Rockey Stories – Shared by Friends and Visitors

Rockey Stories, short or long, can be shared here
by those who knew him for decades… or met him just once.

Rockey was sitting in his studio painting when I walked in. He invited me to come in, sit down, and we talked. I discovered that he had been a middle school art teacher, as I was at the time. He told me not to worry, there was an art life after teaching. He shared his teaching experiences with me and gave me ideas on how to trigger the unexpected in art.

About seven years ago, I was sitting on the bench across from Rockey’s studio watching the birds nesting in the bushes. Even though I was dreadfully shy, when I saw his door was open – I heard a voice inside myself that told me to go in. I’m grateful that I did and consider it to be one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. Rockey and I quickly became friends – sharing meals, sketchbook entries, and long conversations about love, loss, clouds, uncertainty, hope, faeries, and all things nature.

 

 

You were as iconic to Manitou as the Springs themselves. You felt like you were part of the fabric of the town,” said the post. “Manitou Springs shines a little less brightly today.”  Adams Mountain Café

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“I hope dear Rockey, you rest with creativity, love, and peace. Thank you for inspiring so much of us. We are better for knowing you. Your art and words will be a part of Manitou’s legacy forever.” – Don Goede 

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“Charles Rockey gave us love, art, friendship and so much more. His memory will live on and hopefully guide us forever.” Ken Jaray.

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This place is full of so much magic internally that it spills out into the mysterious, historical exterior. The woman attendant brought joy to our day by sharing Rocky’s art. This studio turned museum adds exponentially to the charm of Manitou Springs. – Hanna R. M.

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My wife and I had the great honor of meeting Rockey at his studio in Manitou Springs yesterday. It was an experience we both had been looking forward to since we were children and he did not disappoint! As another reviewer said, he truly is the heart of the magic in Manitou Springs – Jasmine and Rose

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Don’t let your curiosity pass you by. A true gem tucked in the heart of downtown Manitou.- Christofer Harms

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One of the very best artists in town. Rocky has been around here a great many years and his art is something to see while you’re here. – Marti/Two Feathers Foster

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Rockey is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. He graciously invited in two total strangers and chatted the better part of an hour with us. Brian Thompson

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This place is amazing. Killian Joy

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Beautiful art sold by a beautiful man who loves his community. Stop by to be amazed at the paintings, sculptures & more! – William Rogers III

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Heart of the magic of Manitou. – Michael Young

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On a corner of downtown Manitou Springs lives Charles Rockey and his storybook art studio. Trenton and I popped in here to chat once we noticed Charles sitting in the window. Such a fascinating work of art his home and studio are to witness. I remember shaking his hand after he let us take a picture of him, his face and hands so full of life, and age, and reminiscent of his whimsical artwork. As Winston Churchill once said- “We shape our dwellings, and afterwards, our dwellings shape us.” In this particular case, art and dwellings are one in the same.

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I met the amazing artist Charles Rockey while in Manitou Springs, CO last week, and WHAT a meeting it was. Earlier that day I had seen a fine art exhbition of his work at Miramont Castle Museum and wondered about the artist and where his studio was. Just a short time later I happened to literally wander up to his studio, peeked inside the front window, and saw Rockey inside just sitting quietly while working on his latest illustration. The art paper was lying on his lap and all he was using was a ball point pen- something he swears is the best tool in drawing. When I finally managed to introduce myself (I was dumbstruck at first), I couldn’t help but notice that not only is his latest work in progress absolutely beautiful, but so was his face. I actually even blurted it out to him, telling him what a beautiful face he has and could I shoot a photograph or two of him? Catching him by surprise, I snapped this first image above as he smiled a little self-consciously. We talked a short while, and I found out that his art schooling was actually at the Art Institute of Chicago, and that he has a great fondness for the school, museum, and the city of Chicago. His published illustrated book entitled, “Love Songs of Middle Time” is just gorgeous, and as I rifled through a copy, I asked which is more important to him- the story he creates or the illustration? He thought a moment, and replied that at first the illustration was most important, but over time, the story became the foundation. He is now busy creating a second book, and hopes to have it published within the next year. I am now one of his biggest fans, not only for his gorgeous works of art and storytelling, but also his kindness and sense of humor with a complete stranger like me. It was a true pleasure to meet this living legend. – Cheryl Rausch

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Knitting with Rockey the Artist – Rockey’s Passing in 2019 Lovely Yarn Escapes – Wednesday, June 19, 2019 Back at the beginning of May, I was asked to join a caregiving team of Rockey’s, an elderly local artist in Manitou Springs, Colorado. He’s a local legend in Manitou and I’ve been a family friend since his granddaughter and my oldest daughter were best friends through Junior and High School and I became friends with her parents. I really have few qualifications but that Rockey’s daughter knew I would be a peaceful addition with my knitting and reading (and Rockey liked my singing when I sang to the Seniors’ lunches years ago). So for the past month and half, I’ve occupied a corner chair in front of his studio’s window, at the round table, surrounded by his artwork and sculpture and I’d knit. Sometimes he sat with me, drinking Earl Grey tea and watching the town pass by as the sun fades (I think these were the most special days). His studio looked out onto a busy sidewalk filled with tourists and the town clock across the street and the Episcopal church at an angle down the street. Rockey’s Blue House Often tourists would peak into the window or knock to come in and see his art. One memorable time a small boy was peeking in and I let the family in. The room next door was set up as an informal store with prints on the wall. But the studio/sitting room was filled with storybook villages, a man’s sculpted torso reaching to the ceiling, curios stuffed in every corner and paintings on every square inch of wall. It literally takes days to take it all in (and I was still discovering things on the last day, an overlooked painting of houses scattered hodgepodge up to the mountain in autumn tones I could have looked at forever). Old man and the young boy met and the boy was filled with wonder. After exploring he ran out, his family left, but after a few moments, he ran back in to tell Rockey a storm was coming (his mom said he had to tell him). Rockey smiled. Lilacs graced his table in June, their scent strong. Picked from the little green park surrounding the clock. Friends regularly dropping by. One cafe owner came by to play his guitar, Spanish music that Rockey would bob his head to and smile with his eyes closed. Time kinda paused. Rockey was adamant about having no schedule. And I knit. Later he would be lying down and I’d watch from a small monitor we would hide from him. A balance to keep his privacy, give him space but protect him too. Throughout it all I knit. I had my tablet open to a book but I’m uncertain if I actually got much more than half a page a day read, my eyes continually on the monitor angled visually over my book. Calm would descend, I’d sip my tea, peak over my shoulder at the town at points and listen to the Mozart or Handel being played, and listen for Rockey, and knit. I think getting him to eat and drink became a game of sorts. Can I lure him into taking a bite of something? A sense of triumph if he ate a few bites. We discovered fruit his favorite and he’d always have bowls of grapes and his favorite watermelon chunks to nosh on. Watermelon and Rockey will be forever linked in my mind. That and he always had several glasses of water and milk, a mug of tea, and his perpetually favored vanilla drink sitting there with a straw angled out. A desperate struggle to get him to consume something, but ultimately a losing battle because it was time. Before Midnight on Father’s Day, he passed quietly, painlessly. The day before I think he woke only twice, to hug his son and later his older sister. She’s 90 (Rockey was 87) and she uses a walker. Since she’s a bit unsteady I was right behind her as she stepped toward her brother’s bed. Rockey had been still for most of the day. Suddenly he stretches his arms out and pulls his sister down with a huge smile. I’m crying. My last memory of him awake. I knit in peace throughout it all. Mozart floating around me. A memory of Rockey’s low voice echoes through my remembrances. His smile that radiated such love. A unique talented man. He will be missed. And I knit.