Sumi black, then one phosphor green — landed a measured 2.5mm off register, on purpose. The slip you see before you read is the whole identity.
A press run wants perfect registration. This one welds the green plate a hair off the black and never corrects it — so a luminous phosphor double trails every contour like an after-image pressed into paper. It is motion held perfectly still.
Every headline, figure and number carries a green ghost offset to the south-east. The misalignment does the work that glow and gradients usually fake — at no cost but discipline.
The green is spot ink on a drum, not a screen beam. It multiplies against the sumi and sits into the paper. No bloom, no neon haze — a printerly green that reads as a second pass.
Shadow is a 55-line halftone, never a soft drop. Depth comes from dot density and the offset double, so dark surfaces read as inked plates, not floating cards.
A heavy grotesque carries the labels; a real serif keeps the editorial voice warm; one teletype mono runs the folios and registration marks. The green never becomes a third typeface — only a second plate.
Pick the offset, lock the screen, and crank. The press does the rest — and the green plate lands exactly 2.5 millimetres off the black, every single sheet, by design.