I have been thinking about my design style lately.
Not just what I like visually, but the style that has followed me for most of my creative life. The one that shows up whether I am designing a website, building a brand, making art, decorating a space, or even getting dressed in the morning.
I call it Corporate Grunge.
I came up with that phrase sometime in the late 90s or early 2000s. At least, that is when I remember using it to describe the work I liked making.
Corporate Grunge sounds a bit from the 90's era, but it makes sense to me.
At its core, it starts with structure.
Clean layouts. Clear grids. Intentional spacing. Strong alignment. Design that feels organized and purposeful.
In the art world, I think of someone like Mondrian. Not because I am trying to mimic that exact style, but because of the balance. The restraint. The idea that everything has a place, and that even simple shapes can create tension, rhythm, and order.
That is the corporate part.
Not corporate as in cold, generic, or lifeless. Corporate as in disciplined. Professional. Built on a solid foundation. Something that can hold up.
But that has never felt like enough on its own.
A clean grid without personality can feel sterile. A perfect layout can still feel dead. A well-structured design still needs signs of life.
That is where the grunge comes in.
For me, that means layering in pieces of the real world. Texture. Imperfection. Coffee stains. Paint splashes. Old wood. Scratches. Weathered edges. Faded images. Things that feel used, handled, worn, and remembered.
It is not mess for the sake of mess.
It is personality added with purpose.
The clean structure gives the design its bones. The grunge gives it a pulse.
That balance has always appealed to me.
I like when something feels professional, but not polished to the point where it loses its humanity. I like design that can sit in a boardroom, but still have dirt under its fingernails.
I think that is probably why this style has stuck with me for so long. It reflects the tension I have always felt between wanting to be taken seriously and wanting to remain myself.
For many of the first 15 or so years after starting Werkbot, I wore suits and ties. That felt like what I was supposed to do. I was a business owner. I met with clients. I wanted people to see me as professional.
But I was never fully comfortable in it.
The suit part made sense. The tie did not. The version of me that loved art, history, old textures, worn-in objects, and weird creative details always felt like it was being hidden under the outfit.
Over time, I started finding ways to mix more of myself into how I dressed.
Still professional, but less forced.
Simple pieces. Better textures. Things that felt clean, but not stiff. A little more natural. A little more worn in. A little more me.
In a way, that is Corporate Grunge too.
It is structure with personality.
It is order with evidence of life.
It is a clean foundation with a few scuffs, stains, and stories layered on top.
I have some older digital art that fits this style really well. I plan to dig through old files and attach a few examples to this post when I find them. I am curious to see how much of that early work still feels connected to what I make now.
My tools have changed. My work has changed. My role has changed.
But I think the style is still there.
Clean foundation. Strong structure. A little nostalgia. A little grit. A little spilled coffee.
Corporate Grunge.
That might be the design style that defines me.