The Influence of 60s Counterculture on Mid-Modern Art
The countercultural wave of the 1960s unleashed a torrent of influences on the art world, including the civil rights movement, the sexual revolution, Eastern spirituality, New Age philosophy, and the popular use of psychedelic compounds like LSD. At the same time, the political atmosphere of the Cold War and the Space Race kept the world in a state of tension and awe. With this blog I'm going to examine how some artists took these influences to heart, producing colorful, mind-bending images full of radical new ideas.
Mati Klarwein, Nativity (1961)
Image courtesy of Mati Klarwein's website.
Klarwein uses all the color without remorse, but he demonstrates masterful control of tone in the central subject. Tiny head aside, the woman is painted in a highly realistic manner, including bodily imperfections and tan lines. A cohesive aesthetic clearly isn't what Klarwein was striving for here. The rainbow colored cloak has the optical texture of a woven fabric, while other elements look more cartoonish or photographic, giving this painting some resemblance to a collage. All kinds of patterns are used to create visual interest. For example, the yin-yang symbol fractally subdivides into smaller and smaller versions of itself.
Three branches of Eastern religion are represented in the various symbols adorning the woman's cloak. We have the yin-yang, a Taoist symbol of duality, then a female bodhisattva meditating in the lotus position, and finally a Hindu Sri Yantra diagram. The crest at the woman's collar bears the Buddhist symbol of inner peace. The counterculture of the 60s brought a great deal of interest in Eastern philosophy to the West.
What I see in this painting is bright optimism about the future, an enthusiastic expression of hope from someone experiencing the beginnings of the countercultural revolution. The nuclear blast in the background may be a reference to Cold War insanity, but I see it as a symbol of iconoclasm: the burgeoning counterculture's destruction of the old world and its archaic values.
The woman, with her scepter and crown of flowers, ushers in the "nativity" of a new age. She appears to be a ruler of some kind, a black hippie queen. Perhaps inspired by the civil rights movement, Klarwein is saying this new age will represent the dawn of sexual and racial equality. The woman is cloaked in rainbow color and steeped in symbols of Eastern religion—the core virtues of these religions are compassion and humility—these are her powers; the values of a new and better world.
Simply put, I like this painting because I dig that whole message.
Nativity was painted in New York City, where Klarwein had just moved from France.
Mati Klarwein, Astral Body Awake (1969)
Image courtesy of Mati Klarwein's website.
As if there wasn't already enough to dissect in Nativity, Klarwein seems delighted to overwhelm the senses with Astral Body Awakening. Between all of the overlapping shapes and lines , my eyes can't decide where to fall or how to make sense of it all. We have dolphins, a Fibonacci spiral, a winged centaur, interconnecting lines and radiating energy—a hundred different people could look at this image and come up with a hundred different interpretations. I don't think anyone could tell you with confidence what it all means, and I think that's the whole point. The artist was doing his best to recreate the profound sensory overload of a psychedelic experience.
I wouldn't say I find this kind of art masterfully executed or even all that aesthetically pleasing, but I greatly enjoy getting lost in it. A pattern of one kind or another fills just about every inch of the painting besides the blue sky. A plethora of lines and shapes are used to draw connections between the disparate elements. One line connects the heart of the Fibonacci spiral to the base chakra of the outer astral body. One circle frames the astral body's head, two more intersect at its center, and others just seem placed haphazardly. There is some rhyme and reason—enough to make us grasp at meaningful connections, just not so much that we could make holistic sense of everything. What would be the fun in that?
Astral Body Awakening was also painted in New York City. In his time living there, Klarwein became known for his legendary parties. He met Jimi Hendrix and Salvador Dali, and I mention this only because I think Klarwein's style might aptly be described as, "Jimi Hendrix meets Salvador Dali." His art became popular with musicians of the time, his works being chosen for album covers by Santana, Miles Davis, and Herbie Hancock.
De Es Schwertberger, who goes by simply "De Es," is a prolific Austrian artist who is still producing paintings to this day. He typically works in periods, creating many similar paintings over the course of a decade, but during the 60s he experimented with a variety of styles.
Inner Journey reminds me of Salvador Dali's Dream Caused by the Flight of a Bee Around a Pomegranate a Second Before Awakening, where the fantastical elements within a person's mind appear to surround them.
Bright tones and gentle hues work to create a dreamlike aesthetic. The patterns of cloud and prominent lines of the strange architecture in the background gradually twist about the sun, creating an implied sense of motion like video on a fisheye lens. I imagine a continuous stream of fantastical imagery to revolve around the subject at his desk. By aligning the sun on the horizon with the faceted, egg-shaped "body" of the seraphim hovering above the desk, we can surmise that this entity is producing these surrounding visions. The whole concept is exquisitely imaginative and well-realized.
I think the countercultural influence in Inner Journey is obvious. While depictions of mystical visions go back to the earliest periods explored on this blog, you didn't see them represented in such a vivid hallucinatory fashion until the 60s when artists began experimenting with LSD.
On his official website, De Es details how he was influenced by what was happening in the 60s: "I belonged to an era in which new perspectives, evolving with the Space Age, the PSI-Age and the New Age, offered fresh hope to humanity."
Inner Journey was painted in Vienna where De Es lived in the 60s, studying under Ernst Fuchs of the Vienna School of Fantastic Realism.
De Es Schwertberger, Abyss (1968)
Image courtesy of De Es Schwertberger's website.
Line, value, and color all play an integral role here. The lines of crisscrossing ropes draw visual interest, creating a patterned regularity within the bright abyss at its center. The high-contrast color scheme feels alien to my senses, creating the impression of a strange other dimension. De Es even plays around with reversing the traditional role of light and shadow, with the men casting a neon glow behind them rather than shadows.
As aesthetically pleasing as this image is, I find it intriguing for its mystery above all else. It begs to have some kind of meaning ascribed to it. Why are the men playing tug-of-war around the abyss? Why does the abyss descend into light, and why are the men fighting to remain in the dark? Why do they all hide their faces? I like to think they represent humanity locked in an eternal struggle against itself. Rather than cooperate, they choose to fight and remain ignorant in the dark, unenlightened. Perhaps the "abyss" referred to in the title isn't the one below them, but the darkness they currently reside in.
Like the greater counterculture as a whole, I think Abyss calls into question the values of modern civilization. It seems to be asking us to consider whether our struggles are worthwhile.
Abyss was most likely painted in Switzerland where De Es lived and worked for a period of time before moving to New York City in the 80s.
Robert Venosa, The Fall of Lucifer (1972)
Image courtesy of Robert Venosa's website.
I find Venosa's imagery attractive for the scope of his imagination. His New Age depictions of angels are immediately recognizable as celestial beings, entities comprised of vast networks of stars. As such, they give me a sense of scope beyond any other paintings I know of.
Extreme contrast is used in the tones, ranging from pure white to pitch black. We are, after all, looking at a depiction of nothing besides immaterial light and darkness. As such, form plays an important role in making sense of what we're seeing. The way in which the brightness is shaped does just enough to suggest the forms of angels, and even give a sense of action. The larger angel appears to be casting off Lucifer (recognizable by his horns) with a flinging motion of its arm. Here, space also comes into play: by utilizing the darkest tones within the rent between the angels, Venosa lends a dramatic flare to this heavenly schism.
The streaming lines radiating from both entities create the effect of continuous flowing movement. One imagines that these angels burn with bright intensity. Its a very intense image with a dazzling sense of movement and energy.
As for how Venosa was influenced by the counterculture, the following comes from the biography on his official website: "Venosa was transported into the world of fine art in the late 60's after having experimented with psychedelics and having seen the work of the Fantastic Realists."
The Fall of Lucifer was painted in New York City, where Venosa studied under the tutelage of Mati Klarwein in his aforementioned party loft. Of his time studying with Klarwein, Venosa said, "Not only did I get started in proper technique, but at various times I had Jimi Hendrix, Miles Davis, Jackie Kennedy and the good doctor Tim Leary himself peering over my shoulder to see what I was up to."
Feelings of serenity and peace aren't generally the first thing I would associate with depictions of colossal supernatural entities, but that is exactly what I feel looking at Annunciation II. Those feelings are helped along by the predominantly blue-green hues and bright tones. Form is again crucial, these creatures appear soft and elegantly flowing. They blend in with their environment, and appear to be gathered harmoniously. Their smooth textural appearance and transparency is suggestive of water. Venosa wisely appealed to the senses rather than the rational brain: his forms are inexact and suggestive in an impressionistic way. I can read them but can't fully comprehend them, and so there is a great sense of awe and wonder. This place appears exalted and heavenly in a way that comes across as more real and believable than classical depictions of heaven and angels.
In order to achieve the rich appearance of these flowing, semi-opaque forms, Venosa employed a technique pioneered by an artist featured earlier on this blog: Jan Van Eyck. Using the mischtechnik, or mixed technique, Venosa used multiple layers of oil paint and transparent glaze to build up his ethereal imagery. As light strikes the painting, it refracts through the many layers of paint, producing a luminous effect.
As a matter of happenstance, it turns out that all three of the artists featured on this post were students of the Australian painter Ernst Fuchs, who taught them the techniques of the Old Masters such as Van Eyck. I had no idea there was a connection between all of these artists when choosing them for this blog.
I find Annunciation II particularly fascinating because its angels bear an uncanny resemblance to Pillars of Creation, the famous photograph of the Eagle Nebula taken by the Hubble Space Telescope:
Image courtesy of NASA.
If it weren't for the fact that the painting predated the launch of the telescope by eleven years, I'd have little doubt that Venosa took inspiration from the Eagle Nebula. Its quite honestly a little spooky:
Annunciation II was painted in Cadaqués, Spain, where Venosa settled after leaving New York City. There, he befriended H. R. Giger and Salvador Dali who said of Venosa's work, "Bravo Venosa! Dali is pleased to see spiritual madness painted with such a fine technique."
Works Cited
Hi Alex! Thank you for sharing your perspective on this weeks topic. I love the art you have chosen. This is the type of art that automatically catches your eye. I haven't looked too much into this style, but I like what you have chosen. The elements of color and texture are definitely key in these pieces and I love it. I would love to try something like this but I can tell this takes lots of time to master. Super cool! Thank you for sharing!
ReplyDeleteI really enjoyed your take on Abyss. I hadn't even thought about how the people are playing tug of war to stay in the dark, at first I was only thinking they were trying to pull the other into the light. I also really like the comparison of Pillars of Creation and Annunciation II. It almost grounds Annunciation II, and for that I found I enjoy the work that much more.
ReplyDeleteI absolutely loved Annunciation II, and the comparison to the photo from NASA. There is something about space that is fascinating and beautiful as it is terrifying.
ReplyDeleteAbyss, to me, looks like a bunch of men in cat suits about to pull a heist, but there is a sense of mystery of what is going on deeper in the light.
I like the Fall of Lucifer. It really does give you that awesome feeling like you're floating outside the universe watching something happen.
ReplyDelete