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Midcentury graphic design made as stifling as the era's social mores, Brannon's cleanliness hasn't ever felt nice so much as overbearing hypochondria. Cleanliness becomes the expression of repression, and the clinicalness of printmaking anality becomes suffocating, even the friendly ones seem without air, ketchup like terror, nostalgia cleansed till the skin dries, cracks, and bleeds.
