Kelly Mark is mostly a video artist, and a funny one. Her show at the Henry a few years ago included Demonstration, a protest for nothing; a video in which a man did wind sprints on a crosswalk at a busy intersection during the red light; and Private Conversations with Public Statuary, in which the camera watched, at a distance, as Mark's friends conducted personal talks with statues on the street. (She also is the creator of one lovable cross-stitch on linen that reads, "I DONT NEED A THERAPIST IM A CUNT.")

But when she needs a break from this kind of work, she sits quietly at her table for hours and makes Letraset drawings. Letraset is a vinyl transfer lettering system popular in the '80s that's now obsolete; the sheets of letters, numbers, and symbols aren't manufactured anymore, but Mark collects what she can find, and transfers every single bit of lettering by hand, setting the sheet over her paper and rubbing on each tiny mark. She doesn't limit herself to the official symbols on the sheets; she uses the copyright symbols, extraneous type ("EXTRA," "Symbol," "Protected widely by patents"), and Letraset's corporate tags.

Typically she begins in the center of the paper, building outward, adding up tight, dense universes in miniature: Landscapes seen from the sky. Blueprints for ornate architectures. Cellular shenanigans. Pure decorative proliferation. A row of Eeeees or Ooooos adds sound. Copyright protection marks are busy protecting nothing from nobody.

This is the private, byzantine, gorgeous side of her work; these are packed with Mark's secret decisions. Don't miss them—get to Platform Gallery by Saturday. (More images on that gallery link, or friend me on FB for more.)