Every vessel on this bench is blank, and the blankness is a policy, not an oversight. A label would pretend to certify a content; these vessels certify nothing, test nothing and report nothing — they are furniture with a lesson in it: decoration and documentation are different crafts, and confusing them is how studios end up with gorgeous frames of the wrong woman.
The card is the documentation. Its five lines are measurements, written plainly, without adjectives doing the work of facts. “Elegant” is decoration; “hair in a smooth low ponytail” is documentation. Prompts inherit the same discipline: the card paragraph is kept factual and pasted verbatim, and all the poetry is confined to the changing line, where it can do no harm.
Judging follows the same split. A frame is first read as a document — does it match the card, line by line? Only frames that pass as documents are then admired as decoration, and only those are repaired, swapped or upscaled.
Keep the glass blank and the records true. The bench is honest about which of its objects is which, and the work is better for it.