A screen-printed club poster flooded edge to edge in one flat even acid orange, the flood one single unvarying colour laid perfectly even, and every ink laid over it misregistered and carrying a heavy even grain with its edges spreading softly where it soaked in: ultrabold, immense, letters set so tight they almost touch, the bowls nearly closed — a word is one solid mass set in deep magenta at four times the size of anything else underneath everything, repeating down the whole sheet as a bed and cropped hard by all four edges so only parts of the letters show and each repeat sits a hair out of position. Over it the same name again small and crisp in a plain heavy grotesk at maximum weight, tracked tight, the word running straight off both edges of the sheet, knocked out to pure white at the top and a printer's scale bar — a ruled strip carrying letters and millimetre numerals along it, laid across the middle of the sheet. Six loose cyan outline figures mid-movement scattered across the sheet at different sizes, each drawn in one thick wobbling monoline stroke the outline left open so the flood reads inside it. Friday 14 March, doors 8pm, 42 Hoxton Street N1 6LP. Flat inks, the white knockout the only neutral in the frame.