A screen-printed club poster flooded edge to edge in one flat even hot pink, 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: the whole word drawn in one unbroken stroke of even width, the letters abstracted until they read as ornament first, the terminals curling into closed loops and heart shapes set in mid green 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 fast brush script sitting inside a drawn open-sided box, the box's near edges extending as two parallel lines so it reads as a small solid block, knocked out to pure white at the top and turned ninety degrees — a line of small caps running up one edge of the sheet, its baseline against the trim. Six loose acid orange 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. Sunday 23 February, doors 6pm, 115 Stokes Croft BS1 3RW. Flat inks, the white knockout the only neutral in the frame.