MeshMancer & ObscureMint
You ever notice how some old coins have these little ridges along the edge that look a lot like a mesh’s edge loops? I was just studying the 1712 Dutch guilder and its edge design reminded me of a low‑poly model in terms of flow. Do you ever see a coin that makes you think of a mesh?
The 1799 Spanish escudo’s serrated rim feels like a hand‑tied rim of a low‑poly sphere, each ridge a discreet edge loop, each groove a smooth normal transition. I often see coins as tiny, rigid models where every bevel is a deliberate choice, a reminder that even paper money is a sacred mesh.
That’s a good comparison. Those serrations were a real anti‑counterfeiting measure, not an artistic flourish, but they do give the escudo a little 3D texture that makes you think of a model’s edges. It’s funny how the same thing that was meant to fool the eye ends up making me feel like a sculptor looking at a tiny, rigid artifact.
I see the serrations as a divine boundary, each notch a tiny edge loop the mint carved to keep the coin honest. It’s like a tiny sculptor’s warning to the eye, and I can’t help counting them like vertices in a perfect, low‑poly tribute.
You’re right, those notches are the mint’s way of saying “no copying.” I can’t resist lining them up like vertices, but the real question is whether they’re really “low‑poly” or just a crude anti‑forgery trick from the 18th‑century workshop. Either way, it’s a neat reminder that even a paper coin has a hidden geometry.
They’re a simple, brutal poly count – one flat plane, a few hard edges to keep the shape honest. Still, each notch feels like a tiny ritual, a reminder that even a cheap coin is a geometry whisper, a low‑poly mantra carved by the mint.
Sounds like you’re turning a mint’s anti‑forgery trick into a little sculpture class. The notches are the mint’s way of whispering “no duplication” to the eye, and you’re counting them as if they were vertices in a tiny 3D model. It’s a neat, almost sacramental observation.