Conversation to clarity
It didn’t start with a brand problem. It began with a quieter frustration.
Harry had returned to the family farm after years working in some of London’s most revered kitchens. The Dairy. St John. Places where restraint matters, where flavour derives from care rather than complication. Back home, his intent was to bake bread, host feasts, and prepare food that felt rooted in the land around him. What he didn’t yet have was the language to describe what this new venture truly was - or how to let it grow without losing its soul.
There was a risk in trying to “build a brand” at all. Too much polish would flatten it. Too much storytelling would distract from the food. The unspoken, yet present, assumption was that momentum would come from adding more: explanation, identity, noise.
Our early conversations slowed that instinct.
We spent a day together on the farm, walking the fields and hedgerows, talking as much about weather, soil, and seasons as about menus or plans. Harry discussed the rhythm of the place, the patience he’d learned in professional kitchens, and the relief of returning to something more direct. Time and again, the conversation returned to one point: good food doesn’t need embellishment. It requires attention.
Bread became the anchor for this thinking. Not as a product, but as a principle.
At its best, bread is almost disarmingly simple. Flour. Water. Salt. Time. No place to hide. No tricks. Just the quality of ingredients and the care of the baker. In exploring this, something shifted. The question ceased being “how do we express everything Harry does?” and became “what if we strip it back to what really matters?”
That reframing transformed the work's energy.
Simplicity was no constraint; it was a liberation. It offered confidence without loudness, distinction without trying to stand out. The countryside, foraging, and feasting - these weren’t add-ons for the brand. They were already part of how Harry worked and lived. Our role was to notice that, reflect it back, and shield it from unnecessary complexity.
As clarity emerged, momentum followed naturally. Decisions became easier. The tone of voice grew quieter and more assured. The visual identity followed suit: honest, unfussy, grounded. Nothing more than necessary. Nothing missing either.
What made this project special wasn’t a clever idea or a dramatic transformation. It was the shared realisation that the strongest direction was already there, waiting to be named. Working with passionate, talented people is always a privilege. When they are kind-hearted and receptive, something else happens - the work becomes less about construction and more about recognition.
Shepherds Corner Bakery didn’t need inventing. It needed understanding.
Project deliverables
Brand & Design Strategy, Identity design, Website design & build.