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, 17 November 2011

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5 comments:

anjobaldio said...

Trabalhos maravilhosos!!
Grande abraço.

jbkrost said...

There she is!!

Mersault said...

gracias :))

Greetings Jb, love you!!!

A.Decker said...

Very dynamic and strikes me as quite personal. I like it.

Ruela said...

love it!!!