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UIDesigner
Space (sp-ce.co) · Remote · Full-time
TL;DR
- —Space, an AI-native brand agency, is hiring a UI Designer to craft interfaces that could never be mistaken for the generated default.
- —Space keeps a written catalog of AI design tells; every screen ships against it, and this role both beats the catalog and grows it.
- —The machines carry variants, states, and system maintenance; the human owns the decisions that make a screen belong to one brand only.
- —No redline purgatory: builders sit one seat over, and the handoff is a conversation, never a document.
- —Applying is three questions in a short form: one piece you shipped and now hate, the best idea you ever cut, and one thing in culture that makes you jealous.
01
About Space
Space is an AI-native brand agency. Three always-on leaders, 82 on-demand specialists, zero juniors. 127 agents, 362 agentic workflows, 14 tools we built ourselves. We ship brand identities, websites, campaigns, and products for funded companies in weeks: Validere got strategy, a full rebrand, and a new site in 8 weeks, lifted inbound 31%, and closed a $43M Series B on the story. We grow entirely by word of mouth, and we publish our AI rules, our hiring bar, and our pricing logic at sp-ce.co/notes, because an agency that won't tell you where AI stops is telling you it doesn't know.
02
The job
Left alone, generated interfaces converge: the same gradient, the same border radius, the same three fonts, the same card grid drifting toward the same purple. Sameness is now the default output of the entire industry, rendered instantly, for free. Generative UI made the average interface free, which quietly repriced your craft: the value moved from producing screens to making screens belong to someone. You'll design the interfaces where a funded company's brand actually lives (sites, products, the surfaces users touch daily), with machines carrying what ate your old weeks: the variant grids, the state coverage, the system maintenance, the versioning.
Two disciplines make the seat distinctive here. First, the catalog: our running, written inventory of AI design tells, which every screen ships against and which you'll keep growing as the defaults mutate. Second, the exit from redline purgatory: the people who build sit one seat over, so the handoff is a conversation with a deadline, never a hundred-page annotation nobody honors.
03
What you'll do
Design interfaces to the final pixel: sites and products where the identity survives contact with real density, real data, real edge cases.
Ship every screen against the catalog, and add to it when you catch a new tell before the industry names it.
Direct generative UI hard, then push every output past the default it wants to regress to.
Build design systems that hold at the four-thousandth screen, because you designed the rules and never just the hero page.
Work shoulder to shoulder with the builders, resolving in conversation what other shops resolve in redlines.
04
What you won't do
Ship the default look. The catalog exists so we never do, and "the model suggested it" has never once survived a review here.
Live in redline purgatory. Annotation documents are what shops write when the builder is three layers away; ours is one seat over.
Design for the shot instead of the product. Screens that demo better than they work are the prettiest kind of failure.
Manage juniors. There are none. Nobody learns the craft on a client's budget here.
Sit in status meetings, log timesheets, or build spec work for pitches. The machines and the model retired all three.
05
Who you are
Senior, with shipped interfaces a stranger could attribute to the right brand with the logo hidden.
Level 4 or above on our published AI Fluency Ladder: you run generative UI daily and can articulate exactly where its taste ends.
A deviation defender. Every departure from convention in your work comes with a reason, because different-but-wrong is worse than same.
A systems craftsperson. Your components are opinionated enough to carry a brand and boring enough to maintain.
Detail-possessed and deadline-sane, and you know which battles are which.
06
Who you aren't
A Dribbble optimizer. If the portfolio is gorgeous and nothing in it shipped, we'll both know in the first call.
A default apologist. "Users expect it" is sometimes true and usually a surrender; you can tell them apart.
Level 2 on the ladder: someone who ships whatever the model returns. That's worse than not using AI at all, and we said so in print.
Anonymous. Your name goes on the work, and we treat that as the perk it is.
07 · No resume required
How to apply
No cover letter. No 90-page portfolio PDF. No resume upload, even. The application is three questions:
One piece of work you shipped and now hate, with the reason. Two hundred words max.
The best idea you ever cut, and why it was right to cut it.
One thing in culture right now that makes you jealous.
Use AI to answer if you like; we do. We'll be able to tell whether you reviewed it.
Comeargue.
Yes, this job description was drafted with AI. A named human rewrote it, cut a third of it, and will defend every line on a call. That's the entire model, and it's hiring.
Frequently asked questions
A written, maintained inventory of AI design tells: the gradients, radii, layouts, and habits that mark work as generated defaults. Every screen ships against it. You'll inherit it on day one and add to it by month one.
The Art Director owns the visual world across identity and campaign. You own the interface layer of that world: the screens, the systems, the states, the shipped product surface. On many sprints you'll work as a pair.
Both, unapologetically. The role is real and open; the posting argues the model, because the model is the job.
Because the seat is sized to the person in it. You'll hear a real range in the first conversation, before you've invested anything beyond the three answers.
A named human reads all three answers. If they're real, we call you.