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.
Wednesday, 9 November 2011
Another day in Paradise...
The photos are from a Kodak 110 Instamatic I smuggled into work one day(strictly forbidden! Heh,heh). The painting is a 12x16" oil on used-over canvas. I spent most of the 80's in this "compound," rotating shifts. I think this painting is evidence that it did permanent damage. ;-D