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.
10 comments:
Dark, dreary & fearful
Rama(if I may call you that?),
Yeah, I'm afraid so. Thanks for commenting. Not enough of that on the blogs these days.
dark and beautiful!!!
Mersault,
Thank you, thank you. Depression has its rewards. ;-)
good exercise ;)
Ruela,
Therapy, I reckon. ;-)
Thanks.
Yeah...
Great composition!
JB,
Thanks. That and the calming effect of pencil work is about all I can say for this one...
You're right, Messy... Depression DOES have its own rewards.
Portrait of my mind: astute & accurate!
Iryna,
yeah...i guess...(sigh...)
Thank you!
;-)
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