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.
Thursday, 11 October 2012
"Have we vanquished the enemy? None but ourselves. Have we gained
success? That word means nothing here."
As it is above, so below. Ashes to ashes, as we fall, may we rise. A myriad sky beckons, full of horror and grace.
Goodnight, be at rest.