When I was young, I remember making scribbles on a large white sketch pad—completely about anything—similar with writing thoughts onto paper. One of those times had me brainstorming. I drew an extremely tall wall just beside a castle-like structure. Suddenly, I wondered, “What could be the connection of such massive wall to an anomalously sized castle?” With such forethought, I envisaged, if ever existed, what it could bring into the present reality?—“It must be medieval architecture stuck in the modern world.” Interesting, perhaps.
During those times of my artistic passion in drawing, I had a desire for primitive, classical images. I aspired to draw castles, knights, cavaliers, and basically ideas and figurative details relating to the medieval period. It was, somehow, glued on my brain for a decade.
Denoting my interest in such style, I cerebrated with more intricate details to be added on the bland two-element image. I told myself, “If this building would exist, I think the whole world would see it as a classic structure with an excellent architecture to be considered as an international landmark.” Therefore, with such notion, I continued with my aforementioned goal: adding more details. It was like finishing a thesis paper for me! It took me several months to add significant amount of components, in order to thoroughly make the idea more finalized. Different constituents had been made onto the structure. Details including upper-deck figures, main entrance facade, and internal architecture all in this citadel aura came into pieces. It was literally like making a building plan inside a vicinity plan! I was being astonished every time I consume my ideas for the plan.
Finally, after several years, the time came when I thought, “I was too old to make such drawings with no realistic intentions for the real world”—that it suddenly became just a pure drawing for me. But, I figured, “Hey, there must be something worthwhile with such complex plans and details I had exerted for this idea. Therefore, I must stretch my limits.” From that sense, I agreed; I raised the bar and took into consideration the higher principles for planning. It required more than just planning. A proficiency for goal-setting and purpose-making had been manifested.
With those realizations, I decided to name the so-called medieval idea with “Great Rook Castle”—great denoting the relationship of the wall to the castle, rook as the chess piece used as the official symbol, and castle being the center image of the idea. I became euphoric with the thought. It has been always in my mind to aspire for labels—that aspiration for naming methods. Oh, talk about clever creativity. Ever since, I’ve used the name as a trademark. I’ve thought about it as a branding for a school, and just plainly a lot of ideas converged. It also became evident for my future media company, which is now renamed to Obliveoux. And it all started with a scribble.