Honestly? Writing about another designer\’s portfolio feels weirdly personal today. Like poking through someone\’s carefully organized attic – you admire the craftsmanship but keep tripping over hidden vulnerabilities. Tom Lee\’s work? Yeah, it keeps popping up. Not in that annoying, algorithm-shoved-down-your-throat way, but more like… a persistent whisper in design circles. \”Have you seen Tom Lee\’s portfolio? The XYZ project?\” It took me three coffees and a minor existential crisis about my own mediocre Squarespace template before I finally dived in properly. And look, I\’m tired. Tired of sterile Dribbble shots, tired of portfolios that feel like corporate annual reports. Tom\’s? It’s messy. In the best possible way. Like life.

First hit was that rebrand for that indie bookshop chain – \’Atlas Reads\’ or something? Remember those? Actual physical places with that dusty paper smell? Tom didn\’t just slap a new logo on a tote bag. He documented the stains. The handwritten inventory cards the ancient owner refused to part with. The wonky shelf labels typed on a typewriter from the 70s. His case study shows the evolution: initial sleek concepts the client hated (\”Makes us look like a damn tech startup!\”), the awkward middle phase, right down to the final, slightly imperfect, deeply warm identity system. He includes the rejected sketches. The client email where they called one direction \”soulless.\” Brutal. Refreshing. Shows the fight. The compromise. The humanity in the work. Most portfolios just show the shiny trophy at the end. Tom shows the bloody knuckles from polishing it. Makes me feel slightly better about my own chaotic process, honestly.

Then there\’s the interactive thing for that climate data NGO. \’Project Thermocline\’. Sounds dry as hell, right? Pun intended. But Tom’s team – he credits them heavily, which is nice, actually seeing names instead of just \”we\” – they made weather patterns feel… visceral. Not just animated graphs. You feel the data shift. It’s unsettling. Beautiful, but with this underlying dread. Uses real-time feeds. One minute it’s hypnotic, the next it’s giving you low-key anxiety about your carbon footprint while you’re just trying to scroll. It’s not comfortable. Good design shouldn’t always be, I guess. Makes me think of that argument I had last week about whether UX should always prioritize \’delight\’. Sometimes it needs to punch you in the gut. This does. Wonder how many users actually stuck around past the initial discomfort? Hope the client tracks that.

Found the experimental stuff buried deeper. Self-initiated projects. Weird little apps that do… nothing useful? One just generates abstract patterns based on the noise level of your surroundings. Pointless? Maybe. But the visual output is strangely compelling. Grainy, distorted. Like looking at static on an old TV through water. He calls it \’Ambient Distortion\’. Sounds pretentious. Probably is. But I kept playing with it for 20 minutes, mesmerized by how my kid yelling downstairs turned into this pulsing ochre blob. Why? No clue. Doesn\’t solve world hunger. Doesn\’t need to. It’s just… a feeling. A texture. A moment. Sometimes design is just that. A reminder to look. To listen. Even to the noise.

The physical installations section surprised me. Didn\’t peg him for that. That mirrored labyrinth thing for the tech conference lobby? Photos look incredible. All fractured reflections, disorienting. He talks about the logistics nightmare – shipping delays, fragile panels breaking, the client freaking out two days before launch. The candid shot of him looking utterly exhausted, covered in protective film bits, holding a panel steady while someone drills. That’s the reality glossed over in most portfolios. The sweat equity. The sheer panic of things potentially going sideways. Makes the final, pristine installation shots actually mean something. You see the cost.

Scrolling through it all… it’s not linear. Not perfectly categorized. Projects bleed into each other. Some case studies are exhaustive novels. Others are sparse, just a mood board and a single outcome. The navigation isn\’t \’intuitive\’ in that sterile UX textbook way. You wander. You get a bit lost. Find unexpected connections. Like his illustration style popping up in a corporate report. His coding experiments influencing a physical space design. It feels… cumulative. Like watching someone’s brain make connections in real-time. Refreshingly undisciplined in its discipline. Makes me want to tear apart my own overly curated site. Maybe tomorrow. Too tired now.

Does Tom Lee have the slickest portfolio? Nope. Is every project a world-beater? Probably not. But it feels lived in. Authentic. Flawed. You see the doubts scribbled in margins (figuratively, in the process shots). You see the experiments that went nowhere. The client battles. The late nights. The joy in a tiny, perfect detail. It’s less a sales pitch, more a diary. Exhausting, exhilarating, contradictory. Like design itself. Like… work. Like life. Makes me wonder what mine says about me. Probably that I worry too much about looking perfect. Tom’s? His feels alive. Messy, complicated, frustrating, brilliant. Human. Wish more portfolios had the guts to be this real. Even if it makes me uncomfortably aware of my own safe choices. Damn it.

【FAQ】

Q: Okay, but seriously, what platform does Tom Lee even use for his portfolio? It doesn\’t scream Webflow or Squarespace.
A> Ugh, the eternal question. Honestly? I poked around. Inspect element is your friend. Looks heavily, heavily custom. Built on something headless, maybe? Snippets of React, custom GSAP animations everywhere. Definitely not off-the-shelf. Probably cost a fortune in dev time or he’s just that good with code. Makes sense though – to get that level of controlled chaos, you need bespoke tools. My basic WordPress site feels deeply inadequate now. Thanks for that, Tom.

Q: How many projects is too many for a portfolio like this? His seems packed.
A> Right? It is packed. Feels like 20+ deep dives? Conventional wisdom screams \”CURATE! 5-7 MAX!\” Tom clearly gives zero… well, you know. And weirdly? It works for him. Because it’s not just showing final work; it’s showing the practice. The thinking. The evolution. The sheer volume becomes part of the story – this relentless exploration. Would it work for a junior designer? Hell no. They’d drown. But for someone with his depth and varied output? The sprawl feels earned. Exhausting, but earned. Makes me rethink the whole \”less is more\” mantra. Sometimes more is just… more.

Q: He shows rejected work and process mess. Isn\’t that risky? Looks unprofessional?
A> Risky? Absolutely. Unprofessional? Depends who you ask, I guess. Some old-school corporate HR drone might clutch their pearls. But honestly? In today\’s oversaturated design world, that rawness is like oxygen. It cuts through the polish. Shows you can think, adapt, survive client feedback bombs. It shows how you got there, not just the shiny destination. The Atlas Reads case study with the \”soulless\” email? That takes guts. Shows resilience. Makes him relatable. More human than \”professional.\” Feels like a calculated risk that pays off for the clients he wants to attract – the ones who value the journey, not just the brochure.

Q: Does he actually get good clients with a portfolio this… unconventional?
A> Valid point. The arthouse cinema? The climate NGO? The self-initiated weirdness? Not exactly Fortune 500 stuff. But look closer. That big banking report design is in there. The tech conference installation. Solid, paying gigs mixed with the passion projects. Seems like he attracts clients who want that distinctive, slightly off-kilter thinking. They’re not hiring a pixel-pusher; they’re hiring a brain with a specific, messy perspective. The portfolio acts like a filter. Scares off the boring clients. Good riddance, probably. Lets him focus on work that doesn’t make him want to gouge his eyes out. Smart, in a way.

Q: How much time does he probably spend updating this beast? It looks high maintenance.
A> Oh god, don’t. The thought alone makes my eye twitch. With the custom build, the detailed case studies, the process shots, the embedded experiments like \’Ambient Distortion\’… It’s not a portfolio, it’s a living archive. A part-time job just to maintain. Probably has a dev on retainer. Or survives on caffeine and existential dread. My money’s on the latter. It’s impressive, sure, but also feels like a massive time sink. Makes me appreciate my slightly neglected Squarespace just a tiny bit more. Emphasis on slightly.