Here comes the story of a hurricane...

Happy almost spring, my loves. I've been working, dancing, and drinking wine out of a mustard jar on the hood of Mrs. Chang in the Northgate Mall parking lot.

Let me tell you about dreams.

Over the last year my obsession with watching bullriding has been overshadowed by an awesome love of MMA. There are a number of things that have seduced me into countless hours of fight fixation, perhaps the greatest of which is the fact that in the ring, these fighters are a perfect paradox of exalted power and sheer humanity.

When these fighters are centered, they enter the ring free of inhibition and purged of defeating thought. This is the true artist's meditation: the entry into a state of total concentration in which the unimportant disintegrates and the truth and power of their individual constitution is revealed. Here, I see the warriors soul- where the hunger comes from: Pride, Heart, Mind, Will, Stupidity, Inferiority, God, Desire... all these facts are exposed perfectly and innocently. Reality is rich and full in these moments, where the subject is both on the verge of omnipotence and total exposure. It's breathtaking, moving, truth-telling, erotic, voyeuristic... God, I love it so fucking much.

Anyway, last year while watching a fight it occured to me that if I could find a way to paint the fighters that truly resonate with me, it would be probably be the AWESOMEST most righteous series of my life. I've dreamt of these paintings day and night, the movement, brushstrokes, power, dedication, grace, discipline, execution, blood, glory, victory, the presence and absence of God... The possibilities felt too epic to let go of.

Let's backtrack a little. Although I've had this dream for some time, I haven't shared it with many aside from my hubby and family. My mom (who is NOT into watching fights) hasn't entirely grasped the difference between MMA and WWE. I've tried to explain that WWE is essentially the antithesis to my vision, but I don't think she got it cause a couple weeks ago she sent me the following picture with the caption, "You want to paint these guys?"

Determined to make her understand, I decided to send her a clip of Conor Hurricane Heun- the fighter I most want to work with. I knew she'd appreciate his style. In searching for a "not so scary" video to send mom, I saw that Conor had a MySpace page. I'm almost never on MySpace anymore but it was Conor Heun, so I "friended" him and attached some brief message about how much I loved watching him fight.

Let me tell you, Conor is a beautiful man and a beautiful fighter. The dude is number one on my list for a crazy number of reasons: some big, some silly and coincidental. Ultimately the reason I most wanted to work with him is because I connect to him as an artist more than any other fighter I've come across. It's not often that I connect to someone on that plane, so when I do it catches my attention. Like getting a cosmic rose from the universe. But anyway- back to my story...

The next morning I was checking my email when I saw that he had "Facebook Friended" me and attached a note. I took it as a sign and sent him a message about my dream.

Awesomely, he wrote back right away and actually sounded excited to help me harness this chapter of my destiny. When I got the email I screamed "THANK YOU!!" through the ceiling of my empty house. We talked on the phone that night and he invited me out to LA and then Vegas to watch/shoot him training and fighting.

So here I am, now- on the cusp of another dreams impending collision with reality. I believe in this vision enough to go all in. I cancelled my two week Ween/Meat Puppets trek, bailed on a side series of paintings and am tying up all my lose ends so I can focus entirely on making this series scream more than anything I've ever done.

Now fear and the future.

Something that's always struck me as funny is the fact that so many people assume I'm fearless, or that I don't get nervous or insecure. That's so fucking untrue: I'm scared about all my fucking stunts. I've been afraid of of lots of things- rational and otherwise: like the idea that God could be watching me and thinking "what a waste;" or "this broad is boring." The thing is, I don't run from fear- I use it as a teacher. It illuminates the places where I am soft and allows me to understand myself more completely. Facing my fear means the power of knowledge and the act of taking accountability for my own sense of happiness and fulfillment. I treat it like the ocean: I respect it too much to turn my back and when it sends me a wave too big to ride, I dive into the heart of it. It's OK if the journey bloodies your face a little.

I'll be honest. My fear made me stiff at the last Rodeo. I did it, I rode- but I was tense on the big bull of destiny. I should have given myself over to it completely, but I was too uncertain and too green. This time I'm really ready to ride so stay posted- I'm about to begin the greatest series of my life.

Ween was the sweetest dream I've ever remembered (and god knows I held on through the last dying embers of magic) but morning has come and gone. I can safely say that I have painted my last Ween-work. I rode that pony into the ground, I'm not gonna stick around and beat it. Tonight is a new night, a new sky: nothing but stars and possibility. Here are some images of the series I've been working on this year. This series will be my relief from the fight series (and vice versa.) It's incredibly slow going so I don't have anything new in the portfolio section, but that will change soon. For now here's a taste. NOTE: NONE of these are finished. Or even close, really.

I hope to have a series of 12 finished before the year is done- a tall order considering these usually take me 3-4 months a piece.

Forever yours,
Thea "because destiny is my bitch" Wolfe

Posted on 18 Mar 2010, 16:51
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Beyond the Beyond of the Dirty Dawn

Happy New Year, people.

This year there were no tears when the ball dropped. The whole year felt like:

I am so glad to be entering a new decade and leaving the last behind. Being done is a weight off my shoulders.

2009 was a strange year. I declared it "Year Beyond the Dirty Dawn" and it truly, truly was. The whole damn thing had the feel of a morning that came before sleep- confetti, spilled beer, broken glass, colors fading from screams to whispers and a reunion of inhibitions with self awareness. I took it in like any other post-wrong party- trying uselessly to clean up before realizing the mess was too much. I spent the last 12 months sleeping off the Rodeo and trying to understand what I learned. I felt hazy, tired, cloudy, victorious, nostolgic, and sad. Like i'd run farther than ever before, farther than my body was ready to. I ended up stronger for it, but not before a world of hurt and a long recovery.

Here are some images from 2009.

Goodbye 16,000 miles of road, bounce castles, puking fucking moms, a happy leap off the sobriety wagon, Superstar in Albuquerque, giant dick tattoos, a yellow ghost town, slutty shorts, eras ending, teeth shattering, coming, staying, going (and sometimes leaving forever), homecooked meals, famous mustaches and equally powerful anonymous ones.. God.. It's all been meaningful and all for the best, but I was ready for this sunset. Ready to discover new stars.

There's new work up in my portfolio and much, much more to come. May 2010 dazzle and romance you all. Much to come..

So so so so so so so much...
Thea

Posted on 2 Jan 2010, 11:57
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