The flat file

The rings are offset on purpose: pink pass high, blue pass low, so the intersections trace a third orbit that belongs to neither ink. Printed for the invented-atoms zine, then reprinted as an edition when people kept asking.

Drawn from the annex fire stairs at 7 am on a Sunday. The red and blue passes are misaligned by design so the steps read as two buildings slightly out of time. Our most-photographed print at markets.

The joke edition: twelve bars, no axis, no data. People at markets keep trying to read it, then laughing, then buying it. There is a version with real data and it sold eleven copies. This one sold four hundred.

Part of T. Abeles' night-flower series. The gold pass dried overnight on kraft and came out warm instead of metallic, which Abeles immediately claimed was the plan. It was not. It is better than the plan.

The ninth of a running series; every number changes the ray count and the ink pair. This one is the only three-color attempt and the only one June refuses to run again. "Never again" means twice, in studio terms.

The knockout disc is paper, not ink: the hatch passes print everywhere and a punched mask reserves the circle. Proof that sometimes the print is made by the machine and partly by a very sharp blade.

The shop's self-portrait: two drums, overlapping, with the sun ink as the paper path between them. Printed the week Whale arrived, as a welcome gesture. Whale has not acknowledged it.

A dot grid for the seed library's spring packet. The blooms print in pink while the grid holds in blue, so the structure stays readable under the loudest ink we own. Exactly the brief, exactly.