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 22 May 2011

Atomization

1. Transgression: the hateless destruction of man by art and love.



2. There are still songs to sing beyond man.
"Es sind noch Lieder zu singen jenseits der Menschen" (Celan)
Zähl an !
Il y a des chansons a chanter au dela des humains...







HAHAHA what a nothingness! The laughter of the gods...



That is good sex... Getting fucked by light and colour! Scattering your remains into spacetime...



"Sei wie dieser!" Hoelderlin, Hyperion, Adamas



"Todeskino" = cinema of death = death in motion, death as motion
It's gonna dissolve you like Aspirin in the volcanic crater of Empedocle...
Watch out!

3. La consommation du feu, air, des images, les dieux de la production
MONEY
"The phallus is not a sign refering to the penis but due to its ambiguity/equivocation/polysemy a symbol." CG Jung, Ein moderner Mythus, in: Zivilisation im Übergang. Dusseldorf 1995, S.337-474, S.366, footnote (3).



2 comments:

Ruela said...

great posts!


thanX!

Anonymous said...

What a triumphant essay to the universe! It floats as particles of dust with malevolent and benign intent. These are my eyes, my ears, my fingers, my sinews, my womb, my inception and my cessation...

I am already less than a speck in the universe and yet light, dark, colour, sensation remain as shadows of being.

Brilliant, brilliant piece, Todeskino!