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.

Sunday 17 April 2011

Power

6 comments:

Ruela said...

IS IT A BIRD? IS IT A PLAIN?


;)

Mersault (Nera B.) said...

Beautiful Robert

Anonymous said...

I love the aesthetic appreciation of necessary evils...

Good shot.

Oilsforfun said...

good, good!

jbkrost said...

I can feel it!

Robert said...

Thank you all

:~{)