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:
The stripes wrapping over the flat surface with the apple makes me think of a carnival. All of our terror, splendor and pathos turned into a sideshow.
Very right on, JB. Well done.
excelent, love it!
splendid
Yes A!!
its all rolled into one here!
Living in the States has its own set of conditions that are at times hard to express
Thanks
Ruela...
Glad you love it!!
if you love it I love it
thanks
Cristina...
Thanks , glad you think so!!
powerful!
Thanks Tic-Tac!!
Exellent work Jb as always
Thanks Mersault...
Glad to see you here!
Where have you been?
Like a dreamy surreal circus
Thanks Aaron!
keep dreaming the circus will come.
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