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.
5 comments:
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh nicely trapped!
uuuuuuuu some relief on the other side
pain and glory! Great work!
beautiful! love the colors too!
Christina...
Ahhhhhhh thank you!
The grass is always greener.
TicTac...
So kind! Thank you.
Freaky man, freaky. The color's so attractive, so ya go in, start noticing the details--then you're trapped!
Chilling. Nice work.
Hey thanks Albert....
your an angel!
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