Two people photographed from behind in amber knitwear against a deep navy wall, a hard diagonal shadow across it.

What we are built on

Cloudbud works from the Netherlands and Türkiye. We are not an agency that also has products, and not a product company that also takes client work. The two feed each other, in that order.

budbuildscale

Everything starts as a bud

Cloudbud is two words. A cloud is where our products live — on a phone, in a browser, at the end of a link. A bud is the first visible sign that something is going to grow. Together they describe the job: start small, put it where people can use it, and keep it growing long after launch.

Every product here goes through the same three stages, and the mark draws them literally: one leaf for each, the same shape every time, turned 120° until the circle closes.

  1. 01 / 03

    Bud

    An idea small enough to ship. Not a deck or a roadmap — a first version someone can open.

  2. 02 / 03

    Build

    The version people actually rely on, made by the same people who designed it.

  3. 03 / 03

    Scale

    The years after launch: releases, ratings, support. The stage that decides whether anything lasts.

Six products of our own have made it through all three.

How we work

01

We ship our own products first

Six apps of our own are in the stores, used by people who did not have to be polite about it. Everything we know about building came from that, not from a deck. Client work benefits from it — never the other way around.

A single amber block lit by hard sunlight against a dark wall, casting one sharp diagonal shadow.

02

Small on purpose

The people who design a thing are the people who build it and the people who answer for it. There is no account layer between you and the work, and nothing gets handed over the wall halfway through.

An arm in an amber ribbed sleeve pressed flat against a deep navy wall in hard sunlight.

03

We keep what we build

A product is not a campaign. Launch is the point where the work starts being useful, so we stay with it: releases, ratings, support, the unglamorous parts that decide whether anything actually lasts.

Four amber arch forms in a row against a dark wall, each casting its own hard shadow.

How we sound

We never wrote a tone-of-voice guide. Read back what we publish, though, and the same four habits keep showing up.

  • Show, don’t claim

    “Every one is live and linked, so you can judge the work rather than a case study written about it.”

    ( Work )

  • Measure it

    “Every pairing below is measured, not estimated.”

    ( Colour )

  • Keep it short

    “Plant the seed.”

    ( Contact )

  • Say it once

    “Something said twice is decoration the second time.”

    ( Design notes )

The mark is a rule

It is not a drawing of a plant. One leaf shape is offset five units from the centre and rotated three times, 120° apart. Diaphragm, propeller and opening seed read at once, and because the form is rotationally symmetric it has no correct angle — it can turn forever. The mark beside our name further up turns exactly 120° as it passes, the one angle where it lands back on itself.

Why one colour

The mark this replaced used five gradients. At favicon size they collapsed into a green smudge. This is not an opinion — set the two side by side and shrink them.

Five gradients

  • 64
  • 32
  • 20
  • 16

One rotation rule, one colour

  • 64
  • 32
  • 20
  • 16

Minimum size is 14px. Below that the centre gap closes and the three arms stop reading as three.

Carved, for app icons

For the App Store, Google Play and the favicon the mark is cut out of a honey square. In carved form the leaf unit shrinks so the corner radius has room to breathe.

  • 128px
  • 64px
  • 32px
  • 16px

Hard light on a dark wall

Every image on this site is the same scene, photographed again: a deep wall, hard midday sun, one warm thing catching the light. The palette is that scene taken apart, and the diagonal edge between our sections is its shadow.

An arched opening in a deep navy wall, a wedge of warm amber sunlight falling through it onto the floor.
Honey is the light, not the paint. It marks where to look.
A row of narrow off-white fins casting hard parallel shadows, one fin painted amber.
One accent in a row of neutrals — about five percent of any view.

Colour, with its numbers

Every pairing below is measured, not estimated. Honey is capped at roughly five percent of any view and is never a broad ground — it only means something if it isn’t everywhere.

Ink + paper
90%
Neutral greys
5%
Honey
5%
Navy
0–1%
  • ink17.37:1

    #0E1116

    The ground. Most of every page, so six products with colours of their own never have to compete with the studio.

  • paper17.37:1

    #F7F5F1

    Warm, not white. Where long reading and the products live.

  • honey9.88:1

    #EBB240

    The light. A button, a ◆, a strip — never a ground. On ink only: 1.76 on paper, unreadable.

  • honey-deep5.23:1

    #8C5D11

    Honey’s stand-in whenever the ground is light.

  • navy12.14:1

    #16324A

    The wall the light lands on. Once per page, at most.

Type does the talking

The palette is deliberately neutral, so what carries the brand is scale contrast — an 11px mono label sitting next to a 130px display line, with nothing in between.

Scale

One family, one file. The width axis is why this system has no mid-size heading — the display can be set to fit its column instead of being chosen from a scale.

Where we are

( NL )

Rotterdam

( TR )

İzmir

Plant the seed.

Thirty minutes is usually enough to tell whether we are a fit. Requests are handled by the team — nothing is booked automatically.

  • ( NL ) Rotterdam
  • ( TR ) İzmir