It’s time my title caught up with my work.
Today, I’m making a few long-awaited updates to two things. First, a new profile with more details about me and my work. Second, a speck of a change, and yet maybe the most significant.
In 1996, my adventure on the World Wide Web began when my uncle, who worked at the local university, gave me access to a computer in his office connected to the Internet. It was my first step into cyberspace. He also lent me an account with 5 MB of space on a Solaris UNIX Web server. As I detailed in my career history, I logged on via Telnet and edited HTML using Pico. Soon, I moved my first Web site to GeoCities, edited my files using MS-DOS Editor and Notepad, and saved my files on floppy disks I carried with me everywhere, so I could upload the files later to another computer with Internet access.
Oddly enough, print design pushed me to learn Web design. I really loved print. I love typography. I love magazines, typesetting, and how colourful they are. Back then, I had stacks of video game magazines. Today, I still have some fashion magazines lying around in my apartment. But the Web was more accessible, it was new, and allowed me to reach people around the world.
Over the years, I learned HTML, JavaScript, CSS, Perl, PHP, Ruby, Bash… At this point, I can’t itemise everything I’ve learned. The more you learn, the easier it gets to learn more. You start seeing patterns shared by languages and their ecosystems and even their fanatics.
The language I happen to use on any given day is only a small part of a career like this. As I moved between jobs, teams, and companies, I had to deal with all sorts of technology stacks. Servers, clouds, libraries, frameworks, networking, even cabling… (There was a job where I had to cut and twist my own Ethernet cables once…) As I saw more differences, I noticed more commonalities. I learned to plan, to integrate, to automate, and to orchestrate.
Technical knowledge isn’t the only thing I gained over time. Over the years I learned how different teams think, how clients communicate, how managers make decisions, and how to translate between them. I learned from them, and they learned from me.
All this said, with all the hats I have worn, and with the scope of my work continuously expanding no matter the focus I set, for at least 10 years, I often looked at my title, “Web Developer,” and wondered, “Am I still just a Web Developer? Is the title apt? What do people understand when they see it?” These questions would come to mind, but then again, I couldn’t find a better title, so I’d just set the matter aside until it popped back in my head later.
Then again, with everything I’ve done and everywhere I’ve been, the title seldom does anything. Maybe it’s just a formality. I could call myself almost anything. Before long, someone would discover I know Bash, ask me to automate a deployment, and we’d be right back where we started. Even now, my official status at my company is I’m the “senior frontend engineer.” That’s after they’ve also called me an “Application Architect.” Am I one? I’m not sure they know exactly either. Sure, senior by experience, and to be honest, also age. Yet that didn’t stop people asking me to do backend work and some DevOps.
Web Developer, Web Designer, Web Engineer, Application Engineer, Frontend Engineer, Backend Engineer, Application Architect, Senior Developer, Technical Leader… None of them felt wrong. None of them felt complete either. What do I even call myself at this point?
Perhaps “Web Developer” has become too small. I’m certainly doing much more than just coding. I mean, I am a Web Developer, yet not only a Web Developer. How can I convey this into a simple title?
I recently met an old friend and ex-colleague for the first time in 12 years. We talked about our careers, how AI is changing our work, and how much more versatile we’ve become over the years. Then, almost by coincidence, he brought up the matter of my title. “You’re not just a Web Developer. You spend more time connecting systems, translating requirements, helping people make technical decisions, and making everything fit together than writing code. You’re more like a Solutions Architect at this point.”
That stuck with me. I shunned the title for a long time, thinking it was just corporate mumbo-jumbo. But the more I think of it, the more I see how much sense it makes, especially for someone well-seasoned like me. I suppose that’s why so many people in my position eventually adopt it too.
Well, then… I agree.
Finally, 30 years later, in 2026, it’s time for a title to catch up with the work I’ve been doing…
Hi, I’m Rem, and I’m a Solutions Architect.
2026-07-22 Addendum: It didn’t take long before the first comments arrived. Some congratulated me. Others questioned my choice.
It turns out Solutions Architect doesn’t mean quite the same thing to everyone. Some suggested Technical Leader, Technical Architect, or Technical Director instead. My own company can’t seem to decide either, having called me both Application Engineer and Application Architect over the years.
Did I make the right choice? Time will tell. Besides, nothing is set in stone. If nothing else, I’ve apparently succeeded in architecting a solution to start a debate. Maybe my title should be Controversy Architect! Joking aside, I’ll sit with it for a while.
Either way, I hope this illustrates how decades of experience can eventually leave you in this curious place of ambivalence and rediscovery.
Thank you everyone for your feedback.