Celestial illustration of a moon goddess amid star fields

Antique star chart of the northern constellations

Crescent moon goddess illustration in a vintage hand

The sky keeps a calendar. We post it to you.

Lunary Studios · Issue 07 leaves the studio on the full moon

Join the correspondence →

NewThe studio goes quiet

Waxing crescentSketches, first marks

First quarterThe press proofs

Now · waxing gibbousEnvelopes addressed

Full moonMail leaves the studio

Waning gibbousReplies arrive

Last quarterThe archive is bound

Waning crescentRest, and repeat

This month’s editions

Every envelope holds one signed work, the chart for the weeks ahead, and a single instruction for paying attention. Fifty of each. Then the plate is retired.

Framed antique star map hanging on a plaster wall

Envelope No. 07 · ink & gouache on cotton rag

The Lighthouse Keeper’s Almanac

$399.00 ~~$480.00~~

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Framed vintage tarot sun card in a white frame

Envelope No. 08 · risograph & collage on newsprint

Tessellate (A Fool’s Geometry)

$185.00 ~~$210.00~~

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Art nouveau figure reaching for stars, framed in black

Envelope No. 09 · cyanotype on watercolour paper

Nightshade Correspondence

$240.00 ~~$280.00~~

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Vintage botanical plate framed in natural timber

Envelope No. 10 · linocut on BFK Rives

Salt & Longitude

$147.00 ~~$180.00~~

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Hand-inked astrology chart fragment on aged paper

Envelope No. 11 · hand-inked celestial chart

Harp of the Second House

$350.00 ~~$400.00~~

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Victorian aerialist poster, framed, above a credenza

Envelope No. 12 · serigraph on linen

The Quiet Room

$125.00 ~~$160.00~~

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See all editions →

Welcome to the world of Lunary

Lunary is a mail-order studio for people who still believe the sky keeps a calendar. Once a month an envelope leaves the building: a signed edition, a chart for the weeks ahead, and one small instruction for paying attention.

No feed. No algorithm. No scroll. Just paper that arrives when it said it would — addressed by hand, sealed at the studio, made for the version of you that reads in the evening.

Read Issue 07 →

Paper is slow on purpose. That is the whole point of it.

Baroque celestial fresco detail inside an oval mask

Latest from the studio

Pressed plants and flowers laid out on a work table

Notes · 6 min

Addressing an envelope as a spell

Why the handwriting matters, and what to do with a letter you never send.

Vintage theatrical poster pinned to a studio wall

Calendar · 4 min

What the waxing gibbous asks of you

The eight stops of a month, and the one that always feels unfinished.

Antique etching of a horse on a studio bench

Studio · 8 min

Mixing cyanotype in a bathroom

Everything you can ruin responsibly before you commit to a proper darkroom.

All field notes →

The Lunary Correspondence · Envelope 07 leaves with the full moon

Join the correspondence.

The paper follows the moon — an envelope every full moon. The tee follows your birthday — exactly one, posted in your birth month. Take either line, or both in one box.

The studio · Envelope 07 is on the press

We make twelve things a year. That is the whole plan.

Lunary Studios is two people, a press, and a calendar borrowed from the sky. Nobody here has ever asked how to increase output, because the answer is always the same: wait for the moon.

Paper is slow, and that is not a flaw.

The studio began with a shelf of unsent letters and one question: what would art look like if it arrived at the speed of the sky instead of the speed of a feed? The answer took a month to work out and has taken every month since.

So an envelope leaves on each full moon. Fifty of each, hand-addressed, carrying a signed work, the chart for the weeks ahead, and one instruction for paying attention. When the fiftieth is gone the plate is scratched and the ink is not mixed again.

If it could arrive instantly, it would not be worth sending.

Nothing here ships on a Tuesday because a warehouse had a free slot.

The press runs when the work is ready and the envelopes post when the moon is full. That means roughly twelve dispatches a year, occasionally thirteen, and a studio that is deliberately quiet in between.

See what is on the shelf →

How an issue is made

Four stages, in this order, every month. Skipping one is how you get a poster instead of an issue.

01

Drawn

The new moon starts with a blank page and one question worth a month of work. Most questions are discarded here, which is the point of starting early.

02

Proofed

At the first quarter the plate goes down three times. Two of the proofs usually fail — wrong pressure, wrong paper, or an idea that only worked in the sketchbook.

03

Printed

Fifty impressions, pulled by hand, inked and registered one at a time. Each is signed and numbered because after the fiftieth the plate is retired for good.

04

Posted

Envelopes are addressed in ink, sealed with wax, and handed to the post on the full moon. Then the studio goes quiet and the next question begins.

The ledger

What actually goes into an envelope, and into a year. Written down here because a promise you cannot check is not a promise.

Paper: 300gsm cotton rag and BFK Rives. Nothing lighter survives a winter post.
Edition: Fifty impressions of each issue. Retired when the fiftieth leaves.
Mediums: Ink and gouache, linocut, cyanotype, risograph, serigraph. One per issue.
Envelope: Addressed by hand in ink, sealed with wax, posted on the full moon.
Cadence: Twelve dispatches a year, thirteen in a year the sky hands us a blue moon.
Cloth: One tee a year, 6.5oz unisex cotton, screen-printed at the studio. Posted in your birth month on the Wardrobe and Almanac lines.
Archive: Every issue bound into a case at the end of the year, for readers who want the whole thing in one hand.
Your data: A paper ledger and a plain text file. Never sold, never mailed anything but your package.

Read the field notes →

Field notes · Nine entries in the ledger

Notes from a studio that waits for the moon.

What the eight phases actually ask of you, what happens at the press between issues, and why writing something by hand still changes the thing you were trying to say.

Notes · Issue 07

Addressing an envelope as a spell

Why the handwriting matters, what a wax seal is really doing, and what to do with a letter you finish and then decide never to send. Some of them are still worth posting.

Notes · 6 min · from Envelope 07

Everything else

8 entries

Calendar · 4 min

What the waxing gibbous asks of you

The eight stops of a month, and the one that always feels unfinished.

Studio · 8 min

Mixing cyanotype in a bathroom

Everything you can ruin responsibly before you commit to a proper darkroom.

Process · 5 min

Fifty of each, then the plate is retired

Why we scratch the plate, and why a sold-out edition stays sold out.

Calendar · 5 min

Why the tee arrives in your birth month

One garment a year, posted when the year turns for you and not for a warehouse.

Notes · 9 min

The lighthouse keeper’s almanac, annotated

Every instruction from Envelope 07, with what we meant and what we did not.

Notes · 7 min

Reading a chart you can’t do anything about

On sitting with a forecast instead of trying to solve it.

Notes · 5 min

What to do with a letter you never send

Keep it in the box with the others. That box is a body of work.

Calendar · 4 min

The eight stops of a month

New moon to waning crescent, and the work that belongs at each one.

The next issue is drawn before you read this one.

Field notes land in the same envelope as everything else — which means about once a moon, and never at three in the morning.

Join the correspondence →

The sky keeps a calendar. We post it to you.

This month’s editions

The Lighthouse Keeper’s Almanac

Tessellate (A Fool’s Geometry)

Nightshade Correspondence

Salt & Longitude

Harp of the Second House

The Quiet Room

Welcome to the world of Lunary

Latest from the studio

Addressing an envelope as a spell

What the waxing gibbous asks of you

Mixing cyanotype in a bathroom

Join the correspondence.

Which line are we sending?

Who are we writing to?

What size, and which month?

Seal it.

The package is addressed.

We make twelve things a year. That is the whole plan.

Paper is slow, and that is not a flaw.

Nothing here ships on a Tuesday because a warehouse had a free slot.

How an issue is made

Drawn

Proofed

Printed

Posted

The ledger

Notes from a studio that waits for the moon.

Addressing an envelope as a spell

Everything else

What the waxing gibbous asks of you

Mixing cyanotype in a bathroom

Fifty of each, then the plate is retired

Why the tee arrives in your birth month

The lighthouse keeper’s almanac, annotated

Reading a chart you can’t do anything about

What to do with a letter you never send

The eight stops of a month

The next issue is drawn before you read this one.