Sterile Garden presents a work of stark & desolate beauty, where shuddering percussion thinks nothing of thundering through the pitch dark droning emptiness of abandoned factory floors, decaying shipyards & post-apocalyptic android hovels.
Jet off to a land where the sun never rises, the black clouds are always hanging low & the machinery is angry. Disconnect is knocking at your door, lying in wait outside your porch, sliding into your aural canal, rewiring your frontal lobe & taking you out for Vietnamese food as a thank you.
Dark. Solid. College.
Edition of 39. Black on black artwork. Printed by skeptical Turkish lads.