A white guy with an afro, some paints and easel. What a way to spend an evening as you zoned out at Three AM whilst the nocturnal flora and fauna did their thing. This dude was and is a legend. Such an inspiration. Back then if someone had said this guy was a drill sergeant who was trained to kill and barked on people for living I’d have dropped the izm in an instant and wondered what they’d been toking because this dude had an aura of pure bliss, a tranquility verging on the Zen and man his parables, they just seemed to hit you in the chest with inspiration that uplifts as he sits there painting.
It was like kicking it a friend who was saturated with wisdom whose poise and presence was infectious so you wanted to spend time with them as they made you feel better about your Self as he was so obviously at one within. I’ve often said there are no accidents, only opportunities in this realm and its while he was chilling in Alaska, doing his military thing he would witness the mountains and landscapes we would gather round and observe as he painted. In a sense Bob inspired my sentiment as so much soaked in to my various aspects of awareness as the endo-cannabinoids did their thing way back when, if you’ve been you know what I mean about the zone and how it occurs when you find something quite so engaging at the tail end of the night just before you rest. For Bob there were no mistakes. Only happy accidents and we’d sit there watching him sling ink upon the canvas and think “this looks magnificent” before he whipped out the darkness (which in life is always present) and one must learn to channel it in a way that helps because it does need a vent and unless you control it it will ruin everything, and dab a huge mark right across the image. “Bob, Bob, Bob, what have you done?” I’d say to my Self. Either out loud or in my head, I’m not quite sure due to the whole laying memory traces down thing after a delite on the bricks and how the bobo was kicked, back when. It shouldn’t be a surprise as we knew he’d do it but Bob was a master of being unpredictable with it but its how he flipped it into a result that was way better with than without it that had you sitting there thinking “Man, this guy is awesome”.
There is a life lesson in this because we often chase perfection and try to edit out what we think is a blemish but Mr Ross showed, frequently, that its the main thing and an element we should cherish.
Like the happy little trees. You can’t tell me you couldn’t almost hear them scream with glee as he gave life to them deftly on your screen and scattered them around the scene. Truly a thing of beauty as creativity is divinity being given form to me as the inspiration pours into ThreeD from a place that transcends this realm and Bob captured it all so well.
His tale and how he came to be is something inspiring, as you’ll see. The military thing I’ve mentioned and how he, whilst trained for war spotted peace in the beauty of nature so serene and decided promptly that when he disengaged from the death machine he’d never shout or scream and this is what we saw on TV, late at night back in the Nineties. With a dollar and dream Bob decided to bet on himself and formed a company to showcase his art and philosophy but it wasn’t an immediate hit and his shows origins are surrounded in mystery as it launched quiet and unceremoniously onto screens back in Eighty Three. Much like the chap himself it was full of chill but people caught on quick as the man made watching paint dry a thrill and his wet on wet technique was impeccable because from a blank canvas in thirty minutes he would build the visual equivalent of an emotional rollercoaster that looked idyllic with serene commentary that was peppered with inspiration. ASMR from this man did kick…
By finding then following his passion at the insistence of well wishers and friends he created a multimillion dollar business and his prodigious artwork sells for a lot of bills and that is if you find someone who is willing to part with it they’re rarely seen in the marketplace as the man is evidently held close to the chests of those who witnessed his journey in the flesh. Its amazing, isn’t it, when you consider where he started and how he shifts and this ties in beautifully with another concept I present of the difference between Victor and Victim because even though there is much in common its how they end which defines the meaning and much like this he went from screaming in the drill to chilling with paints and kicking it on my TV at Three AM.
Thing is it didn’t end up as beautiful as the canvas because when the man had done his thing and left the earthly plane and his wife did as well then Bob Ross, Inc shifted into the hands of a business and it got ugly, real quick.
The Kowalaskis in effect pimped the legacy of their old friend purely for their benefit and even whilst he was still breathing they were allegedly putting the screws to him to sign over all and everything which is why Bob wrote them out of his will. If only he’d spotted it earlier, he could’ve beat the Devil out of them in the flesh… Money, or more exactly the lxve of it, can make so people do such ugly things like not letting his son use his name and likeness which is straight up madness if you think of it. Apparently things got thick with lawyers wading in to profit from this unhappily little incident and this blip serves both as an ugly footnote as well as a hint about the evils that can lie in the minds of friends as this is something I know my Self and is something I hope you never imperience. if it does kick, however, learn the lesson with gratitude and keep it moving because its a hint of a higher octave thing and sign you have the potential to ascend.
But that is by the by, for the sake of completeness I had to add it in and for those curious there is a motion picture which documents the whole sordid thing but like Rick James said, “It’s a celebration” of a friend that we never met yet each and all of us felt was speaking to us direct and encouraged us to be something special and unique.
Like a happy little tree. Contrast that to the current flex that most hear on FM and you’ll see why Gen X was played the song of life in another key. Bob Ross, I salute thee for your tale is an inspiration, legend and learning lesson all rolled into one about how a man must possess the strength to flex and be willing to walk from what isn’t correct to find his own resonance as well as the power of one mind to change so many lives as his message reverberates thorough time. Truly, an amazing gent.
And now we bring it to his son, Steve. Here’s the deal, my friend:
Your old man flipped the script from a screaming drill sergeant to a man that was mellow as heck as he slung ink at the canvas and made us all grin. The ones that finagled and bound his image in legal shackles whilst trying to prevent you from plying a trade can be erased as you change the Game. “How?” I hear you state:
Elevate.
Picture the scene:
Thee, a screen, a youtube deal as Painting with Joy goes live across the stream. Nothing they can do about this for you will, certainly, be slinging ink with a grin but here’s the twist:
You, like your father, etch what you lived so we’ll see ink slung as vicious little vultures feast in a courtroom then another etched called “The Power of Regret” in which we see a father point at a path he imagined for his seed. This one I envision as a triptych in which we see the way, you and him in the first pane. In the second there is neither you nor he but a crime scene of the road covered in legal tape as vultures circle and wait. In the third you return and all the binds are gone as you walk the path you were destined to all along and high, high up in the sky, we see a Sun shine with a suspiciously afro looking hint and ever so subtle happy little grin.
Picture perfect, I paint a perfect picture.
As you will as well, my friend.
Till we meet again
