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.

Thursday, 13 October 2011

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6 comments:

Mo said...

I feel a great weight

jbkrost said...

I got ta get me one of those coats..
cool
again!

Ruela said...

;)


thanx!

Iryna Harpy said...

This is stunning! Most of your works scream and struggle... this looks like the meat freezer at the end of the process when all the fight has left the carcasses. Your own morgue, of sorts.

Ruela said...

thanx Iryna, yes you're right!

Iryna Harpy said...

You've done a superb job on creating this sense.

It's the kind of image that, if you were asked to contribute one work only to an exhibition, it would draw the audience into forgetting the other works being displayed.

I'm not denigrating any of your other pieces (they're all fantastic in themselves)... but this is a stand out piece that'd leave the onlookers begging for more!