Tidepool
2026A field app for marine biologists that keeps working, even when the boat leaves the signal behind.
Independent product designer & writer
Gothenburg, Sweden
Finding clarity in complex things.
From the first field note to the last little detail.
Available for new projects from January 2027.
01 / A few things I've helped make
2024 — 2026 ↘
A field app for marine biologists that keeps working, even when the boat leaves the signal behind.
Replacing a 20-year-old member banking system, without losing the trust built into it.
A live view of tram and bus delays, bringing a little certainty to the daily commute.
A free, practical guide for municipalities publishing their very first datasets.
02 / Thinking out loud
Showing all 6 posts.
Sometimes an empty screen has more to tell us than a full one.
What happens to a carefully drawn interface when your hands are cold and wet?
We tested paper prototypes inside waterproof sleeves, then took a working build out on the water. The smallest comfortable target was much bigger than our studio tests suggested. Space between actions mattered as much as the size of the buttons. My field rule now: test the interface with the hands that will actually use it.
The old form was full of workarounds. Each one was a small piece of institutional knowledge.
A seemingly redundant reference field turned out to be how staff connected a paper application to a phone call. We mapped those handoffs before redesigning the form. The result used fewer inputs, but kept the context people needed to do their jobs. Migration is an opportunity to listen before simplifying.
A small change in chart choice made our conversations about the numbers much better.
Most of my client reports ask people to compare categories, not contemplate a whole. Sorted bars give every value the same starting line, and direct labels remove a trip to the legend. I still ask what question a chart should answer before choosing its shape. A chart earns its place by making that answer easier to see.
Thirty days, one pocket notebook, and a daily practice of paying closer attention.
One journey, one page, no eraser. I drew ticket machines, route diagrams, and the little gestures people make while finding a stop. Most sketches were unremarkable. Together, they became a record of questions I would have missed while scrolling. Observation is a practice I can fit into twenty minutes.
How a clearer definition of the problem changed my proposals, my fees, and my working days.
I begin proposals with the decision a client needs to make and the evidence that would help them make it. A fixed discovery phase makes uncertainty visible. From there, we agree on a scope, a price, and a point to reassess. The estimate still accounts for my time, but our conversation has a more useful starting point.
On a boat outside Lysekil, a marine biologist showed me a tide table with a blank column. I assumed something had failed to load. She barely looked at it. “Nothing to record yet,” she said, and went back to checking her equipment. For her, that space was information. For me, it looked like a broken interface.
We were testing Tidepool, an app for recording observations at sea. I had spent weeks making the populated screens clear: species names, coordinates, timestamps, photographs. The screen before the first observation had received considerably less attention. It said, with impressive confidence, “No data.”
Back in the studio, I wrote down everything that could produce an apparently empty screen. Perhaps nobody had visited this station. Perhaps someone had visited but found nothing. Perhaps observations existed on another device, waiting for a connection. Those situations needed very different responses, yet our interface gave them the same two words.
“An empty state should explain what we know, not just what we can’t show.”
The tide table worked because its reader already understood the context. Our software needed to carry that context with it. A volunteer on their first trip should not have to ask a colleague whether a blank screen means a quiet morning or lost work.
We started with a tiny data contract, written together with the developers. Before discussing illustrations or button labels, we agreed that an empty result needed a reason:
{
"observations": [],
"state": "not_yet_surveyed",
"last_synced": "2026-09-28T08:15:00Z"
}
That distinction changed the copy. “No observations yet” became “This station hasn’t been surveyed.” When a survey was complete, the message became “Survey complete. No species recorded.” Offline, we showed when the device last checked for updates. Each message made a claim we could actually support.
We also stopped treating every empty state as an invitation to add something. An unvisited station offered “Start a survey.” A completed survey offered its field notes. A device waiting to sync explained that saved observations were safe. Sometimes the most useful action was simply to carry on.
I still think about that blank column. Good information design gives absence a shape people can understand. The next time a screen looks empty, I’ll ask what happened before it became empty, and what someone needs to know next. The answer is rarely just a better illustration.
03 / The person behind the pixels
A curious mind.
A practical pair of hands.
I'm a freelance product designer and writer based in Gothenburg, on Sweden's west coast. I work with teams turning complicated information into software that feels clear, useful, and a little more human.
My projects tend to begin with questions and a notebook: on a research boat, beside a support desk, or in a room full of people who know more about the problem than I do. I move between research, interaction design, and working prototypes, staying close to the people building and using the product.
Before going independent, I designed at Kartverk Studio and Norrsken Analytics. Away from my desk, you'll usually find me swimming in cold water, drawing on the tram, or making a very slow cup of coffee.
Usually better after a coffee and a walk.
04 / Good things start with a conversation
A project, a question, or a good reading recommendation. My inbox is open.