Iwo Tuleya

CLASSIFICATION=HUMAN 1020224027

I’ve had multiple fathers. John Wayne, James Dean, Clint Eastwood. The quiet cowboys, the rebels without the cause, the silent avengers. When they weren’t around, others dropped by: Helmut Newton, with his pervasive lens, Robert Rauschenberg, blending chaos into art, and Wim Crouwel, a master of order and grids. My mother, naturally, had a thing for Germanic jawlines.

There were plenty of women too. Käthe Kollwitz, with her dark, raw etchings of grief and struggle, Marina Abramović, daring me to push personal boundaries, and Sarah Kane, whose dark humour and tragic flair came like a wildfire but left just as quickly.

Was it a mess of an upbringing? Yes. But did it prepare me for whatever mission you throw my way? Without question. I’m trained in the art of survival and creation. Painting? Done. Photography? Of course. Design? That’s my third wife’s name. I’ve learned to adapt, to work under pressure, and to complete tasks with the precision of a gunslinger, as swift as a bullet leaving a barrel.

But let’s be clear here — I’m not doing this for free. If you want my skills, my expertise, my absolute dedication, you’ll need to offer me something in return. Cabbage, knowledge, time, or something of equal value — I’m not picky, but I am pragmatic. After all, nothing in life comes without a cost. I was raised by artists and cowboys, and they all taught me one thing: survival demands a price.

©MMXXIV

Iwo Tuleya

Portfolio