Letters and words are central to the show, which was juried by Celene Aubry of Tennessee’s Hatch Show Print and Allison Tipton, manager of the Globe Collection and Press at the Maryland Institute College of Art. There are images in many of the works made by the nearly 100 contributors (some working as members of teams), and a few contain not a single letter. But several of the most inventive pieces demonstrate how just color, layout, and type are sufficient to build an effective composition.

Words and names, especially when they’re well-known, can be read even in daringly unexpected configurations. So Scott Fisk tightly overlaps the letters in “home” and “joy,” emphasizing color but not entirely forgoing legibility. And Virginia Green flips sideways and breaks into two lines the longest name in this familiar lineup: John, Paul, George, and Ringo. Similar tactics, with the additional complication of multiple typefaces, enliven Frank Baseman’s bold poster of the NATO phonetic alphabet, all the way from “alpha” to “zulu.”

More minimalist but just as astute are E Bond’s sculptural arrangement of industrial-looking “E’s” in corroded shades of black; Steven Stichter’s punning waves of rising blue “C’s”; and Richard Kegler’s duo of superimposed ampersands, one upside down. David Wolske abstracts letters by trimming them merely to such features are bowls and serifs, printed in vivid hues and partly overlaid. Carlos Hernandez uses mostly letters and punctuation — but also silhouetted guns — to depict cowboys identified as good, bad, and ugly. Jon Drew’s gentle landscapes position black trees in front of terrain built mostly of letters.

As might be expected, there are numerous artist’s books and other 3D items. Cynthia Connolly’s sewn grab bag contains 15 postcards, mostly of her photographs. Andre Lee Bassuet demonstrates the letterpress-worthiness of the Korean Hangeul alphabet in a tiny book printed with Legos. Richard Zeid imprints the word “fractured” atop a black-and-white photograph that’s been torn into four irregular quadrants. Elinor Swanson prints blue-on-white patterns that suggest Dutch ceramics and presents them both flat and folded into the shapes of a cup and a pitcher.

Among the most powerful entries, both in theme and form, is Sarah Matthews’s “Outrage,” a flag book that stands like a poster and conveys the artist’s response to the overturning of Roe v. Wade. “My uterus is none of your business” proclaim black-on-pink letters that stutter across repeated unfurled pages. Matthews’s broadside — and all of “Press On” — certifies that letterpress is anything but quaint.

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