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.

Tuesday 12 April 2011

Slave



7 comments:

Miss G said...

Very nice. I think I know some people that would love to be your slave...

Mersault (Nera B.) said...

slave to what?

Ruela said...

My love ;)

Ruela said...

Miss G



Send it to me ;)

Robert said...

It takes more than chains...

Aaron Held said...

awesome photos ruela the chains look cool in black and white

doriandra said...

oh my....