A season poster built from one silhouette and one horizon. The wrecked ship and the cliff are the same shape, cut apart, so the whole design is a man standing on the thing that broke. Two colors, because the box office needed it to read from across the street.
A show of six sculptures, all of them about hands. The poster gives the figure eight arms and lets the title sit on top of them without apology. The gallery ran it as a street poster for five weeks and it kept getting taken off the wall, which everyone agreed was a good sign.
Key art for a feature about a city that keeps rebuilding itself out of what people remember. One silhouette, one sun, and the machines held small and low so the scale reads without anything exploding. The Japanese and English lockups were drawn together rather than translated afterward, so the tagline lands the same way in both.
A novel about a woman who keeps finding earlier versions of herself. The heads nest instead of stacking, so the smallest one is the oldest and hardest to see. Editorial wanted three faces. It works because there are four, and nobody counts them the first time.
A goodbye story that never says goodbye out loud, so the cover does not either. She is reaching and the moon is not moving. The hand and the moon are the same pink, and the gap between them is the whole book.
A family novel set entirely inside one house. The head is the house, the tape is over the ear rather than the mouth, and the crack runs through the shoulder where the roof would meet the wall. Nobody in the story raises their voice once.
Opening art for a report on tenants fighting eviction. The shoe is drawn far more carefully than the roach, which is the argument. One orange, used only on the sole, so the thing about to do the damage is the only thing with any color.
A cover for an essay about arguing well. Two figures locked in a circle, each one talking directly into the other, drawn so you cannot tell who started it. Red and blue, and nothing else, because the piece was already about taking sides.
Opening art for a long feature on burnout. The brief asked for something that did not look clinical, so the head comes apart into flat shards instead of anything anatomical. Warm colors on purpose. The subject was heavy enough.
A running series for a business column about people who are obviously not what they claim to be. Every installment is one animal in one suit. The joke works better the less it is explained, so the drawings stay completely straight-faced.
Cover art for a podcast season about attention. The chain was originally a thin line, and it kept reading as decoration, so it got heavier every round until it finally looked like it weighed something. The loop for the launch is six seconds of that chain going slack and pulling tight again.
A full sleeve for a record about slow recovery. One drawing, one yellow, and a face that had to read as patient rather than cheerful, which took far more attempts than the finished piece suggests.
A picture book about a child who cannot stop thinking. The wave and the head are one shape, so the fish are inside her and outside her at the same time. Kids get it immediately. Adults tend to need a second.
A proposal built on one question: can you redraw a mascot everyone already knows without softening him? The whole figure is a single peanut outline, the monocle is the only true circle on the page, and the halo behind him does the work a product photograph usually would.