The hexagon is what a mineral does when it is left alone. Basalt cools into it, honeycomb is built from it, and quartz grows in six-sided columns because that is the most economical way of filling space. Mineral takes the form from geology and then declines to draw it mechanically.
The tiles are set out by hand, so the cells vary slightly in width and the lines that separate them waver. Nothing quite meets where a ruled drawing would have made it meet, and the arrangement reads as something formed rather than constructed. Within the cells the surface is burnished rather than flat, with a low metallic shimmer that behaves like polished stone: it does not glitter, it glows, and it alters as light crosses it.
That responsiveness is the design's real subject. In daylight the tiles are legible and the geometry is clear; under lamps in the evening the metallic comes forward and the pattern softens into something closer to a lit surface than a printed one. It is a good paper for a room used at both ends of the day, and it suits a dining room, a small drawing room or a cloakroom particularly well. Brass, dark timber and a lit mirror all sit well against it, since each picks up the same low reflectance.
