When Denmark’s national digital login system was due for a complete overhaul, we were asked to rename and rebrand it. The old solution, NemID, had been a fixture in daily life — an obligatory tool for anyone of legal age. A “citizen brand,” in other words: not something people choose, but something they rely on.
That called for a shift in tone. “Easy ID,” as the name once promised, was no longer enough. The challenge wasn’t to sound friendly — it was to be human. Our approach was to personify what had always been an impersonal object: the digital keycard.
The result was MitID — My ID — a name that makes the system feel like something you own, not something that owns you. The logo picks up the same idea, featuring the familiar blank avatar. It’s not just anyone’s. It’s yours.
We no longer navigate by words alone. We live in a world where shapes and symbols have become second nature. Even letters bend into symbols. That’s the shift: from something read to something felt. You don’t decode it. You recognize it. Instantly. Visually. Personally.
We no longer navigate by words alone. We live in a world where shapes and symbols have become second nature. Even letters bend into symbols. That’s the shift: from something read to something felt. You don’t decode it. You recognize it. Instantly. Visually. Personally.
We no longer navigate by words alone. We live in a world where shapes and symbols have become second nature. Even letters bend into symbols. That’s the shift: from something read to something felt. You don’t decode it. You recognize it. Instantly. Visually. Personally.
We no longer navigate by words alone. We live in a world where shapes and symbols have become second nature. Even letters bend into symbols. That’s the shift: from something read to something felt. You don’t decode it. You recognize it. Instantly. Visually. Personally.
We no longer navigate by words alone. We live in a world where shapes and symbols have become second nature. Even letters bend into symbols. That’s the shift: from something read to something felt. You don’t decode it. You recognize it. Instantly. Visually. Personally.
We no longer navigate by words alone. We live in a world where shapes and symbols have become second nature. Even letters bend into symbols. That’s the shift: from something read to something felt. You don’t decode it. You recognize it. Instantly. Visually. Personally.
We no longer navigate by words alone. We live in a world where shapes and symbols have become second nature. Even letters bend into symbols. That’s the shift: from something read to something felt. You don’t decode it. You recognize it. Instantly. Visually. Personally.
We no longer navigate by words alone. We live in a world where shapes and symbols have become second nature. Even letters bend into symbols. That’s the shift: from something read to something felt. You don’t decode it. You recognize it. Instantly. Visually. Personally.
We no longer navigate by words alone. We live in a world where shapes and symbols have become second nature. Even letters bend into symbols. That’s the shift: from something read to something felt. You don’t decode it. You recognize it. Instantly. Visually. Personally.
We no longer navigate by words alone. We live in a world where shapes and symbols have become second nature. Even letters bend into symbols. That’s the shift: from something read to something felt. You don’t decode it. You recognize it. Instantly. Visually. Personally.
We no longer navigate by words alone. We live in a world where shapes and symbols have become second nature. Even letters bend into symbols. That’s the shift: from something read to something felt. You don’t decode it. You recognize it. Instantly. Visually. Personally.
