Inspiration is for amateurs;

e. russo | thirty-four | buzz off

[erusso]

E. Russo; the [not so] starving artist

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THE BASICS

Full Name: Elio Neil Russo Pronouns: he, him, his Birthday: May 22nd, 1991 Birthplace: Upstate New York Current Home: Downtown Carroll Occupation: Artist and Gallery Owner Religion: Culturally Italian Catholic, non-practicing Orientation: Pansexual, Jesse-romantic Status: Dating Jesse

AESTHETIC

paint-stained fingers

a mug of forgotten black coffee

luxury whiskey bottles collecting dust on a shelf

well-worn Italian leather shoes

quiet mornings watching the sunrise

NOTABLE FEATURES

Face Claim: Jeremy Allen White Height: 5'11" Build: Broad, broad shoulders and chest, defined arms and lovely hands Dominant Hand: Right, but ambidextrous Tattoos: Plenty scattered around his body Outfit Clothing Style: Well-tailored suits, pressed dressed pants, short sleeve shirts with the sleeves rolled and tucked in chinos, filthy smocks and aprons, Italian leather shoes. He doesn't usually dress flashy in his day-to-day life, but a trained eye would notice his paint-stained clothes are expensive. He does dress to the nine for art shoes including a collection luxury watches he inherited from his grandfather.

A strong profile with a sharp nose

Impossibly blue eyes

Expressive eyebrows and deep circles under his eyes

A mess of looping curls

PERSONALITY

 passionate, creative, brilliant | obsessive, grumpy, independent, impossible, brash

ADDITIONAL

Spoken Languages: English, Italian, French, Greek Driver’s License: Yes High School: A prestigious private art school in New York University: Florence Academy of Fine Arts Pets: None. But there's a stray he can't stop letting in his gallery.Career: World renowned painter. His work has been featured in the Louvre, the Met, the Renwick, MoMA, and many, many more. Featured in Juxtapoz, hi fructose magazine, ARTnews, and Forbes 30 under 30. Owns a gallery in NYC, LA, and now Carroll.

THE BIOGRAPHY

Elio was born and raised in a small northern town in Upstate New York to an affluent Italian-American family. His grandfather, Gio, immigrated from Scilly after WWII to New York City where he invented and patented several popular household appliances. Due to his business’s success and several successful investments, Gio retired early and built their large, multi-generational family home. 

As the youngest of four children, Elio was his grandfather's favorite. Gio, Nanu to his grandchildren, introduced Elio to the world of art. He often took his grandson to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to broaden his horizons and nurture his creativity. It was thanks to his grandfather that Elio decided he'd do anything to become a professional artist.

Throughout childhood, Elio explored different mediums of art. His parents sent him to a private art school in New York, where he developed a prestigious foundation and an affinity for painting. As an adult, he attended the Florence Academy of Fine Arts and made incredible connections. During his University years, his grandfather passed away, leaving Elio a sizable inheritance and the deed to his family home.

Although Elio wanted for nothing in his life, there was an insatiable hunger that only painting could fill. Rather than moving into his family home, Elio set up an art gallery in New York where he quickly rose to fame. Galleries around the world displayed his work proudly. His paintings became an indication of status in the private collections of the ultra-wealthy.

Although Elio loved New York, he wanted a change of scenery. He moved cross-country to San Francisco and opened another gallery. He spent his late twenties on the Pacific coastline, content, well, almost content. 

Elio only had eyes for art. His string of relationships never lasted because they were either superficial, shallow, toxic, or a combination of all three. His lovers always said the same thing, “You're married to your work.” And it was true. Everything came second to his art. Elio was painfully independent and had a one-track mind when he worked. He couldn't do anything until he finished the painting he was working on. He was a slave to his creativity and that often meant sleepless nights and skipped meals.

In his very early thirties, Elio developed an opioid addiction. Opioid addiction wasn't uncommon in his line of work and in the circle he ran in so no one seemed to notice the problem. It wasn't even seen as a problem. It wasn't until an overdose and mandatory rehab that Elio finally had to admit his life was falling apart. The tabloids had a field day with his addiction story: “Famous painter E. Russo battles ugly opioid addiction.” His face was on the cover of every magazine, and he couldn't escape his mistakes.

After rehab, Elio decided he needed a quieter place to recoup. He’d heard of Carroll, California, through celebrity gossip. It seemed like a place where he could have a fresh start and continue his painting. He bought a storefront in Downtown Carroll sight unseen and rented a flat in Port Carroll without ever setting foot in the small town. What was the worst that could happen?

[erusso]

Elio & Jesse | @angstfactory

[angstfactory]

"For bein' an ass," Jesse told him, even as Elio came in closer, a smirk threatening the corners of his mouth, "that I've been missin'." He knew damn well that sentence could have been taken a number of different ways, and that's why he didn't clarify, either. Ashton would be proud.

Because he meant it in the softest of ways. The one that said he missed Elio. The one that had him laying there with an ache he couldn't shake. The one that caused him to understand he was already too damn attached and the artist wasn't simply going to be something Jesse could just get out of his system.

Jesse wasn't sure what he was going to do about any of that, either. But for now, he concealed it all under dubious, double entendre so it wasn't as obvious how down bad for the man he'd become.

A flurry of nerves started up, both hands gripping over the brim of his hat as they stood there together. Studying each other like they were each a sight for the sorriest eyes. Jesse meant to do this later tonight, maybe when they were done with the project and filling their guts on some kind of grub, or even some post coital bliss crap where Elio could be too tired enough to say 'no'. But, the need to know now and get it out there, welled up and caught in his throat.

The nerves came in because what if Elio did say no? They hadn't really done things the normal, natural way, had they? It was like a roller coaster from the start. One look from the coarse artist had Jesse snagged on a hook and now he just kept following that string. Their relationship began hot and heavy, a physical mess of lust and desire and need. It still felt that way now. And somewhere along the way, Elio had up and decided they were together, labeling it as boyfriends, which Jesse hadn't put up much fuss about, either.

But outside their obvious works of trade, what did they know? It bothered Jesse, that he hadn't known what family the guy had or something as simple as his favorite color. Or flower? Elio didn't know his either, he just kept bringing in flowers and gifts, winning plushies, doing acts of favor whether the junkman had asked for it or not. He hadn't asked for anything. Sometimes, it even made him feel inadequate, like he wasn't doing enough or thinking outside the box. They didn't spend their time talking much. Neither of them were big talkers, that's why.

Shouldn't they? Or was it okay if they were just this couple that hooked together because they couldn't keep their hands off? Didn't matter if they knew any of the rest of it?

Nah, it mattered. Jesse wanted more. He wanted all of Elio, that's what this feeling was. That's why he was scared shitless, just to ask, and discover maybe Elio wasn't wanting more than what this already was.

"Hey.. ah.." Jesse's tongue came out, to wet over his bottom lip, eyes downcast briefly, the nerves somehow weeding their way into the tone, that's why his voice had gotten softer, more uncertain, because he'd never done this before in his life, "y'know I got this uh, voucher thing.." He traded the hat to one hand so the other could rub at the back of his head; awkwardly, feeling put on the spot and it was his own damn doing. "Back from the auction?" Jesse dropped his gaze again, hand down going into his jeans pocket to dig the voucher out. It was already creased and worn through in areas, like he kept taking it out multiple times a day just to run a finger over the options, or trace Elio's name. "N' look, we don't gotta, right? But I dunno, thought maybe it'd be kinda a waste to just, not use it, huh? You n' me, I mean.." Jesse held it up, the paper so thin and delicate by now that it slumped over his fingers sadly as he waved it, "I ain't much for champagne n' breakfast shit.. but now horses.. Those ain't so bad.." They meant a lot to him, actually, riding used to be a major way for him to blow off steam. If Holden and he hadn't gotten estranged over what Jesse'd done with Autumn, they might even be on a whole other path with a dude ranch they were running together. "N' I dunno, thought maybe you'd ah, y'know, wanna come do the whole ride n' picnic thing.."

All of that blumbering just to ask Elio on an official first date.

[erusso]

Jesse had been missing him. The truth was a sweet heat in the pit of his stomach. He was having butterflies at thirty-four. The way Jesse looked at him made him understand why Cézzane painted the same woman twenty-nine times. He could see why someone would marry their muse.

Elio kicked himself for not inviting Jesse to New York with him. He should have been his date to the opening. He should've shown him off to everyone he knew. This man was his boyfriend, the first and only person to turn Elio Russo’s head. Jesse had gone quiet. The way he touched his hat made Elio hold his breath. Silence stretched between them.

Finally, Jesse broke the silent spell and spoke first. His cowboy was nervous. Elio didn't know the man could get nervous. As he talked in circles about the auction and champagne and horses, it finally clicked that Jesse was asking him on a date. A real date. One with plans and intentionality. There'd been nothing wrong with the way these two orbited around one another, becoming furniture in each other's home and spending every spare moment tangled together. But they could be more. And Elio wanted more.

“'Course I'll go with ya,” he took a step closer and took Jesse's hands in his. For a second, he could've sworn the man was trembling. “I’ll be honest though, I've never ridden a horse before. I'm assuming it's nothin’ like a bike?” Elio grinned. The idea of riding an animal that weighed as much as a small car terrified him slightly but he'd try anything once as long as it was with Jesse. Wink wink.

[zanephillips]

JEREMY ALLEN WHITE — Interview Magazine

[classic-art-favourites]

Basket of Fruit by Caravaggio, 1595-1599.

[angstfactory]

Truth be told, Jesse hadn't understood just how much he had been missing this asshole until he saw him again at the carnival. It was like, for the first time in weeks, he could finally breathe.

Elio not being there had been steadfastly blocked out. Ignored. Any time someone mentioned the artist, Jesse brushed it off with careless, unaffected comments that made the salvage operator sound borderline disinterested in the very idea he should be, actively, in a relationship with someone. Because the second that man's passion and life's work had taken him off to New York and other places, Jesse braced for the worst.

Elio was gone. He wasn't coming back. Jesse wasn't worth staying for. That metaphorical shoe had finally dropped.

As did the shit hit the fan in all other aspects of his life. Everything piled on at once. Simple quick texts and occasionally brief phone calls weren't enough to convince Jesse that the artist would see his way back here and remember where the junkyard was. Remember he was there, waiting.

And then he'd been surprised at the carnival.. Now, Elio had him reeled right back in, all over again. That same, intensity burning as hot as ever just to have the other man standing in so close. Jesse found himself barely able to keep track of his thoughts, the way it happened when they first got involved in this mess. "Don't worry 'bout it," he muttered, gruffly, "I do." Jesse's gaze lifted briefly, taking quick looks at Elio as if to remind himself it was real that he was actually there. He'd come back. "But I ain't shit for the artistry part of it, so.." He pushed some of the tools, spreading them out on the uneven wooden table, for Elio to have his pick of whatever he needed in order to turn those scraps of rusted metal into twisted pig parts.

Once those were hammered out, they could weld it on. "Put these on," he ordered the man, tossing a pair of thick workman's gloves down. "You catch yourself on that rust n' get yourself lockjaw n' shit, otherwise."

Everyone else today, was going to that reception. Fuck that Joel guy. Jesse was fine, just fine, right where he was. In fact.. "Hold up." He stepped in, reaching up to remove his stetson while grabbing for the back of Elio's neck, pulling the man in for a sudden and firm kiss. Just because he needed to.

[erusso]

“Teamwork makes the dreamwork,” he said wryly as he idly plucked at the tools before him. They were cool against his fingers. He loved it here in Jesse’s salvage yard. It was similar to his studio, yet different. There was a magic there beneath the red dirt and metal scrap. It made him want to set up an easel and paint under the California sun. He wanted to paint Jesse in his natural habitat, too. He just couldn’t get enough of him.

Elio caught the gloves and tugged them on.

“I have my tetanus shot, I think.” He pulled on the gloves a little harder just in case. Nothing sexier than spending the evening in the emergency room after all.

The artist turned his attention to Jesse and watched as his messy curls fell unbound without his hat. Damn, he was beautiful. More beautiful than the coastline and the ocean waves crashing against the shore.

And, suddenly, they were kissing. It was a quick kiss, firm and possessive.

Elio was reminded of the view of Carroll from the top of the Ferris Wheel, his hand intertwined with Jesse’s. He found they did that often now: touch for the sake of touching. A privilege that came with love. The sun had just set, and the lights of the carnival were so bright. And then, like something out of a fairy tale, fireworks erupted in reds and blues and greens. Wonder and awe made a home in his chest. Kissing Jesse was like this: incandescent.

When they pulled apart, Elio stood there dazed. He blinked, trying to arrange his thoughts in a way that was remotely coherent. “What was that for?” A stupid grin spread across his face. He stepped closer, welding project be damned. To think they could have been at the reception instead of doing this.

[artthatgivesmefeelings]

Adolf Hirémy-Hirschl (Hungarian, 1860-1933) Souls on the Banks of the Acheron, 1898 Belvedere Palace and Museum, Vienna

[ironelkarchive]

Today my art history professor gave some words of wisdom:

Nude is when your clothes are off. Naked is when your clothes are off and you’re up to something 

[erusso]

Darling, just you and forever Now it's just you and forever

@angstfactory ft Jesse

[erusso]

e Russo; reception update. Elio is not attending the reception. Instead, he bought stupid amounts of flowers for Jesse because he couldn't help himself and picked up pizza to take over to the salvage yard. These two have a pig sculpture to finish.

@angstfactory

[fuorirete]

@erusso

[fuorirete]

A huge part of the town looked like shit, and no one was probably ready to assess the damage the hurricane had caused, but in that moment, they didn't even care. They were there, safe, a little reunion she had been hoping for for years.

There was a whole list of reasons she decided to do that, and part of her was afraid that Elio would not want her there. That she would ruin this new place for him and for herself because out of all the places in the world, she chose to follow her brother. Those fears vanished in their tight hug.

"There was no hurricane when I made that decision, but it looks like I fit right in – you guys were having a spring carnival," she joked bitterly, waving over at the spot where the ferris wheel would be if it still stood upright. "I'm just glad you're okay and it's so good to see you." She pressed a happy, unnecessarily loud kiss to Elio's cheek, smile bright and wide.

"Come on, let's go for a walk! I'm hoping to find some sea glass and I could use some help."

[erusso]

He wrinkled his nose in response to her blatant display of affection. She kissed him on the cheek like she was 9 instead of 29. Regardless of his attempt to play it cool, he was glad she was here.

“Ya’ didn't miss much,” he shrugged. “This place is always putting on some kind of event.” The artist was convinced these people never grew tired of each other. They were always celebrating or had an excuse to party.

“Sure, I'll show ya’ a good spot.” Elio led his sister down the path towards the water. Dodging drift wood and debris blown in by the storm, he found a deserted stretch of stand that stretched as far as the horizon.

“Watch for broken bottles,” he warned. To say the beach was a mess was an understatement. The hurricane had shrunk the walkable path with high tides and wreckage. Chunks of wood littered the sand and dozens of iridescent seashells dotted their path.

“So,” Elio started, unsure how to tactfully ask the question that had been spinning in his mind since their phone call. “No offense, but why'd ya’ come to Carroll? It can't just be because of me.”

Nailed it.

[erusso]

where; anywhere but Carroll | with; @angstfactory Fitz

It was a nice change of pace to be out of Carroll. At least that's what Elio told himself. The watchful eye of the tiny town was exhausting. And of course, the people were too damn friendly. He was convinced there must be a poison in the water or something because he found himself smiling at strangers. The fuck was wrong with him?

And that's how the artist found himself walking down the main street of some big city an hour outside of Carroll, trailing behind his stupid best friend who was on track to becoming a father. Weird.

Elio stopped in his tracks, his lazy gaze transfixed on a pale green suit. It hung loosely on a mannequin in the shop window, beckoning the artist to enter. He traced the petal pink embroidered flowers that bloomed across the shoulders, imagining what it would feel like under his fingertips.

“What were ya' saying? I wasn't listen. I'm going in here,” Elio pointed at the enamel sign above the door and didn't wait for Fitz to answer before disappearing inside.

A bell chimed overhead and a rush of cold air assaulted Elio. The place smelled familiar like linen and leather. Like a moth to a flame, he couldn't resist an upscale men's clothing shop.

A well-dressed attendant greeted the artist and asked how he could be of service. Elio pointed at the spring-colored suit and gave the man his measurements.

The suit fit like it was made for him. The silk lining was cool on his skin. He assessed the fit in the mirror intently. He appraised the garment like he would any work of art, with critique and respect for the craft.

“Thoughts?” He asked Fitz, not bothering to look away from his reflection. “Actually, I don't care. Just wrap it up.”

[erusso]

E. Russo headcanon; relationship with @pennyhart

His relationship with Penny started selfishly--like he was trying to atone for past mistakes: abandoning his own sister, time lost to addiction, and all of the people he'd let down. He saw his past self in her blown out pupils and thought maybe he'd get it right this time. But he learned quickly that Penny was her own person, not someone who needed to be saved. She was so brave and quick to smile. She just needed someone to believe in her and hold her hand. He found himself driving up to coast to visit her in rehab and when she was home, he made every excuse to check on her. Oh, he accidentally ordered too much food. He needed someone to keep him awake while he finished a painting. Eventually he gave up on the excuses. That's how he found himself wearing a face mask eating takeout Chinese food on the floor of his studio. He bought a futon because he couldn't let Penny sleep on the floor. She had a spare tooth brush in the bathroom next to Fitz's, Jesse's, and Elby's. He could grumble all he wanted, but no one would believe that he didn't want these people taking up space in his life. If anyone asked if he cared for Penny, he'd say "don't ask stupid questions." But if you caught him looking at her, he'd be smiling at her like family because she was.

[erusso]

where; Chairo Arts | with; @pennyhart

“Do you need more paint?” Elio glanced up from his easel. The midday sun enveloped the messy studio with bright light. Take out containers littered the paint-stained hardwood floor.

He had to step over paint cans and weave around furniture to get to the girl occupying the corner. In the seventh months he'd lived in Carroll, Elio had filled the studio with earthly possession. Between Fitz, Jesse, Penny, and now Elby, Elio finally caved and bought two futons. He'd blinked and suddenly his solitary life was filled with people he loved.

Elio learned early on in his friendship with Penny, that all she needed was a big canvas and she was good on her own. He eyed the abstract piece she'd been working on. The canvas was taller than her by at least a foot.

“Damn, at this rate we'll have to have an art show for ya,” he mused.

[erusso]

where; the salvage yard | with; Jesse @angstfactory

Elio was pretty sure he had a sunburn. It was his fault for rarely using sunscreen. His cheeks burned and sweat dripped from his neck. It pooled at the small of his back, causing his tee shirt to cling to his tan skin. Dry earth crunched beneath his boots as he moved to stand closer to Jesse.

He assessed the man with blatant, unabashed affection. Jesse was unbounded here in his junkyard. In this place where wrecked cars and hidden treasures found a new home, he was the most brilliant prize of them all.

Elio committed the scene to memory, Jesse’s sharp face beneath the brim of his Stetson shading him from the California sun. He wanted to paint him over and over again surrounded by blue skies and orange clay.

“I've never welded anything before,” Elio admitted as he glanced at the loose sketches he'd whipped up for Birch’s pig project. The artist knew the new medium would be a challenge, but he wasn't one to back down from a project.

Besides, he really just wanted an excuse to see his boyfriend wield a torch.

[vexheart]

Falling in love with the right person feels like this.