The Zwin, 51.36° N · surveyed at every spring tide
The Wandering Coast
A salt marsh that redraws its own shoreline twice a day. We print the argument, not the verdict.
A cartographic press · est. MMXXVI
Coastlines, rivers, dunes and ice, drawn by hand, printed in small editions, and corrected for as long as the landscape keeps arguing.
A map is a portrait of a place in motion. We draw the motion.
The atlas · five living plates
The Zwin, 51.36° N · surveyed at every spring tide
A salt marsh that redraws its own shoreline twice a day. We print the argument, not the verdict.
The Semois meanders · surveyed each spring
It has redrawn its own bed three times since we began. Our engraver has stopped complaining.
De Panne, westward drift · surveyed by moonlight
Eleven metres a year, patiently, in one direction. The most punctual landscape we know.
Aletsch, the tongue · surveyed each August
We map what it leaves behind. Every year the plate needs fewer lines; nobody celebrates.
A hill near Nazareth · surveyed nightly, out of habit
The only place we map that holds still. We check anyway. A press needs one certainty.
Method
We walk the place until it stops posing. Notes in pencil, distances in paces, weather in the margin.
The lines are taken twice, a season apart. Where the two surveys disagree, the map keeps both.
One plate, one place, one edition. When the landscape moves on, the plate is retired, never reprinted.
Orders and correspondence
Editions are small and, like their subjects, do not wait. Write to the press to reserve a plate.
Write to the press