I remember the day Bob came in for his interview at Salon. Mignon, Karen and I had already interviewed alot of so-so people and then in came Bob. We just loved him instantly and knew he was special. I admired how a man at his age could turn his career around and pursue something new out of pure curiosity. I knew from the day we hired him that he was talented and capable, but what I discovered over the years of knowing him is that he was hugely inspirational in the way he lived his life as a loving husband, father, individual, artist, music-lover and friend.
I was lucky to know Bob and I will miss him very much.
-- Elizabeth Kairys (former art director)
Though I worked with Bob almost every day, since he was in San Francisco and I am in New York, my image of him is really an icon on my buddy list, an IM window. But he was a presence, a calm patch of gentle good humor in an often hectic workday. No matter how much tumult -- no matter how much barking and hoopla -- swirled around him, Bob was always sane and swift and lovely and kind and helpful. He may have been ill for some time, but his whole aura -- from my faraway, digital perspective -- was one of clarity and health and sweetness. He seemed so solidly there that his absence is truly hard to grasp. It seemed he would always be there, spreading his patch of calm like a blanket around those who stumbled his way desperately in search of the perfect piece of art (which he always produced with astonishing speed) or simply a moment to slow down and marvel at the rigors of a fast-paced day. I'll miss his art, I'll miss his sweetness, and I'll miss his generous IM "ha!"
-- Amy Reiter
Bob and I had a lot in common, both Midwest city kids (him Detroit, me Chicago), both about the same age (him a whole year younger), and both wandering into a job at Salon at about the same time.
One of my favorite memories was with Gary Kamiya and myself looking over his shoulder when he was selecting the photo for Gary's George Harrison obit. He came across an unusual one with Harrison playing a Gretsch Tenneseean guitar. I pointed out that because of Harrison and the Beatles, that guitar was also the first good instrument that I had owned. That sealed the deal and that was the photo he and Gary selected. He was generous that way.
Bob was a truly fine, kind man, a uniquely talented artist and art director. We'll all miss him.
-- Paul Lesniak
I can't speak to Bob's wonderful qualities with the eloquence or experience of those who knew him better, but I want to express my admiration for his incredible patience, perspective and wry humor, and the calm respect with which he treated everyone around him. It must have been a struggle at times to radiate such strength and peace while he was suffering. (And to keep up with the daily grind of editorial demands, which he always managed to do with great insight and style.) I'm grateful for his example and deeply sad that he's gone so soon -- his amazing goodness touched my heart; it really feels like his passing leaves a hole in the world.
-- Page Rockwell
I met Bob only a couple of times, when visiting the San Francisco office, but I had instant-message exchanges with him often regarding work stuff, and know him mostly through those. Surprisingly, perhaps, many of the special qualities that other people have noted in him were apparent even in those brief exchanges. I can't believe I'll never see his great, but sad, self-portrait in the IM window again. I miss him already.
-- Michal Keeley
I was deeply saddened to hear from my former colleagues at Salon that Bob Watts, who served as Salon's art director for many years, passed away early this morning after a long fight with cancer.
I knew Bob from his start at Salon as a photo intern in 1998, but worked closest with him during the dark years after the dot-com bubble burst, when Salon's prospects were dim and budgets were slim. Some of Salon's editors fought their own guerrilla battles against our financial woes by spending money they didn't really have, and it was my job as managing editor to try to reel them back toward reality. I never had to do that with Bob: At the end of each month he'd calmly deposit the art department's report on my desk, and it was so reliably in order and under budget that, I confess, I took to reviewing it less and less closely over the years. It could simply be counted on, as could he.
Stereotypes paint the artist as undisciplined and indulgent. Bob wasn't a stereotype; he was the real thing, and so he approached his work with care and consideration, balancing his own abundant inspiration with the needs of the people around him, working fast on ridiculously tight deadlines to create consistently delightful images.
He must have produced, literally, thousands of Salon cover images over the years, each one a witty or moving or beautiful little time capsule. I will miss them, as I will miss him.
-- Scott Rosenberg
Bob was one of the kindest men I've ever had the pleasure of working with. My communications with him -- always over e-mail, always across a continent, often in some deadline-juiced situation in which I was asking him to do something impossible and neurotic and he was responding with calm and wit and such tremendous talent -- felt like communication between friends, even if we were colleagues, and colleagues who knew each other only lightly at that. From some reporter on the other side of the country, Bob created not one but two beautiful caricatures, not because he had to for work, and not because I was going to use them professionally on Salon, but because I so admired his work and his depictions of my colleagues that I greedily wanted to see myself through his eyes, and so I asked him to draw caricatures of me from pictures -- just for the hell of it. I use one as my instant message icon, and the other as my Current icon, and I treasure them both, as I always treasured the way that his art made my stories far better than they would have been without it.
--Rebecca Traister
I worked with Bob for almost eight years, and sat across from him here in the Salon office in San Francisco. When he drew a caricature of me, I felt like I'd really made it as a Salon writer. Of all the fantastic art he did over the years for many of my stories, I especially love this illustration.
But my favorite memory of Bob is as a father. At the Salon retreat in 2007, I'd only been a mother for a few months, which inspired Bob to reminisce about when his daughter, Cady, now in high school, was a newborn. Back then, he'd been a chef. Cooking at the restaurant plus caring for the baby equaled extreme sleep deprivation. Yet, he recalled being a new father with a gentle, bemused nostalgia. It struck me how much love there was in that memory.
-- Katharine Mieszkowski
Bob was the first one to interview me by phone last March. It was effortless; we discussed art, design, music -- a walk in the park compared to Mignon's techniques, which I believe are now under review by the Justice Department. Toward the end of the conversation, feeling saucy, I decided to trip Mr. BossMan up with a question of my own: "How do YOU like working at Salon?" (This is saucy for me.) Without hesitating, he said, "Oh, well it's the best job in the world. I love it." Who better to work for than someone who can say that?
-- Christopher Walsh
Bob's wit and artistic talents were obvious to all who saw him work. His seemingly unlimited sweetness may not have come through to those who enjoyed his illustrations. I always enjoyed the times we spoke, sitting with his wonderful wife and daughter in the summer on a Sierra weekend or touching base about the mysteries of art and health in our little staff kitchen alcove as he ducked out at the end of a long day of work.
Personally, I was grateful to him for always encouraging my strange interest in pushing into abstract photography. Bob was delighted as I got involved in some local group photo shows over the last few years. He sparkled with a deeply creative spirit, and brought that to the surface in others around him.
He also instantly took to and quietly appreciated the WELL community, where he rediscovered old friends. I always felt he understood why the community team at Salon is so dedicated to the work we've taken on. Maybe that was because he truly loved the work he was doing.
It was an honor to spend time on the planet with this man.
-- Gail Ann Williams
I spent two years working in close proximity with Bob on the art team. During those two years, Bob never had a negative thing to say about anyone or anything. This is not to say he was not honest and forthcoming. He just had the most unique outlook on tricky situations and difficult people. I remember Bob being the first one in in the morning, having come the farthest. He was also often the last one to leave at night, wanting to make sure his cover piece was perfect. It always was, even though he sometimes refused to admit it, trying one last time to get things just right.
I was lucky to have known someone like Bob. There are not many folks like him in the world. He was loving, kind and professional to the core; a dedicated father, husband and colleague. My condolences go out to his family, and to all of those who knew and loved Bob Watts.
-- Sara Wood
Bob could have been the drummer I watched last night at Rancho Nicasio. He never grew a handlebar moustache, and hasn't had long hair since the 80's, but the hawkishly handsome face and calm, confident movements were so similar I nearly cried.
It's not too far of a stretch to imagine him in any number of different guises. He's been an artist, a chef, an activist and a forest ranger. Bob was someone who picked up new skills the way I acquire houseplants or shoes. I'd almost believe he wasn't trying. When I wanted insight on a band, a book, or my latest harebrained scheme I could always turn to Bob.
His strong opinions, high standards and understated, steady kindness have been part of my life for nearly as long as I can remember. Bob and my older sister started dating, and then married, when I was a kid. Early on, he wooed me, too, by bringing generous stacks of comic books to my parent's home in the woods. But when I brought my pet sheep into the guest room to wake my sister, I finally recognized a mischievous kindred heart: he encouraged me to bring the horse in too.
Over the years, Bob was as much a friend as he was family. He cooked an amazing ham for dinner each Christmas, and when he, his daughter Cady and I formed a team for Pictionary we were unbeatable. I called him first whenever my computer broke, and when I went back to grad school to study journalism he was one of my most eloquent supporters.
Even as his cancer progressed he stayed strong, and stayed himself. He was still cracking jokes the last time we talked; it's hard to believe he's gone.
--Jacoba Charles
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