The Mr. Rogers of Painting

I saw an interesting exchange on Facebook the other day, a discussion of the appeal of the PBS artist Bob Ross, especially his appeal to today's youth.  One woman wrote, "He's the Mr. Rogers of painting."  She didn't mean that as a compliment.  Others wrote about how they'd watch him when they needed a nap, and I do understand that his soothing voice is part of his appeal--or part of what drives people crazy.

As one who has written about wanting to be the Bob Ross of theology, if PBS ever decided to branch out in that direction, I've thought about this discussion thread more than it warrants.  I've also wondered why this thread irked me so much.

I did not respond with snotty comments of my own, along the lines of "Some of us want to be gatekeepers who keep the riffraff out and some of us want to be midwives who help people deliver new life where they didn't expect it."

I am the type of artist who wants others to experience the joy of creation.  If it's imperfect creation, so what?  And what do these terms mean?  Imperfect/perfect?  I have an academic background, so I know that artists who have found acclaim in their own time are often not treasured later.  What we see as perfect now, future generations may see as flawed--or may not see them at all.

I'm someone who believed that if we all created every day, we'd have happier citizens and a better society.  And if Bob Ross helps people do that, what's the harm?

If someone like Bob Ross can create a corner of the marketplace doing that, well then, hurrah for him.  There might have been some jealousy in that comment thread, but it sounded like an aesthetics discussion more than a "he's a sell out" discussion.  But there was that tinge of gatekeeper discussion too--the idea that people might think they can actually paint, might call themselves painters if they follow his techniques.  Gasp!  Clutch pearls!

I don't understand this approach.  It's not like many of us will make money or win wide acclaim for our creative offerings.  But that's not the point.

I remember working in a for-profit commercial art school where my view was the minority.  I was surrounded by skilled visual artists who spent hours discussing these issues, both amongst themselves and with their students.  They weren't always interested in helping students find their own vision, but in fairness, in a commercial art school, as opposed to a fine arts program, the students have to learn to create with an eye to the marketplace.

We also spent a lot of time discussing that marketplace--and then there were people like me who argued for art for art's sake, education for the sake of becoming a better human, not a more employable human.

I realize that I'm a bit prickly about the value of visual art because I've always wanted to be a visual artist, and in fact, I've spent the last 5 years stepping up my efforts.  But would my former colleagues recognize what I'm doing as art or would they sneer at me too?

Let me add one last memory of a faculty development day years ago.  I used to play with poem ideas to keep myself from seeming too disrespectful.  I could write on paper and look like I was taking notes.  I didn't need to pay too much attention at the large general meeting, because I had already been part of a management team that had spent weeks and months on the issue.  During one meeting, a fellow writer colleague and I traded prompts, and a poem spilled out of me.

One of the painters sat near by and asked if he could read our poems, and he was a friendly sort, so of course, we said yes.  He looked at me with astonishment and said, "You mean, you just wrote this?"  He was not dismissing it.  He was genuinely impressed with my poem.

There's something to be said for regular practices.