A name goes in, a machine comes out. Spheres dock like atoms, tubes bond them, attachments snap on – assembled like a molecule, drawn in ink.
The drones began in 2008 as stickers – drawn by hand, stuck on Bremen’s utility boxes. Eighteen years later a press draws them by rule: spheres as atoms, tubes as bonds, attachments on top. Same chemistry, new machines.
A structural formula in space: spheres are atoms with a radius, struts are bonds.
Every part is turned as on a lathe: a list of stations, each a position and a radius. Projected flat, no perspective.
Nothing hidden gets calculated – it gets painted over. Surfaces from back to front, the outline last.
Type a name. It’s the seed: scaffold, tubes, attachments and camera all grow from it. Same name, same machine – every time.
A small kit, endlessly repeated: spheres, tubes and whatever sits on the spheres. One scale, hidden edges dashed, axes in red. Always the drone that is in the press.
| No. | Part | Size | Qty |
|---|
The core of each neighboring name: its largest sphere, with everything bolted to it. Parts dock as they pass. Tap one to load it into the press.
The numbers said yes. The eye said no.
Aug 26. The joints looked busy, so Claude measured 360 of them and retuned the rules until the numbers matched the approved samples: 7.7 cross lines per joint instead of 13.6. The busy look was gone. So was the machine.
Reverted within the hour. Since then, taste isn’t argued in numbers: Nikolaj shapes a joint by hand at the workbench, and Claude reads the rule from the difference.
b161679 → cf0e735 · Aug 26, 2026, 12:46 → 13:4542 commits with Claude, Aug 25 to Sep 28, 2026. Each message names a rule that only showed up after something looked wrong. One was taken back within the hour.
The generator draws, the press prints. Posters in editions of 50, shirts and hoodies in runs of 500, every piece numbered.