Bob Ross and His Unfinished Wave
I am endlessly impressed by the cleverness, drive, and creativity of certain women in my life. Maddie, one among them, is a gubernatorial reporter, an athlete, and a gummy candy aficionado. As I discovered this weekend, she also likes to paint.
On Saturday, Maddie traversed the remarkably inaccessible streets of D.C. with a booted leg in search of painting supplies. She made out with acrylics in rainbow and two pads of sturdy stock. On Sunday, she broke them out in addition to a cup each of water and over a dozen brushes.
”Have you ever watched Bob Ross?”
Before today, I’d never heard of Bob Ross.
“‘Bob Ross : Beauty is Everywhere?’ Or ‘Chill with Bob Ross’? He looks happier in ‘Beauty is Everywhere’, let’s do that.”
After today, I more than heard of Bob Ross. After today, I might even say there is little more emotionally confusing than watching Bob Ross paint. Why?
It starts with calm. Possessing a kind of ASMR tone of an avid birder, Bob Ross welcomes you to his show. He enunciates the way you might have imagined your gentle great grandfather to enunciate. A subtle rollicking emphASis on the H in any word beginning in Wh. “Titanium hWhite,” says Bob. A drop of the -mium off of Cadmium so harmless, you wouldn't have thought anything of it were it not for Maddie’s preferred closed captioning on screen. “Now, a touch of Cad- Yellow, old friend.” Alright, Bob. We are at that level, aren’t we.
Skepticism. His soft tonality could have fooled you, but it takes no time at all to realize he has already begun painting before the show begins. “A black gesso,” he explains, “not the same as black acrylic.” I want to believe you Bob, except what is its purpose? And I realize that I’ve been given no preview of what the end result of this painting is like, a contradiction of every YouTube Beauty Look ever done. What if Bob Ross is a terrible painter? What if Maddie has heinous taste in artistic television? What is artistic television?
Anxiety. Nerves momentarily quelled after witnessing that impossibly simple swishing of “Cad- Yellow” (the technique *did* produce believable, liquid gold waves), he starts onto a big wave. The focal point of the seascape. He begins to fill in a large white-crested outline with the sunset colors from above. I’m with you, Bob; those reflective waves from above needed a warm glow and it stands to reason this would follow suit. But then he moves onto the sea foam. I look to Maddie. He can’t be done.
“Wait, it sorta seems like he’s finishing up!”
It can’t be! He moves onto the red-hued rock cliffs and yes yes, they look great but the WAVE, BOB! You haven’t finished the wave!
He starts swishing again, only this time with a light and pale blue.
“I don’t know if I’m feeling it, Bob.”
In different words, we are wracking our minds and hearts with the same questions. Is this it? Are these the finishing touches on an unfinished wave? But those dark violet cloud protrusions were exquisite! The dribbling water splashed off of the rocky foreground divine! What of your wave, Bob? We are too distracted to appreciate the sudden apparition of a shadowy clustering of boulders. Boulders my a$$: Bob has forgotten his wave.
“Well, I think we’ll call it done” or something to that effect.
It was over. Done maybe, but unfinished.
We yelled out in frustration and denial. We acknowledged the sea foam. We finally came to understand the black gesso.
“Well, now you know who Bob Ross is.”
And then we painted.
