Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Fear Of Falling
Rio King sat in front of the easel confronted by the blank canvas she looked away in shame. It had been months since she churned out anything worth hanging in the small gallery her father owned. He encouraged her that it was okay, but because of her empty mind and lack of creativity sales were suffering. Other artist worked for her father as well but in the more urban parts of downtown Saint Louis everyone wanted a King original. Rio's father had once been a renowned painter and she was expected to follow in his footsteps without question.
"Don't stress yourself out sweetheart, sometimes us artist reach a roadblock." Rio looked at her father, his smile was warm and comforting, and she suddenly didn't feel so pressed for time. Sighing she touched the canvas, the fabric felt foreign to her fingers.
"What did you do when you couldn't think of things to paint?" She asked quietly twirling the paintbrush around in her delicate fingers. The brush was all Rio had ever known since she was a little girl. Her imagination had been sparked at a young age and by five years old she could draw elaborate pictures that told stories far too advanced for her age. Like her father though she was an observer and she noticed the world and everything in it. Through her painting she managed to capture that and tweak it to her liking to make bigger, bolder, statements, to make people question their lives. However the past few months had been nothing but college and getting a portfolio together to submit to advertising agencies around town.
"I would sleep." Her father stated, a tinkling sound echoed from the gallery and he disappeared to go help a customer. Rio sighed and placed the paintbrush behind her ear. She knew that sleeping would not solve her problems. What she needed was something new, a muse, and inspiration coming from something or someone. Her dilemma was that she had fallen into routine caught in a whirlwind of habitual customs with no dash of spontaneity or a cup of impulsive nature. She had to face the facts her life had become boring.
"Oh great." She muttered to herself, disappointed. Rio knew that she wasn't the most interesting person, she wasn't as outgoing as she liked to be and she often avoided the pleasures that people her age liked to partake in. Rio just had the instinctive habit of entertaining herself in solitude. The life of an artist was fulfilling in most aspects except for social ones. She found it hard to focus on painting and drawing when she spent too much time around other people who she knew couldn't inspire her. It was a disgrace that most people didn't, and this led her right back to her initial issue. Where could she find some inspiration?
"I take it you don't want to sleep?" Rio shrugged as she stepped from the backroom and behind the counter where her father was reading mail, his glasses hung dangerously at the end of his nose and he peered over them at her, his green eyes sparkling with ideas. Rio smiled; she often reveled in the fact that she shared that attribute with her father. Their eyes alone could stop people in their tracks; the intensity of them often garnered stares and admiration.
"No, sleeping won't help me." She said pushing her hair away from her eyes.
"I did tell you that there's no rush didn't I niña?"
"Yes you did, but I shouldn't procrastinate it can only end bad." Rio said trying to convince herself more than her father.
"Well it's all up to you, still take your time. Art should not be rushed, it should take time and you should only produce it when the inspiration comes to you. Until then I will try to muster up some of my own talent and see if I can get a few to sale. I'm sick of being behind this register." Rio's eyes lit up at the sound of that and she hugged her father.
"You want to paint again?" She asked looking at him incredulously.
"Yes, I do."
"Well then we both want something different " Rio said kissing her father lightly on the cheek. She wished however it were just as easy as picking up the brush and letting her ideas flow. She needed to do something, to take an initiative into anything. A little change in her life would do her some good. She just couldn't figure out what would flip on that switch in her mind just yet.
Maybe I should blindly throw my faith into the next thing that comes my way.
"Don't stress yourself out sweetheart, sometimes us artist reach a roadblock." Rio looked at her father, his smile was warm and comforting, and she suddenly didn't feel so pressed for time. Sighing she touched the canvas, the fabric felt foreign to her fingers.
"What did you do when you couldn't think of things to paint?" She asked quietly twirling the paintbrush around in her delicate fingers. The brush was all Rio had ever known since she was a little girl. Her imagination had been sparked at a young age and by five years old she could draw elaborate pictures that told stories far too advanced for her age. Like her father though she was an observer and she noticed the world and everything in it. Through her painting she managed to capture that and tweak it to her liking to make bigger, bolder, statements, to make people question their lives. However the past few months had been nothing but college and getting a portfolio together to submit to advertising agencies around town.
"I would sleep." Her father stated, a tinkling sound echoed from the gallery and he disappeared to go help a customer. Rio sighed and placed the paintbrush behind her ear. She knew that sleeping would not solve her problems. What she needed was something new, a muse, and inspiration coming from something or someone. Her dilemma was that she had fallen into routine caught in a whirlwind of habitual customs with no dash of spontaneity or a cup of impulsive nature. She had to face the facts her life had become boring.
"Oh great." She muttered to herself, disappointed. Rio knew that she wasn't the most interesting person, she wasn't as outgoing as she liked to be and she often avoided the pleasures that people her age liked to partake in. Rio just had the instinctive habit of entertaining herself in solitude. The life of an artist was fulfilling in most aspects except for social ones. She found it hard to focus on painting and drawing when she spent too much time around other people who she knew couldn't inspire her. It was a disgrace that most people didn't, and this led her right back to her initial issue. Where could she find some inspiration?
"I take it you don't want to sleep?" Rio shrugged as she stepped from the backroom and behind the counter where her father was reading mail, his glasses hung dangerously at the end of his nose and he peered over them at her, his green eyes sparkling with ideas. Rio smiled; she often reveled in the fact that she shared that attribute with her father. Their eyes alone could stop people in their tracks; the intensity of them often garnered stares and admiration.
"No, sleeping won't help me." She said pushing her hair away from her eyes.
"I did tell you that there's no rush didn't I niña?"
"Yes you did, but I shouldn't procrastinate it can only end bad." Rio said trying to convince herself more than her father.
"Well it's all up to you, still take your time. Art should not be rushed, it should take time and you should only produce it when the inspiration comes to you. Until then I will try to muster up some of my own talent and see if I can get a few to sale. I'm sick of being behind this register." Rio's eyes lit up at the sound of that and she hugged her father.
"You want to paint again?" She asked looking at him incredulously.
"Yes, I do."
"Well then we both want something different " Rio said kissing her father lightly on the cheek. She wished however it were just as easy as picking up the brush and letting her ideas flow. She needed to do something, to take an initiative into anything. A little change in her life would do her some good. She just couldn't figure out what would flip on that switch in her mind just yet.
Maybe I should blindly throw my faith into the next thing that comes my way.
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