(@ Andrea, oh no you don't! I'm keeping my crown)
My art teacher through most of high school was also named Bob. He had the same laid back, kind nature as Bob Ross. However, happy, painted trees wasn't his forté. He made environmental art pieces, including giant balloons that floated on rivers and metal rods that sang in the wind. At the time, I thought it was pretentious, now I think it's great.
I've been cleaning my studio and purging old art from my life for the past 2 days. I have a small truckload of canvasses that are going to the dump. Also going are a few boxes of sketches, reference pictures and inspiration photos that are no longer inspiring. Here's a peek into my cleaner studio.
There is some terrible old art I found today that I'll never throw out. My high school sketchbooks from Bob's class are atrocious, but I love them. My progression from fluffy fashion teen to angsty emo girl can be seen in these books. Yet, Bob's comments were always so enthusiastic and kind. He encouraged his students to explore all their creative whims.He lent me his expensive camera and paid for making slides of my photos for a silly installation project I wanted to do. And when the back of the art class burned down, most likely because of me and the old Christmas lights I used in my over the top, anti-war diorama, he expressed no anger, just sincere sympathy that my passionate project was ruined. He was so understated I don't think he received the appreciation he deserved from the self absorbed teens he taught. Certainly not from me.