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.

Sunday, 1 January 2012

...


the dastardly new start. fresh like damp knickers.

3 comments:

Aaron Held said...

Cheers to a "good" dastardly new start :) I like how the microscopic petri dish thing reminded me of a artist moon.

Ruela said...

just fantastic!

A.Decker said...

...a wizard conjuring new dragons...

I likes me knickers nice an' warm from the dryer. ;-)