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, 26 September 2011

mistakes were made


CHM said...

brilliant mistakes... very inspiring Jase

.:. said...

brilliant mistakes
sounds like
oxymoron to me
yet the mistakes
what a mess
i see it and
i love the view from here
best wishes in your trangression!

Jase said...

thank you

Ruela said...


jbkrost said...


Coffee Messiah said...

There's a lot going on here! Cheers!

TICTAC said...