Bob Ross and Me

Largely because David is in Azerbaijan at a conference and J-Amy are touring the hinterlands of Germany, I found that I had a good bit of discretionary time this weekend. I had also worked a lot of overtime to submit a proposal and I was feeling both tense and lazy. If anything other than the gas station were open on Sunday in Germany, I probably would have rounded up the ingredients to bake a cake or an apple pie. Man, I've got sweets on the brain more than usual. Dangerous.

Anyway, I don't know what triggered Bob Ross. Maybe something about the way the light filtered through the window at 2 in the afternoon on Sunday - sort of happily. I recalled nostalgically the excitement that would come over me if I were lucky enought to catch The Joy of Painting on a weekend afternoon. Nearly anytime during the day that a free TV was to be had, I would flip to PBS just to see. I'm not sure why I never consulted the trusty TV Guide lovingly placed by the recliner. The mind of a 10 year old.

But on those fortuitous occasions when I saw his big, orange 'fro brightly contrasted against a prepared canvas, I would blissfully settle in for a half-hour of little kid meditation. Sitting upright and perfectly still, I would zone out while Bob talked me through the stages of some landscape painting, complete with happy little trees and fluffy clouds (as few or as many as you decide). The paint colors rolled off his tongue like exotic bird names or French cakes - thalo blue, cadmium white, yellow ocre. My favorite, for no good reason, was Van Dyke brown. I don't even like brown, but it sounded so great to hear Bob Ross say it while he loaded his fan brush with a combination of oils to bring mountains and trees and bushes to life. I especially liked when he would take this paint knife and sort of cut a line through a gob of paint to collect a perfect little roll of color, which invariably became a rock formation or the outline of some fantasy mountain range.

Bob Ross was no classic painter. In fact, most of his stuff was slightly tacky and might have looked most at home surrounded by shag rugs and animal heads mounted to walls. But Bob had a knack for making you think that you could create a respectable oil painting in 30 minutes, too. And as he moved across the canvas, 'pulling paint' here and 'adding mist' there (as much or as little as you want. It's your world.), I was always convinced that he was just about to ruin the painting. Angst would occassionally intrude on my zen moments with Bob. I would cringe as he added a big rock over the carefully highlighted trees. But everytime, the painting was somehow better for it.

With all of these memories in mind, I YouTube-d Bob to see what was out there. Sure enought, Royal Majesty in three parts was free for the viewing. So I settled in and nearly felt 10 again as Bob tried to inspire the artist in me. It was all the same. The same, nearly intoxicating, effect of watching Bob Ross 'drop' a few clouds in (anywhere he wanted, in his world). Bob also showed his at home viewers where little green grassy things might live and how not to add too much highlighting to trees. Even though, he admitted with a reassuring grin, he did it all the time. The end result was the same, too. A pretty, yet slightly tacky painting left me feeling at ease with the world. And while I know I'll never paint anything but a wall, it's nice to know that if I wanted to, I could drop in happy little trees, fluffy clouds and as few or as many trees as I want, in my world.

And on that note, I think I might watch Royal Majesty again before bed - to put everything right with the world.

I still love Hamburg. And I love the vegan ice cream in the Schanzen quarter now too!