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.

Wednesday, 30 January 2013

Intermezzo

6 comments:

Russell Duffy said...

Holy Cow!!!
This is great!!!

A.Decker said...

Wow. Really.

Oilsforfun-Cristina Homem de Melo said...

Thanks you both
I think I'll do an exibition soon

TICTAC said...

great distinctive style!

A.Decker said...

I didn't mean to do that, use the same post title. It must've been perking in me subconscious after seeing yours. Anyway it's a completely different take, over at Global Love... me lambasting the "new" sleeping pill of the same name.

Sorry. :*{

Ruela said...

beautiful!