Nobody admires a mug. They reach for it half awake, and then they keep doing it for years.
That's a strange thing to design for. Most work has to land once. A mug has to survive landing a thousand times, which is a completely different test, and it's why the good ones are quiet. A logo that's charming on a poster is exhausting by day forty — and you find that out on day forty.
The shape isn't on your side either. You get one face. The handle takes a bite out of the artboard, the curve takes more, and what's actually pointing at the person drinking is maybe a third of what you made. The rest is for whoever's across the table, and they're not looking. Centre everything and you're safe, which is why almost every mug is centred, and why the memorable ones aren't.
Mugs are where a brand ends up living rather than being looked at: onboarding packs, conference tables, café shelves, band merch, the whole personalised gift trade. The shapes vary more than people expect — straight-sided ceramic, tapered latte cups, squat espresso, enamel camping mugs, glass, travel mugs with lids — and artwork that holds on one won't necessarily hold on the next. In the UK the plain straight-sided one is a Durham, or a Cambridge, depending on who's selling it.