A brand for the brave ones

One thing has become clearer and clearer to me over the last several years: I needed to be the main character of my own story. Not the supporting best friend, not the sidekick, not the person dialed when there was a crisis because, inevitably, I would have a plan. Not a work wife, not a work mom. Not a director or a VP. All things I’ve been. All things I’ve been referred to.

There was a simmering beneath the surface, threatening to boil over if I didn’t remove it from the heat. A realization that, if I didn’t do this now on my terms, the shadow parts of me, fed up with being shoved down to feel small so others could shine brighter, would take action however they needed to. Likely, a hostile takeover.

What it is I’ve wanted to do and what it is I’ve needed to do have been at war with each other. I had to pick a side. After rumination, self-reflection, and a whole lot of journaling, I rediscovered the integral parts of me that longed for autonomy, agency, creativity, and most of all, a desire to be seen for exactly who I am. The good, the bad, the honest, the annoying. All of it. I needed to cast the curtain aside, to tell those fearful, whispering voices to, respectfully, shut the fuck up.

For the better part of a decade, people have trusted me with their branding. Beyond that, I’ve been trusted to help build brands into successful companies. So why, WHY, was I not applying the same trust others had in me to my own ventures? Why wasn’t I leveraging the skills I’d acquired to flesh out my own vision?

Because of that worrisome voice in my head that had kept me safe my whole life. The voice that told me “shhhh, just stay here, stay small.” Support. Aid. Help. Counsel. Advise. Wholesale some of your best ideas to be taken, often without credit, sometimes stolen and repackaged as someone else’s idea right in front of your eyes, to a company that isn’t yours. 

A lot of us do this. We work for others. We see value in a company’s vision. Or we just need the money, the reliable paycheck, two weeks vacation, maybe health benefits. 

And yet. 

The artistic storyteller who is foundational to who I am, wouldn’t stand living in the dark much longer. 

I knew I needed to get back to who I was. Immediately. I couldn’t wait a second longer than I already had, no more delays, no more excuses. I needed a banner to carry into my new life. A signet to stamp on my work. Something that echoed this deep yearning in my soul. A yearning not just for creativity, but my belief that, as a species, we needed to get back to who we used to be. Not-screen addicted swipers, pinchers and scrollers with hunchbacks and anxiety fueled by dopamine depletion. No. Poets, artists, storytellers, warriors, adventurers. Craftsmen, artisans. Peddlers of fine things. Stargazers and dreamers.

Ergo I needed something with magic. Something ancient. Primal.

The word association games commenced. I’d bandy about ideas in my mind on my morning walks. But nothing was hitting. Nothing ensnared my senses. Further, most of the magical ideas were already in use. I needed something that was mine. Or to reclaim and empower a term from a time long gone by.

Several years ago the word “thornback” trended on Twitter. Someone had rediscovered it. It was a term used long ago to describe an unmarried women past her prime (her twenties, but okay). And, almost unanimously, the women who tweeted about it seemed to agree: that’s… fucking badass. “Thornback” brought to mind something mysteriously dangerous. Not to be trifled with. But fundamentally, a “thornback” woman is one who bucks the norms. Who walks her own path. Mocked for choosing to live on her own terms. And does it anyway.

Had anyone taken the name for themselves? Had “thornback” been reclaimed, empowered to take on a new meaning, to be a signet? I couldn’t find it. All I saw on my search were articles discussing what the term had meant, and how it had trended on and off on social media.

That’s when the vision came. The logotype. A young woman with a knowing smirk, her eyes shaded by a cowl drawn over her head, the night sky above her. She held a secret inside that was only hers. She walked proudly. No shame. No regrets. Judge her if you wanted to, she didn’t care. She had shit to do.

I wanted the image to be light on dark. That if needed, it could be made into a signet ring and stamped into a thick wax that sealed a parchment envelope, containing secrets. 

It was perfect. It had the magic. The allure. The ancient, powerful feminine energy. Further, it would turn away the wrong people, and draw in the right ones.

Thornback Creative was born. I bought the domain without a second thought. I sourced images online, sketched out concepts by hand, then vectored it on my computer. Adding, removing, tweaking. Drawing on, pulling at Bézier curves, combining shapes. A few tugs of her smirk to make her the person I ultimately wanted to be, representative of the kind of people I wanted to work with.

Bold. Decisive. A little bit witchy.

I wanted every other element of the brand to feel handmade. An homage to our fundamentals: storytelling. Texture. Grounded elements that could be made special with human imagination. I weaved magical language throughout the website. Words like “summon” and “conjure,” with my work being referred to as “spell work” that “channeled” certain energies. Everything was deliberate.

I abhor corporate structure and the language it uses to prop itself up. So I issued a buyer beware, not once, but many times throughout. This isn’t an agency for everyone. I don’t want clients obsessed with circling back, jumping on calls, synergy, KPIs, corporate retreats, or brainstorming meetings so bad that snacks are required to quiet the grumblings of its attendants who are only there because they have to be. 

It is instead an agency for leaders who understand that if a brand has the fundamentals of story, if it can carry its voice with strength, confidence, fire and truth to its people, the rest falls into place. 

Thornback Creative is for people who, like me, are ready to run out front. They’re ready, finally, to take their own ideas for themselves. To step into their power, to claim what was always theirs, and to channel that power into their dream life. 

Yes, I made this brand for me. It represents me, who I am now. But it is also a beacon to the countless closeted adventurers who have, for too long, made themselves small in order to fit. They’ve dimmed their light so others could shine brighter. Because small is safe. And dull is unseen. There is safety there, sure. But not fulfillment. 

We do not dim lights at Thornback. Instead, we douse the light with propellant and dance wildly around the fire. We celebrate the beautifully imperfect. We honor the timid first steps as we wade into new territory. And then we run out front, headfirst into lives entirely of our creation.

Convention be damned. Let’s craft something extraordinary that burns bright.