What if a bank felt more like a bakery?
What if a bank felt more like a bakery?
Banks ask for trust and give you marble. A bakery earns trust by being open at six and smelling of something made this morning.
So the brief became: what would a neighbourhood bank look like if it behaved like the shop on the corner everyone knows by name?
Banks ask for trust and give you marble. A bakery earns trust by being open at six and smelling of something made this morning.
So the brief became: what would a neighbourhood bank look like if it behaved like the shop on the corner everyone knows by name?
The answer turned out to be simple: warm paper tones, handwritten rates and a daily note from the branch. Less vault. More counter.
A full identity for a regional challenger bank, delivered through an ongoing partnership: a palette borrowed from crusts and butter, a daily-changing wordmark and statements written like a chalkboard menu. The app greets you by the time of day, and the branch is built around a long wooden counter rather than glass screens.
Trust, it turns out, smells of bread far more often than it smells of marble.
What if a climate dashboard felt more like a weather almanac?
What if a climate dashboard felt more like a weather almanac?
Most climate dashboards look like a cockpit. Red numbers, live graphs, a sense that something is about to go wrong.
An almanac reads differently. It assumes the seasons will come round again, and it gives you tables, folk wisdom and time to plan.
Most climate dashboards look like a cockpit. Red numbers, live graphs, a sense that something is about to go wrong.
An almanac reads differently. It assumes the seasons will come round again, and it gives you tables, folk wisdom and time to plan.
So the direction became: a dashboard you read like a farmer, not a trader. Less alarm. More season.
An alternative direction shown alongside the safer route for a climate startup: a print-led system with tabular numerals, hairline rules and a serif older than the data, every metric filed under a season rather than a quarter. The client chose the cockpit, and two of the almanac’s ideas quietly made it into the product anyway.
People will keep a chart on the wall long after they have closed the dashboard.
What if a developer tool felt more like a woodworking shop?
What if a developer tool felt more like a woodworking shop?
Developer tools tend to look like the inside of a spaceship. Most developers, when asked, would rather be in a shed.
A workshop is different. Sharp tools, a jig for every repeated cut, and a respect for the grain of the material.
Developer tools tend to look like the inside of a spaceship. Most developers, when asked, would rather be in a shed.
A workshop is different. Sharp tools, a jig for every repeated cut, and a respect for the grain of the material.
That gave the study its spine: a tool that respects the grain of your code. Less console. More bench.
One of two directions for a CLI tool, and the one the founders chose. Warm neutrals, a monospace with character and icons drawn from the tool wall: chisels for refactors, clamps for locks, a plane for the formatter. Templates are called jigs and the empty state is a clean bench waiting for the first cut.
Craft is not slower than speed. It is what speed looks like when someone cares.
