Bo, Van Bo
Bo, Van Bo was a character and larger than life.
I met Bo when I lived on my sailboat in Sausalito. I would see him when I would walk my dogs at Dunphy Park. He was usually painting or playing music. As I slowly got to know him, it was always a pleasure to see him as he would always have stories to tell. Over the years, I discovered that he danced with Anna Halprin. He was a massage therapist at the Esalen Institute. He played for the San Francisco 49ers. He acted in adult films with Alex de Renzy and others iconic filmmakers of the 70s. At first, I thought he was simply telling tall tales; however, I would eventually catch flickers of truth in each story shared.
Bo was an anomaly in Sausalito. He was a free spirit with a dazzling quick wit. He was also flamboyant, black and homeless by choice. Dunphy Park was Bo’s defecto home and art studio. To provide insight to the City of Sausalito, the majority of residents are known to be wealthy, white and considerably conventional. They enjoyed stunning picturesque views of Richardson Bay from their hillside multimillion dollar homes. It would not be a stretch to say that Bo did not enhance their impressive view. In fact, you could always spot Bo in the center of his own artistic frenzy. Paintings would be assembled aimlessly on the ground for the passerby to see and possibly buy. Reclaimed materials and discarded objects orbited around him while waiting their turn to be transformed into colorful works of art. If he was not singing and playing on his portable piano, his instrument would be in arms reach next to his paints and brushes. Bo knew he was the ire of the hoity-toity establishment; however, he did not care. He was simply living his life and living that life out loud.
His audaciousness was mesmerizing and it was fascinating to see how his personality imbued into his art. His paintings of sailboats surrounded by the San Francisco skyline and the Golden Gate Bridge were energetic, imaginative and playful. I would buy small pieces for my sailboat when something caught my eye. Bo and I became unlikely friends. I respected his way in the world. He had my number should he ever need assistance. He never called.
When I first moved onto my sailboat, I was working on my graduate degrees. For several years, I was living in synch with the tides of Richardson Bay. I enjoyed the endless hiking trails of Marin County with my dogs. I loved the ability to travel to Big Sur, Napa or Tahoe on a whim. It was truly a blissful existence. Once my degrees were completed, I made the decision to move to Las Vegas to work on an art project. I left my Bay Area lifestyle to acclimate to land and desert. I had been working on the art project for several months when I get a phone call from Bo one day. He says, “Doctor, come get me. I’m on Las Vegas Boulevard at The Flamingo.” Bo had traveled by bus from Sausalito to Las Vegas with a one-way ticket to visit me. I was dumbfounded by his call.
When I pulled up in my car, he was all smiles. As he had no luggage, the first thing we did was drive to a store to buy him clothes. While we drove about town, he shared his hilarious observations of people on The Strip as he had arrived the night before. The second item on the agenda was to take him back to my place so he could clean-up. There was no salvaging his clothes. Those suckers were placed in a trash bag, sealed tight and headed for the dump. I cooked him dinner and proceeded to ask: Why was he in Las Vegas and how long would he be visiting? His response was that I had invited him to visit before I left Sausalito. I recalled the invite; however, I never expected him to leave Sausalito. It was evident that he was overjoyed with happiness that he had reached his destination. With knowledge garnered and not knowing what to expect from his visit, I ushered him to a guest room.
My house served as the unofficial-official headquarters during the construction phase of the art project. Tons of people were coming and going from the house as the project unfolded. People would meet Bo and soon discovered that he was a painter without a studio. Miraculously, all the tools for him to paint began to appear at the house. He began receiving art commissions. He was invigorated to paint. He devoured my library of art books. As a result, he produced some spectacular artworks during this time, including an amazing self-portrait series. In Las Vegas, he became “Van Bo.”
Bo stayed one month and painted the entire time. I enjoyed his visit and I believe the visit inspired him greatly. I shipped his entire body of artwork from Las Vegas to Sausalito. Bo - the homeless scoundrel became Bo - the established lowbrow artist. He went on to cultivate a multitude of collectors and patrons with his art and personality. Despite all of his success, he chose to remain homeless. I was aware of many overtures by people who offered him boats or places to live as a permanent residence, but his preference was not to have one.
During one of my visits back to the Sausalito, I discovered that Bo’s popularity had grown exponentially. Van Bo’s art was now featured in galleries, as well as gracing the walls of buildings and storefront windows in town. I came across this vibrant mural in the darkness of night. It was located by Harbor Drive and Road 3. It is not the best photo, but this particular photograph fills my heart with so much joy. Despite having minimal light, Bo’s distinct style was unmistakable. It was yet another unexpected moment with Bo. I felt as though I had run into my old friend and, in many respects, I had.
To this day, I am reminded of Bo’s authenticity and charisma when I see his art. I am fortunate to appreciate his art every day. Godspeed, Van Bo! May our spirits meet again in the great beyond.
Self Portrait (2008), Acrylic on Board, Bo Van Bo