I wasn't expecting to make the visit, but it came as a result of a request by my son Timothy. He asked if I would go over to the home where I first met Claude Buck 47 years ago and take a few photographs.
He wanted me to photograph the home, the backyard studio and the magnificent walkway leading up to the small studio. The walkway was inspiring because Claude had scratched the likenesses of artists that had inspired him into the wet cement. These outlines were of Da Vinci, Michelangelo, Rembrandt, Turner, Claude Lorraine, and a couple others.
I did not anticipate my excited feelings as i drove towards Claude's Santa Barbara home on Milpas street. I realized that i was experiencing the same emotions I had felt years ago when I first drove to his home see inquire about taking art lessons.
Kitty West, a local artist, had steered me there when I mentioned that I wanted to take art lessons at the adult education classes in the fall. She said, "Don't go there, they just sit. If you really want to learn then go and see the Master Claude Buck. I don't know if he gives lessons or not, but here is his telephone number and here is his address.
I thanked her and instantly drove to the address she had written on a small piece of paper.
Mrs. Buck met me at the door and ushered me to the back yard upon hearing my request for art lessons. There sat Claude in a reclining lawn chair. He was eating lunch and taking it easy. He was 72 and had high blood pressure problems.
Claude reached out and gave me a firm handshake that gave me the feeling that i was in the right place. AND I WAS.
I quickly explained that I had never had an art lesson and had never visited a gallery, but now I wanted to learn how to paint. He ignored that lack-luster biography was a statement that rings true to this day, "Let's see if we can make a great artist out of you in one year!"
Knocking on the door of Claude's former home was a bit eerie. Gone were the magnificent door decorations, the well-kempt lawn, the the warm welcome sign. Instead I was greeted by a DANGER, KEEP OUT sign in the darkened window. I thought the home was abandoned, but a knock on the door eventually brought some response. I was again ushered to the backyard. The sidewalk was still intact, but the studio had been turned into a storage shed. MOST OF ALL, CLAUDE WAS NOT THERE!
I am going to write a book about my art experiences which will include numerous antidotes remembered about this sidewalk-filling giant in my life, CLAUDE BUCK.
He wanted me to photograph the home, the backyard studio and the magnificent walkway leading up to the small studio. The walkway was inspiring because Claude had scratched the likenesses of artists that had inspired him into the wet cement. These outlines were of Da Vinci, Michelangelo, Rembrandt, Turner, Claude Lorraine, and a couple others.
I did not anticipate my excited feelings as i drove towards Claude's Santa Barbara home on Milpas street. I realized that i was experiencing the same emotions I had felt years ago when I first drove to his home see inquire about taking art lessons.
Kitty West, a local artist, had steered me there when I mentioned that I wanted to take art lessons at the adult education classes in the fall. She said, "Don't go there, they just sit. If you really want to learn then go and see the Master Claude Buck. I don't know if he gives lessons or not, but here is his telephone number and here is his address.
I thanked her and instantly drove to the address she had written on a small piece of paper.
Mrs. Buck met me at the door and ushered me to the back yard upon hearing my request for art lessons. There sat Claude in a reclining lawn chair. He was eating lunch and taking it easy. He was 72 and had high blood pressure problems.
Claude reached out and gave me a firm handshake that gave me the feeling that i was in the right place. AND I WAS.
I quickly explained that I had never had an art lesson and had never visited a gallery, but now I wanted to learn how to paint. He ignored that lack-luster biography was a statement that rings true to this day, "Let's see if we can make a great artist out of you in one year!"
Knocking on the door of Claude's former home was a bit eerie. Gone were the magnificent door decorations, the well-kempt lawn, the the warm welcome sign. Instead I was greeted by a DANGER, KEEP OUT sign in the darkened window. I thought the home was abandoned, but a knock on the door eventually brought some response. I was again ushered to the backyard. The sidewalk was still intact, but the studio had been turned into a storage shed. MOST OF ALL, CLAUDE WAS NOT THERE!
I am going to write a book about my art experiences which will include numerous antidotes remembered about this sidewalk-filling giant in my life, CLAUDE BUCK.
posted by Buck Paulson @ 8:34 PM
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