Chuck Connelly

 is a 30-year veteran of the art world. Working exclusively in oils because he loves the sensuality and brightness, Chuck’s paintings elude simple classification. His subject matter ranges from fantastic surrealism to portraits of rap artists, from panoramic landscapes to detailed studies of a single plant. He has a firm hand with the brush, painting from the shoulder instead of the wrist, yet is capable of surprising delicacy and subtle tones. He is not afraid to experiment with his work, utilizing anthropomorphic animals, words or atmospheric effects to convey his message. Whether he is creating an almost cartoon-like satirical painting or an intricately crafted portrait, there is an underlying emotional tension that comes through clearly. 

His neighborhood has some striking qualities. The block south of his home is filled with tenement apartments and abandoned warehouses with weed-choked driveways. Walk one block north, and you’ll see beautifully restored Victorian homes with exquisite landscaping. And balanced precisely between the up-and-coming and the seamy and seedy is the home of Chuck Connelly. The allusion is almost too poignant.

You have to visit Chuck – he doesn’t e-mail, doesn’t drive and detests public transportation. This has resulted in an almost hermit-like existence that he both relishes and despises. It’s evident when he speaks of his home. He loves it – food can be delivered, and he has a young artist (called “The Boy”) whom he pays to do odd jobs. And then, a few sentences later, he refers to his home as “Cell Block 7”, dreading his return to isolation. That’s where we met, and he immediately suggested that we go out for something to eat. I drove us to the West Avenue Grille in Jenkintown, where we discussed his work and life over brunch and beers.

A conversation with Chuck covers a lot of ground. He is surprisingly candid - he doesn’t know if he loves art, but couldn’t do anything else. He misses New York and regrets leaving. The conversation roams from the bars that he isn’t allowed to go back to, to his shows in Europe, to his piece acquired by the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York.  From his brief stint in Hollywood, where he befriended actor Nick Nolte and appeared in Martin Scorsese’s “New York Stories” (or at least his hands and paintings did), to his divorce and current self-imposed social isolation, no topic is taboo. As Chuck puts it, “I don’t care. Nothing is private anymore. And there is a certain freedom to ‘Who gives a f***.’”

Oddly enough, this careless attitude towards privacy and aggressive outspokenness may be his key to commercial success. Shooting has recently been completed on a biographical film about Chuck. For five years, cameras followed him everywhere – through artistic crises and triumphs, family troubles, and the trials of drinking and divorce. The film is expected to be released in 2008 by HBO and the BBC. Although he plays it cool, it’s obvious that Chuck is excited about the project. It’s a rare chance for a professional artist to get wide-spread exposure. But Chuck’s general world-weariness tends to muffle the rare flashes of enthusiasm that arise; he is miserly with his optimism.

Chuck is very aware of the current dip in his fortunes. But he genuinely seems to accept his situation. “It makes me stronger to be weaker. There is freedom in low places.” When asked to elaborate, Chuck says, “There’s nothing worse than being in a real good place, worried that it will all come crumbling down.” He blames no one for the loss of the limelight but himself. “I got cocky. I took my art to a certain place, and the audience went with me. But then I took it further, and I thought they’d come along. They didn’t.”

Although much of his art has a light feel to it, there’s no denying it comes from dark places. “Inspiration comes from desperation,” he says. “If you are completely empty of inspiration, then it comes from anywhere. You could look at this (he points to the overflowing ashtray) and find inspiration from it.” But the best work comes from within, or as Chuck puts it, “Who put the ‘pain’ in the painting?”

His current show, “In Fashion,” debuts at the Knapp Gallery (162 N. 3rd St. Philadelphia) on November 2nd and features works inspired by haut couture periodicals such as Vogue and Cosmopolitan. The works depict models in a variety of poses. They’re beautiful, but impartial – seeming alone even when there is more than one person in the painting. The combination of bold, simple lines and shapes to depict the backgrounds and figure contrasts with the detailed, even intimate attention paid to the faces. The title of the show is more than a little ironic. Although Chuck did work with the high fashion houses of Philadelphia early in his career, he considers himself the complete antithesis. “Art has nothing to do with fashion. If it’s in fashion, it’s out of art.”

It’s an interesting quote from a man who is seemingly balanced on the fine edge of recapturing conventional success. But with a career spanning 30 years of atmospheric highs and abysmal lows, he has a unique and unflinching perspective on both the process and the business of art. It’s obvious that Chuck Connelly is no mere “Sunday painter.” He doesn’t just “do” art; he lives, drinks and breathes it.

The most amazing thing about Chuck, after the interview, when all was said and done, Chuck Connelly, a man whose sole means of support is his paintings, someone who has lived the life of a starving artist, and who knows that the lean times are always waiting just around the corner…insisted on paying the tab. If you know anything about art and artists, then you know that NEVER happens. It was a simple action that said as much about him as his paintings.

Dan Prosen lives in Philadelphia.