Does a prototype need to be beautiful?

For a long time, my answer would have been simple: no.

And to be honest, I was even pretty categorical about it.

When I built a prototype, what I wanted above all was to check that my idea worked. Testing a mechanism, validating a physical principle, getting two systems to talk to each other, measuring a performance…

If it worked, I had done my job.

The rest? Frankly, I didn’t much care.

A rough enclosure, wires sticking out, exposed mechanics, a few bits of plastic printed in a hurry… As long as I could demonstrate that the technical solution was viable, I saw no point in spending more time on it.

I was stubborn as hell about it.

The problem is that I was often the only one who was enthusiastic.

I remember presentations where I turned up with a prototype I was particularly proud of.

In my head, I knew exactly what I had managed to demonstrate. I knew the difficulties I’d overcome, the hours of experimentation, the solutions abandoned before finding the right one.

I’d show the result, explain how it worked, and almost naturally expect the others to share my enthusiasm.

But across the table, the reaction was sometimes rather lukewarm.

Not necessarily negative. Just… disappointing.

I saw a proof of feasibility.

They saw something that didn’t yet look like what they had imagined.

And for a long time, I found that a little unfair.

And then there was Apple #

I have to confess something: I was anti-Apple for a long time.

Not because I’d tried their products and found them bad. No, that would have been too sensible.

I was anti-Apple on principle.

In my head, Apple meant paying more for something pretty, at the expense of technical efficiency.

I found it almost absurd.

And then, for professional reasons, I had to develop mobile applications on Android and iOS. So I had to kit myself out.

And there, a small slap in the face.

It wasn’t so much the appearance of the devices that surprised me, but the experience of using them.

I, who had always tended to want to understand how things worked, to explore the settings, to look for what was under the hood…

For once, I didn’t need to.

I just used it. Simply.

I discovered what a particularly well-crafted user experience could bring.

And above all, I understood that I had long set against each other two things that had no reason to be: technical efficiency and the quality of the experience.

In hindsight, it seems almost silly to have taken so long to understand something so obvious.

And my prototypes, in all this? #

One day, on a project, I decided to put far more care than usual into the appearance of a prototype.

I gave it an almost finished look, at least polished enough that you could picture the product.

And the reaction was radically different.

People took an interest, asked questions, started to imagine applications, to discuss what could be done with it.

Yet, technically, I hadn’t demonstrated anything more.

This prototype was no closer to industrialisation than the previous ones.

But this time, the people discovering it could project themselves into it.

I no longer needed to ask them to imagine what all those wires, circuit boards and mechanisms might become.

I was already giving them a glimpse.

A prototype isn’t always just a technical proof #

Today, I still make ugly prototypes.

And I’ll probably keep doing so for a long time.

When I’m simply trying to validate a hypothesis, I have no reason to waste time building a nice enclosure that might end up in the bin.

But I’ve learned to make a distinction.

There are prototypes that serve to understand.

And there are those that also serve to share a vision.

When you present a project to a client, a management team or future users, you’re not only asking them to assess a technical performance.

You’re also asking them to follow you into an idea that doesn’t fully exist yet.

And for that, explanations aren’t always enough.

Sometimes you have to let them live a small piece of what the product could be.

To hold it, to use it, to feel what you’re trying to create.

Of course, you have to stay honest about its level of maturity. A polished prototype isn’t necessarily a reliable, industrialisable product, or ready to be sold.

But I no longer see the care put into its presentation as wasted time.

Because I eventually understood that the success of a project doesn’t depend only on what you manage to make work.

It also depends on our ability to bring others along with us.

And sometimes, for them to understand what you have in mind, it’s better to let them live an experience than to show them a diagram.

It took me a few years, a few ugly prototypes and an Apple computer to understand that.