The sun began to rise above the mountains surrounding Marblehead, Massachusetts, casting soft shadows and making the dewy grass sparkle. In the attic of Marblehead Boardinghouse, where hardly anyone’s thoughts ever went, Cecilia Ortiz was waking to rays of sunshine and the tweeting of her pet bird, Shumba. She got up and began to get ready for the day, washing her black hair and applying makeup to her fair skin. She picked out her favorite purple vintage dress and a pair of black heels. The young artist smiled to herself as she headed towards one end of the attic, where her easel was set up in front of a window.
Cecilia had an imagination that would take her over the rainbow, so to speak, and her bookish family had never quite understood her love of painting. But that never bothered her, she painted everything. And I mean it when I say everything. She painted her food, clothes, even Shumba. Her paintings literally jumped off the canvas and came to life. When she was young, no one believed her when she said she could paint things into existence. Even now, few people knew because she kept it secret.
“What should we have for breakfast Shumba? What’s that you say, ‘crepes’? I completely agree.”
Cecilia poured out brown paint and mixed it with white, and then picked up a brush and began to paint her breakfast crepes. A few delicate strokes here and a broad one there, and a plate of steaming crepes appeared on the table behind her. Shumba squawked loudly and turned one keen eye toward Cecilia.
“Don’t worry Shumba, I haven’t forgotten you.”
Quickly she painted a bunch of seeds that appeared in his cage. She was rewarded with a satisfied whistle from Shumba. Smiling, she sat down to her own breakfast and began to think of what she would paint that day.
As Cecilia left her attic she happened to meet the owner of Marblehead Boardinghouse, Mr. Camden. Mr. Camden was short and roly-poly, with a circle of dark gray hair on his head and black rectangular glasses. His voice was rather high and wheedling, giving the impression that he was always trying to convince the person he was talking to. He had never really understood Cecilia, she was just so different and as he went about his business he thought, I wonder what the people in town think of me, letting her stay at my boardinghouse. Maybe I could get her to stop painting for a while.
“Good morning Miss Cecilia.”
“Good morning Mr. Camden, how is your day going?”
“Oh, fine, fine. Look Cecilia, I like you and you’re a sweet girl, but people around town have been talking about you because you seem to spend a good deal of time up in the attic.”
Cecilia looked sadly at Mr. Camden. So many people were like him, going outside of their comfort zone made them uneasy and people who went beyond their comfort zone made them even more uneasy.
“Mr. Camden, why are you so suspicious of what you don’t understand? I want to be different from other people and I do that by painting up in my attic, I do things that other people only dream of.”
Mr. Camden sighed. “If that’s what you think Miss, then that’s what you think. Have a good day.”
She was rather sad and confused about what Mr. Camden had said. She hadn’t really thought about other people’s opinions of her, she had just decided to be different and she did that through painting. Maybe I just need someone to talk to. Perhaps the owner of Paint World, Mr. Brooke, can give me some advice.
It was midmorning when Cecilia left for Paint World, and as she walked she was hit with an idea – a wonderful idea. It had always been a dream of hers to fly in a hot air balloon, and what better way to do this than to paint her own life-size balloon that would fly off the canvas and carry her into the air? There was just one problem: she didn’t have a big enough canvas. If she painted it on a regular-sized canvas, the balloon would only be big enough for Shumba to sit in. So, she headed to Paint World.
Paint World was a small shop built next to the courthouse on the square, it had been around for as long as Cecilia could remember. Its owner, Lee Brooke, was a small old man with a firm but gentle voice, a tuft of white hair on top of his head, and bright blue eyes framed by square metal glasses. He had studied painting at some of the best art schools in the world and was always ready to answer any questions Cecilia might have concerning art. He was also one of the few people who believed Cecilia could paint things into existence. At first he had found it hard to believe that someone could paint an object and it would appear in front of them, he wasn’t the kind of person who believed in magic. But after seeing Cecilia paint a cup of coffee and then have it appear on the checkout counter of his store, he had no choice but to believe in the talented artist.
“Good morning, Miss Cecilia. What can I help you with this morning?”
Cecilia smiled. Mr. Brooke was such a kind person. Everything about him was friendly and cheerful.
“I need a big canvas Mr. Brooke, a really big canvas.”
“Well I’ve just got in a couple of big canvases for splatter painting, if that’s what you’re wanting.”
“I don’t think that will be quite big enough, thank you though. What I’m looking for is a canvas with a dimension of twenty-one by sixteen meters.”
Mr. Brooke’s mouth fell open and he stared at Cecilia.
“Good gracious, my dear! That’s an astronomical canvas! I doubt very much that we have anything close to that size. I’m sorry,” he said, regaining his composure.
“Oh, it’s ok. I didn’t think you would have a canvas that big, but I was wondering if you could find me one. I have plenty of money to buy it if you do.”
Mr. Brooke stood contemplating the strange girl standing in front of him. She was a good friend and he didn’t want to offend her. Still, should he do it? He thought of all the criticism he might receive for putting in an order for a canvas that huge. He pushed the thought out of his head. Cecilia needed his help and he would do what he could to help an artist, no matter what size of canvas they needed.
“All right, I’ll see what I can find, my dear. But I must tell you, I don’t know if I’ll be able to find anything close to the size you want.”
“If you don’t it’s ok, I just have a big idea in my head and it needs a big canvas so that it can be fully expressed.”
“I’m sure that whatever you’re planning on painting will just jump off the canvas,” he said with a wink. “You wouldn’t be able to tell me what you’re going to paint, would you?”
Cecilia just smiled, “you’ll have to find me my canvas before I can tell you. Can I ask you question?”
“Ask away, my dear.”
“Well, you see, I was talking to Mr. Camden, and he said I should stop being different because people were talking. But that would mean I would have to stop painting. Do you think I should?”
Mr. Brooke leaned forward and looked Cecilia squarely in the eyes.
“You listen to me Cecilia, never stop painting, imagining, or expressing yourself. You understand me? Never. It doesn’t matter what other people think about you, I think the only opinions that matter are those of your loved ones, no one else’s.”
Cecilia smiled at Mr. Brooke again, that was just what she had needed to hear.
“Thank you Mr. Brooke.”
“Any time, dear.”
Several weeks passed, but Cecilia waited patiently for the canvas to arrive. Finally, it came and Cecilia rushed over to Paint World. There it was, on the grass by the courthouse, a twenty-one by sixteen meter roll of perfectly white canvas, waiting to be covered with Cecilia’s hot air balloon painting. It took a truck to take the canvas to the backyard of Marblehead Boardinghouse. After it was delivered, Cecilia then had to have a tent constructed to protect it from the weather. No sooner had this been done, then she got to work. She began by first penciling in the balloon, then picking the colors and then, oh then, painting; big strokes, small strokes, thin, and wide. Cecilia’s balloon began to take shape. Of course she couldn’t keep people from watching her. People from around town came to admire and make fun of her and her painting. None of them had known that Cecilia had this talent, but she paid no attention to them, having only eyes for her work.
After nearly a week of perpetual painting, it was done. Everything from the ropes to the smallest details of the basket had been painted. A gasp escaped the crowd as Cecilia added the last stroke, and a hot air balloon sprang off the canvas. Cecilia smiled to herself. Every person is different. It’s just that some people have the courage to express it more than others. I think people are just too afraid to go out and try new things. They’re afraid to go beyond their comfort zone, to be laughed at. They’re scared of what they could do with their lives. Cecilia climbed into her balloon and it began to leave the ground. And in the long run, peoples’ opinions don’t matter much, after all.
my creativity 