The brands we know today carry a deep historical background, shaped by multiple origins and transformations. Each era imposed its own limitations: available materials, reproduction techniques, or the technology of the time determined their form and reach.
And yet, brands emerged and evolved as responses to profound human needs, adapting to the cultural contexts that gave them meaning. There is a natural human impulse to communicate what we do and how we do it—and it’s vital to reflect on this, so we don’t get stuck on the surface of representation.
Perhaps, when we see a corporate mark on a building today, we don’t pause to notice its parallel with a cross, a crescent moon, or a Dharmachakra on a temple wall. Or with a flag flying above a palace.
And when we check the origin of a product in a supermarket, we don’t think of the Phoenicians and their need to mark their jars to indicate the place of origin.
Brands today serve functions that suit our current needs—but they stem from the same urges that have guided humanity for millennia.
What’s striking is that we often fall into the pragmatism of what a brand “must be,” and we continue to design logos with constraints inherited from centuries—or even just a few decades—ago. Some of us working designers (myself included), and those who’ve taught this craft to today’s generation, still impose technical and conceptual limitations that deserve to be rethought—or scrapped altogether.
If we were to give ourselves a mental prompt, it shouldn’t be:
“Design a brand for a company that makes…”
It should be:
“Understand what the company does, the context in which it lives, and how it can attract attention, connect, and explain itself in the most effective way. Then, create a graphic language that expresses it best.”
The pendulum of technology and information is swinging wildly toward a world of saturation and chaos. It’s easy to react to trends and adopt styles that neither fit us nor set us apart.
That’s where a new prompt becomes relevant:
“How would a Phoenician mark their jar if they were selling it today?”
Maybe—as designers and entrepreneurs—we’d arrive at the same conclusion. But I bet that just by imagining it, we could reach ideas we’d never have considered in the rush of daily work.
By contrasting today’s tools for transmitting information with the original needs behind marks carved into walls, rings, or skin, we might glimpse a new landscape—one where identities can be recognized in ways that were unimaginable yesterday, and where we can lay down new foundations for tomorrow.