The pillars in this hall carry no inscriptions, no names and no banners, and that is a considered policy. An inscription is a claim carved to outlast its evidence. This studio prefers its claims printed in pencil on a price sheet — exact, checkable and quietly corrected when the record changes.
The policy reaches the work itself. The studio signs nobody, represents nobody and distributes nothing but the pictures its own members make in their own accounts. A hall that started carving other people’s names into its stone would soon be in a different business — and a worse one for the quiet work of holding one character steady across a series.
Even the card obeys the rule. It is written on paper, not carved, because a card may one day need an honest correction — made once, in the open, and noted — whereas a carving invites quiet chiselling, which is how characters drift.
Let the pillars carry the roof. Let the paper carry the record. Confusing the two is how studios end up with monuments and no work.