Socially engaged artists see the world as a draft — never finished, always open to revision. They circle what's broken, draw lines between what's disconnected, and mark up the margins with new possibilities. Their practice is an act of editing: not erasing what exists, but questioning it, reworking it, and imagining what it could become.

From the draft, we extract its marks — the underline, the loop, the connecting line. These are the symbols of collaboration: signs that ideas have been shared, challenged, and carried forward through communication and iteration.

The illustrations are hand-drawn and organic — imperfect by intention. Inspired by cut-outs and artist-made marks, they carry the texture of a human hand, reflecting A Blade of Grass's commitment to original, artist-centered storytelling.

These forms work in two ways: as shapes layered over images, and as windows cut into them — a lens through which the world is seen from the artist's perspective. Paired with natural textures drawn from landscapes, soil, and growth, the imagery grounds abstract concepts — community, challenge, sustainability — in the physical and the felt.

The Landscapes wordmark is assembled from multiple typefaces — each letter drawn from a different source, collaged together to form something new. The result feels crafted rather than constructed: organic, imperfect, and distinctly human.

Two typefaces anchor the system: Editorial New for editorial weight and presence, Neue Montreal for clarity and legibility in body text. Together they balance expression with accessibility.

The color palette is rooted in nature — green as the grass A Blade of Grass is named for, blue for sky, pink for the human presence. Gradients extend the palette, allowing colors to shift and blend across contexts.