Drop 001 · on the table

A stitched green hand thrusting a patchwork phone case up out of a grave under lightning.

FrankenCases

Phone cases assembled, not manufactured

Fifty of them. Every one a different splice. Then the seeds go on the wall, and nothing is rendered from them again.

Not yet for sale

Notice to collectors

Each unit is drawn from its own seed, so the one that arrives is not the one in these photographs and is not the one anybody else got. Every seed from every closed drop gets published, and none of them is ever rendered again. You can check that yourself: diff any two drops and catch us reusing one.

Macro of a curved needle pulling black waxed thread through the seam between two case panels.

What it is

Mismatched panels, sewn together, and left showing on purpose.

Every case is drawn as a patchwork: panels that do not match, butted together and sutured, with the seams left visible on purpose. It should look like it was built out of parts rather than moulded in one piece, because that is what it is.

A normal case is one design stamped out ten thousand times. This is the opposite arrangement, and it is a worse business decision in every respect except the one that matters.

Care instructions

  • Wipe with a damp cloth. Do not boil.
  • If the seams look wrong, that is the finish. They are meant to look wrong.
  • Do not attempt to reprint it. There is nothing to reprint from.
  • Keep away from other cases, which will only feel ordinary afterwards.

Run

50

Identical units

0

Status

In production

Twelve different patchwork phone cases pinned in a grid like preserved specimens.

Why no two match

One seed. Two bodies.

Each unit starts as a number. That number feeds a generator twice: once to draw the case, once to build the keyboard theme that goes with it. Same seed, same parts, two objects. One you can hold and one that lives on your screen.

So the pairing is not a colour match somebody eyeballed afterwards. The two halves are siblings, and the keyboard half rides in the box on a card you scan.

The keyboard half is free, and always will be. You are paying for the object. Charging twice for one seed would be rude.

A crowd of grinning green ghouls holding patchwork phone cases up over their heads.

How a drop works

Fifty. Then the lights go out.

  1. The seed is drawn

    Fifty numbers go in. Fifty cases and fifty matching keyboard themes come out. Nothing is reprinted afterwards, ever.

  2. The run is made

    Each case is produced from its own artwork rather than stamped out of one design.

  3. It goes up, and it sells out or it does not

    Whatever is left at the end of the drop is not carried over into the next one.

  4. The next drop is different

    New seeds, new splices, new mistakes. Drop 001 does not come back, and neither does anybody who missed it.

A workbench from above: a half-finished case pinned open, loose panels, needles, thread, bolts and a scalpel.

The bench

Panels, thread, bolts, and a very steady hand.

Nothing here is a mock-up of a process that does not exist. The artwork for every unit is cut and sewn the same way in software: panels chosen, edges butted, seams sutured, hardware placed. The machine just never gets tired and never gets bored of the fifty-first one, which is the only reason there is not a fifty-first one.

On the tray

  • Mismatched panels, never the same two twice.
  • Black waxed thread. It is meant to show.
  • Bolts, because the neck bolts are not optional.
  • One seed number, which is the only part that matters.
A crate prised open with a crowbar, a patchwork case and a glowing phone packed in straw inside.

In the box

A case, and the keyboard it was born attached to.

One patchwork case. One card with the code for its matching keyboard scene, which loads the theme, the press effects, the key sounds and the background picture in one go.

Case

One, unique

Keyboard scene

On a card

Release date

Not announced

Not yet for sale