Branding, concept development, training materials and subscription based website design and development on WordPress.
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I was tasked with creating a logo for a jewellery and clothing brand that incorporated the letter A. The products are quite delicate and made with well-sourced and fine materials. Part of the product range includes kimono style clothing range and the jewellery features pearls with gold details. The patterns on the kimono are quite graphic and whimsical.
As part of the process, I created a series of possible designs, featuring the letter A, that delved into the products ethos and style imbued by the Alura brand. It was a requirement that the text logo incorporated a diamond symbol in between the letters.
Working from this brief, I created a series of logo designs, featuring the A and the triangular formats of the diamond as well as taking into consideration the serif font used in the text logo.
The final outcome is two A symbols reflecting each other and featuring the diamond triangle shapes, inside of a circle. The circle represents the jewellery part of the Alura brand, which includes freshwater pearls and the gold links used in the jewellery production. The geometric shape of the overall logo was also influenced by the kimono and how it wraps in triangular form around the body. Each piece of fabric is cut with the line of the body and how it is worn in mind.
As Alura is based in Copenhagen and part of the branding emphasizes that the company is based in Denmark, the word Copenhagen needed to be added to the packaging. I chose a sans-serif capitalised font so as to not take the eye away from the serif logo format, but add a softer tone to the word, whilst capitalising the c in Copenhagen emphasised it’s importance.
The colour palette was kept simple, with a soft black and off-white chosen for the packaging. This was done on request of the owners of Alura and represents the elegant products they create, whilst keeping with the Scandinavian, minimalist style. The off-white I chose is slightly warm in tone, to create a sense of delicate strength.
It was important when designing the logo and packaging that the final outcome could be resized from large to very small, due to the box sizes of the jewellery packaging, as well as the clothing labels that will be sewn inside the neck of the final pieces.
The website will be coming soon.
The snow fell, making it feel like Spring had not come, as it tumbled down into my face. I trudged along the sludgy roads to my job. The sun only creeping up to greet me briefly, before I entered the tunnels. Leading me deep underground. Cold air seemed to sneak in, uninvited up under my collar. Small melted snowflakes melted my hair to my face. A shiver caught through me. A momentary lapse in strength. Shaking it off, I thought to myself, I’ll warm up soon enough. When the hammer falls. The quiet echoed through the tunnels. The shift change silence, beckoning me forward.
Picking up a hammer, I nodded to the overseer who grunted in reply.
Snarling, he pointed towards the third tunnel and said, ‘forty-seven, twenty-two and three.’
Other workers started filing into their allocated tunnels. In the labyrinth of pillaged hard stone caves, all the precious stones and minerals were almost all gone. The past fifty years wreaking havoc with the non-renewable resources that were once plentiful. Unlike most mines, this one seemed to just keep going. Providing jobs and the precious minerals that fueled the economy and lined the pockets of the wealthy with gold.
One such mineral was Pryon. This was what I mined. I’d found a seam, deep in forty-seven, twenty-two and three, and had been mining it for the past year. It seemed I had a knack for finding it. Something in my blood, they’d said, when they found another seam. Pryon was worth more than the average mineral, although my wages never differed. They gave me special treatment and given water, because of my ability to find the sought after rock seams. A rare occurrence, deep underground.
Vanth often fell in love with the dead. She read their lives as she sucked their souls out of their useless bodies. Drinking in the memories, preparing them to be passed on into the liquid swirling mass of light that lived in the well of stone, hidden in a courtyard where it was always day, the perpetual time just after the dawn or right before the dusk where the skies are golden. The memories kept the balance between the living and dead.
All life had a price. Sometimes Vanth found other humans, hovering over the dead as she went about her work. On occasion, she found the one who had taken the life. Renegades from the underworld and humans who had turned from life. The ones who had turned from life, Vanth kept an eye on.
Charon often marked them for the shadows, the alternate place of death where the soul became trapped and the body a tool for the darkness ever creeping towards the surface. If they had taken a life, then they were prey for a cause that embodied the denizens of the shadows. Reeking a smiling kind of havoc upon the places where humans tread. Charon was a trickster, always keeping Vanth on her toes, laughing at her frustrations when he foiled one of her collections or killed a random person with the shadow breathers.
‘With life so becomes death, sweet Vanth,’ she would hear him say.
I came here once, long ago. The palm trees were still standing, the people were still free, and the war had not yet begun. Women wore long flowing lengths of silk, their bodies wrapped loosely in colors, reminiscent of the hanging gardens. One bare leg peeking out of the elongated petals, smiles gracing joyful faces. Children laughed as the sunburned and the breeze swayed, around their mother’s gowns.
The men stood tall and proud, watching with smiling eyes as the woman hauled water and caught fish in the shallow waters of the pearlescent shores. Blood had not yet been spilled and the water was still a crystalline turquoise blue, the color of the nation’s flower, the Misteen orchid.
My lover at the time was a tall but skinny, muscular fisherman, whose smile would light up the oceans when the clouds were stormy and grey. We met in a small hut, one evening when a storm was blowing a gale and the seas were too rough for sailing. He pulled up a chair next to mine and dumped a string of small silver fish onto the table, grinning as if the world wasn’t about to turn to shit.
I was watching him as he came in the door, from under my eyelashes, admiring his strong arms and eyes, oh those eyes, they captured the woods in a sparkling burnt sienna and shone with a vibrancy that rivaled the sunlight when the dawn reached in through the forest. His skin was black as midnight, sleek and smooth.
As he looked at me, I blushed and couldn’t help but smile back at him. He winked and said in a cheeky voice ‘Twenty passes for the fish’.
I laughed and said, ‘I’ll take the fish, but I’d much rather have you’.
The fisherman’s eyes went wide and then narrowed as he said quietly ‘You must be careful, fool. The islands aren’t a place for us of that.’ But he chuckled anyway and said loudly in a thick accent, ‘The foreigner likes the look of our fish! The storm will give us some bounty yet!’ to the appreciation of the fellow patrons, sitting out the bad weather.
Turning back to me, he said ‘So, we feast! I will show you how we cook on Doury-min, foreigner. Come! Come!’ as he gestured towards the beach.
And that was how it began. Two weeks of fishing, eating and making love under the roof of a palm leaf hut. Always keeping quiet, when the night hour grew late and laughing so much the heavens themselves could surely feel our joy. When it was time to leave, it was with great sadness, but the fisherman only smiled and said ‘We will meet again foreigner. Under the stars of the Misteen, if the sea spirits will it and with the moonshine as our guide’. He kissed me deeply, inside my humble lodgings, before I headed down to the port, where a ship would take me home.