For some time now I’ve been working on a certain concept that is slowly taking on shape, character, and a rhythm of its own. It is still at a stage where more things remain open than resolved — and that is a good thing, because that is exactly what the beginning of something alive looks like. There is still a lot to figure out: the characters, their proportions, their relationships, the setting, the tone of the whole story, and in time probably even the final form in which all of this will eventually come together. But before moving further, the first things have to be settled first.
One of them was the name.
For quite a while I was circling around different versions: more literal ones, softer ones, more stylized ones, more “foreign-sounding” ones, shorter ones, longer ones, versions that looked better written down, and others that perhaps sounded better when spoken aloud. There were quite a few of them — Ubożyki, Ubozhiks, Ubozhik, some in-between forms, simplifications, abbreviations, more folkloric versions and more brand-like ones. As always with things like this, at first you try to hold everything at once, and then eventually return to what is simplest.
And that is exactly why, at least for the time being, I’m settling on the name Ubože.
This is not a random choice, nor some kind of “temporary temporary” solution, but rather a conscious closing of a certain stage. As of now, this is the version that feels most honest to the whole thing. The shortest one, the clearest one, and one that still leaves some space instead of explaining everything all at once. Visually, it carries something familiar — it can easily evoke “uboże” — and at the same time, through the use of ž, it gains a slight foreign accent, a subtle shift, something a little older, a little stranger, yet still soft. And that tension feels exactly right to me.
For a project connected to little beings, fable-like atmosphere, humor, and a strong sense of form, the name itself cannot be too heavy. It also cannot be overly complicated. I wanted something easy to remember, something that works well as a mark, something I can draw, rearrange, test in different variations, and something that already carries a certain rhythm within it. Something that does not fall apart after the first use and does not require an explanation every single time of how it is supposed to be read.
Looking through the successive letter sketches and name variations, it became increasingly clear to me that the longer forms have their charm, but they are also heavier, more angular, and less flexible. They might work better as an extended form, a subtitle, a collective name, or something more deeply rooted within the world itself. But Ubože works immediately. It has a simple weight to it. It is compact. It sits well on the page. It can be stylized without losing readability. And more importantly, it makes it possible to build a visual language around it without constantly overcomplicating the matter.
So yes: for now, Ubože is the name I consider the final version for this stage of the work.
No doubt things will still shift, transform, or reveal more of themselves along the way, because a process like this is never completely linear. But sometimes it is good to place a period, even if only for a while, in order to keep moving forward.
And this is where that period has been placed.
The rest will reveal itself slowly.