03 Jun Our Labels Explained: Part One
Our labels have always been a source of conversation. Every time I pull out a bottle of Liba Spirits someone inevitably asks me about the story behind them, which is more involved than you might think.
I recently read something that said most people make the decision of whether to buy a particular product on the shelf or not in roughly two seconds. The implication being that, as a brand, your product needs to communicate its worth in that short amount of time via its packaging. Can you imagine? I’ve never been much good with brevity, so let’s take an in depth look at Liba’s labels and design.
This is an obvious statement but one I feel compelled to make here: A lot of thought went into the packaging of our brand. For some reason, I was set from the start on having three quarter wrap around labels. I never l seriously considered anything else. All of our early mockups had a three quarter wrap around label, including the ones that I made (poorly) on Photoshop. Remi & Ovejo, the duo who turned our rough sketches into the final product that adorns each bottle, sent us some ideas that did not involve the three-quarter when we first began our exploratory phase with them, and though they were cool designs, I couldn’t get this rough shape and concept out of my head. Eventually I shared my rudimentary label with them and it sent us down the path toward our final design.
The central element of our labels is the piece of original artwork featured prominently on the front, which was always intended to be there. I don’t remember when I first saw them, but a series of labels created by Chateau Mouton Rothschild, producers of premiere cru Bordeaux in France for over a century, had always stuck with me. The artist series started officially in 1945 and lasted until the 2010s. Each vintage released by Mouton Rothschild bore a new piece of art at the top of the label. Contributing artists included Joan Miro, Keith Haring, and a personal favorite of mine, Salvador Dali, among a very long list of others. (Side note: if you ever find yourself in St. Petersburg, FL, my hometown, the one recommendation I have is that you visit the Dali Museum. It always had an extensive collection of Dali’s art when I was growing up—the two people who began the collection were fans of his work and ultimately friends with Dali—but a while back they built a new structure to house the collection, and this building is nothing short of magnificent.) The full catalogue of Mouton Rothschild artist labels can be found online and I would urge anyone who’s even slightly curious to check them out.
It wasn’t the first or last time that I had seen art used on a label, but something about the way that Mouton Rothschild deployed the art scratched my brain in a good way. I liked the consistency of the other parts of the label, that the area providing information about the wine to which it was affixed would stay more or less the same, save for a couple of modernizing tweaks over the years. It provided a through line that consumers could grab onto, something they could look for in future releases.
That concept lay dormant in the back of my mind for years until we started planning the labels for Liba. By working with Remi & Oveja we were able to take this concept and apply our unique spin, making it, in my opinion, a true representation of our company.
Each bottle features a different original piece of art, which is highlighted on the front of the label. Whenever we go somewhere to distill, I find an artist locally and we commission something from them. Our perameters are pretty fluid—I’ve already contacted them because we like their style, so I don’t want to infringe on their creativity much more than that. The only request we’ve made in the past is that the art be reflective of the place where it was created, much in the same way that our spirits are tied so heavily to where they were made.
The artwork featured on our first label, 1643 Alpine Gin, came from Hans Salcher, a well-known painter and author who lives in Lienz and is heavily influenced by the region’s beautiful peaks and mountain ranges. We were put in touch with Hans by Florian, one of the brothers currently running Kuenz Naturbrennerei; he said that Hans was one of the best-known artists in East Tyrol besides the man who did the artwork for Redbull. We were invited to visit Hans’ studio, which was in a brilliant little green building; inside the small room every wall and surface was covered in layers of his work. Laid out among prints of similar sizes were about ten different paintings that he had made for us, each featuring a design that exemplified Hans’ classic style, which is very graphic and simple, with thick black lines and pops of red or yellow amongst the copious white space. We looked at the different paintings, and from them all Colton and I chose the one that we liked the best.
Since seeing it on the label, many people have commented that the style of the 1643 piece looks Japanese. I can see the reference, but I also think it’s an accurate representation of not only Hans’ point of view but the sensibilities of the people who live in Lienz and that part of Austria where we made our gin. The locals we met seemed to prioritize function and simplicity, ensuring that their surroundings not only looked good but would serve them throughout their day-to-day lives. Like Florian’s new house, where he and his wife Joanna kindly allowed us to stay: its design would be called simple or clean by just about anyone who saw it, but the structure was also outfitted with all sorts of functional pieces, like the bread slicer that folded down and was able to be stored in a drawer in the kitchen. So much of the beauty of this home seemed derived from that functional simplicity.
Unadorned as it was, this house was still very attractive because a great deal of thought had been put into details like the pitch of the roof or the exact dimension of the staircase. A kind of minimalism that doesn’t feel incomplete. I’m the type of person who likes to put a hat on a hat, especially when it comes to aesthetic, but I loved Hans’ work from the moment I stepped into that busy studio, and to us the artwork on 1643’s bottle is quintessentially Austrian, reflective of the culture that exists in that area.
After we’d gotten the first piece of art (and the first distillation run) completed, Oveja & Remi helped us shape the rest of the label. They came up with the tag that sits at the front right corner of the label, which features the name of the product and the location where it was made, and I think does offer a taste of the adventurous aspect of our business. They are also responsible for the curved line at the part of the label where the back panel starts, separating the area where the bulk of our product information lives from the artwork. This small design feature was an instant favorite of mine, and I try to bring it into different elements of Liba’s branding.
Perhaps we could have embraced a more obvious connection to travel and adventure (I’m talking a label with a background that looks like a map and all the information designed to resemble a boarding pass—can’t you just see it now?), but I actually like that we aren’t hitting you over the head with it. There is a deeper level to the labels that, once understood, connects any consumer with the story that we’re trying to tell. And I like that our labels tap into the local art scene, as that has always been one of the most appealing parts of travel for me. It’s tough to say that we nailed it with our packaging—these things are pretty subjective—but we think it’s striking, and I haven’t tired of looking at it yet.
Keep an eye out for part two, where I talk in more detail about our second label and we hear from the artist who contributed the piece.