It started as a side thought while I was working on a more complex automotive interface. I kept coming back to the idea that not everything in a car dashboard needs to be big, immersive, or even connected to a central cluster. Sometimes, small, focused widgets could do more by doing less.

I wanted to rethink how we interact with car data on iOS. Not in the form of a massive app, but as small, glanceable, native-feeling components. What if a user could quickly check tire pressure or remaining range the same way they check the weather?

I researched how current CarPlay widgets and vehicle apps like Tesla or MyHyundai handled at-a-glance data. Most were heavy, overbranded, or tried to do too much. I talked to friends who drove EVs and hybrids and realized people often needed different things depending on the moment—before a trip, after a charge, during a drive. I started listing what mattered most in each context.

I gave myself two constraints: it had to feel like it could be part of iOS, and each widget should stand on its own. No back button, no onboarding. Just open and know what you're looking at. That narrowed the scope and helped me focus on core data points: fuel, battery, engine, tire pressure, temperature.

I leaned into native UI behaviors—SF Symbols, iOS system fonts, Apple-style card elevation. I wanted each widget to feel like it could live next to Apple Weather or Calendar, without calling attention to itself too much. I used color to hint at urgency (red, blue, green), but avoided overwhelming saturation.

Visually, I kept things modular and soft. Rounded rectangles, high contrast for legibility, minimal iconography. A lot of the design came down to balance—how much whitespace to allow before something felt empty, how large a number should be to feel readable but not aggressive.

Some of the smallest things took the most thought. Aligning numerical units consistently. Making sure “OFF” status states didn’t feel like errors. Animating charge indicators subtly enough to feel alive, not distracting. These things aren’t noticed when they work well—but they matter.

If I were to restart, I’d probably build these as live widgets in SwiftUI from the beginning, just to test how they feel in motion and in the real environment. Design-only mocks are helpful, but they can lie about proportions and timing.

This project changed how I think about scale. Designing small doesn’t mean thinking small—it means editing more aggressively, being precise with space and color, and accepting that simplicity takes effort.

I now pay more attention to the quiet parts of an interface. Not the screen-filling interactions, but the tiny, persistent pieces that live in the margins—and how, sometimes, they’re what we rely on most.