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.
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