Bokkie Basson

The Art of Seeing: Remembering Bokkie Basson

Growing up in Worcester in the 1960s, the town often felt like a conservative enclave, a place where the cultural status quo was rarely challenged. Yet, for those of us with a yearning for something more creative, there was a sanctuary: the Hugo Naudé Art Centre. At the heart of this sanctuary was a man who would become far more than just a teacher to me. He was a mentor, a defender of aesthetics, and a true practitioner of the art of living—Albertus Johannes "Bokkie" Basson.

This year marks another reflection on the profound impact Bokkie had on my life and the lives of so many young students who walked through the doors of that historic building. As I look back, I realize that while I may have learned technique in his classroom, what I really learned was how to look at the world.

A Different Kind of Classroom

The Hugo Naudé Art Centre was unique. Housed in the former home and studio of South Africa’s first impressionist, Hugo Naudé, it felt distinct from "real" school. There were no rigid rows of desks or rote learning here. Instead, we had small classes that met in the afternoons, a time when the light in the studio seemed to encourage focus and introspection.

Bokkie was the principal of the centre from 1953 to 1968, and he ran a tight ship, but one built on passion rather than discipline for discipline's sake. He had an uncanny ability to weed out those who saw art merely as an "easy option" compared to science or maths. If you were there, you had to be serious. He expected commitment, and in return, he gave us the freedom to explore media ranging from gouache and charcoal to lino cuts and collage.

I remember his teaching style vividly. He was never dogmatic. He would stand back, observe, and then step in to encourage or suggest, guiding us rather than dictating to us. His greatest lesson was simple yet profound: he taught us to "see" rather than just look. Whether we were drawing from life or experimenting with textures, the goal was always to capture the essence of the subject, to strip away the superficial and find the truth in the form.

The Abstract Pioneer in a Conservative Town

Bokkie wasn't just a teacher; he was a practicing artist who was, in many ways, miles ahead of the local taste. In the early sixties, Worcester’s general public preferred the realistic and the recognizable. Bokkie, however, was painting bold, abstract works. He was a great colourist, utilizing vivid reds, steely blues, and greens, applying paint in thick, impasto strokes that gave his work a sculptural quality.

I recall the local wags—the skeptics and the cynics—making fun of his work. They called them his "Breede River pebble paintings" because of the interlocking globular shapes that characterized his style at the time. There was much derision in town; people would joke that you could only tell if a Bokkie Basson painting was the right way up by looking at the signature. They were always looking for something realistic and recognizable in works that were entirely abstract in conception.

But Bokkie remained unmoved. He had a term for those who criticized good artistic values or lacked the capacity to appreciate the modern: he called them "philistines." As students, we fiercely defended him. We would visit his exhibitions, standing before those misunderstood abstracts, trying our best to explain the structural basis and emotional depth to the doubters. He opened our minds to the wider world of art, discussing rising stars like Robert Rauschenberg and Roy Lichtenstein—names that certainly weren't in the standard school curriculum.

The Art of Living

Bokkie’s lessons extended far beyond the canvas. He believed that art was not a separate activity but a way of life. He taught us to appreciate the finer things—good food, good wine, and the beauty of the natural world.

One of my fondest memories is of our matric art class. Bokkie had a soft spot for us, perhaps because we were all so eager to take art further as a career. He invited the class to his home in Faery Glen for a banquet. It was an evening of culinary adventure designed to delight and perhaps shock us slightly—I distinctly remember fried sheep’s brains being on the menu. It was a gesture of generosity that broke down the barrier between master and pupil, treating us as fellow travelers on the artistic journey.

His love for nature was equally infectious. He was an intuitive gardener, designing his garden through the atmosphere created by the plants rather than rigid structure. His daughter, Marinelle, recalls how he would drive out into the countryside, park his car on a dirt road near farmworkers' cottages, push the seat back, and sketch with his pad resting on the steering wheel. He had a keen eye for the "emotional landscape" of a place. He loved the indigenous flowers—nerines, babianas, and watsonias—and would often get excited just spotting the first bloom of the season.

A Lasting Legacy

It is interesting to reflect that while Bokkie was an abstract expressionist, my own career has been defined by realism. Yet, the foundation is undeniably his. He didn't clone his style into his students; he instilled principles. He taught me discipline, observation, and the integrity of the line.

Bokkie Basson passed away in 2000, but his influence remains woven into the fabric of my work and the work of so many others he taught. When his daughter Marinelle organized the first exhibition of his work after his death, it was a revelation to see the scope of his talent—from those exquisite pencil sketches of landscapes to the vibrant, joyful paintings of his later years.

To the "philistines," he was a puzzle. To us, he was a beacon. He showed us that art is a serious, noble pursuit, and that to live as an artist is to engage deeply and passionately with the world around you.

Thank you, Bokkie, for teaching us how to see.