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.
7 comments:
It feels that way as we await the arrivall of spring. Another fine painting mate.
This is great; I delight in your crazy; love the black.
Thanks Guys!
its been a while ....
great!
oh your identity is so strong and unique
friday?
great great
Ruela thanks! your still tearing up the world!
Christina, Friday ? Yes!
Thanks!
Sometimes comments can be a little stupid, like mine, it reminded me of the 13 on a friday with a black cat. But I've only mention Friday cause....
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