Korobač Kamnik

I ran into Grega and Tomaž at Dnevi narodnih noš in 2017, the traditional costume festival in Kamnik. The old town was full of people, brass bands and beer. They had just taken over the gostilna on Šutna and were excited about their plans for the place. After a few beers, we had a deal: I would make them a logo, and they would feed me. We started in October.

My family is from Kamnik and I grew up around here. My grandmother still uses the old street names. Working with these two felt quite natural. We knew each other, I knew the town, and I wanted to help them make something of their own.

We wanted the logo ready for the opening in December 2017. That didn’t happen. Then we aimed for the reopening after the kitchen renovation and missed that as well. I tried simple lettering, initials and a small mountain. They sent me photos of food in return. I liked parts of what I was drawing, but none of it felt right for them.

Then one evening Grega showed me a family album. On the second page was a photo of his great-grandfather on a postal cart, with a hat, a moustache and a serious look on his face. He was known as Korobač. Suddenly we had something to work with that actually belonged to the family and the place.

After that, things moved quickly. I drew him from the photo in two colours, keeping the hat, the serious expression and the collar. I put the portrait in a circle, a bit like a stamp. For the lettering, I looked at the old enamel signs around town. Underneath we added “Kamniški original”, meaning a Kamnik original. It felt right for him.

Once we had the logo, I started putting it on the menus, matchboxes, awning, beer coasters, vans and social posts. After all that time trying to find the right direction, this part came easily.

Over the years, the hoodies have faded, the enamel mugs have chipped and the coasters have picked up a few beer rings. I like seeing these things being used. It’s a nice feeling to see a drawing you made become part of someone’s everyday life.

For this project page, I wanted to play around with him a little more. I tried him as a marble bust and in a tapestry with Grega and Tomaž. There’s something funny about seeing that same serious face as a statue. This is a part of the work I enjoy: having a familiar character and trying something different with him.

Not everything needs a brief. One Tuesday night Grega texted me from the bar. Somebody's girlfriend had just asked, half joking, why he never takes her to Korobač. In Kamnik dialect that comes out as a whole song: zakaj me ankol ne peleš u Bača. We had the sticker drawn before the bar closed. A crying pop-art girl, the line in hand lettering, and a QR code that opens the menu, so the next time somebody asks, there is no excuse.

Then there are the summers. The photo on the postcard is not ours. Grega's father took it in the eighties, when he was the one running the gostilna, and the terrace looks exactly as it does now: tables spilling onto Šutna, string lights coming on before anyone needs them, the mountains going pink behind the roofs and staying that way until ten. There is always music. Somebody always orders one more round after the kitchen has closed, and Tomaž always says yes. If the logo has a season, it is this one.

I kept making posters for whatever was happening at Korobač. In September 2018, our friends from Matter played in the courtyard. Then came the December 2019 programme, with salsa on Thursday and the second birthday party on Friday. I’d make the posters the week before, and we’d be out putting them up in the rain the night before the event.

During that time, Grega became a father and Tomaž kept things going in the kitchen. We stayed friends and kept working together. There was always another event or something they needed a hand with.

Some of those posters are still on the wall by the bridge, faded from the weather. I still like seeing them there. They remind me of the evenings we spent together, as much as the work itself.

I’m glad Grega and Tomaž trusted me with this, even when it took longer than we planned. It means a lot to have a small part in a place my friends have put so much into, in the town I grew up around. I didn’t think about any of that when we first agreed on a logo over a few beers.