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.

Monday, 4 February 2013

There is a voice that doesn’t use words.
Listen.
 

3 comments:

Russell Duffy said...

Disturbing, very, very disturbing. Ii take it they didn't just drown?

Ruela said...

!!!

A.Decker said...

Too much for my little(me!me!)mind, this looks like galaxies in space...