They're not sweet. Not light. Not what you expect when you hear "angel."
And yet... they are exactly what is needed ♥♥♥
The Black Angels weren't born in a moment of peace, but out of unrest. These were the first angels I created. Because the world feels so raw and sad right now. I wanted to counter that. Not sweet pictures, but images that touch. That say something without words.
They carry stories, of loss, strength, rebellion, rising in the storm.
They are made for people who do not recognize themselves in pastel.
For those who know that beauty also knows grief. And that hope sometimes turns black.
In my work they are female figures, sometimes soft, sometimes wild,
shrouded in historical elements, burning with symbolism.
They look at you. They don't ask anything. But you feel: this is about something.
They are not literally 'angels', but carry something invisible with them.
They represent themes such as climate, freedom, loss of control,
and repackaging it.
Darkness often scares people.
But just as night makes the stars visible,
does the black in this art awaken something in you?
The Black Angels are not there to please.
They are there to mirror.
To give strength.
To show the beauty of imperfection, doubt, grief and transformation.
Black Angel of the Earth
Her feet in the mud.
Her heart beats with the seasons.
She's raw, real, unadulterated nature.
No angel from heaven
but of everything that lives, proliferates, grows and dies.
She is Earth. And she looks at you.
Black Angel of the Burning Earth
She watches silently as the world smolders.
Smoke in her lungs, fire in her heart.
She doesn't ask for anything.
But her look says it all: Will you keep watching?
Black Angel of a Dying Earth
The air is still. Time is fragile.
She bears the scars of a planet begging for care.
But even now her silhouette radiates hope.
It's not too late.
Black Angel of Freedom
Chains shattered.
Wings spread.
She's not here to comfort you,
she challenges you to be free.
Guardian of Hope
She stands there. Quiet.
Between rubble, doubt and darkness.
Her wings catch the last light.
Not to keep it, but to share it.
She reminds you: hope is not a feeling, it's a choice.
Black Angel of Secrets
She does not speak, she keeps.
Old truths. Unspoken desires.
In the folds of her cloak it whispers:
What you hide lives.
Maybe you recognize yourself. Maybe not.
Perhaps you feel something that you can't yet put into words.
The Black Angels do not ask for understanding.
They're just there.
For those who dare to look ♥
