I’ve been really up and down the last week. My zepbound dose increased and it’s been hard on my stomach; I’ve been throwing up and getting woken up with headaches and stuff. My routines are out of wack and I’m exhausted, so I’m barely functioning.
I don’t watch much YouTube, but ended up there as a way to do some mindless TV while I try to sleep. And then I unexpectedly found a niche on YouTube that healed something from years ago.
I used to love Bob Ross and all of those painting shows on PBS. But I didn’t have paints. I had some watercolors, but it was messy and my mom would get upset if the carpet got dirty. I used to make fun of her for being like that, but now, I think there was something traumatic there for her.
I found a box of oil pastels called ‘gallery.’ When I realized what they were, I realized they could help me make something like a Bob Ross painting. I watched along with an episode, and made a landscape. I didn’t have brushes, but I could blend the colors, and use my fingers.
I didn’t have vandyke brown with a little crimson. But I had brown and red and did my best to blend them for the tree bark. I ended up making a picture that looked like a Bob Ross painting. It didn’t have the details, but the landscape colors, the shades, it was there.
I made a mess. It was the second angriest my mom ever got. The first angriest was when I spilled grapejuice. But she was so worried about carpet stains if there was dark red or purple colors. She was so worried about the dark brown and red color in the carpet. She was angry, but there was this sound in her throat. A crack. Almost like she was going to cry.
I thought that the pastels belonged to my older brother. My mom said so. I washed my hands and apologized for making a mess. My mom wasn’t safe when she got like this. But when she made that sound, all I wanted to do was make her feel safe. I’d get soft. It never worked.
I said I wanted to learn how to do this. I asked my mom to teach me. I asked if I could learn at school. She said it was too messy. Art was messy. I could draw. Go draw instead. I did.
The pastels disappeared. So did the Bob Ross pastel I made, about a month later.
On YouTube, I stumbled upon videos made by South Korean artists teaching oil pastel work. Some of the voices are of middle-aged women that sound a little like my mom. Then I learned about a company called Mungyo, which is a South Korean company that’s been in business for 70 years. And then I saw it.
Mungyo ‘gallery’ pastels. Just like the box I used.
Now I wonder if my mom had bought those pastels for herself. Or had been given them as a gift when she went to South Korea for her dad’s funeral. I wonder if me using them had hurt her feelings somehow. I wish she would’ve tried to explain. Sometimes she could, and I could listen. And sometimes, it was like she was so overwhelmed she couldn’t do anything but make this face, brow furrowed, eyes pulling tears inside.
I have a habit of buying stuff for hobbies, and overdoing it. I set myself up to create masterworks, overspend, then never start. But when I was a kid, I was wise enough to just use what was near me and try. I loved the process and the outcome as a child. I learned to value outcomes more and more as I grew older. But now it’s full circle again. I love the process. I love the outcome. And I haven’t overspent on supplies in years now.
These Korean women made their videos for whatever reason they did. But for me, they became the teachers I wished for when I was little.
And I wonder if my mom would’ve liked them, and listened to them, if there’d been a Korean ladies pastel show on PBS back then.