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You will never see this bag.
That’s not a complaint, it’s the product. It’s on your back. The carriage, the queue, the lecture theatre, the entire footpath behind you — all of them get a full view of it, all day. You get mesh.
Squares of Madness is two of Bert Ernie’s designs cut into a checkerboard and both switched on at once. From across a room it shimmers like woven cloth. Up close it falls apart into thousands of squares. You will spend years wearing an optical illusion you have never once looked at.
15l. Fits a 15″ laptop. Water-resistant. Aimed at everyone but you.
🎁 Free shipping on all orders
📦 Made to order — 1 week in the US, 2 weeks worldwide
🔄 30 Days free return and refund
✂️ Cut and sewn to order. Never printed on a blank.
Every other bag we make, you get to look at. Not this one.
Think about what a backpack actually is. It’s the one object you own that points permanently away from you. It goes on your back at eight in the morning and it stays there — through the train, the lift, the queue for coffee, the walk across the car park — and every single person behind you gets the full show while you get nothing. The entire surface area of this thing is aimed at strangers. You are, functionally, carrying an advertisement for a company that has never met you.
So it may as well be worth looking at. Squares of Madness is two graphic designs Bert Ernie made years apart, laid over each other and then — rather than picking one, because he doesn’t do that — cut through with a checkerboard and both left running. Square on: the first. Square off: the second. Thousands of them, all the way across. He layered bump and shadow effects over the top so the whole thing reads as woven fabric, which is his favourite joke and one he will not stop telling.
Here’s what that does on a backpack. The person two seats down sees a single shimmering textile. The person who sits next to you sees it detach into individual squares and can suddenly make out both designs at once, arguing. It resolves and dissolves depending entirely on how far away you are. It is a properly good optical trick, and you — the person who paid for it — will never experience it. Not once. Not ever.
Bert thinks this is correct. He points out that the back of the bag is soft mesh, so the art faces out and you get the comfortable bit. He considers this a fair division of labour.

Made properly, printed to order by Printful, ethically, the moment you buy it. Nothing sits in a warehouse.
Fifteen litres, a padded sleeve that swallows a 15″ laptop, a zip pocket on the front, water-resistant fabric so the color stays put in the rain, and a hidden zip pocket flat against your back for the things you’d rather not lose — the loudest object in the room, and it keeps secrets. One last thing. Turn it over. The print goes across the bottom too: the surface that lives on classroom floors and train carriages and the underside of desks, seen by nobody, ever, including you. He did it anyway. Of course he did.
Printful rate this to 44lbs. Bert reckons you could do that. For about a week. Then the zip has opinions and the seams start writing letters. Load it to half that — 22lbs, 10kg — and it’ll still be going in five years. We’d rather tell you that now than sell you a bag twice.
Too loud to ignore.
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