The ladders, the rugs, the very patient people I love, and the first 30 minutes that made it all worth it.
There’s something very chic about having your artwork displayed at Galleria Dallas. There’s something significantly less chic about arriving Friday morning with a car packed to the brim, paintings stacked everywhere, tools in hand, and immediately putting your mom and boyfriend to work.
But that’s how the morning started.
My mom and Nathan graciously volunteered to help me set up the gallery, which, in hindsight, was less “help Charlie hang a few paintings” and more “become unpaid members of the Charlie Jo Designs installation crew while Charlie stands ten feet away saying, ‘Wait... can you move it half an inch to the left?’”
We hauled. We measured. We leveled. We moved things, stepped back, stared at them, and then moved them again. At some point, I’m pretty sure all three of us lost the ability to tell whether anything was actually level.
One of my favorite parts of the entire setup was seeing the rugs from DFW Textiles rolled out underneath the collection. DFW Textiles has been part of my art story since the early days, when they took a chance on my work and gave some of my paintings a place in their showroom. Having their rugs in this installation felt like such a sweet full-circle moment. And, conveniently, they also made the gallery look approximately 400% more fabulous. A huge thank you to the DFW Textiles team for so generously providing them.
Once the final painting was hung and the tools were (mostly) hidden from view, I had one of those strange little moments where you look around and think, Oh. We actually did it.
Months of paintings that had lived on easels, leaned against studio walls, covered my floors, and occupied a slightly unreasonable amount of space in my brain were suddenly hanging together at Galleria Dallas.
Then noon came. Within the first 30 minutes, more than six paintings had sold.
There’s really no way to explain how surreal it feels when someone chooses one of your paintings for their home. These pieces start so quietly, usually with an idea from a garden, a landscape, a color combination I can’t stop thinking about, or some tiny detail I noticed somewhere. Then, eventually, they leave my studio and become part of someone else’s everyday life.
And somehow, while sitting at Old Monk recapping our morning, six of them found their people almost immediately. As you can probably tell, I was somewhere between completely amazed and absolutely beside myself with excitement.
Standing inside the gallery that morning made me think about how many small moments had led to that one. Painting after work, running back to the studio because I suddenly knew exactly what a canvas needed, ordering supplies, changing my mind, changing it back, asking everyone within a ten-foot radius whether something looked straight, the early collectors and designers who took a chance on my work, and my family and friends who have hauled paintings, held ladders, listened to ideas, and generally gone along with whatever scheme I’ve dreamed up next.
It takes a funny little village to build a business, especially an art business.
Mine apparently travels with a measuring tape.
I’m incredibly grateful to Galleria Dallas for giving local artists a place to share their work on this scale and for welcoming my collection into such an iconic Dallas space. Seeing my paintings hanging there is something I’ll remember for a very long time.
And to my mom and Nathan, thank you for waking up early, carrying approximately one million things, following increasingly specific hanging instructions, and dealing with me while I bossed you around. I promise I know how lucky I am.
The collection will be on display at Galleria Dallas through September 7th, and there are still pieces available for purchase.
But Friday morning, before anyone walked through, before the first painting sold, and before I could fully process what was happening, there was this tiny window where it was just the three of us standing there looking at everything we’d put together.
Messy morning. Beautiful gallery. Six paintings gone within 30 minutes.
Not a bad Friday.
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