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.

Friday, 29 June 2012

Friday, 15 June 2012


yes, i am reckless with words, chronically late, pathologically unstable, almost always hysterical
but i am
fiercely loyal whenever my persona is greeted by a tangerine coloured safety net..
candy, do you have candy? ..........

Monday, 11 June 2012