Men pound the inner bark of six forest tree species into a soft fibrous sheet. Women then draw on it with a twig, a stem or a fingertip — line networks, hatch fields, dotted runs, blotted forms — improvised once and never repeated.

This system takes the sheet as the page: khaki-oatmeal ground, olive-black ink that soaks and feathers into the grain, uneven density on purpose. A crowded corner beside a bare one is the composition, not a mistake to be corrected.