a meaningful and pleasant manner”, differing only in physical vs. metaphysical space.

Another link is the concept of affordances and signifiers (coined by psychologist J. J. Gibson and designer Don Norman). These refer to clues in an object or interface that suggest how to use it (e.g. a button affords pushing, a scrollbar signifies scrollable content). The built environment likewise communicates usage: “Architecture is user experience design in the most physical way: the structure should please our bodies and our minds”. A well-designed building or street “tells” people how to interact with it through form and layout. For example, a wide, smooth sidewalk affords walking, a bench affords sitting, a stair railing invites your hand for support – these are physical affordances. A city’s signage, traffic lights, and road markings act as signifiers, telling users where to go or how to behave. As urbanist Tim Courtney writes, “Our streets are user interfaces…through the lens of UX design, we see that the street communicates with its users; the way it is built affects people’s behavior.” He suggests applying Don Norman’s design principles to city streets: smooth pavement and sidewalks are like affordances allowing movement, signage and road markings are signifiers, curbs and bollards are constraints guiding behavior, wayfinding signs create discoverability, and textured surfaces (rumble strips, speed bumps) provide feedback to the user (driver or pedestrian). In short, the city can be seen as an interface between people and urban services, and a building is an interface between people and the activities inside. Both need to be user-friendly by aligning with human cognitive models and needs – whether that means a clear icon on an app or a clear path through a park.

Crucially, designing for people imposes similar guiding principles across disciplines. A leading architecture journal notes: “Both architects and UX designers create experiences – one being physical and the other digital”, and both have evolved processes “to prioritize human needs”. The end goals are analogous: a comfortable, intuitive, useful, and even beautiful end-product for the user. We can thus establish a conceptual framework: architects and planners are effectively experience designers, concerned with usability (utility), aesthetics, and impact on human behavior, just as UX/UI designers are. Throughout history and across cultures, whenever design has succeeded, it tended to follow these human-centered tenets – whether it was the walkable streets of an ancient city or the intuitive screens of a smartphone app.

In the next sections, we will make this analogy concrete by comparing specific design principles and practices side-by-side: how each principle manifests in UI/UX design and in architecture/urban planning.

Parallels in Design Principles and Strategies

Despite working in different media, architects, urban planners, and UX/UI designers grapple with many of the same design principles. Below we explore these, drawing detailed parallels between the digital and physical realms:

Accessibility and Inclusivity

Accessibility – designing so that people of all abilities can use the product/space – is a cornerstone in both architecture and UI design. In architecture, this is seen in “universal design” or “inclusive design” of spaces: features like wheelchair ramps, elevators, braille signage, hearing loops, and adequate lighting are now standard in many building codes. Urban planning extends this to city infrastructure: curb cuts on sidewalks, tactile paving for the visually impaired, audible crosswalk signals, and inclusive playgrounds all aim to make the city navigable for everyone. These are physical analogs to digital accessibility features such as text alternatives for images, screen-reader compatibility, captioned audio, or high-contrast modes. The 7 Principles of Universal Design, originally developed by architects and product designers in the 1990s, apply equally well to software UX – principles like Equitable Use, Flexibility in Use, Simple and Intuitive Use, and Perceptible Information guide designers to accommodate a wide range of users. In practice, an architect might ask: Can a person with mobility or sensory impairments fully experience this building? – just as a UX designer asks whether a visually or hearing-impaired user can fully use an app. Both domains also consider cultural and language accessibility (e.g. using symbols and clear wayfinding in transit hubs so foreigners or illiterate users can navigate, analogous to using universally recognizable icons and icons in software).

Inclusivity in a broader sense – designing for different ages, genders, sizes, and backgrounds – is also common ground. Urban planners consider women’s safety in public spaces at night, or the needs of children and the elderly in park designs (places to rest, safe crossings), akin to UX designers considering diverse user personas and use cases in an application. For example, the concept of “personas” (archetypal users) is used in UX to ensure design serves various user types; interestingly, Courtney notes that for streets we can identify personas like drivers, pedestrians, cyclists of various ages and abilities and empathize with each. In both city design and app design, casting a wide net to include different users leads to more robust, widely usable designs.

Usability, Intuitiveness and Wayfinding

At the core of both UX and architecture is usability – how easy and satisfying it is for a user to accomplish their goals in the environment. An interface or a space is “intuitive” when users can grasp how to use it without explicit instruction. In digital UX, this means clear navigation menus, obvious buttons, and conventions (like a gear icon for settings) that match user expectations. In architecture, intuitiveness might mean a building layout that “just makes sense” – for instance, upon entering a museum, a visitor can immediately see the reception/information desk, elevators, and signage pointing to galleries, without feeling lost. Architects achieve this through spatial hierarchy and cues: prominent entryways, logical placement of rooms (e.g. bathrooms near common areas), and architectural features that draw the eye. Urban planners achieve intuitiveness through legible city layouts and wayfinding systems: distinct neighborhoods (districts) with recognizable character, logical street networks, signage with neighborhood maps, and landmarks to orient people. Kevin Lynch’s aforementioned elements (paths, nodes, landmarks, etc.) are essentially about making cities usable and navigable for the human mind. A city with a grid of streets and a central park, for example (like Manhattan with Central Park – see image below), provides an easy mental map: the numbered grid gives a sense of coordinates, and the park is a landmark orienting north vs. south. Similarly, a well-structured app with a clear site map or onboarding tutorial provides a “mental map” of features to a new user.

An aerial view of Central Park in New York City, a landmark that helps users mentally map and navigate the urban interface. Legible city structure and iconic reference points (like parks or towers) make the urban experience more intuitive. In digital design, analogous landmarks (logos, home buttons) and clear navigation paths serve a similar wayfinding role.

One famous example of poor usability in architecture is the “Norman Door.” This term – named after Don Norman, who wrote The Design of Everyday Things – describes a door that sends confusing signals about whether to push or pull. If you’ve ever pushed on a door that was meant to be pulled (perhaps because it had a pull-handle but required pushing), you’ve encountered a Norman Door. Such a door violates intuitiveness; it “contradicts expectations in a way that leaves the user confused, irritated, and even embarrassed”. The fix is simple: design the door with an obvious affordance (a flat push plate on the push side, a handle on the pull side, for instance), so no sign is needed. This is directly parallel to usability issues in software – e.g. a button that looks unclickable but is, or a link that doesn’t look like one. Just as “doors shouldn’t need push/pull labels – the design should make it obvious”, a software UI should ideally need no user manual. Both fields strive for a self-evident design that aligns with users’ mental models.

Wayfinding design is another direct parallel. In a complex hospital or airport, architects employ signage, color-coded zones, and maps to help users find their way – essentially an information architecture of the building. Likewise, a website has an information architecture of pages or a navigation menu to guide users to information. Both use hierarchy and grouping: an airport might group gates into concourses with big letter signs (A, B, C…), and within each, use numbers – akin to a site menu with categories and sub-pages. A well-known wayfinding system is the signage of the London Underground or New York City subway, which is often cited for clarity – comparable to a well-designed app menu that quickly tells you where you are and how to get where you need. The underlying principle is the same: make the structure of the system visible and understandable. Urban planners even talk about “legibility” of a city’s design – how easily people can form a mental picture of its layout – which is analogous to an interface’s learnability.

Affordances, Signifiers, and Feedback

Don Norman’s design principles provide a rich vocabulary to compare physical and digital design. Affordances, as mentioned, are the possible actions a user perceives. In the physical world, designers like Sullivan and modernists echoed this concept by insisting that a form should honestly communicate its function (e.g. “an entrance should look like an entrance, not like a store window” as a crude example). This is essentially an affordance concept: the shape/design of an element should suggest its use. Signifiers are cues that draw attention to those affordances or indicate what will happen. In a city, signs, traffic signals, road markings, arrows, and even architectural details (like a worn path across a lawn indicating a useful shortcut) all act as signifiers. In apps, we use icons, labels, and visual highlights for the same purpose.

Feedback is crucial in UX – when you click a button, something should indicate it worked (a sound, a change of color, a loading spinner, etc.). Physical environments also incorporate feedback loops, though often via sensory or behavioral means. For example, “drivers get tactile and auditory feedback from textured streets, speed bumps, gravel and potholes” when they drive too fast or stray from the lane. A crosswalk button lights up or plays a sound to tell you it’s been pressed – feedback to the pedestrian. Automatic doors or elevators provide immediate feedback by opening or lighting up indicators. Even something as simple as an echo in a big hall can be feedback to the user that the space is large (affecting their behavior like speaking softer). Architects design many such feedback mechanisms for safety: e.g. stairs often have visual strips on the edge of steps to signal the step (preventing missteps), and when you step on them, the tactile feeling of the nosing underfoot is feedback that your foot is placed correctly. Emergency exit signs that light up in a power outage are another feedback mechanism for when normal lighting fails. Thus, while an app might flash an error message if you go the wrong way, a building might physically block your way or use signage to correct you (think of a one-way turnstile that prevents entry from the wrong direction – that’s both a constraint and feedback, as the user physically cannot proceed and realizes the correct path).

Flow and Navigation

In UX, we talk about user flows – the sequences of steps a user takes to achieve a goal (e.g. the checkout flow in an e-commerce app). In architecture and urban planning, people flow is a major concern – how humans move through space, individually and in crowds, to accomplish tasks (like commuting, shopping, or simply enjoying a space). A building floorplan can be seen as a user journey map: architects plan routes from the entrance to various destinations (e.g. in a library, from entry to the circulation desk to book stacks to reading areas). Good design ensures these routes are efficient and logical (no unnecessary detours), but also sometimes experiential – architects may deliberately create a particular sequence of views or encounters (a concept Le Corbusier called the “architectural promenade”). For instance, a museum might lead visitors through a specific gallery sequence to tell a story, akin to how a well-designed app guides a new user through a tutorial or onboarding flow.

Urban planning similarly looks at circulation patterns: where do pedestrians naturally want to go? Are there “desire paths” (unofficial shortcuts) indicating the planned paths aren’t matching user needs? If so, redesign might be needed – just as analytics in an app might show users taking an inefficient route to a feature, signaling a need to optimize navigation. The placement of crosswalks, foot bridges, subway entrances, etc., is analogous to placing navigation links or buttons where users need them. If an urban planner ignores human desire lines, people will literally break the interface (climb over barriers, wear footpaths in grass). Likewise in a UI, if the navigation is unintuitive, users “work around” it or abandon the task (the equivalent of not using a park that’s too hard to reach).

A smoothly flowing experience in a city can be compared to a frictionless UX flow in software. For example, consider the experience of a commuter: walking from home to a bus stop, taking a bus, then a train, and finally walking to the office. Urban planners design this multi-modal journey with user experience in mind – stations should be easy to find and transfer between, schedules coordinated, shelters provided for comfort, etc. This is analogous to a multi-step workflow in an app (like finding a product, adding to cart, checking out) where each step must hand off to the next seamlessly. If one link in the chain is poorly designed (a confusing transit station or a confusing checkout form), the whole experience suffers.

One concrete parallel: Kevin Lynch’s nodes – convergence points like intersections or transit hubs – are decision points where users choose a direction. In UI, these are like menu pages or dashboards where users decide what to do next. Both need to be designed to clearly present options and guide the user’s choice. Lynch emphasized designing nodes that are intuitive to navigate (e.g. a clear town square or a major transit station with signage), just as a UX designer ensures a homepage or settings page is clearly laid out.

Errors and edge cases are considered in both flows. In UX, we map what happens if a user makes a mistake or takes an unusual path – and we build error messages or redundant navigation. In architecture, planners consider misroutes or accidents: e.g. if someone misses their highway exit, is there an easy way to turn around? If a building elevator is out, are there accessible stairs as a fallback? These are akin to “error handling” in UX – providing a graceful way for the user to recover or an alternative path (like an “Undo” function in software vs. an alternate route in a transit system). As Vision Zero advocates note, good street design can forgive user error (like a wide turn radius being a constraint that forces cars to slow, preventing a high-speed mistake). The principle is designing systems that are fault-tolerant and guide users back on track safely.

Aesthetics and Emotional Design

While usability is critical, aesthetics and emotional impact are also key in both domains. Architects aim for buildings and cities that are not only functional but also delightful, inspiring, or at least pleasant to experience – this corresponds to UI designers striving for pleasing visual design and emotional resonance. Both fields understand that appearance affects experience. A beautiful, well-crafted space (be it a cozy café or a grand cathedral) can evoke positive emotions and a sense of satisfaction, just as a beautifully designed app interface with good typography and imagery can delight users and build trust in the product.

Interestingly, both architecture and UI have grappled with the balance between decorative style and functional clarity. In software, this played out in the debate between skeuomorphism (interfaces imitating real-world materials, like a calendar app that looks like a leather-bound book) and flat design (more abstract, digital-native look). In the early 2010s, UI design moved away from heavy skeuomorphic textures toward cleaner flat or material design, largely to improve usability and modern aesthetics. Architecture had a similar trajectory much earlier: modernist architects eschewed historical ornament and fake materials, insisting on honest expression of materials (e.g. exposing concrete or steel rather than hiding it). As one design critic quipped, “Most of the best buildings do not use fake materials… The real beauty comes from the honesty of the material”. This is analogous to UI designers saying that UI elements should not pretend to be 3D buttons or skeuomorphic objects if they’re not – instead, use clean, “honest” visual cues. Both approaches champion authenticity in design: let form and material speak truthfully. Today, an architect using “faux” finishes (like plastic siding that imitates wood) might be as frowned upon by purists as a UI that gratuitously puts a fake wood texture on a notes app.

Another aesthetic principle is consistency and coherence. In UX, we enforce design systems so that all parts of an interface feel unified (consistent fonts, colors, button styles, etc.), which helps usability and brand identity. In architecture, consistency can mean a coherent style throughout a building or urban ensemble, and consistency between a building’s exterior and interior details. A Polish architecture firm, JEMS, even formulated a guiding rule: “Consistency of form, function, construction (structure) and technology”, down to “consistency of whole and detail”. They also list “Clarity of form” and “Truth about materials” as core values. Strikingly, their rule number one is “User first” – reaffirming that for them, architecture is fundamentally about designing a good user experience. We could easily imagine these same principles in a UX design manifesto. Consistency of whole and detail in a building (say the same design language from the facade to the door handles) is akin to maintaining a consistent style from an app’s overall layout down to the smallest icon – all reinforcing a unified experience.

Emotional design elements appear in both fields: color, lighting, and sound are used to set moods. An urban planner might line a boulevard with trees and warm lighting to create an inviting atmosphere at night – a UI designer might use a warm color scheme and friendly microcopy to give an app a welcoming personality. Both consider psychology: e.g. using open, sunlit spaces to uplift mood in architecture, versus using positive feedback or playful animations to delight users in an app. In fact, planners sometimes speak of a city having a “personality” or “character,” much like brands have personality in UX branding.

Responsiveness and Adaptability

In the digital world, responsive design usually refers to UIs that adapt to different devices or screen sizes (the interface “resizes” and still works on mobile vs. desktop). In architecture and urban design, there is also a notion of responsive or adaptable environments, though the adaptation is typically slower or mechanically driven. For example, adaptive architecture might include movable walls or reconfigurable spaces that can respond to different uses (an auditorium that can be subdivided into smaller rooms), or “responsive facades” that change with weather (like sun-shading screens that automatically adjust to sunlight). Urban adaptability might involve designing streets that can serve multiple purposes – for instance, a street that carries traffic on weekdays but is pedestrianized on weekends for markets or festivals. This is similar in spirit to a UI that adapts to user context (e.g. an app that switches to a different layout in landscape mode, or a website that offers a dark mode at night). In both cases, the design anticipates varying conditions and usage contexts and is flexible enough to accommodate them.

Another angle of “responsiveness” is how the system responds to growth or changing needs – essentially scalability. A well-designed app can scale up to support more users or more content without breaking its UX. Similarly, a well-planned city or building can scale or evolve gracefully. For instance, an architecture firm might plan a building with future expansion in mind (extra structural capacity or reserved space), just as a software architect might ensure an app’s architecture can handle more features later. Urban planners often use modular masterplans (like a city grid that can extend outward indefinitely) – consider how Manhattan’s grid was later extended north as the city grew, or how many cities worldwide use a block system that scales. This is akin to modular design in software: you can add more modules without redesigning from scratch. In fact, modularity is a shared principle: architects use modular components (precast panels, standard unit sizes) to make design and construction scalable and maintainable, while software designers use modular UI components and patterns for the same reasons (consistency and scalability of design).

A compelling comparison made by one designer is mapping tech components to building elements: HTML is like the structural framework (how it’s built), CSS is like the finishes and facades (how it looks), and JavaScript is like the functional systems (how it works – the purpose and use of spaces). By this analogy, a building is a “product” composed of structure + form + function, just as an app’s UI is composed of underlying code structure + visual styling + interactive functionality. A design system in UX (a collection of reusable components and guidelines) is comparable to an architectural kit-of-parts or style guide – e.g. a city’s design guidelines for street furniture, signage, lighting, etc., which ensure any new elements fit into an overall coherent system. The consistency this affords makes it easier to grow and maintain the system (be it adding new app features or new city infrastructure) without confusing the user.

Feedback Loops and Iteration

While we discussed immediate feedback to user actions, here we consider feedback in the design process. UX design is inherently iterative: designers create prototypes, test them with users, gather feedback, and refine the design in cycles. Architecture and urban planning have traditionally been more one-shot – you build it and then see how it works – but they too have mechanisms for learning from user experience over time. Post-occupancy evaluations (POE) in architecture are one example: after a building has been used for some time, architects or researchers may survey occupants and observe usage to identify what works and what doesn’t. This feedback can inform future designs or adjustments. For urban planning, city officials often monitor how a new public space is used, or collect community feedback, and can make iterative improvements (e.g. adding benches where people tend to congregate, or adjusting traffic light timings based on observed flow). In essence, this is analogous to releasing version 1.0 of a product and then patching or updating it.

A modern trend in urban design, “tactical urbanism,” explicitly brings iteration to city planning. These are low-cost, temporary installations (like pop-up bike lanes, painted curb extensions, parklets in parking spaces) used as prototypes to test an idea in real life and gather user feedback, before committing to a permanent change. It’s been called “a form of rapid prototyping for city planners”. For example, a city might trial a road diet by painting new lane markings and using removable bollards; if the community finds it beneficial (slower traffic, safer crossing), it can be made permanent with concrete changes. This mirrors A/B testing or beta launches in software – trying something with real users in a contained way and measuring the response.

Even in building design, new technologies like Virtual Reality (VR) are enabling more iterative testing of user experience before construction. Architectural firms now create immersive VR walkthroughs of designs and let clients or even end-users “experience” the space virtually to catch usability issues (like a sightline problem, or a space feeling too cramped) before it’s built. One architecture consultancy offers clients the ability to “experience the designed space in VR to test for functionality before initiating construction,” allowing stakeholders to give feedback and iterate options based on user input. This approach is very much inspired by UX testing methods. As ArchDaily notes, iterating design prototypes is much easier in digital design than in construction, but technology is helping bridge that gap.

Influence on Behavior and Feedback Loops in Use

Beyond initial use, both fields aim to influence user behavior for the better and often establish feedback loops between user behavior and design. In UX, we might add prompts or incentives to nudge users towards desired actions (like completing a profile or using a new feature). In urban design, if we want to encourage, say, more walking and less driving, we design attractive pedestrian streets, shorten block lengths, provide amenities on footpaths, and “make the desired choices more affordable and easy, rather than restricting choices in a negative way”. This positive “nudging” is akin to what product designers do with gentle cues rather than forceful restrictions. A researcher on urban UX suggests: if you want people to spend time locally instead of driving far to a big mall, create a pleasant local shopping boulevard (with greenery, cafes, shops along a walkable path) – much like a UI that puts the most relevant options front-and-center. Such a boulevard not only offers the needed services in an appealing way, but also serves as a “desktop” interface metaphor in the city – “it is easy to understand where the services are when they are all visible, in this case, along a linear path”. This strengthens residents’ mental map and attachment to their locale. In other words, the city interface is designed such that the desirable behavior is the path of least resistance and most pleasure, echoing a UX mantra: make the right thing easy and the default.

Finally, both fields consider cognitive load and human psychology limitations. In UX, we heed things like Miller’s Law (not overwhelming short-term memory – hence avoiding overlong menus or too many choices at once). In urban planning, this translates to not overwhelming the senses or choices in a space. An urban UX author notes that we should avoid “crowded” environments that overload people; for instance, instead of chaotic web pages or huge drop-down menus, a city should avoid endless high-rise canyons or bewildering sprawls, and instead present information in manageable, human-scale chunks. Citing Jan Gehl, they note that streets and public spaces feel best when enclosed and defined (to feel cozy and legible), yet open enough to invite entry – achieved with moderate building heights and human-scaled details, not colossal towers that alienate pedestrians. This is remarkably parallel to interface design guidance: create environments (physical or digital) that are legible, appropriately scaled to the human perspective, and not cognitively overwhelming. The end effect is users feel comfortable and in control rather than stressed or lost, whether they’re strolling a city plaza or navigating an app dashboard.

Summary of Parallels

To crystallize these parallels, the table below summarizes a selection of UX/UI design principles alongside their architectural/urban planning counterparts:

This comparison illustrates that the design principles guiding a positive user experience are remarkably consistent, whether the “interface” is made of pixels, bricks, or urban blocks. However, despite these parallels, it’s important to recognize the limits of the analogy – which we explore next.

Key Differences and Limitations of the Analogy

While architects/planners and UX/UI designers share core goals and even some methods, the domains also differ profoundly. Recognizing these differences prevents the analogy from being overstated and highlights where each field must contend with unique challenges:

• Physical vs. Digital Constraints: The most obvious difference is material. Architecture works with gravity, weather, physical materials, and real human bodies. Digital designers work with code and virtual interactions, which are not constrained by physics (aside from screen size) – you can’t “fall off” an app screen or get rained on while using a website. This means some UX principles have no direct equivalent – e.g. structural safety is a paramount concern in buildings (will it stand up and withstand earthquakes?), whereas in software “safety” is more about data security or user privacy, not bodily harm. Architects must comply with building codes, fire regulations, structural calculations, etc., which impose hard constraints that UX designers don’t face in the same way. If an architect designs a beautiful interface (building) but it collapses or leaks, it’s an absolute failure – in UX, a visual design might be subpar but at least it won’t literally crumble. Error tolerance differs in severity: a navigation mistake in an app might waste time or cause frustration; a navigation mistake on a highway or a poorly designed balcony can cost lives. Thus, physical design has an irreducible technical complexity and risk management component that has no perfect analogy in UI design.
• Permanence and Iteration Cycles: Buildings and cities are relatively permanent and costly to change once built. In the Medium article by an architect-turned-UX designer, he notes it usually takes months or years to see the final product in architecture, whereas in the same time frame one can launch and update many digital products. If an app’s design isn’t quite right, designers can push an update in weeks or do small continuous tweaks. By contrast, if a building’s design has flaws, they may be locked in for decades (barring expensive renovations). This makes architecture a mostly waterfall process (sequential phases from concept to construction) with very high stakes on getting it right upfront. As David Lau observes, “Architecture follows a waterfall project management method… jumping through hoops to get to the next stage… It’s about moving from one checkpoint to another”, whereas tech projects often use agile methods – short sprints, iterative releases, adapting as you go. The dynamic of iteration is vastly different. Design changes that are trivial in software (alter a button color) might be prohibitive in architecture if they involve physical reconstruction. This is why architects invest heavily in upfront research, simulations, and now VR testing – because the opportunity to iterate post-launch is limited. Urban planning changes are even slower (a city plan may unfold over decades). Thus, the analogy has a limitation: UX designers can experiment freely and learn by doing; architects/planners must predict and preempt problems more, relying on experience, precedent, and theory, since a “beta test” of a city is not easily done (though, as noted, tactical urbanism is emerging as a way to trial small urban changes).
• Scale and Number of Users: The scale of “users” is different. A software product might have millions of users, but typically each interacts individually with the interface (except for collaborative or social platforms). In architecture, users are physically present together in the space – which introduces social dynamics and capacity limits that UX doesn’t directly deal with. A public square might hold a thousand people at once; an interface might also have thousands online, but they don’t jostle each other in the app. Urban planners must design for crowd flow, privacy gradients, territoriality, and interpersonal interaction in space. For example, ensuring a train station can handle rush hour crowds without stampedes is a design problem foreign to most UI work (aside from server capacity issues, which are technical rather than UX per se). There is an aspect of simultaneous multi-user experience in architecture that’s more literal – people see and affect each other in a space, which can either enhance experience (vibrant street life) or detract (overcrowding). In UX, multi-user considerations are more about network effects or social features, not physical crowding.
• Sensory Richness: Physical environments engage all the senses – sight, sound, touch, smell, even proprioception. UX design has traditionally been mostly visual (and some auditory/haptic feedback). This means architects think about acoustics (is a restaurant too echoey to converse?), tactile materials (the feel of a handrail), thermal comfort, and even scent (a hotel lobby might diffuse a pleasant fragrance). Urban planners consider how a city smells (garbage management) or sounds (traffic noise vs. bird songs). These dimensions of experience are richer than what a 2D screen can offer. While digital experiences are expanding (e.g. VR/AR trying to incorporate spatial feel), there’s still a fundamental difference: walking through a garden with a breeze and rustling leaves is a multi-sensory experience no app can replicate. The emotional and physiological impact of spaces (e.g. awe in a cathedral, relaxation in a quiet park) can be very visceral. Digital design can evoke emotion too, but through narrative or visuals, not through one’s whole body in space. So, architects may see themselves as choreographers of sensory experiences in a way UX designers typically do not. This is a limitation of the UX-architecture analogy: the palette of design elements differs.
• Context and Environment: Relatedly, architecture and urban design are heavily influenced by context – climate, culture, locality, time of day/year. A building must respond to its site (sun angles, local materials, surrounding building styles, cultural context of its location). Urban plans differ vastly in different climates (e.g. city design in cold Scandinavia with indoor public passages vs. Mediterranean outdoor plazas). UX design also considers context (e.g. mobile app use on-the-go vs desktop at home), but those contexts are narrower compared to the infinite variety of physical contexts. Also, architecture creates a fixed place that people come to, whereas digital products are more disembedded (users can be anywhere). This means architects often engage with community and politics – their “users” are also neighbors, regulators, the public who see the building, not just those who enter it. A city plan can spark political debate (whose neighborhood gets new development, who might be displaced, etc.), reflecting diverse stakeholder interests. Software UX has stakeholders too (business owners, user segments, regulators for privacy perhaps), but generally the sociopolitical stakes are lower. In short, designing a city is often designing a social system, not just a service. The analogy to a multi-user online platform could be made, but governments don’t usually A/B test a new zoning code easily like a UX team would test a UI change!
• Authors and Styles vs. Invisible Design: In architecture, individual designers often imprint a signature style (think Frank Lloyd Wright’s organic forms or Zaha Hadid’s curves) and are celebrated for it. In UX, the end product is usually a result of a team following a brand style guide, and individual designers are not visible to users. In fact, great UX is often described as “invisible” – you don’t notice the design, you just accomplish your task. Architecture can be like that (a well-designed but unremarkable airport just works), but it also has the aspect of art – people intentionally visit a famous building for its design, not just its function. There’s no exact parallel in UX where users use an app purely to admire the design of it (maybe aside from certain video games or experimental sites). This reflects a difference in emphasis: architecture straddles art and function (“firmitas, utilitas, venustas”), whereas UX is often more squarely focused on function and smoothing friction (with aesthetics serving that goal). Because of this, architecture sometimes prioritizes bold aesthetic statements or symbolic impact in ways that might conflict with pure usability (e.g. an avant-garde museum form that is confusing to navigate internally – an example where architectural UX might be sacrificed for visual impact). In software, such a choice would be akin to a very experimental interface that looks cool but is hard to use – something usually avoided outside of tech-art projects, because software users are less forgiving if it impedes function.
• Economic and Lifecycle Factors: The business model and lifecycle of buildings vs. software differ. A building is a capital-intensive, one-time product that then has a long operational life with maintenance. Software products are often continuously developed, or may have short lifespans before being replaced. Urban plans might last centuries (a city layout once set can persist). This means architects must think of durability, maintenance, and long-term impact much more – choice of materials (will this facade age well?), flexibility for future use (can this office building be converted to apartments later?), etc. In UX, concerns like whether a design will be trendy or outdated in a few years exist, but it’s easier to refresh a UI than to renovate a building. Also, architecture’s “users” can change over the building’s life (new owners, different occupants), so designs often incorporate future-proofing and generalization (a good office building can be used by many companies, not tailored only to the first client). Software can also have multiple client use (like white-label platforms), but often it’s more tightly controlled by its creators throughout its life.
• Metrics of Success and Feedback: In UX, success is often measured by user behavior metrics (conversion rates, task completion, engagement time) and subjective satisfaction (through surveys/usability testing). In architecture, measuring “user experience” is trickier and often more qualitative (post-occupancy surveys, observed usage patterns, awards/critical acclaim, property values). Feedback loops are slower. If a building is unpleasant, people might avoid it or complain – but it might take years and the architect might never directly hear it (unless formal POEs are done). In contrast, a software team can get app store reviews the same week of launch or see usage drop in analytics instantly and react. Thus, accountability to user experience can feel more direct in UX, whereas in architecture other factors (client satisfaction, meeting budget, technical success) may overshadow the end-user comfort in the short term. Candidly, as one architect noted, “sometimes user needs get compromised in architecture’s design process amid aesthetics, budgets, and other goals”, whereas UX design (as a field) emerged precisely to champion user needs above all. This is changing as architecture adopts more user-centered methods, but the institutional difference remains: a UX designer not considering user needs will likely fail fast, while an architect could still create an acclaimed building that end-users secretly dislike (consider some “starchitect” buildings that look amazing but occupants find impractical – the users can’t easily “uninstall” the building).

In summary, the analogy of architects/planners as UX/UI designers holds in terms of philosophy (design for humans) and many principles, but diverges in practical realities of execution. One shouldn’t trivialize the unique challenges each field faces. As one article humorously notes, digital designers can learn humility when they realize architects have been tackling user experience in complex social systems (cities) for centuries – but likewise, architects can learn from the agility and research rigor of modern UX practice. The fields converge in aim, yet differ in medium, speed, sensory scope, and constraint, which means methods aren’t one-to-one transferable without adaptation.

Processes, Methods, and Tools: A Comparative Look

Beyond principles, comparing how designers work in each domain reveals both overlaps and divergences.

Design Process and Methodology

A typical UX design process often follows stages like: user research → defining requirements/personas → ideation (sketching concepts) → wireframing → prototyping → user testing → iteration → visual design polish → development handoff → launch → gather analytics → continuous improvements. An architectural design process has its own stages: site/context analysis → programming (identifying requirements: functions, capacities) → concept design (sketches, massing models) → schematic design (plans, sections) → design development (detailed drawings, material selection) → construction documentation (blueprints/specifications for builders) → construction execution → occupancy → (sometimes) post-occupancy evaluation. Urban planning similarly goes through analysis (e.g. traffic studies, community input), concept masterplanning, detailed planning, implementation via phased projects, and long-term monitoring.

When abstracted, these processes align remarkably well: both start by understanding the problem space and users, then ideating solutions, then refining those solutions with increasing fidelity, then implementation/build, followed by evaluation. An architect will research the context, much like a UX designer researches user context; both will sketch or wireframe concepts (one on tracing paper, one in a tool like Figma); both will create prototypes of a sort – architects might build physical models or 3D renderings/VR, while UX designers build interactive prototypes. In fact, Marcin Ukleja notes: “A sketch is usually the easiest way to start – whether you sketch the plan of a house or a wireframe of an app. Pencil and paper serve the purpose of both architect and UX designer”. Architects do use mockups too – sometimes full-size mockups of a façade or interior detail to see how it looks in reality. The key difference is testing: “Prototype testing… cannot happen while designing, say, a huge office space”, he writes. In UX, we can put a prototype in front of users early; in architecture, you can’t fully test a building until it’s built (though VR and scale models help simulate). This difference is mitigated by doing more scenario walkthroughs and relying on experience in architecture.

Another difference is process flexibility: architecture’s phases are often contractually and legally delineated – you must finalize certain decisions before moving to the next phase (because changes later can be costly or impossible). UX processes, especially with agile, allow circling back – you can redesign a feature after launch in response to feedback. However, architecture is adopting more iterative loops in early design (multiple design options, client feedback rounds, and using Integrated Design processes where stakeholders give feedback throughout). Urban planning also increasingly uses participatory design – iterating plans based on community feedback – although the cycles are measured in months or years, not weeks.

Research and User Involvement

User research is a pillar of UX – interviews, surveys, observations, persona creation, usability testing, etc., are ingrained to ensure the design meets user needs. Architecture has traditionally put more emphasis on the designer’s vision and the client’s brief, and on contextual research (site conditions, climate, cultural context). Directly studying end-users (building occupants or city residents) was not always as thorough. As Ukleja observes critically, architects’ research often focuses on context – “surroundings, relation to other buildings, city space, etc.” – and user needs can get conflated with the client’s business needs, with true user-centricity waning in recent decades. In contrast, “UX design doesn’t ignore the user at all… prototypes are tested with users, the finished product is analyzed for user traffic… business goals are present but have a lighter impact on final user experience”. That said, contemporary architecture is shifting: human-centered design approaches are being championed for architects to “ensure a more holistic approach to designing the experience of using a building”. For example, architects are beginning to conduct workplace studies before designing an office (to see how employees use the current space), or hospitals employ evidence-based design using research on patient outcomes. Urban planners increasingly use ethnographic methods, public surveys, and engagement workshops to understand community needs (essentially user research on city scale). The ArchDaily article explicitly encourages architects to draw from UX methods: build empathy with users, identify the right problems to solve, and maybe even employ tools like personas and user journey maps for building use-cases. On the flip side, UX designers can take inspiration from how urban planners consider diverse stakeholders – a city plan must balance needs of different groups (drivers, cyclists, businesses, children, elderly, etc.), which is analogous to designing for multiple user roles or demographics in a product.

Tools and Techniques

The toolsets have some overlap in concept but differ in implementation.

Visualization and Drafting: Architects use CAD (Computer-Aided Design) software (like AutoCAD, Revit, Rhino) to produce scaled drawings and 3D models. Urban designers use GIS (Geographic Information Systems) and specialized planning tools for mapping. UX/UI designers use digital tools like Sketch, Figma, Adobe XD for wireframing and interface layout, and perhaps 3D tools or code for prototyping interactive effects. Both fields rely on visual communication – architects produce floor plans, sections, elevations (the “blueprints”), whereas UX designers produce wireframes, sitemaps, flow diagrams (essentially blueprints of an app). It’s often noted that a wireframe is “essentially the blueprint for your final design”, which shows how users will move through the digital space just like a floor plan shows movement through a building. There is even a job title “Information Architect” in UX, reflecting how analogous organizing a website’s content is to laying out physical spaces.

Modeling and Prototyping: Architects build physical models (from simple massing models in foam or cardboard to detailed scale models). Today, 3D computer models and renderings are ubiquitous. These are analogous to interactive prototypes or high-fidelity mockups in UI design that simulate the final look and feel. As mentioned, VR is a new common tool: an architect might invite clients to walk in a virtual model of a building; a UX team might test a VR app or use AR to prototype how an interface might appear in a physical context (especially relevant with new AR glasses and “spatial computing” – which in a twist, brings digital UI into physical 3D space). Both fields also use simulation: architects simulate lighting, airflow, structural behavior, or foot traffic; UX designers simulate user interactions or load test with many users. The specifics differ, but the idea of using software to predict performance is common.

Collaboration Tools: Modern architects use Building Information Modeling (BIM) platforms to integrate work with structural engineers, mechanical engineers, etc. UX designers use collaboration platforms (like InVision, Figma’s multi-user feature) to work with developers and stakeholders. Both need to communicate designs to non-designers: architects produce construction documents that contractors can follow; UX designers produce specifications or design systems for developers. Ukleja notes “in both disciplines, we need technical documentation for the build phase – it’s really comparable here”. An architect’s blueprint set is akin to a UX designer’s redlined screens or component library handed to developers.

Testing and Evaluation: We’ve addressed how UX can test with users directly via usability sessions or A/B tests, whereas architects might use proxy methods (like reviewing accessibility using checklists, or doing walkthroughs in their mind as a hypothetical user). However, there are some shared evaluative practices: both might use heuristic evaluations (a UX expert reviews an interface against known usability principles; an architect might review a design against human factors checklists or past lessons learned). There’s also user feedback gathering: a UX team might gather user feedback via support tickets, app reviews, etc., while architects gather feedback via community meetings or client critique sessions. Notably, urban planning often requires public review – a formal process where citizens can voice concerns about a project (analogous in spirit to beta users giving feedback, though in planning it can become quite political).

Project Management: The tempo and methodologies differ as mentioned (waterfall vs agile). Many UX teams use agile project management, with frequent check-ins and evolving requirements. Architecture projects are often managed in phases with set deliverables (concept approval, then design development, etc.). Changing a requirement mid-phase can cause huge delays or cost overruns (imagine mid-construction the client says “add two floors” – that’s a big deal). In software, mid-project changes are more manageable (though still can be painful in code). However, agile concepts are creeping into construction via Lean Construction and integrated project delivery – teams working in parallel, iterative design-build processes, etc., but the flexibility is still lower than pure software. On the flip side, UX projects sometimes have more ambiguous success criteria (other than user satisfaction and business metrics), whereas architecture has clear milestones (building permits, inspections, etc.).

Despite these differences, professionals are increasingly cross-pollinating ideas. It’s not uncommon now for architects to take courses in UX design or vice versa. The ArchDaily article notes “the crossovers between the fields make it easy for professionals to switch career paths… and bring their learnings into new territories”. For instance, an architect moving into UX might bring a rigorous approach to spatial user flows and a holistic mindset, while a UX designer moving into urban design might bring skills in rapid prototyping and user testing. In practice, hybrid approaches are emerging: Service design and experience design firms sometimes tackle physical and digital aspects together (e.g. designing a retail store’s layout (physical UX) along with its mobile app (digital UX) as one unified customer journey). City governments are hiring “chief user experience officers” to improve how citizens interact with city services, blending digital and physical touchpoints.

Example – Comparing Tools & Methods (Table)

To highlight overlaps and divergences, here is a brief comparison of key methods/tools:

From the above, it’s clear that both disciplines follow a trajectory from research to concept to execution, but the timing and flexibility differ greatly. UX design is fast, iterative, and often ongoing; architecture is slow, with heavy up-front design and a “big reveal” when built. Each stage has its counterpart, yet the tools reflect the nature of the medium (digital vs physical).

Convergence and Divergence in Tools

Some tools in one field have analogs in the other: for example, parametric design software in architecture (like Grasshopper for Rhino) allows algorithmic exploration of forms – this is somewhat analogous to using algorithms in UX (like generative design for layouts, or optimization scripts for UI spacing). AI and computational design are entering both fields (generating floor plans or structural options in architecture, and generating UX layout variations in software). Both fields also increasingly use data-driven design: architects may use sensor data (like how people move through a space tracked via WiFi or cameras) to adjust a design or inform new projects, while UX designers constantly use usage data to tweak interfaces. The skillsets are converging in areas like information visualization (architects need to present complex data to clients, UX designers need to make data dashboards usable).

However, divergence remains in specialized expertise: architects must understand engineering, materials, and construction techniques deeply; UX designers need to grasp software capabilities, platforms (web vs iOS guidelines), and often business strategy for digital products. An architect deals with contractors and regulatory agencies; a UX designer deals with software developers and sometimes compliance (privacy laws) – different stakeholders requiring different lingo and knowledge.

Learning From Each Other

The comparative analysis isn’t just academic – it has practical value. UX designers can learn from architects and planners about designing for physical human behavior, social interaction, and long-term thinking. For instance, observing how a public plaza invites people to linger (perhaps through seating arrangement and focal points like a fountain) could inspire how to create “social spaces” in a virtual community app. Urban planners, as one Fast Company article suggests, have “been designing for human experiences for nearly 200 years” (arguably far longer if we count ancient cities), and UX designers can study these successes and failures. Likewise, architects and urban planners can borrow from UX: user research methods, rapid prototyping, iterative testing, and a mindset of constant refinement. A piece in ArchDaily urges exactly this: “Approaching architectural design with a UX designer’s mindset ensures a more holistic approach to designing the experience of using a building”, enabling human behavior to “dictate the design to a greater degree”. In other words, an architect should think of the building not as a static monument but as a continuously used service that should respond to its users’ needs – a perspective very common in software design (where user is king) but sometimes lost in star-architecture. The article concludes aptly: “Whether a building, a website, a logo or a pair of pants, designing for people is what all design is about.”

Conclusion

The analogy of architects and urban planners functioning as UX/UI designers at the human and city scale is far more than a convenient metaphor – it is rooted in a genuine alignment of purpose and principles. Both disciplines, at their best, place the human experience at the core: they seek to create environments where people feel empowered, comfortable, and delighted, be it in navigating a digital app or a city square. We identified a common framework of human-centered design linking these fields across time and cultures – from ancient city-grids and Vitruvian precepts to modernist “form follows function” and today’s usability heuristics. We saw that many specific design principles translate between the digital and physical realms: accessibility, intuitiveness, feedback, affordances, flow, consistency, scalability, aesthetics and more all have their counterparts, often with striking one-to-one examples (e.g. a Norman door vs. a confusing app control, or wayfinding signage vs. navigation menus). These parallels are not coincidental – they reflect fundamental truths about how humans perceive and interact with any designed system. Indeed, a city can be thought of as a complex “interface” connecting people to services and each other, much like an operating system connects users to digital tools. And an architect designing a building is implicitly crafting the user experience of that space – as JEMS Architects put it, “user first”, because what is architecture about if not the experience of its users?

However, our analysis also underscored key differences and limits to this analogy. The digital realm’s flexibility, speed, and virtuality contrast with the physical realm’s permanence, slower iteration, and multi-sensory richness. Architects and planners must contend with physics, enormous social and economic complexities, and legacy impact in ways a software designer typically does not. Changing a city is harder than updating an app; on the flip side, a buggy app can be fixed in a day, whereas a poorly designed public space might languish for years. These differences mean that while conceptually UX and architecture are aligned, practically their processes and constraints diverge – requiring different approaches and yielding different types of creative expression (the “art” dimension of architecture being one example that has less parallel in utilitarian software design).

In comparing processes, we found both fields have much to learn from each other. UX designers can adopt a longer-term, holistic view – recognizing that some design decisions (in infrastructure or code architecture) have to stand the test of time, and that designing for communities (not just individual users) is crucial, something urban planners routinely do. They can also draw inspiration from the spatial designs that have fostered great user experiences in cities (from the piazzas of Italy to the human-scaled streets of Tokyo). Conversely, architects and urbanists can embrace more iterative, user-tested approaches championed by UX, employing new tools like VR prototyping and community co-design to ensure their designs truly work for users before they’re set in stone. Already, terms like “urban UX”, “spatial UX design”, and “service design in architecture” are emerging, indicating a blending of practices.

From Amsterdam to Zanzibar, and from mobile apps to megacities, the fundamental challenge is the same: create an environment (digital or physical) that serves human purposes effectively and pleasurably. By studying how architects lay out a welcoming public square, a UX team might improve a social platform’s layout. By studying how a popular app guides users, a planner might improve how a transit system guides riders. The scale and medium differ, but the mindset can be shared. As one urban planner-turned-UX designer observed, design is design: “the city exists in a physical vector while cyberspace exists in a metaphysical vector, but they both seek to connect people to each other, services, and places of interest in a meaningful and pleasant manner”. In the end, architects, planners, and UX/UI designers are all, in a sense, experience architects – crafting the stage on which the theater of human life plays out, whether on a screen, in a room, or on a city street.

Sources:

• Ukleja, Marcin. “The intersection between Architecture and (so-called) UX Design.” UX Collective (Medium), Jun 3, 2018.
• Courtney, Tim. “Could user interface design be a useful metaphor for our streets?” Medium, Aug 2020.
• Seiple, Tom. “Ancient cities have lessons UX/UI designers can use right now.” Fast Company (UX Collective), Jul 31, 2023.
• Heikkilä, Harri. “The lost connection between urban planning and interface design: Ideas towards a re-enactment.” LAB Open RDI Journal, Oct 9, 2024.
• ArchDaily. “Human-Centered Design: What Architects Can Learn from UX Designers.” Ankitha Gattupalli, Nov 13, 2022.
• Lau, David. “User experience design vs. Architecture.” Medium, Mar 28, 2015.
• Hanna. “Defensive experience design.” Medium, Aug 5, 2015.
• Fast Company. “What UX designers can learn from urban planning.” (Reprinted from UX Collective), July 2018.
• Additional references on universal design and tactical urbanism.