£250.00
Getting the sand out of between your decayed toes is always a chore…
Transmission 024 – Unlife’s a Beach
An undead lifeguard tangled in his own float. A zombie dragging a surfboard. A seagull that’s made its feelings clear. One man has noticed. He’s got a bucket and spade and about four seconds.
Every transmission begins as a textured abstract surface, built in layers of acrylic gel, then washed until it reads as geological. Then something small arrives – two centimetres of story, somewhere in the world.
Ships with a magnifying glass, because you’ll want to peer closer.
