W. Dire Wolff
From the tie dye sheets that provide a fortress to the hardwood floors, I cast away the shadows in colorful canvas still wet with the colors odor. Eye find my brush stokes relieve me from the neon tubes that burst forth images and information. From the lofty studio eye embraced this city and made it my mountain valley, for now. For now its where eye find the last bits of fading scene. Where dirty crime filled gulches filled with artists and web heads that came downhill from melting snow and rain. As the gladiators prepare their stadium at the harbors edge, the yuppies rush to find safe haven in real estate investments. So that while eye paint my little paintings, to the strum of my guitar, that brings pause from my web inventions and commissioned software, Eye know that eye am part of the end.