There is a persistent myth in creative fields that taste is innate — that some people simply have it and others do not. This myth is convenient because it excuses mediocrity. If taste is a gift, then those who lack it are absolved of the responsibility to develop it. They are simply working with what they were given.
This is not true. Taste is a practice. It is the accumulated result of deliberate exposure, of making things and being honest about whether they are good, of developing the vocabulary to say precisely why something works and why something does not. Taste is trainable. It is also, crucially, a responsibility.
What taste actually is
Taste is the ability to distinguish — consistently and precisely — between what is good and what is not. It is not the same as preference. You might prefer loud music to quiet music; that is a preference. Taste is the capacity to evaluate whether a piece of music achieves what it is trying to achieve, whether the production serves the composition, whether the mix creates the emotional experience the artist intended.
Taste applies to every domain: to software interfaces, to marketing copy, to business strategy, to curriculum design. In each case, it is the same underlying capacity — the ability to see clearly, evaluate honestly, and articulate precisely. The domain changes; the discipline does not.
How taste is built
It starts with consumption. You cannot have taste without exposure. The person who has seen one website cannot evaluate websites. The person who has read a hundred books on business strategy, analysed dozens of real businesses, and built a few things themselves — they can evaluate. Breadth of exposure creates the reference library that taste draws from.
But exposure alone is insufficient. Many people consume a great deal and develop no taste at all, because they consume passively. Taste requires active evaluation — a habit of asking, when you encounter something, not just "do I like this?" but "why does this work?" or "why does this fail?" The question is always diagnostic, never just responsive.
Then you have to build. Taste without practice is just criticism. The designer who can identify what is wrong with every typeface combination but has never produced a typographic system themselves has opinions, not taste. Taste is earned through the friction of production — through discovering that your output does not match your vision, and closing the gap, slowly, over time.
The gap and how to close it
Ira Glass described this better than anyone: when you begin, your taste exceeds your ability. You know what is good. You can see it clearly in the work of others. But your own work falls short. This gap is not a sign that you lack ability — it is a sign that your taste is working. The discomfort of the gap is the engine of improvement.
Closing the gap requires output volume, honest feedback, and the discipline to keep evaluating your own work with the same rigour you apply to others'. It requires, above all, not lying to yourself about where your work currently sits — because self-deception is the enemy of development.
The builders who develop real taste are the ones who stay uncomfortable the longest — who keep the gap open, keep pushing against it, and refuse to settle for work they know is below what they are capable of. That is the discipline. Not the aesthetic sense. The willingness to keep going.