The Dark Angels are a come and go crew. They create then disappear like street art. Their works exist in fragments, particles that float, dust motes that spin before the wind that blows them to faraway places. They are individuals that work as one. Deep as oceans, as impenetrable as the night. Art urchins and poets, they dissolve before they form. They are the Dark Angels, they are discharge. They are a bloody mouthful.
7 comments:
Subtle and expressive = Cheers!
good!
always good and interesting,
love that falling letters
Ingeniously psychotic. ;-)
I love it!
really nice
;~)
Now we have sinister surrealism. Cool.
Yep!!
Really love this, that post industrial drip caps it off!
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