SLUG

I. VOICE COMPOSTING

the language of branding has become gibberish. garlands of words with no meaning, composed by robots with no minds, consumed by people with no time to question it. slug composts the corporate crust & waits for something living to grow. 

this might look like:

— a name that fits when you wear it
— a tone that sounds like the voice inside your head
— a manifesto for your cause or your kin
— a brand story that is a story & not 3 sales strategies in a trench coat

II. TEXT TENDING

we tend to your text like it’s a garden. some parts get watered. others cut back. a few left wild on purpose. you’re already saying something real. we help it reach the light. 


this might look like: 


— a careful proofread of your exhibition text 
— structural notes on your grief essay or artist bio
— edits on a grant application, a letter, a love note
— translation that keeps the breath in the lines

III. TRAIL MAPPING

you come tangled. we sit. we speak. we watch the thing move or not move. we feel where it wants to stretch, or shrink, or melt. slug is never rigid. it shapeshifts. it feels its way thru mess. it sees you mid-slime and thinks you’ve never looked better.

this might look like:

— a gentle re-alignment of your voice or offering
— language for the thing still sliding into form
— a plan for your season ahead
— a generative workshop to melt your writer’s block

IV. OTHERING

if you’re making something slow, strange, tender, quiet, queer, or community-oriented — write to us. we love drifting into unexpected & meaningful work.

this might look like:

— a name for your new drag persona
— copy for a gofundme page
— a love letter to your collective
— words for a ritual or a gathering or a zine