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:
WOW :)))great work
That is different. You must have some wild dreams or nightmares...? I don't know how you can imagine some of your work. I used to paint in oils and then acrylics but most of what I did was like what most people photograph today. Things around me. Barns, old houses, and people looking up or down. You do some good work.
I hear you jb
my blood hears you
my breath is within your powerful sound
the rhythm is deliberately stretched to touch my bones...and i'll be departing once again to finally meet me goal
Nera..
Thanks baby!!
C.J...
I'm really glad you like it that much!
That fine day may come sooner than later
H.A.
Thanks!, you should break out those paints again, and see what happens.
Christina....
Hang in there, there's no need to look forward to that final goal, it will come..... along with many valuable moments along the way.
glad you hear me!
Thanks
Like blue's not attractive enough to me, you had to put the blood red accent. Now I can't look away, can't avoid the cool dread of "crossing over."
Mighty fine.
A!!
Thanks!
Crossing over is the easy part, its whats waiting on the other side, thats a bit scary.
Thanks again
meditative blue, very deep indeed. beautiful!
TicTac..
Thanks, I love this blue, glad you like it!
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