Not all of these strongly feminist works has a title – some do, along with a date, tucked away in tiny print. They aren’t quite arranged in chronological order, though most seem to be from 2014 and 2015. Nevertheless you can trace the artistic gains from 1968 to 2015, the polish, the increasing skill with the computer, the certainty of what I might call voice —  or vision, or touch. And of course mind. There’s a lot of design, and the drawings demand close attention, but most of the time resist you, especially if you look with a reader’s eye, or expect “art” (the graphic) to evoke or create the sublime. Copithorne isn’t trying to please, but to help each work achieve and please itself.  The drawings redefine reading, just as through a versatile use of the machine they redefine drawing, and they do so through great frugality. The words in “Night” (p. 11; 2014) are not “really” words at all, though they struggle (or the reader does) toward intelligibility; the letters are figures against a layered, indeterminate, and almost monochrome ground. It took quite a few visits for me to notice that “Night” is not just  black and white (that’s purple, not grey) in its turbulent explosion. It’s not figurative at all, yet its very activity imitates and even constitutes its subject. “Night”’s unobtrusiveness is quite unlike, yet still like, the drawing on page 18 – which might or might not be called “Awake” as its reds oranges and yellows leap to the eye.  Apparently purposeless. And at the same time, as Copithorne says on the final page, purposeful, “gnomic gristle.”