Mise — studio mark

Designing systematic and visual solutions to complex concepts.

01What is this?

A studio, then.

Q1

What is Mise?

As in mise-en-scène — everything in its place, seen together. The mark on the door is the studio’s signature, and this page is the studio, becoming: personal projects built by hand, commercial work made with the same care, and a small set of services, all in one frame. Behind it, for now: one person, Kim Feldmann.

Q2

Why does it look unfinished?

Because it is. It ships before it is perfect and improves in public. A page that is never embarrassed of itself never changes.

Q3

Can you click on anything?

Yes. Not everything does something yet — that is what “in progress” means.

Fig. 02 — a helpful chart

CURIOUS? YES NO KEEP SCROLLING KEEP SCROLLING
02Projects

Built by hand.

Personal projects — designed, built and maintained by me, not pitched or imagined. Click a row to open it; each one introduces itself by the question it asks.

remember: you’re already travelling to your destination

03Commissions

Made for others.

Alongside the projects above, there is the work made for others: a decade of writing — surf and marine journalism, essays, editing, ghostwriting — and, more recently, content and design for an outdoor brand. It funds the building and it sharpens the craft. The philosophy never changes with the client: care about the work, and the people it is for.

Ghostwriting

Editing

The most recently edited books will sit here, once their covers arrive.

04Services

What I can do for you.

The same care that builds the projects above, offered to other people. No jargon, no dark patterns, no rush — things made properly, on human terms.

MAPSof real places, drawn toward better futures.
SYSTEMSmade clear enough that people actually use them.
WORDSwritten, edited, or rescued.

Honest timelines, human replies. The email below works.

05Contact

Say hello.

Changelog — this page improves in public

  • v0.13 · 5 Nov 2026 — the door went central: the ring stepped out entirely, the mark and its glow now meet you in the middle of the screen, and the sentence sits beneath them, centred — one still point to enter by.
  • v0.12 · 3 Nov 2026 — the door found its composition: the ring's centre now rests on the grid's eleventh line, the sentence's right edge meets it there, and the mark leans against a soft sphere cut from the same colours — three pieces, one diagonal.
  • v0.11 · 3 Nov 2026 — the door said even less: label, figure note, cue and aside all stepped aside; the one sentence moved beneath the ring, just off-centre; the mark grew a little larger.
  • v0.10 · 3 Nov 2026 — the door went quiet on purpose: the logo, one sentence and the field do the talking; the explanation moved into section 01; the code now wears the real logo.png; and Commission grew an s.
  • v0.9 · 3 Nov 2026 — the door learned to size the real logo exactly as it sized the sketch: swapping the file in is now one line, with no measuring tape required.
  • v0.8 · 3 Nov 2026 — the wordmark stepped aside and the mark took the door: the logo now opens the page at full size, the ring behind it left empty on purpose, and the note beneath names it for anyone who wonders.
  • v0.7 · 3 Nov 2026 — the studio took the door: “Mise.” is the first word now, the mark stands tall beside it, and the person behind it moved to the small print.
  • v0.6 · 3 Nov 2026 — the page took the studio name: Mise, as in mise-en-scène. A working logo — a faithful sketch, not the final cut — now hangs by the door, and the studio signs the footer.
  • v0.5 · 3 Nov 2026 — Commission and Services parted ways, politely; the “10” retired; EuroTech moved in, live; the circles admitted they don’t spin and became other shapes; the page finally called itself a portfolio.
  • v0.4 · 3 Nov 2026 — the shelf put on its real covers; the constellation lines brightened a touch; a whisper began to glow; a small kinetic toy moved in; the sections stopped calling the present “the future”.
  • v0.3 · 3 Nov 2026 — the glyphs learned to hold hands; the sprinkles multiplied; a shelf appeared for the books. Placeholders still honest.
  • v0.2 · 3 Nov 2026 — the lights went off; the grid went invisible; the symmetry broke on purpose. One dot is still gold.
  • v0.1 · 3 Nov 2026 — the page exists. Everything is a placeholder, including this sentence.