The first thing I noticed when I upgraded my phone last month was not a new feature or app, but rather the way it looked—almost as if someone had covered the screen with a layer of fog. Although many customers, including myself, find Apple’s so-called Liquid Glass design in iOS 26 to be remarkably comparable to gazing through a misted window on a wet morning—pretty from a distance, but painfully confusing up close—it was intended to seem sleek and flowing. Translucency was supposed to add a subtle dynamic to the interface, allowing depth and color to blend together like light through a prism. For many, what followed was an experience that frequently felt like a trade-off between clarity and spectacle, a change from reliability to an aesthetic that currently seems out of proportion to usefulness.
Fundamentally, Liquid Glass gives buttons and controls a semi-transparent, “bubbly,” and reflected appearance, giving the impression that your app icons are sitting under a pane of softened light. It’s simple to see why designers were thrilled with the sophisticated visuals utilized in Apple’s previews. However, the outcome is not only less obvious but also disturbing when those same effects are used as the background for reading messages or tapping small icons on busy screens on a daily basis. Text overlayed on translucent panels may lose contrast, and icons may blend into wallpaper patterns, making it more difficult for your brain to differentiate one element from another.
Anything that is placed on top of something else tends to be more difficult to see clearly, as usability experts have long noted. That tension is almost gleefully embraced by Liquid Glass. I’ve been staring at labels that used to look sharp in an attempt to determine if a control is functional or just decorative. There are times when the design seems to put too much strain on our eyes, requiring them to sort through visual richness that ought to be supporting rather than hiding information.
| Detail | Information |
|---|---|
| Name | Alan Dye |
| Role | Vice President of Human Interface Design |
| Company | Apple Inc. |
| Background | Industrial and interface design |
| Known For | Overseeing iOS, macOS, watchOS visual language |
| Design Era | Flat design, glassmorphism revival |
| Influence | Software aesthetics across Apple platforms |
| Public Stance | Focus on emotion and visual depth |
| Industry Reputation | Highly influential design executive |
| Reference Website | https://www.apple.com/leadership/alan-dye/ |
Friends and coworkers have expressed similar frustrations in recent weeks. According to one designer, some UI components resemble cheap plastic more than high-end glass. At first glance, the Liquid Glass button was less responsive, leaving users to wonder if the touch would register. One person likened it to touching a fogged-up window pane. These issues are not unique; rather, they are reflected in forums and discussions where consumers are attempting to express the same uneasy sentiment that the design, despite its creativity, isn’t yet in harmony with real-world applications.
However, there is a positive perspective. Early concepts have long been refined into something noticeably better over time by Apple and other platform developers. Lessons from early interface design errors can result in more intuitive, understandable, and ultimately more fulfilling experiences. It’s possible that Liquid Glass hasn’t yet reached its ideal expression if it feels foggy today. Areas where translucency impedes tasks that should be seamless, such reading text or rapidly identifying controls, have already been identified via early feedback cycles.
I recall switching between the light and dark modes and observing how the design’s legibility changed dramatically. Liquid Glass occasionally seems more serene in dark mode, with less glare and distraction, indicating that contrast and context are crucial in determining how this aesthetic is interpreted. This is about actual perceptual distinctions that can be quantified and optimized, not just personal preferences.
Using the accessibility setting to decrease transparency is one useful strategy that many users have found. Although it’s not a perfect fix, the adjustment makes the panels look more solid, sharpens their focus, and reduces some of the visual noise. It’s an illustration of how pre-existing technologies can be repurposed to enhance experiences prior to more significant design changes. This type of user-driven improvement is very beneficial and illustrates a larger idea: when a design strategy elicits strong responses, both favorable and negative, it encourages iteration that can result in even better versions in the future.
A less obvious advantage of the Liquid Glass controversy is that it has raised awareness of the importance of visual clarity, particularly as screens grow more prevalent in daily life. Admiring transparent beauty on a screen at an exhibition is one thing, but using it on a daily basis while balancing apps, maps, and messages is quite another. This discussion pushes designers to put content and readability first without sacrificing originality, which, when correctly handled, could result in interfaces that are both extremely practical and elegant.
In addition, a lot of people complain that animations under Liquid Glass can seem unnecessary after a time, even though they are initially visually captivating. Instead of gently directing attention, pulsating buttons, shimmering icons, and panels that appear to change without apparent reason might divert attention from the activity at hand. This illustrates the use of motion in design: when employed well, animation may indicate changes in state and enhance understanding. It competes with the content you are attempting to interact with when it is gratuitous.
Additionally, it’s important to note that several aspects of Liquid Glass seem to be targeted at new users or infrequent users who might be lured to novelty. But abrupt changes in interface norms can feel like a step backward for seasoned users, particularly those who have developed routines and muscle memory. Many designers struggle with the tension between novelty and usability, and the current response to Liquid Glass emphasizes how important that balance is.
Many people continue to believe that the idea isn’t flawed but rather incomplete, notwithstanding the criticisms. Before it settles into something that is both inventive and comfortingly solid, the initial iteration can feel overreaching, much like early explorations in other design languages, whether in vehicle interfaces or web visuals. By taking this input into consideration and improving the way translucency, contrast, and motion are employed, it may be possible to create interfaces that are not only aesthetically pleasing but also incredibly clear for daily usage.
