
From Graphic Design to Co-Design: The Pathways Designers Are Taking
The skills transfer more than expected. The mindset shift is harder. And the pathway is less mapped than designers often hope.
The moment usually arrives mid-career. A graphic designer with a decade of solid work behind them, some awards, a roster of respected clients, and a growing, quiet sense that something is missing. The craft is real. The work is competent and sometimes genuinely excellent. But there is a particular dissatisfaction that is not about quality or recognition. It is about proximity. The people this designer is ultimately making things for are abstractions: target audiences, user personas, assumed stakeholders. The design happens in studios and at screens, far from the communities it is supposed to serve. And slowly, inescapably, the question forms: what would it mean to design with people rather than for them?
That question is the beginning of a transition that hundreds of Australian designers are navigating right now. The transition from graphic design, communication design, or interaction design backgrounds into participatory, relational, or co-design practice. It is a transition without a clear map, without obvious institutional support, and without the career milestone markers that the traditional design track provides. It is also, for the practitioners who make it, one of the most genuinely interesting professional moves available in Australian design today.
What Graphic Design Actually Prepares Designers For
The assumption many graphic designers make when they first look toward co-design is that their existing skills are not useful there. The layout, the typography, the visual identity work, the print production knowledge โ none of that seems relevant to a process of facilitating communities through complex social challenges. The impulse to apologise for a visual communication background, to frame it as the thing to leave behind, is common. It is also largely wrong.
Graphic designers bring specific and genuinely transferable capabilities to participatory practice. The ability to synthesise complexity into a form that makes sense to someone encountering it for the first time is directly applicable to the work of making process visible to communities. The visual communication skills that produce a clear wayfinding system or a legible annual report are the same skills that produce a workshop stimulus that does not confuse or alienate the people it is trying to engage. The information architecture underlying a well-designed publication is the same thinking that underlies a well-designed participation process.
More than the technical skills, graphic designers often come with something else that participatory practice values: a genuine commitment to the experience of the person encountering the work. A graphic designer who cares about whether a reader can actually follow the argument, who understands that confusion and difficulty are design failures not reader failures, is already thinking relationally about the gap between intent and reception. That disposition translates.
What does not transfer automatically is the relationship to expertise. In graphic design, the designer is the expert. The client brings the content; the designer brings the capability to shape it. That is a structurally comfortable relationship for designers because it is clear, and because it affirms the designer's value as a skilled practitioner. Co-design disrupts this. The people the designer is working with are not clients to be served or audiences to be addressed. They are co-authors of the work. And that means the designer's job shifts from exercising expertise to creating the conditions in which other people's expertise can surface.
Expertise is not surrendered โ it is redirected
The shift from graphic design to co-design does not require practitioners to abandon the skills they have built. It requires them to redirect those skills toward a different purpose: not shaping how the message looks, but shaping how the process works. Visual thinking, systems thinking, and communication design are all essential in participatory practice. They are just in service of something different.
Where the Gap Actually Is
The honest answer to where graphic design does not prepare practitioners for co-design work is: facilitation, power, and relational presence.
Facilitation is a skill set that design education barely touches. Most graphic designers learn to present work, to defend decisions, to manage feedback. They do not learn to hold a room. To read the energy of a group and adjust in real time. To manage dynamics between people with different amounts of power who are being asked to create something together. To sit with ambiguity and conflict without resolving it prematurely. These are distinct capabilities, and they take the same kind of sustained, repetitive practice that developing visual skills takes. There is no shortcut.
Power is the second gap. Graphic design practice, for the most part, does not ask designers to think carefully about the structural dynamics between themselves and the people they are working with. Co-design requires it. When a designer enters a community consultation, they carry institutional credibility, professional status, and the implicit authority of being the person with the clipboard and the process plan. The people they are working with may carry histories of being consulted without being heard, of having their participation extracted and then ignored, of being subjects of design rather than participants in it. Understanding that context, and designing processes that account for it, is not optional in participatory practice. It is the work.
Relational presence is perhaps the most difficult to articulate, but practitioners who have made this transition consistently name it. The capacity to be genuinely with the people in the room rather than managing the process from a safe professional distance. The willingness to be affected by what is shared rather than remaining a neutral facilitator-observer. The skill of attending to what people are actually communicating rather than what their words say they are communicating. This is not taught in design schools. It is developed through practice, self-reflection, and often through community with other practitioners who are doing the same work.
The discomfort of losing the expert role
For many graphic designers making this transition, the most uncomfortable moment is not failing to facilitate well โ it is succeeding while feeling fundamentally uncertain. The familiar professional identity of the skilled expert with clear answers dissolves, and what replaces it is something more provisional: a practitioner whose primary contribution is to hold good process, not to produce the best output. That discomfort is part of the transition, not a sign that the transition is wrong.
The Pathways Being Taken
There is no single pathway from graphic design to co-design practice in Australia. What exists is a set of entry points, each offering something different, and most practitioners draw on several rather than one.
Beyond Sticky Notes is the most accessible practical entry point for Australian designers. Founded by Kelly Ann McKercher, it offers tools, frameworks, and case studies specifically oriented toward practitioners in government, health, and community services who are beginning to work participatively. Its resources do not assume a background in social design. They meet graphic designers where they are and give them concrete practice in the differences between consultation, co-design, and genuine participation. For a designer who wants to begin practically rather than theoretically, this is the most immediate on-ramp available in Australia.
New Know How, Emma Blomkamp's platform for participatory design practice, offers a community of learning for practitioners who have moved beyond the basics and want to engage more deeply with the intellectual and relational dimensions of co-design. It is particularly valuable for designers who learn well in conversation with others, and for those grappling with the more complex questions the practice raises about power, knowledge, and the limits of designer expertise.
RMIT's College of Design and Social Context offers formal pathways for designers wanting to pursue participatory and social design at a postgraduate level. The college's Social Innovation Hub has produced researchers and practitioners who work at the intersection of design and complex social challenge. For a graphic designer who wants institutional recognition for the transition, and who wants to build a research base alongside their practice, RMIT is the most developed Australian option. AGDA, the Australian Graphic Design Association, has also been expanding its engagement with design for social outcomes through its Design Research Special Interest Group, and serves as a professional community that increasingly recognises the breadth of design practice beyond traditional visual communication.
Social Design Sydney, led by Jax Wechsler, is a community of practice for designers working in relational and participatory modes. It offers regular events, peer learning, and connection to practitioners across government, community sector, and independent practice. For graphic designers who are making the transition in relative isolation, this community provides the professional company and the permission structure that the traditional design industry often does not.
TACSI, the Australian Centre for Social Innovation, runs public programs and has been generous with its frameworks. Following the work TACSI publishes, reading their case studies and practitioner reflections, gives graphic designers moving toward this field a model of what mature, rigorous co-design practice looks like when an organisation has been doing it well for more than a decade.
A practical first step for this week
The most immediate move for a graphic designer who feels drawn to this work: read Kelly Ann McKercher's Beyond Sticky Notes (the book) or spend an afternoon on the Beyond Sticky Notes website working through their distinction between levels of participation. Not to acquire a new toolkit โ to understand the difference between what the practice asks and what feels familiar. That distinction is worth sitting with before any other step.
The Traits That Already Exist
In EP00 of The Feeling Designer, Jess Watson describes the six traits she sees in practitioners who are drawn toward this kind of work. They tend to be curious about people and systems in equal measure. They are comfortable across disciplines. They hold both structure and ambiguity without needing to immediately resolve the tension. They care, genuinely, about what happens to the people their work affects. They are interested in questions over answers. And they have been in enough rooms where the process felt hollow to know that there is something different available.
These traits are not uniquely present in graphic designers. But they are common in designers who have come to graphic design through genuine love of communication, of the relationship between form and meaning, of the way that a well-designed object or system can change how a person experiences the world. The designer who has always cared about the reader, about whether the thing they made actually worked for a real person encountering it, is already halfway toward the disposition that participatory practice requires. The skills need extending. The mindset needs adjusting. The expertise needs redirecting. But the underlying care is often already there.
What the Transition Actually Costs
It is worth being direct about what is difficult in this transition, because the accounts that circulate on LinkedIn tend toward the triumphant arc and leave out the middle.
The traditional design career progression does not recognise this shift. A graphic designer who moves into co-design work is not climbing an obvious ladder. Their portfolio, which was built around visual outputs, does not self-evidently translate to participatory practice in ways that clients and employers immediately understand. The work is harder to show. The metrics for success are less immediately legible. And the professional identity that came with being a skilled graphic designer, clear, recognisable, easy to articulate at a dinner party, becomes something more provisional and harder to hold.
The income picture is also complex. Participatory design work is frequently undervalued relative to graphic design, particularly in the community sector where much of it occurs. Government programs have more capacity, but the procurement systems that fund design work in government were designed for traditional design deliverables, not for the slower, more relational work that genuine co-design requires.
None of this is a reason not to make the transition. The practitioners who have made it consistently describe their practice as more sustainable, more meaningful, and more connected to the outcomes they originally entered design to achieve. But those benefits arrive after a period of professional and financial uncertainty that is worth knowing about before beginning.
The pathway from graphic design to co-design is not linear, not well-resourced, and not yet particularly well-supported by Australian design institutions. It is, despite all of that, one of the most alive professional territories in the field. The questions it asks of designers are genuinely hard ones. The work it produces, when it is done with care and rigour and genuine power-sharing, is some of the most important work that design can do.
For graphic designers who find themselves at that mid-career moment, wondering whether the longing for something more relational and more connected is a passing restlessness or a real signal, the answer the field keeps offering is: it is a real signal. And the community of practitioners navigating the same terrain is larger and more generous than the silence around it might suggest.