The centerpiece is a set of vector self-portraits, one for each thing I do: designer me, developer me, DM me, and so on. Drawing yourself six times is a little uncomfortable, but it makes the site feel like mine instead of a template.

The logo is two code carets (< >) that rotate around each other to form an S or an N. It's a nod to the dev side of what I do, and because it's just two simple shapes, it animates well: as you scroll, it flips between the letterforms.

Bold colors, geometric shapes, a slightly cartoonish style. A lot of portfolio sites aim for sleek and end up feeling like nobody lives there. I went the other way.

Every section gets its own color and the whole interface shifts with it, so you always know which Nathan you're talking to. The blues, purples, oranges, and pinks are louder than they strictly need to be. That's on purpose.

The first logo was silhouette portraits of the founding duo, back when Wake Up John was just the two of us.

When we grew into a quartet, the silhouettes stopped making sense. The alarm clock was the obvious fit for the name, and it holds up at any size: album covers, posters, stickers.

The current version makes room for the full band name and still works everywhere we've needed to put it.

The Fugitive Closure art is built around a photo of Pulpit Rock: one small figure, a lot of sky. It matched where the songs were pointed.

Steel City ran a community contest for a new logo, so I sent in a pile of concepts.

Each one takes a different angle on the same three ingredients: coffee, live music, and the building's steel-town history.

An ongoing series where I strip a game down to as few shapes as possible. If it still reads instantly, it stays. If it needs a caption, it goes back on the bench.

The fun part is figuring out what actually makes a game recognizable. Sometimes it's a character. Sometimes it's just a color and a shape.

I DMed this campaign for two years, so by the end I knew these characters better than their players did. The portraits were a thank-you to the table.

Everyone gets the same minimal treatment — a silhouette and a palette — so each character reads as an individual but the party hangs together as a set.