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.
8 comments:
love the corrosion, as hard as iron, but oxygen takes its toll
thank you leperson!
hey Ruela..
Is this a....... "ROCK".... star?
get it? rock..
cool!
This new textural thing you're exploring is inspired. Truly different.
Like traces of strange tenderness from a lost age...
JB,
I can't believe you said that. ;-p
Yeah A., that was really lame!
Forgive me ruela..
hahaha!
you rock jb! ;)
thanx A.Decker ;)
cool, intriguing and primitive...i like it!
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