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.

Monday, 18 April 2011

Declaration (Wetly In The Numb)





Revealing the muscle that wetly shone

The scalpel ran swift under the skin

The needle slipped in under the thumb

The flesh was paired down to the bone
It left no mark leaving them numb

9 comments:

Ruela said...

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

jbkrost said...

Whoooh!

Mersault (Nera B.) said...

Memento mori

Oilsforfun said...

oh my God

Russell CJ Duffy said...

I was reading about these 'Body Farms' where patholigists work on corpses they keep.

Robert said...

I saw many, many of these photos when I was in school for FX makeup. There is no glamor at all to a dead thing. That is a magic the living create. But there is an amazing lurid saturation to the colors of death and decay. We had to learn how to tone them all down as they would look unbelievable on film

Anonymous said...

The older I get, the more I like this sort of thing. Thank you, C.J. Good show.

Anonymous said...

Email follow-up comments to decker.

Heh!Heh! ;-)

Ruela said...

;)