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After eleven years and more than 140 projects, my process has become shorter, not longer. Clients rarely ask how good the work will be. They ask what happens next, and when. So here is the whole thing, stage by stage, as I run it from my desk in Lisbon.
Week one: the brief, written back
Every project starts with a call, and every call ends with me writing the brief back in my own words. One page: what the business does, who it is for, what has to change, what must not change, and what done looks like. The client corrects it, and we both sign it off.
If we can’t agree on one page, we will not agree on forty. The written brief is also what I hold every later decision against, including my own.
Research that ends on a wall
I collect what the brand already has, what its neighbours on the shelf look like, and the places the identity will have to live: a label, an invoice, a delivery van, a phone screen. It all goes on one wall, printed. The useful output is not a mood board. It is a short list of things we will avoid, because everyone else in the category already does them.
Two directions, not five
Five directions are a way to postpone a decision. I present two, and each one is complete enough to judge: a mark, a type pairing, a colour range, and three real applications. Never a logo floating on a white page. A direction only counts if it holds up on the most ordinary thing the client prints.
A direction you can’t put on a real envelope is not a direction yet. It is a picture of one.
The client picks one, or asks for a piece of the other inside it. That is fine. Merging two whole directions is not, and I say so in the first meeting so it never becomes a surprise.
Refinement in rounds you can count
There are two rounds of refinement, and each one starts from a single consolidated list of feedback. One list, from the one person who decides. When five people send notes separately, the notes contradict each other and the round turns into a negotiation instead of design work.
Each round ends with a short written summary: what changed, what didn’t, and why. It takes twenty minutes to write and saves a week of “I thought we agreed”.
Proofs before files
Nothing ships until I have seen it in its final material. For Werrin Paper, the envelope range had to carry six product lines in two inks. The screen version looked right. The first proof on kraft stock did not: the vermilion went dull and brown where the paper soaked it up. We moved to a slightly cooler red and a heavier ink density, proofed again, and only then released the files.

Screens get the same treatment. I check every web asset on an inexpensive phone in daylight, because that is where most people will meet the brand.
Final files and a short guide
The handover is plain on purpose. Everything is named the same way, sorted the same way, and explained in a guide short enough that someone will read it. Mine usually run to twelve pages. The final folder holds:
- the mark in every colour version, as vector artwork and as high-resolution images
- the colour values for print, screen, and paint, checked against the proofs
- the type files or licence details, with the sizes and spacing we agreed on
- ready-to-edit files for the three items the client makes most often
- the twelve-page guide, as a PDF and as a printed copy
Then I stay on call for a month. Most questions arrive in week two, when someone tries to make a sign or a social post for the first time. Answering them quickly is part of the project, not a favour.

Written by
Hugo Merrin
Independent brand designer and art director
Hugo designs identities, packaging, and print for small makers from a studio in Lisbon. Eleven years in, every project still starts with a pencil and a printed proof. He writes here about process, pricing, and the craft behind each job.







