Heyo. I'm Jules.
Co-Founder. Chief Visionary Officer.
The one who jumps up and down when you walk in because joy is a reflex, not a performance.
the intro.
I was born dead. Came back. Nearly drowned at one. Came back again. Couldn’t see or hear clearly until seven, so I built my own language out of sensation, rhythm, and instinct. People call that neurodivergent now.
Back then, it was just me.
I was an artist before I was anything else. A kid who saw the world in color before I saw it in words. A kid who moved before she spoke. A kid who felt everything - too much, too fast, too loud.
the sensory kid.
My first concert was Michael Jackson in '88 or '89 - I was like seven or eight, tiny legs dangling off the seat, watching him crawl out of a tent in full werewolf gear for Thriller.
That moment rewired me.
Humans could transform.
Humans could shapeshift.
Humans could build worlds on stage.
I wanted that.
I'm part of the Oregon Trail generation - the last kids to disappear on bikes until dark, the first adults to straddle analog and digital childhood. I remember the world before it got cold.
the athlete era.
I was an athlete before I was a drummer.
Before rhythm found me, movement did.
Varisty softball - recruited for a traveling team at thirteen, but my mom said she wanted me to have a "normal childhood."
(No comment.)
I ran the mile in 5 minutes and 25 seconds in 8th grade and beat every boy on the track. They cried. I didn't.
(Just kidding. But I did beat them all.)
I was on the swim team, volleyball team, basketball team, track, cross-country. If it involved lungs, legs, grit, a finish line, I was in.
Soccer was my home base in high school.
Goalie.
MVP.
Played the state championship with a broken finger from the first whistle. We won. They had to cut my glove off at the emergency room.
Pain never scared me.
Numbness did.
And now? I'm still chasing mud, blood, and adrenaline - Dirty Dash mud runs, Spartan races, flipping tires, climbing ropes, the kind of obstacles that make most adults question their life choices. I love every second of it.
the rhythm era.
Then came rhythm.
Drumline - cymbals, quads, bass - state champions every year. I crushed them. Then, I was a drummer in a band called Waiting for George, named after our bassist who was always late.
We played loud, messy, and alive in Troy's garage - the kind of music that tells the truth. It wasn't about becoming famous. It was about the music and the moment.
the art + travel era.
I painted murals across the U.S.
Lived across the U.S.
Been to every state and every Hawaiian island and Alaska - except the Dakotas.
(Still not sure what's going on there, lol.)
I believe in history -
the hidden stories, the ones that never made it into textbooks, the ones whispered, buried, or carried in the bones.
I believe artists have one job:
use your skills to rage against the darkness.
hollywood + the first rebirth.
At 16, I moved to Hollywood.
Acted on TV. Did improv.
Worked for MPH Entertainment.
Drew portraits for the Amityville documentary on the History Channel. Still remember the eyes of the son.
At 18, I died in a car crash.
Came back different.
More awake.
Less patient for bullshit.
the fire + science era.
I studied art, aerospace engineering, communication studies, anthropology, history, and philosophy. Got recruited into EEG, Neurology, and Sleep Medicine.
Fell in love with the brain -
with the way electricity becomes emotion,
the way pressure becomes illness,
the way play becomes medicine.
I became an Industrial & Organizational Psychologist. A wildland and structural firefighter. Spent twenty years in Sleep Medicine. Ten inside the VA - Emergency Medicine, Primary Care, ICU, Prosthetics, Sensory Aids - watching what stress does to the human nervous system and what softness can restore.
I've held people as they took their final breath. Watched people break. Helped them heal. Saw the world get louder, faster, lonelier. And I've watched small spaces save people.
the room - why wicked rae's exists.
Anthropology says it plainly: as our square footage grew, our connection shrank. The bigger the rooms got, the further we drifted. So I built a small room. A black‑lit room. A neon room. A room where the surveillance ends at the door and the human begins.
Wicked Rae’s is the sum of all of it.
The art.
The science.
The grief.
The punk.
The philosophy.
The fire.
The rebirth.
The rebellion.
The small‑space magic.
The refusal to perform.
The return to play.
With my daughter, Oakley “Frankie” Rae - a queer textile artist who believes everything deserves a second life. And Bones‑Fish - the foxhound who walked into our lives in 2015 and never left.
the work - art + writing + practice.
I'm a Surrealist by nature and a Pluralist by range.
I create art daily. I write daily. I paint from the inside out - what a moment feels like in the body. If I overthink a piece, I toss it. If it doesn’t breathe, it doesn’t stay.
Every dollar from my work funds community programs, scholarships, research, and donated workshops - because everyone deserves access to the room.
