Dream Makers, Chain Breakers
A Multimedia Journey from the Basement Studio to the Bright Lights By Tim Cooney
From Basement Studios to Pratt Institute, UMASS, and SunTurtle Studios in Sonoma, A Father's Reflection
Last week, I flew from San Francisco to New York City to attend my daughter Grace’s graduation from Pratt Institute in Brooklyn. She is a true fashion designer, whose journey began not in a glossy Manhattan showroom, but in the basement studio I built for her back on Cape Cod.
That basement was more than just a creative space—it was our incubator. I filled it with sewing machines, vintage patterns from estate sales, and hours of encouragement. Her twin brother Grant and I worked on a massive train layout while she stitched her early designs. We were building dreams and breaking chains together.
Grant went on to curate vintage collections and exotic treasures from estate sales across New England, and Grace dove headfirst into sustainable fashion. And together, they now stand at the helm of their futures—independent, imaginative, and deeply rooted in values of creativity and legacy.
The Basement Studios: Where It All Began
In 2015, after being diagnosed with Trigeminal Neuralgia, I began painting. It started in that same basement studio—first boats, then visions, then memories. That creative storm carried me through years of grief, physical pain, and heartbreak. I painted through the loss and emerged into something new.
I’ve now painted hundreds of works, mentored my grandson Mason from afar, and continued to grow SunTurtle Studios into a haven of healing. The basement taught us all how to turn wounds into wisdom.
Grant Thomas, Graduation from UMASS Eisenberg School of Business 2025
Grace Marie, Graduation from Pratt Institute, Brooklyn, NY, Class of 2025
Grace is standing outside the Designer Show at Pratt 2025
New York Walkabout: Dreaming Big with The Journeyman
While in Manhattan, I showed my graduates how to dream big by example. I stepped into Random House and imagined my book being published after going to auction. I stood beneath the lights of Carnegie Hall, dreaming about doing my show there and the Scottish ancestry I shared with the man. I took photos at The New York Times, manifesting that my book will one day be a bestseller. I passed by the Late-Night studios of Stephen Colbert and Jimmy Fallon, imagining myself sitting on their couches, talking about The Journeyman. I also visited Strawberry Fields, where I imagined my future like John Lennon had taught me so many years ago, and thanked him for inspiring me and my love of music. All of it in service of a vision I’ve held for decades: that The Journeyman, my memoir and multimedia project, will soon find its rightful audience.
On the plane trip to New York, I watched A Complete Unknown, the Dylan biopic, and wept as I realized our journeys as artists are all the same, a searching. I read Chronicles cover to cover, reflecting on my journey—from a stockbroker to an artist, from codependency to clarity, from chaos to truth. I remembered reading The Secret over a decade ago and realized that I had manifested this moment.
I stopped by McNally Jackson Books and picked up The Glass Castle, Just Kids, Chronicles, Born to Run, and On the Road. Books that share something with my story—truth, survival, reinvention.
Manifesting the future with Grace in Manhattan
By Tim Cooney
I wrote this song for my children—Grant and Grace—who arrived in the middle of a storm, and somehow became the light that pulled me from the darkest years of my life. I named them in a prayer, and that prayer became a path. This song is for them—and for anyone still at sea, looking for the light.
Verse 1
You pulled me out of the darkness and washed away my pain
Two gentle hearts that I named in a prayer’s refrain
You granted me grace when there was nothing there
Gave me a whisper of hope, brought me to where
Loves melody, played softly in the night
Chasing away shadows, you made everything right
What will you become? That’s what I thought
You gave this old soul a brand-new start
Chorus
Dream makers Chain breakers, — I know it sounds strange
Dream makers Chain breakers, — it’s time to change
Dream makers, Chain breakers, — this is your chance
Dream makers Chain breakers, — show us how to dance
Dream makers, Chain breakers, — you're my little prayer
Grant me your grace, and I will take you there
Verse 3
You sailed through the storm with your compass so right
Turning wounds into wisdom, truth into sight
Your light shines bright for those who cannot see
Shining through the darkness and sailing back to me
Each moment with you is like flowers in bloom
Creating a garden that will conquer the gloom
In the silence of the night, when the world feels cold
You wrap me in warmth turning dark into gold
Chorus
Dream makers Chain breakers, — I know it sounds strange
Dream makers Chain breakers, — it’s time to change
Dream makers, Chain breakers, — this is your chance
Dream makers Chain breakers, — show us how to dance
Dream makers, Chain breakers, — Here my little prayer
Grant me your grace, and I will take you there
From The Book, The Journeyman
The Basement Studios
I discovered painting in 2015 after being diagnosed with Trigeminal Neuralgia, and was trying to work through my feelings about the disease. I rediscovered the canvas in a whole new way—not the canvas of my sailboat but a different kind of canvas—a magic canvas that, if in the hands of an artist, can become a window into the world they seek.
It began in the basement with my twins on one rainy summer day. I wanted to teach them what I knew about tools and creative endeavors, so I started putting a studio space together where I could teach them, much like my grandfather had taught me. I could see that my twins, Grant and Grace were enthusiastic children with big ambitions, much like their father.
Grace, a gifted designer and all-around talented creator. I wanted to encourage her as much as possible, so I arranged some sewing lessons for her with a neighbor and built her a studio in the basement, much like I had done for myself as a child. With her grandmother’s mentorship and the sewing lessons, she had all the support she needed.
She now had a place where she could develop her incredible talents. By 2025, she would graduate from the fashion program at Pratt in Brooklyn with honors. I attended the fashion show for the graduating class of chosen designers in May of 2025. I couldn’t be prouder of the artist she has become.
My son Grant was inquisitive and interested in everything I had to teach him to harness that energy, but he had one passion…trains. We would spend the next three years building a vast layout in our basement and hunting for trains far and wide. It was a great bonding experience that I would never forget. I had so many lessons to offer them both, especially in creative design.
When I moved my business back home after my eldest son was diagnosed with bipolar, it was done with intention. I knew these were the final years I would have my twins to myself, and I didn’t want to waste a single minute. I was distraught over my eldest son’s addiction, and I didn’t want my youngest children to have to compromise their childhood to accommodate their older brother’s disease, so I paid special attention to them all during this time and put my business on the back burner.
The first few canvases I painted were of boats; I like boats, and there was something that made me happy when I painted them. Thinking about my sailing voyages opened my memories as I poured them onto the canvas. I was carrying so much emotional and physical pain at the time, I was hooked right away on its healing powers.
I would paint for hours and hours until the canvas grew. I would often get lost in the process, and there would be weeks during those three years when I spent every day painting. I would get lost in a trance starting in the early morning and not looking up from the canvas until late evening.
When I began hanging the paintings in my home, art and music filled my thoughts every day. Together, art and music were my healing elixir, just what I needed to escape the confusion, trauma, and pain that had become my life.
I have been painting for over ten years now, and I have completed hundreds of paintings. I teach my grandson, Mason, art and Music remotely every week from Northern California, where I now live. I credit art and music for helping me heal and reconnect with my authentic self. Art and music have given me the greatest joy, and I began sharing that joy with my children and grandchildren every day. Art saved us, and it can save you too!
My Son and Moon by Tim Cooney
This painting is witness to the trauma that engulfed my home in the summer of 2015. I had just begun my painting journey when my eldest son was diagnosed with bipolar fueld by addiction. The canvas was in my studio on my easel when he came into the house and took a blow torch to it. He burned two holes in the top of the canvas and trashed the studio. His rage shocked us all but I refused to let it win. I patched the holes from behind and turned the scars into the sun and moon living together, the dark and the light in one frame reflecting the bipolar world that now belonged to us all.
I painted my twins walking their path in the distance and leaving the trauma behind. Their bikes a symbol of their vanishing childhood, I played them a song as I sat on my bench as a motivational march forward. The lighthouse on the hill guiding them into the future. In the distance, two boats at sea still searching, my son and ex-wife who are still searching for the light to guide them back from the vast sea of their codependency.
I hope this post reaches all my friends and supporters. The journey is never easy, but always worth the climb. Carry on, and the sun will rise, even in your darkest days.