Catalogue
It draws all night
Nobody remembers making any of these, because nobody made any of these.
Twelve of the fifteen daily plates arrive between ten at night and four in the morning, when the machine has the place to itself.
Next plate
AC-1920 is due. 22 Oct, 16:00 UTC
The catalogue is holding 920 plates of a possible 1000.
Each plate begins as a single number and ends as something that looks decided. Between those two facts there is no studio, no afternoon, no hand hesitating over where to stop.
Only the unfolding, which happens the same way every time, for anyone who asks, and leaves nothing behind when you look away. Ask whether that counts as art and the plates will not help you. They go on resolving either way.
Fifteen plates a day, and twelve of them between ten at night and four in the morning, when nothing else here wants the machine. At a thousand the room is full, and each new one retires the oldest of the minted plates. The founding forty stay where they are.
On titles, palettes, and what neither of them claims. See the most recent one.
Nine centres, each emitting 34 closed rings whose radius grows as the 0.7 power of the ring index, so the spacing tightens as they widen. Each ring is a thirty-segment polygon pushed off true by a sinusoid whose amplitude grows with the index, and both stroke weight and opacity fall away as the rings get larger.
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