Melodee
Manchester.
My inspiration for my next piece, I had traveled from New York to England to paint my following collection for the upcoming art show; my manager, Katie, had suggested getting out of America and find some more exotic places to get some inspiration as if that was the issue.
I had a few tours lined up where I would ask to paint or ask for an exclusive behind-the-scenes tour and set up where people couldn't see me; mostly, Katie was tired of seeing landscapes and wanted to see what I really could do.
I stepped off the plane, Woah, I wasn't in America anymore, but that didn't inspire me, to see British flags hanging from the ceiling, or everyone with their intense accents, what I did see, was a sign that was showing a concert clip of a guy jumping around and flying through the air, the song was even better, his rapping mixed with a punk beat was making her melt, the end of the clip showed the artist name, Steele Corbyn.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, taking me out of my trance. 'Hello?'
'Your assistant is waiting in front of the airport; her name is Freya; try not to be an asshole, she's there to help you' Ugh, Katie's voice was not the one I wanted to hear this early or was it later?
I rolled my eyes, my eyes still fixed on the screen, waiting till I see Steele again. 'One time, I didn't like my assistant, and you have to bring it up every time.'
'Don't act like you're innocent, Mel; meet her downstairs. She has your bags already.'
'Hey, have you ever heard of Steele Corbyn?' I was hoping for an explanation.
'He's pretty big out there; why?'
Flustered, I wasn't going to see the clip again. I tucked the phone between my shoulder and ear and carried my bag to the exit. 'Well, I got off the plane, and his face was everywhere.'
'What are you thinking?' Katie knew me way too much.
'I need to paint him,' I admitted, I hate using people for my art, but I don't steer away from inspiration when it hits.
'Go look up a photo. I mean, it can't be that hard.'
'Not that hard, huh? Alright, Katie, I quit, you paint for the next gallery.'
'What? Do you want a concert ticket? VIP?' Katie's sarcasm was getting to me.
'I just need to paint him, real life, in person, figure out a way, this is why you get paid' I was getting annoyed, from hunger or being sleep deprived.
Katie laughed, knowing she had gotten under my skin. 'There's the asshole I know.'
'Goodbye' I hung up the phone, the dread settling in, having to meet someone while I was this tired, was not ideal.
A young girl about 19 ran up to Me. 'Miss. Reaver, hi, my name's Freya' Freya stuck her hand out for me to shake.
I didn't do greeting very well, id rather just get to work, but I didn't want to be rude, so I shook her hand. 'Just call me Melodee. Where are we off to?'
'Well, Katie informed me that you'd probably need a nap, so to the b & d and some sightseeing.'
'And my art supplies, did it make it okay?' They sat in the back of the taxi, Melodee going through her mental checklist.
'Yes, I set it up this morning' For a young girl, Freya kept up with all my questions and pain in the ass bullshit.
Freya kept rambling on, but I had spaced out, drowning out her voice, until a thought popped in my mind, rather a person. 'Do you listen to Steele Corbyn?'
'I'm sorry?' I had derailed her; she looked confused.
'Do you listen to Steele..'
Before I could even finish my sentence, a new emotion showed on Freya's face. 'Corbyn? Oh my god, I love his music and him, he's like my favorite singer!'
I knew I was going to regret this. 'I asked Katie to get us in to see him and meet with him' I watched Freya's eyes go wide in excitement.
'Wait, stop it, we're gonna meet Steele?' Freya almost burst through the roof of the taxi with excitement.
'His concert isn't for a few days, but yes, I am in contact with his management.'
'Holy shit! We should go shopping!' Freya exclaimed. 'We should look our best for Steele!'
'You can go, I just need his face, I don't care how I look' I cared, but I was trying my best to stay professional, but I couldn't deny that I was equally excited as Freya, but I didn't want to make friends with my assistant.
'Bollocks! You are meeting Steele Corbyn, and you want to look basic?! He's an anarchist god; you gotta show up.'
'I don't want to appear as anything more than myself. He's a client; I am not there to impress' I knew that rule all too hard since I tried to be something for an art client, and we ended up sleeping together, in a very messy break up he refused to buy the art I had worked on, costing me 1000's of dollars.
'Okay, well, will you come with me? I'll buy you dinner' Freya wasn't going to take no for an answer. Was this a test by Katie to give me a young girl so I'd have to be nice?
'I'm here to paint for a gallery exhibit; if I have time, we can, but I make no promises'
'Eeek! I'll do whatever to make the painting go faster! I can't wait to meet him!'
'Until then, act professional; we do have other things we need to get done' Freya's excitement was beyond an annoyance; I assume it will get on my nerves by the end of the day.
——
I walked into the art studio BnB; it was colorful, to say the least, god awful bright; it was like whoever designed it has no idea what was in style or knew anything of art.
Pulling out my speaker from my luggage and turned it on, searching for Steele Corbyn in my Spotify search bar, his name came up and a ridiculous photo of him with his middle fingers out a broken heart on the left and a coffin on the right.
'Jesus, he's hot,' I gasped, trying not to get distracted.
I found his music, only one album from last year. Was he struggling for inspiration too? Pressing shuffle on his album, that same rapping with an indie sound to it, the song sounded like it was about a girl, of course, he was taken, I thought, scoffing at thinking I had a chance, I listened to more and more songs until I fell asleep on the couch, stalking his Instagram.
My inspiration for my next piece, I had traveled from New York to England to paint my following collection for the upcoming art show; my manager, Katie, had suggested getting out of America and find some more exotic places to get some inspiration as if that was the issue.
I had a few tours lined up where I would ask to paint or ask for an exclusive behind-the-scenes tour and set up where people couldn't see me; mostly, Katie was tired of seeing landscapes and wanted to see what I really could do.
I stepped off the plane, Woah, I wasn't in America anymore, but that didn't inspire me, to see British flags hanging from the ceiling, or everyone with their intense accents, what I did see, was a sign that was showing a concert clip of a guy jumping around and flying through the air, the song was even better, his rapping mixed with a punk beat was making her melt, the end of the clip showed the artist name, Steele Corbyn.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, taking me out of my trance. 'Hello?'
'Your assistant is waiting in front of the airport; her name is Freya; try not to be an asshole, she's there to help you' Ugh, Katie's voice was not the one I wanted to hear this early or was it later?
I rolled my eyes, my eyes still fixed on the screen, waiting till I see Steele again. 'One time, I didn't like my assistant, and you have to bring it up every time.'
'Don't act like you're innocent, Mel; meet her downstairs. She has your bags already.'
'Hey, have you ever heard of Steele Corbyn?' I was hoping for an explanation.
'He's pretty big out there; why?'
Flustered, I wasn't going to see the clip again. I tucked the phone between my shoulder and ear and carried my bag to the exit. 'Well, I got off the plane, and his face was everywhere.'
'What are you thinking?' Katie knew me way too much.
'I need to paint him,' I admitted, I hate using people for my art, but I don't steer away from inspiration when it hits.
'Go look up a photo. I mean, it can't be that hard.'
'Not that hard, huh? Alright, Katie, I quit, you paint for the next gallery.'
'What? Do you want a concert ticket? VIP?' Katie's sarcasm was getting to me.
'I just need to paint him, real life, in person, figure out a way, this is why you get paid' I was getting annoyed, from hunger or being sleep deprived.
Katie laughed, knowing she had gotten under my skin. 'There's the asshole I know.'
'Goodbye' I hung up the phone, the dread settling in, having to meet someone while I was this tired, was not ideal.
A young girl about 19 ran up to Me. 'Miss. Reaver, hi, my name's Freya' Freya stuck her hand out for me to shake.
I didn't do greeting very well, id rather just get to work, but I didn't want to be rude, so I shook her hand. 'Just call me Melodee. Where are we off to?'
'Well, Katie informed me that you'd probably need a nap, so to the b & d and some sightseeing.'
'And my art supplies, did it make it okay?' They sat in the back of the taxi, Melodee going through her mental checklist.
'Yes, I set it up this morning' For a young girl, Freya kept up with all my questions and pain in the ass bullshit.
Freya kept rambling on, but I had spaced out, drowning out her voice, until a thought popped in my mind, rather a person. 'Do you listen to Steele Corbyn?'
'I'm sorry?' I had derailed her; she looked confused.
'Do you listen to Steele..'
Before I could even finish my sentence, a new emotion showed on Freya's face. 'Corbyn? Oh my god, I love his music and him, he's like my favorite singer!'
I knew I was going to regret this. 'I asked Katie to get us in to see him and meet with him' I watched Freya's eyes go wide in excitement.
'Wait, stop it, we're gonna meet Steele?' Freya almost burst through the roof of the taxi with excitement.
'His concert isn't for a few days, but yes, I am in contact with his management.'
'Holy shit! We should go shopping!' Freya exclaimed. 'We should look our best for Steele!'
'You can go, I just need his face, I don't care how I look' I cared, but I was trying my best to stay professional, but I couldn't deny that I was equally excited as Freya, but I didn't want to make friends with my assistant.
'Bollocks! You are meeting Steele Corbyn, and you want to look basic?! He's an anarchist god; you gotta show up.'
'I don't want to appear as anything more than myself. He's a client; I am not there to impress' I knew that rule all too hard since I tried to be something for an art client, and we ended up sleeping together, in a very messy break up he refused to buy the art I had worked on, costing me 1000's of dollars.
'Okay, well, will you come with me? I'll buy you dinner' Freya wasn't going to take no for an answer. Was this a test by Katie to give me a young girl so I'd have to be nice?
'I'm here to paint for a gallery exhibit; if I have time, we can, but I make no promises'
'Eeek! I'll do whatever to make the painting go faster! I can't wait to meet him!'
'Until then, act professional; we do have other things we need to get done' Freya's excitement was beyond an annoyance; I assume it will get on my nerves by the end of the day.
——
I walked into the art studio BnB; it was colorful, to say the least, god awful bright; it was like whoever designed it has no idea what was in style or knew anything of art.
Pulling out my speaker from my luggage and turned it on, searching for Steele Corbyn in my Spotify search bar, his name came up and a ridiculous photo of him with his middle fingers out a broken heart on the left and a coffin on the right.
'Jesus, he's hot,' I gasped, trying not to get distracted.
I found his music, only one album from last year. Was he struggling for inspiration too? Pressing shuffle on his album, that same rapping with an indie sound to it, the song sounded like it was about a girl, of course, he was taken, I thought, scoffing at thinking I had a chance, I listened to more and more songs until I fell asleep on the couch, stalking his Instagram.
