Interview: Sarah-Louise Young on ‘The Bob Ross Effect’ and surviving 30 years of festivals

Sarah-Louise Young’s first appearance at the Edinburgh Fringe was 30 years ago, and in the time since, she has built up a multifaceted career that spans acting, writing, and directing. An acclaimed cabaret performer, her solo shows, including the award-winning and hugely popular An Evening Without Kate Bush, have seen her tour extensively, with praise for her powerhouse vocals and compelling mix of tribute and comedy.

This year, Young returns to Edinburgh with a brand new show, taking inspiration from another legendary and beloved figure. In The Bob Ross Effect, audiences are invited to meet ‘Bob’ and other characters from his world, with Young melding in the story of her friendship with the late Lynn Ruth Miller, who was known as one of the oldest performing stand-up comedians in the UK and US.

Here, Young talks to SNACK about her new show, and why figures like Bob Ross and Lynn Ruth Miller deserve to be celebrated for bringing joy to so many through their work.

Can you tell me a little about your practice? How did you get into doing cabaret and performing on stage?

I think I was the last person in my family to know I was going to be a performer! I was definitely an annoying child, tap dancing in the kitchen, singing what has affectionately been referred to as the never-ending song. As I went through school, I loved performing, and then at university I had an opportunity to do a solo show at the Edinburgh Fringe.

Something shifted in me about not wanting to be the best person in the show, but wanting the show to be as good as it could be, and so I started directing and doing choreography, and making costumes, and anything I could do to get my hands on being in the world of theatre. Over the years, I’ve had some shows that have absolutely died on their arses and been complete flops.

But I know that they taught me how to make better work. Now, I think of myself as a creative facilitator. I’m amazed that you can invite people into a room and they share one thing and just a desire to be in the room. I think theatre can be these lovely pockets of community that’s what drives me at the moment.

Tell me about The Bob Ross Effect. What is the show about and what can audiences expect?

My friend Lynn Ruth Miller was an amazing American stand-up that started at the age of 70. I met her when she was 73 and she was also an avid painter, and we were dear friends for 17 years. She had this great plan – she was going to die on her 100th birthday at the Leicester Comedy Festival, and very sadly she passed away just before her 88th birthday. Instead of a funeral, we gave her one final art exhibition, and I met all these incredible people in this huge community of friends formed because of this amazing woman.

She and Bob Ross share a lot of values – they believe that everyone’s an artist, and that it’s never too late to follow your dreams. I started thinking: wouldn’t it be funny if Lynn Ruth and Bob were both in heaven or somewhere similar – what would that meeting be like?

And then the idea wouldn’t go away. It was this perfect meeting place between a desire to honour my friend, what I feel like is a lifelong love of Bob Ross, and making a show that was all about art’s capacity to heal, the power of friendship, and then this amazing legacy of this man who makes us believe we can do anything that we want to do.

Why are comedy and cabaret such cathartic mediums when it comes to talking about things like mental health and trauma? What effect do these genres have when it comes to dealing with serious topics?

I think they are a place for truth, and there’s an immediacy about cabaret and stand-up comedy, where you can have an idea in the moment on the stage or that morning. If we look back at the origins of cabaret, especially right back to Paris, they were political places, they were places where you could say what was really on your mind.

I think audiences, now more than ever, are looking for connection and seeing something real and authentic and being met. I don’t want to make flat pack IKEA theatre. I hope with this, there are opportunities for the audience to draw if they want to, and I hope that people will share a little bit about their relationship with art, and that that gets to form part of the experience. I think cabaret is a space where people can come and be political, be seen, be visible.

We’ve come a long way since the concept of cabaret being a white woman in a black frock singing ‘Cry Me a River’ on a cruise ship – it’s a place for LGBTQI queer people to come and be present, and that’s what it should be.

You’ve developed these incredible characters over the years, in tribute to famous legends like Kate Bush and Julie Andrews. How do you go about choosing the people that will be the focus for your characters?

I think with all of them, there’s always been a genuine passion. But I’ve never wanted to just impersonate somebody there are brilliant, brilliant tributes out there who impersonate, but for me it’s about asking, what can this artist teach me about myself or about society? What’s the lens? What’s the diving-in point?

So, with Julie Andrews, it was really in defence of her and the poor treatment she received after her 2010 show at the O2 Arena, and how we feel we own celebrities and stars. Doing that show got me started on this idea that when you make a show about someone that’s well loved, should you have this duty of care? That then influenced making the Kate Bush show.

I think the idea for the Bob Ross show has been floating around my head probably for five or six years, but it had to be the right time. It had to be long enough after Lynn Ruth’s death, really, to feel like I was ready to approach the material.

What would you most like people to take away from seeing you, whether it’s their first or fifth time? And what do you want them to feel after seeing The Bob Ross Effect?

I think just a real sense of community, that their presence there mattered, and that they’ve been looked after. I’m super passionate about audience improvised interactions being opt-in, and people should leave feeling celebrated and elevated. I hope they leave feeling that if they’ve been emotional, that’s not a bad thing, and that big feelings are welcome.

And it would be amazing if they left feeling really proud of something they’d made. As I said, there’s a few very specific interactions to draw. You don’t have to draw, but it was really lovely after the first preview to see people taking their pictures home with them.

You first came to the Edinburgh Fringe 30 years ago and you’ve been part of so many productions since. What is it about the Fringe that you find special?

Just the diversity of art. It’s the one month of the year where I don’t have to explain what I do for a living, and I get to connect with my community. A lot of performers who are friends of mine, I only get to see them at festivals, because obviously I do a lot of one-nighters, I’m often on my own touring around.

I still feel like it’s a place where the audience gets to decide what is successful or not. You can pay for all the PR in the world, you can have huge billboards, you can have fancy marketing budgets, but ultimately, if your show touches people, they will tell other people and they will come.

When I did Cabaret Whore back in 2009 on the Free Fringe, I didn’t have a PR, I didn’t have budget, I hardly had a poster, and we were standing room only from day two, because people told people, and that’s still possible. I wish it were not so astronomically expensive, and it shouldn’t be a place where only the wealthy get to share art.

I run a support group for female solo theatre makers, and I do a drop-in during the month as well, and I’m trying to just extend that, because it can be a lonely old place to be, especially if you’re struggling financially.

For solo performers that are coming to the Fringe for the first time, do you have any nuggets of advice or wisdom that you’d share?

Come to our solo gathering! It’s on Wednesday 12th August, Fringe Central, 12-2pm. And just really look after your physical well-being. I don’t drink for the month, and I try to get fresh air.

I think you’ve got to connect with other artists and see other things, because you can fall down a pit of your own self-analysis. That’s what’s been beautiful the last three years of us doing these solo support groups. People who come start connecting, and we go and see each other’s shows.

It’s a really beautiful thing, because I feel like we’re not in competition with each other. The more good work there is, the more people will want to come to the Fringe and see things. So we should support each other and celebrate each other, and I think that can make you feel much less lonely.

The Bob Ross Effect is at Piccolo Tent, Assembly George Square Gardens, 4.05pm, 5th till 31st August (except 18th).

Photo credit: Steve Ullathorn