An electronic label with a hundred and eighteen releases and no sleeve photography. The Designers Republic dressed a racing game as a corporation, complete with subsidiaries and safety notices. None of it meant anything and all of it looked official. Same trick here.
One word, split by colour rather than by space. The blue half is the operating part, which is the only joke the identity makes and it makes it once.
Primary lockup with the division stack
Every release is issued rather than designed. A code, a format, a duration and a status, always in that order and always in the same place. Press the button to issue another.
Near black, two greys and one blue that only ever marks the operative thing on a surface. The acid is a hazard colour and behaves like one: rare, and always a warning.
#0A0C0FThe ground of every artefact. Not pure black, so it prints.#EAF2F9Type on ink. The only reading colour.#B9C4CELegends, grid lines and anything technical.#2769C6The operative element. One per surface, never two.#C9F53AWarnings and limited runs. Appears on about one sleeve in nine.A squared grotesque for anything a person reads and a monospace for anything a machine would have produced. The division between them is the whole voice of the label.
Three sleeves from one year. Same grid, same block, same reticle. Only the issued values differ, which is what makes a shelf of them look like a catalogue rather than a pile.
SF 084, 087 and 091
The label centre keeps only the code. The pass keeps only the block. Nothing is redrawn, things are removed until the surface can hold what is left.
Everything on the label, issued in order, from 2016 to now. Vinyl while it lasts, files always.
Browse catalogueWebsite
Label centre, 100 mm
Tour pass
The system survives because it looks issued rather than authored. Each of these makes it look authored again, and once one sleeve does, the other hundred and seventeen look thin.