Richard Hudson has produced more than 100 hours of public television, but he's also found time to conduct private screenings from his backyard.
On clear nights, he walks across the nine acres of his property in Scandia, a community quaint enough to make neighboring Stillwater seem like a bustling metropolis, inhales the overwhelming smell of pine trees, sidesteps thimble-size frogs hopping across the grass, and arrives at his makeshift shed.
He slides the roof off, clicks a portable radio to a classical music station and sidles up to a 6-foot telescope to gaze at Sagittarius, millions of light years away, sometimes until 4 in the morning.
The show never gets old.
"When I'm in Washington, D.C., I always go to the National Gallery to see Rembrandt's self-portrait," said Hudson, looking into his lens as copies of textbooks with scandalous titles like "Uranometria 2000" and "The Celestial Sampler" lay atop shelves around him. "I must have seen it 30 times. Doesn't matter. I see something different every time."
Hudson's TV shows could also be described as timeless, with his legacy poised to influence generations of tweens otherwise conditioned to place snoozy lab experiments right alongside choking down their peas and broccoli.
Episodes of "DragonflyTV" and its offshoot, "SciGirls," both created by Hudson under the Twin Cities Public Television banner and broadcast on most PBS stations across the country, remove the stodgy scientist goggles by placing young people in mission control. On these shows, kids personally launch model rockets, design miniature wind farms, electrify fashion shows and transform giant pig floats into robots.
It's the hands-on approach that matters.