Friday, January 4, 2019

POST #171: HILMA AND ME


A couple of years ago, I came across a May, 2013 copy of Frieze magazine, that featured the work of an early twentieth century Swedish artist I’d never heard of before, Hilma af Klint (1882-1944). I guess the “af” is the equivalent of the German “von.” To say that I was blown away is an understatement. Although I taught Art History for over two decades at the University of Connecticut, I had never heard of her. In fact, until recently, nobody seems to have heard of her. She was turning out large, brilliantly colored biomorphic abstractions several years before Kandinsky, Mondrian and Malevich did their innovative work. Not only did she predate the triumverate credited with the creation of Abstraction, she (in my opinion) outdid them all. The irony is, outside of a small circle of Swedish mystics, no one knew she even existed. After her death at age 81, at her request, more than 1,200 items went into storage for over 20 years. She wasn’t sure the world was ready for them.

Untitled - 72"x44"    Mixed media on canvas
I’ve often complained about the art world’s need for “tokens’ to show how liberal and inclusive it is. There’s plenty to choose from: neglected minority artists, mixed genders, women, yes, even women. Unfortunately, these tokens are often just that. Their work, while it might be good, would never warrant that degree of attention if the artist were a plain vanilla, white male. True equality in the art world can only happen when every artist is judged on the merit of his or her work, not the need for tokens. And here comes Hilma af Klint, a genius who could make it without a boost from the gender establishment – even if it took almost a century for it to happen. 

For women artists especially, it’s instructive to look at how she was able to produce the body of work she did, several thousand pieces of work carefully archived by her wealthy family, (she died in 1944).  Af Klint was academically trained and financially successful in the popular early 20th century “en plein air” painting style. To earn money, she created beautifully rendered misty landscapes, botanical studies and conventional portraits that sold well, but her serious work was influenced by Spiritualism reflected in the teachings of people like Rudolph Steiner and Madame Blavatsky, a Russian psychic. Kandinsky, along with other artists and intellectuals of the pre World War I era was also influenced by Blavatsky, but af Klint’s abstractions predate his by several years. I doubt he ever saw her work since I am unaware of any exhibits outside her own small group of five women artists who held séances and were interested in automatic writing (predating the surrealists by at least twenty years. She never married, never had children and was financially able to afford the giant spaces needed to create and store her work. (See Blog Post # 64, “The Pram in the Hall.”)  She was also part of a supportive group of women artists and fellow mystics. (I’d love to see the work of the others, if any has survived).

Untitled - 72"x44"    Mixed media on canvas
Hilma Af Klint is no token. She was a genius on her own right and an innovator.  Her work, unlike most of the abstract art we see today, was not meant to be decorative, filled with faux emotion and pretty color; it has spiritual depth, an alternate universe that came from a true intellectual and religious search, not a superficial desire to create a conversation pieces to hang in a zillionaire’s dining room.  The two hundred or so oversized water color and gouache paintings she created between 1906-1915 for an imaginary temple – with a break in between to care for an ailing mother - are only equaled in modern times by Rothko, and even he (although I love his work) doesn’t equal her.

Check out af Klint’ when you get a chance, especially the large pieces in the Guggenheim rotunda. They make you realize the emptiness of most what we’re looking at today.