These are the marks I've been sketching for myself over the last little while — a bunch of different answers to the same question. I figured I'd just open the notebook and let you flip through it.
This one's the favicon I actually ship. Five tiles on a small grid — a blue and a green square up top, a yellow sun tucked in the corner, a purple core floating in the middle, and an orange brick holding the base. I wanted something that reads even when it's the tiniest thing on your screen.
This is the one the site actually wears day to day. I grabbed the five Bauhaus primaries and gave every letter of my name its own shape — they line up next to each other like a Dessau poster someone pinned to a wall. Feels a little bit 1926, a little bit right now.
The wordmark dressed up like an actual sticker — fat serif letters in ink black, wrapped in a thick white outline with a soft shadow behind it. The kind of thing I'd slap on a laptop lid without thinking twice.
In tennis, the T is the spot where the service line meets the centre line — the exact point every serve aims for. My name happens to start with the same letter, so I just framed it: horizontal bar, vertical bar, yellow ball sitting right at the junction. It's probably my favorite of the bunch.
Same idea as the T but I collapsed it all into a single shape — one path, no gaps, no ball. I wanted something that reads like a big keyboard key you can't miss, the kind of mark that holds up even when it's tiny.
Two circles, offset by half a radius. Where they overlap, you get a copper crescent for free. I liked that I could do this much with just two shapes — it feels like it's doing more work than it actually is.
A square creased along the diagonal into two triangles, with one thin line down the middle. It has that origami feel I keep coming back to — nothing fussy, just a clean crease.
An oval, a thin line, and a single yellow dot sitting on the sweet spot. Look at it for a second and you'll see a lowercase t — the crossbar doubles as the racket head. That little trick is the whole reason I drew it.
The whole tennis court seen from above, reduced to the smallest number of lines that still reads as a court. The ball sits on the T, right where it belongs. It's closer to a diagram than a logo, and honestly that's the whole point.
A yellow ball about to kiss the top of the T, with two faint dots trailing behind to show it's falling. I wanted to catch the frame right before contact — motion that's been paused on purpose.
A lowercase t built out of seven rows of pixels, with a blinking cursor hanging next to it. This one's a nod to the side of me that likes to build things in a terminal — and it happens to collapse perfectly into a 16×16 favicon.
Just a dot — that's it. It's the period from thien.me, blown up to monumental scale. Probably the most reduced I could make a mark and still have it feel unmistakably mine.
A tight diamond mesh tucked inside a perfect square. It's got tennis in its DNA without needing a racket or a ball to say so — I like that it can be a logo, a pattern, or a background depending on where I drop it.