Every critique has one of these. You point out that the hierarchy is flat, that nothing on the page tells the eye where to land first, and before you finish the sentence they are nodding. Vigorously. "Yeah, no, totally, I knew that, I was actually going to fix that." They agreed with you before you had made an argument. This should feel like a win. It rarely does.

There is a sentence that precedes almost every student presentation, in some form, regardless of the assignment, the year, or how much time they had. It goes roughly like this: "So, I know this isn't finished, I ran out of time, I wanted to do more with the typography, but..." Then they present. Often the work is fine. Sometimes it is better than fine. Occasionally it is the best thing in the room, delivered with the confidence of someone reading their own eulogy.

There is a tendency in design to equate simplicity with reduction. Fewer elements. Less content. Minimal interfaces. Remove enough, the thinking goes, and understanding will follow.

Sometimes it does. Often, it does not.

Simplicity is a visual outcome, clarity is a cognitive one. They are not the same, and mixing them can make work look thoughtful, but it won't work that way.