For anything people fall for.

For drinks in cans.

An empty charcoal-grey studio under one long soft light, a dark oval on its floorA bone-white can named LOPE standing on the threshold of a dark room under one light; the hare cut as a wood engraving on its label has noticed the lamp: ears up, head lifted

Not a label. A living brand.

For hot sauce makers.

Five hot sauce bottles with drawn faces standing at rest on a low stage in a dark blue club at night, a spotlight pooled on the brick wall behind them, their shadows thrown up the wall: smug, twitchy, sweaty, crying, and the fifth torn in three, laughing

Your sauce, tasted before it’s opened.

For sour candy makers.

A stand-up pouch of sour gummies cut from paper, CLIFFHANGER in yellow on deep violet, a rainbow candy-belt rollercoaster printed on it with a car of four riders, arms up, held at the very top before the drop; it stands up out of a hole cut into the white page, the hole’s sides stepping down in sheets of yellow paper, on a hill of stacked white paper sheets, five sugared green apple rings spilled down the slope

Your sour, felt before a word.

Every brand here is mine, made to show you — nobody’s client.

Not one of these? Send it anyway — you’ll still hear what I see.

No price list. Every brand gets its own offer, with its exact price, before you pay anything.

Say yes, and you pay half. You see it once, finished, on the date in your offer. The other half only when you love it. I don’t stop until you do, and if I can’t get you there, every cent goes back.

Send me your brand.

If I love it, within a week you’ll see what I see in your brand, made, with your offer. It costs nothing and commits you to nothing.

Show meHire

I build one brand at a time. Next opening: December.