A weeks worth of paint and canvas - Canvas1506 - day 2

 Day two - was about pulling together a reference to get the ball rolling - it took some time, eventually I went into my trip photos and came across this sunrise shot off the coast of Nags Head, North Carolina.  I especially like the atmospheric value and the sun just creeping through the cloud cover. I'll change the bottom and add a few beach lovers walking along the waters edge. 

I also turned the all most square canvas to landscape.  And, came up with a title.

Moments Alone

 

 

 A quick outline using Alizarin Orange (Williamsburg) with Gamblin Neo Megilp Medium

  

I'm starting in the lower middle to establish a break-line for my eventual horizon. The lower section will fall in place once the sky is completed

 

 Work table is a bit tight but workable. By days end my color pallet is in place  - a critical fist step. I can come back to the same mix each day.  

 

End of Day  - A title Moments Alone and my color palette established - critical first step. 

 

left - right detail

  

 

All  cleaned up and ready for Sunday painting with visiting SIP artist Mike Haubenstock -  I also have a new collector picking up a Enhanced Reborn Original of Hard Right.

 

Until tomorrow   

 

A weeks worth of paint and canvas - Day one

Today is the day to find out! 

Most days have a lot of interruption, I thought "A weeks worth of paint and canvas" was a good way to step back in as a daily painter. Here goes...

First day 8/7/2026 (marked on my calendar and digital file made)

Canvas numbered 1507 is a 40x36, almost square blank smooth linen canvas. The first day was about setting up - seeing what was good or needed to be replaced in my tool kit. And, finding the right natural light from the French doors. Most of the day the gallery exterior is in the shade - North light plus the interior LED light is good. My easel is counter balanced, my palette is to my left. 

Gallery Studio Setup 

 

Tomorrow is the tough one - a blank canvas and subject selection.  

  

When the magic leaves

Sunday Morning - August 2, 2026

Reading my journal has been a wonderful trip down memory lane. I always intended to go back someday, to read and reflect.

Someday has arrived.

I often wondered if the creative magic would slowly disappear as age and clarity faded. I'm not sure whether that time is here yet—or just around the corner.

At the end of 2024, I pretty much stopped painting to devote myself to Dream Big Artworks, my pet project.

Until...

 A magical workshop.  

It was one of our large-format painting workshops with the group that would eventually become the SIP Weekend Painters. To my surprise, it was the workshop where High Ground was created—one of my absolute favorite paintings, one I held onto until recently.

Because we had three days to paint, my usual demonstration wasn't really a demonstration at all. It became a major painting from blank canvas to completion.

 High Ground | 56x48 oil in linen

October 5, 2016 | Private Collection 

My project today is different.

It's to find good homes for the collection of paintings still in my care before clarity begins to fade.

That realization changed Dream Big Artworks over the last six months. The business model shifted dramatically. It wasn't graceful - more like a tsunami - but the website, the gallery, and the daily emails are finally beginning to tell the right story.

 Today, the focus is simple: 

Art lovers. 

Collectors. 

People who want to live with original art.

After stepping away from painting for so long...

Can you reverse course?

Could I do another painting at the same level or better as High Ground again? 

A trip down memory lane

A big thank you to those making their way through my journal!

My blog was always one of the first things I would do most mornings. Early morning was my favorite time to write—to regroup, if you will.

Like today, at 4:30 a.m., I started clicking on one of the many posts you all have been reading. My random stop landed in the middle of A Day at the Beach, part of an upcoming solo exhibition at the Richard Stravitz Gallery in 2013.

Captivated, I continued on to the next post - a billboard-size Frisbee painting on linen, also destined for the exhibit. As it turned out, Frisbee was the last painting delivered, only a few days before the opening.

Both paintings are still in my collection.

This weekend, one of them will be pulled from storage, dusted off, and hung in the Dream Big Artworks Gallery throughout August.

I always planned to go through my journal. I thoroughly enjoy how you all are leading me back to it.

Thanks for the trip down memory lane.

Later.

What I like about today, my new revised webite is live

Finally, wrong word, it's never finished, it's never perfect. 

Over the last few weeks, the site has been a challenge. The mobile version was nearly unusable, pages weren't lining up properly, and more than once I wondered if I'd ever get to the end of it.

Today, it finally feels right.

 The website without question has been a challenge to maintain over the years - not for the technically challenged. 

My favorite piece is a slider gallery at the bottom and just below a "Collectors Testimonial" section. Because, the gallery and website is now directed at art collectors and art lovers. Art lovers who don't know they can be one yet. 

Every morning at 5:30, another painting quietly arrives in someone's inbox. Not to sell them something, but to remind them that art has a place in everyday life.

Some smile, some delete it, some visit the gallery, and every once in a while, someone discovers a painting they can't stop thinking about.

 The paintings tell their story first. The collectors finish it.

 And today... I like that.

I guess I'm a Lucky artist.

One of the posts people were reading the other day was "Art & Presentation = Money." WOW! That one was right on target.

Over the years, Jenni and I had a lot of fun learning and experimenting at CAC. Those are fond memories, and I have absolutely no regrets.

Today is today.

I no longer have my very cool studio with the huge easel (blog post read today). Another artist has it now, as it should.

I traded it for an art gallery.

 

That gallery now has a new purpose. Yes, it needs to sell a very large collection of my work - and a few other artists' paintings - but perhaps it is also becoming my answer to a question that has been on my mind lately:

What happens to an artist's work after they are gone?

Dream Big Artworks was originally designed to explore that question. Over the past few weeks, I've begun to think the answer may not be found in artists at all, but in the collectors who choose to live with the work. They are the true guardians.

Perhaps, someday, the gallery evolves into something much more than a place to buy paintings. Maybe it becomes a place where past and present artists continue to be discovered, appreciated, and collected. Just because an artist is gone doesn't mean the work is no longer relevant.

Time will tell.

The real question today is different. Do I want to continue making art? Do I want to continue coaching?

I guess I am a lucky artist.

At eighty-five, I still have good choices ahead.

.

Coming of AGE

LOL, I clicked on one of the blog posts that was being read and got hooked. It turned out to have been written around the same time as a painting I recently pulled from storage and hung in the gallery. I was researching it for an upcoming email.

 

 

Coming of Age 54 x 46 Oil on linen 

April 20,2018

 When it was painted, its title was Transitions. A few days ago, I renamed it Coming of Age. Only after rediscovering the old blog post did it occur to me that my journal blog may finally be coming of age as well, becoming what I had always hoped it would be: a place to remember and, perhaps someday, remind me of my own art history.

Seventeen years later, I find myself rediscovering not only old paintings, but the stories that gave birth to them.

Now hanging in Stony Point gallery LINK 

 

Over the past few weeks, something unexpected has happened.

 After years of quietly documenting my journey from interior designer to full-time artist at 67, this blog has taken on a life of its own. Monthly readership jumped from a few thousand views to more than 18,000 last month, with another 20,000 views in just the past two weeks.

Perhaps it began with my recent post about turning eighty-five. Whatever the reason, readers are discovering not just a single article, but an archive of 644 posts chronicling a remarkable chapter of my life—seventeen years of paintings, galleries, friendships, risks, failures, and victories along the way.

When I left my former career in 2009 to paint full time, I never imagined that the journey itself would become part of the artwork. Looking back, these pages tell the story of reinvention, perseverance, and the belief that it is never too late to begin again.

To everyone who has spent time reading, watching, and following along, thank you. Your interest and encouragement mean more than you know.

Chuck

Life at 85

Soon, very soon, I'll reach the age of 85.

I sometimes wonder what I've learned that truly mattered.

This morning I read a quote from Elon Musk:

"I sleep, I wake up and work. I do this every day, seven days a week."

I smiled.

I've always been a dreamer. In fact, I don't remember a time when I wasn't called one.

Over the years, I've come to believe there are two kinds of dreamers.

The first dream and wait.

The second dream and build.

We all dream. Some never get the opportunity. Some get the opportunity and waste it. A few decide to build.

I've spent my life in that second group.

As a young man, I always felt there were two trains leaving the station. I knew I was on the right one. Some people on that train seemed to do everything right from the beginning and became great. Others struggled to reach their destination.

For me, the journey was never quite that simple.

My opportunities in life were remarkable. Every fifteen years or so, life seemed to open a new door. What I once called reinvention was really transition—one chapter building naturally upon the last.

Designer.

Artist.

Coach.

Entrepreneur.

Different titles perhaps, but always the same person underneath.

The common thread wasn't the career.

It was the problem.

I live to solve problems.

That's what I was paid to do as a designer. That's what I do as an artist. That's what I've done throughout my life.

When a project begins to flounder, you must find what is causing the problem. Remove the obstacle, change the approach, and move forward.

The same is true of a painting.

Years ago, I occasionally put a red X through a painting. Not because there was anything wrong with it. The red X simply meant the subject was over. That approach had reached its end. It was time to find another way forward.

The painting wasn't the problem.

The path was.

Looking back, perhaps that lesson applies to much more than painting.

You would think that by 85, experience and wisdom would make life easy to navigate. Yet I've discovered there are still lessons to learn.

My Achilles' heel has always been balance.

I enjoy working. I enjoy building. I enjoy solving problems.

Sometimes too much.

The failure to stay connected with family, friends, and supporters while focused on the next challenge is a mistake I've made more than once.

The work is important.

The people are too.

So, at 85, can you still make a course correction?

Can you recognize a misstep and create a better outcome?

I believe you can.

After all, that is what problem solvers do.

Today is that day.

Eighty-five.

WOW.

I Didn’t Leave the Gallery System… We Built a New One

 

  

#1 Landscape 16x20 oil on canvas panel

 March 16, 2009 | Private Collection  

Every once in a while, I go back and read something I wrote years ago—not to reminisce, but to check the thinking. This week, one post from 2012 stood out.

This journey started on March 16, 2009—with a small 16 x 20 landscape and a decision made before the paint was dry.

At the time, I was just a few years into painting again, trying to figure out how to make a real career out of it. I approached it the only way I knew how—as a business.

Even then, a few things became very clear:

• Galleries didn’t build your name
• They didn’t control your future
• They didn’t really understand what the artist needed long-term

They showed the work—that was about it.

So I made a decision early on. If I was going to do this professionally, I needed control—over the work, the presentation, and the direction of my career. That thinking never left.

Over time, something else became clear. People don’t buy paintings because of resumes, juried shows, or affiliations. They buy what I came to call “Best Wall Paintings.”

• Work that has presence
• Work that holds a wall
• Work that creates that instant reaction—the “jump factor”

And when that happens, everything else disappears.

Fast forward to today, and I can see the full arc.

I didn’t walk away from the gallery system. I rebuilt it—around the artist.

Instead of relying on a single point of sale, the model became an ecosystem:

• A space for original paintings, experienced in person
• A platform for museum-quality reproductions
• A direct connection to collectors
• A structure for artists to grow and build value
• Control over the work, the brand, and the future

The gallery didn’t go away. It just found its proper place.

This shift changes everything. The artist is no longer dependent on a gallery. The artist becomes part of a system that works with them, not around them.

Looking back, the plan I wrote years ago wasn’t far off. It just took time to build the structure that could support it.

This doesn’t happen overnight:

• Painting by painting
• Decision by decision
• Step by step

Until one day you realize…

You’re not trying to fit into the system anymore. We created one.

“This system continues to evolve—through the work of the artists of SIP, the collectors who choose to live with it, and the space that Stony Point Fashion Park made possible.”

Love, Warmth and the Art of Courtship

 Valentine’s Day tends to amplify the obvious — flowers, cards, celebration.

But I’ve always been more interested in the quieter moments.

Courtship is about that in-between space — when two figures move toward one another, suspended in motion. There’s energy there. Uncertainty. Trust. A willingness to drift closer.

Love unfolds gradually.

Art does too.

Whether an original or a Reborn Original™, what matters most is the feeling it carries into a space. Warmth. Presence. Connection.

Today felt like a good day to share this one.

— Chuck