After I decided to open my business, I knew that I would need a name. I didn’t want it to contain my personal name because I didn’t know what my little venture would become and I didn’t want to have the business solely defined by little ole me.
After some thought, I chose to focus on the eye since so much of design is visual. I brainstormed exhaustively, literally conjuring names in my sleep. I did a mind mapping exercise, listing parts of the eye, gestures, etc. and the word wink appeared. It felt right for reasons I will share in a moment. I then researched various configurations of wink with other words for a domain name. studiowink.com was available. I snatched it.
When the word wink appeared in my brain I felt a tiny Tetris piece come together in the puzzle of my dream. It felt appropriate, memorable, and personal all at once. The word wink was close to ink and inc. which mixed the history of design with the need of business. It fulfilled my requirement of having something to do with the eye. And it communicated something beyond the literal. Winks are a shared gesture that dependent on context can mean many things like a flirt or a nod or an acceptance. I liked that it had many levels.
And it had a special layer of meaning for me. Several years before I opened the studio, I lost my paternal grandfather, Jean Goulet to an aneurism. He was an eternal joker. I grew up with him spinning grand tales that each ended with a wink. We never knew what was true and what wasn’t until Grandpa punctuated the story with his signature wink. It was our cue that we’d just been had. In many ways, the naming of my studio is a dedication to my grandfather who made my life worth smiling about. My goal is to do the same with the work I do for my clients: tell people a good story, allow others to participate, and leave people with something memorable—hopefully a smile.