A QUEER WOMAN PIONEERS ABSTRACTION: HILMA AF KLINT 80 YEARS AFTER HER DEATH

Hilma (2022)is a drama that chronicles the life of Swedish painter Hilma af Klint (1862–1944), recently recognized as a pioneer of abstract art. The film portrays her early years, artistic development, personal relationships, and the esoteric influences that shaped her visionary creations.

Directed by Lasse Hallström and set in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the movie underscores af Klint’s struggles in a male-dominated art world. It features her most renowned works, which were largely overlooked during her lifetime and rarely shown to small audiences. This was not only due to the patriarchal constraints of the era but also because af Klint herself requested that her works remain hidden. She believed that the world was not yet ready to understand them, and she had long searched for a temple dedicated to all arts, sciences, and religions—a space she never found.

Hilma insisted that her paintings be kept out of the public eye for 20 years after her death. The film concludes in New York in 2018, with the landmark exhibition Hilma af Klint: Paintings for the Future at the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, suggesting the museum as the temple she had envisioned for her works.

Today, October 21, 2024, marks 80 years since Hilma af Klint’s death, while her work is once again on display, this time at the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao. This date also coincides with the 65th anniversary of the Guggenheim’s opening in New York, creating a serendipitous moment of double significance.

Theosophy and the Rise of Abstraction

The significance of theosophy, occultism, and other esoteric knowledge in Hilma af Klint’s work is not an isolated phenomenon but reflects the intellectual and spiritual environment of the West at the time. Non-figurative art is a conquest of the artistic vanguards thanks to these artists’ immersion in spiritual dimensions amidst the heightened positivism of the 19th century.

Sirje Helme traces the beginnings of occult sciences in the West, from alchemy to various early forms of mirroring Eastern religions, through a 19th century whose rapid modernization in Europe and North America created conditions for theosophy to emerge as an alternative blending spirituality with a quest for scientific understanding. In this context, with a decline in Christianity’s influence and a growing materialistic worldview, theosophy began to replace spiritualism as a dominant spiritual movement.[1]

The Theosophical Society was founded in New York by Helena Blavatsky in 1875, being herself and her successor, Annie Besant, two of the most influential figures in this proposed universal religion that transcended established faiths like Christianity, Judaism, Buddhism, Islam, and Hinduism, while incorporating common elements from them. Notably, the singularity of a philosophical or religious movement developed primarily by women as its public figures is worth mentioning.

Tessel M. Baudin affirms that “the single most important esoteric influence upon the avant-garde was Theosophy,”[2] among many other practices prevalent at the time. Of this vast conjunction of spiritual traditions, theosophy particularly stands out in literature about art from the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Art history has documented Kandinsky’s lyrical abstraction, Mondrian’s neo-plasticism, and Malevich’s suprematism as the “founding fathers” of non-figurative art in association with theosophy.

Often, other artists who traversed the same path are mentioned: František Kupka, Robert Delaunay, Giacomo Balla, Francis Picabia, Theo van Doesburg, Fortunato Depero, and Arthur Dove; and only occasionally are women mentioned, with Sonia Delaunay, Natalia Goncharova, and Sophie Taeuber-Arp being slightly more known.[3]

Theosophy provided these artists with a perspective that formed the foundation of their spirituality. From this vantage point, they felt they could see beyond the natural world and grasp ancient wisdom and cosmic principles. This elevated perspective allowed them to transcend mundane concerns, granting them a sense of divine insight into otherworldly realms. They positioned themselves as intermediaries between two worlds, and conveying this knowledge became the purpose of their art.[4]

For women artists in particular, spiritualist movements provided a special space for social activity and philosophical foundation. In theosophy, the masculine and feminine were considered equal, while spiritualism functioned as a pathway for disseminating ideas about women’s rights, opposing rationalist and materialist systems. This explains why, from the second half of the 19th century, there were so many spiritualist women artists, and why they began to promote a sense of sisterhood, as well as explore the concept of “Divine Feminine.”[5]

Most of the mentioned artists initially worked in the symbolist style, using familiar forms to convey cosmic ideals. However, as Kathleen Hall mentions, they soon recognized that symbolism’s iconography restricted their ability to express universal concepts. Aware of this limitation, they sought to explore their theosophical beliefs more deeply and discovered new modes of expression.[6] While there was no “theosophical artistic style,” but rather very uneven approaches to theosophy by each artist, the spiritual source from which the work emerged was the same.[7]

However, it is crucial to recognize that those artists had a one-sided and eclectic relationship with theosophy. None of them fully integrated the complete range of theosophical literature or its principles into their perspectives.[8] Instead of wholly believing in theosophical concepts, they drew inspiration from its ideas to create their own stories, landscapes, and emotions, departing from the dominant naturalistic style of the time.[9]

A Plot Twist in the Official Art History

Meanwhile, a queer woman in Stockholm had arrived at non-figuration a few years before the “founding fathers” and through the same spiritual avenues. Hilma af Klint was commissioned in 1906 by a divine spirit to produce a series of works, resulting in a series of 193 large-scale paintings that changed the Art History, written by men and focusing solely on men. The series Paintings for the Temple, as art critic Roberta Smith stated more than a century later, are “game-changing works” with a “jaw-dropping impact” because “they blow open art history.”[10]

Once again, the iconic text by Linda Nochlin, Why Have There Been no Great Female Artists? gains importance.[11] Hilma af Klint is another example of how art history was constructed under structural inequalities for women, lacking the diverse institutional support that backed male artists of the time: academia, museums, galleries, criticism, and many other stakeholders. Thus, while Hilma reached abstraction in obscurity, this discovery was attributed to later artists.

The spiritual pathway for Klint was the same as for the mentioned “founding fathers” of abstraction. Klint’s artistic vision, although sometimes incorporating figurative elements, evolved toward geometric abstraction, which she felt allowed her to better convey higher levels of consciousness. As an artist-medium, she believed that her paintings could facilitate communication with higher consciousness beings, enabling her to express their messages through her artwork. Additionally, she began practicing automatic writing well before the surrealists adopted similar techniques.[12]

One of the special details of Hilma’s work is that it was created collectively within a framework of sisterhood. She was part of a group of women who called themselves “De Fem” or “The Five,” which also included Anna Cassel, Cornelia Cederberg, Sigrid Hedman, and Mathilda Nilsson. Although the new version of art history recognizes Hilma, it may have failed to highlight the group and acknowledge the works as a joint authorship.

The group convened weekly to conduct séances, or sessions to communicate with spirits, in an effort to access transcendental realms, as referenced by the Rosicrucians and Theosophical societies. In these meetings, participants entered a trance state, which facilitated communication with beings of higher consciousness.[13] The film Hilma shows the emotional, spiritual, and creative processes they engaged in as a group and demonstrates that Hilma alone would not have achieved the same results.

“The Five” had a structured approach to their work. Each meeting followed this itinerary: it began with a prayer, followed by meditation, a Christian sermon, and a review of a New Testament text. This was then followed by the séance. They meticulously documented their meetings, compiling sketches and messages in dedicated sketchbooks.

Five notebooks from 1896 to 1907 detail their sessions, including information on the medium, the artist, the content received, and the names of the High Masters they communicated with: Gregor, Clemens, Amaliel, and later Ananda. In addition, there are nine sketchbooks filled with drawings, each page dated and signed. Many drawings bear the collective signature D.F. (“De Fem”), while others include the initials of them as individual artists.[14]

Following the movie’s script, Hilma did not reciprocate this collective project, attributing the creation of the works to herself at some point, deciding on their future, while all held different roles in what they believed was a horizontal functioning. The affective bonds between the women were not met with the due care, while she placed great importance on a male figure who provided her no care at all.

Hilma depicts her intellectual relationship bordering on infatuation with Rudolph Steiner, the creator of Anthroposophy, as an important pillar of af Klint’s work, alongside Blavatskian Theosophy and Spiritualism. Steiner’s opinion (or “mansplaining,” as we would say today) about Hilma’s work marked its isolated fate. Following this man’s disapproval, she felt she must hide the works because the world was not ready to receive them; if Steiner did not understand them, no one else could. Despite having a venue to exhibit the works and advanced logistics for the event, Hilma unilaterally decided that the paintings would not be exhibited, despite protests from “The Five.”

Steiner’s consistent rejection over the years led her to request that her works be hidden for 20 years after her death in 1944. However, it was not until 1986 that her work was shown in The Spiritual in Art: Abstract Painting 1890-1985 in Los Angeles. Then, the largest and most complete coverage of her work was an exhibition titled Hilma af Klint: A Pioneer of Abstraction at the Moderna Museet in 2013.[15] Her place in art history was already being claimed, but her recognition only solidified when the perfect venue, the temple, appeared to make her paintings a blockbuster show.

The Guggenheim as a Temple

In 1930, Hilma af Klint received another commission from the spirits: to build a temple that would house the works she and the group had created. The artist developed an idea based on geometric games with the spiral as the central concept. She sketched an octagon surrounded by three concentric geometric shapes, each with more sides, and labeled it “Attempt at a building”. The cylinders were arranged concentrically, their diameters shrinking with each layer, resembling a wedding cake. She wrote that a spiral staircase would lead to an observatory at the top, while a three-meter-tall Egyptian-style door would provide access to the tower. The doors were to be decorated with two “modern” figures, symbolizing the connection between past and present: one figure represented an astronomer, his right hand raised in greeting, while a woman next to him held a globe. Visitors to the temple would navigate through two spirals: first, wide curves through the cylindrical building, and then tight turns up the spiral staircase leading through the lighthouse to the observatory.[16]

Each level would feature a distinct series of paintings: the Physical Pictures on the ground floor, the Ten Largest on the second floor along with a library, and the Altarpieces at the top. The entire design was, as noted by Paul C. Johnson, intended to be imbued with a certain power and calm, which would resonate within the bodies of those who entered. Rather than merely symbolizing the cosmos, color and shape were meant to mediate and channel it, actively contributing to its creation.[17]

The film shows how Hilma’s last years were spent searching for means to construct this temple, which would be dedicated to all sciences, arts, and religions. After receiving many rejections, including one more from Rudolf Steiner, the temple remained only a concept in her sketchbook and was never realized. The movie’s conclusion takes place in contemporary New York City, with the precise space-time coordinates of a crowded Guggenheim Museum in 2018. Hundreds of visitors gaze at the works of Hilma af Klint in one of North America’s most important museums.[18]

With an overlay of images transitioning from the spiral plans for Hilma’s temple to the well-known rotunda of the Guggenheim, the film closes romantically, marking what can be called the conclusion of the mission assigned to Hilma, who looks on from a spiritual tram that anachronistically crosses Fifth Avenue. After this beautiful image, which seems to evoke the idea of the Guggenheim as a temple for af Klint’s work based solely on its spirally shape, there lies a historical coincidence, untold by the script.

While Hilma sought to realize her temple in Europe, across the Atlantic, another female artist inspired by theosophical ideas was developing non-figurative work and, to our surprise, was seeking funding for a museum that would be a “temple for the spirit.”[19] Hilla von Rebay (1890-1967) wanted to develop a museum concept unparalleled in her time, destined for the exclusive collection of non-figurative art and to be “a temple of nonrepresentation and reverence.”[20]

Julia Voss, Hilma af Klint’s biographer, writes that Rebay referred to her building as a temple because its purpose extended beyond that of a museum; it aimed to inspire, enlighten, and awaken its visitors. She believed that art should not merely represent the external world but should guide people toward a higher, spiritual reality. Her ideas were influenced by texts familiar to af Klint, including the works of the same thinkers: Helena P. Blavatsky, Annie Besant, and Rudolf Steiner.[21] It is mind-blowing to find these similarities and at the same time realize that both artists were unaware of each other.

The greatest difference between both projects was merely material and mundane, but decisive. While Hilma’s building never received external collaborations, Rebay’s idea had the support of Solomon R. Guggenheim, born into a family that had made a fortune in the mining industry. This was enough to initiate the creation of what would originally be called the Museum of Non-Objectivity.[22]

According to Hillary Cianciolo, in 1929 patron Guggenheim appointed Rebay as the first director of the museum, and after years of acquiring abstract artworks from well-known artists, she had to find the right architect to create a structure that would reflect the transcendental value of what it contained.[23] It wasn’t until 1945 that Frank Lloyd Wright, the architect of the moment, finally received the commission to design the building we know today as the Guggenheim Museum.

There were many points of connection between af Klint and Rebay, and their status as women likely affected both of their lives, preventing them from being adequately recognized during their lifetimes. The historiographical record reflects this official narrative:

For the next several decades, abstraction was defined chiefly as a formalist experiment, and its founders were understood to be Kandinsky, Mondrian, Malevich, and Kupka. Women had only a modest place in this version, and of course invisible beings and spiritual values had virtually none.[24]

Part of the value of the film Hilma lies in being a massively engaging artistic and commercial product that helps promote and legitimize Hilma af Klint as a pioneer of non-figurative art. The reclamation of great female masters in Art History is an important step that feminism has facilitated in recent decades, subtly dismantling the patriarchal framework of the art system. To advance contemporary women artists, it is important to create this hall of fame of women artists as references.

However, this version of art history that Hilma has inspired to write, it is true that feminizes the canon, but it has missed a significant and unique opportunity to queer it. In the historiography of af Klint, there is an erasure of bisexual or lesbian women, turning the artist’s partners into friends and omitting any information regarding the sexual orientation of the characters. The film, however, does reclaim the affective bonds the protagonist maintained with women, as well as her platonic relationship with Rudolf Steiner, whom she called “her soulmate.”

The story of Hilma tangentially touches on the issue of the Guggenheim Museum’s loss of direction regarding its original mission to be a temple for non-representative art, as today its collection and programming do not differ much from other modern and contemporary art museums in the First World, standing out primarily for its architecture.

The spiritual idea that initiated the museum’s construction project is completely unknown to the average visitor, and there is no evidence of any intention to inform about the initial mission in the museum’s official discourses[25]. In other words, this mission has been removed from the stage, leaving a beautiful shell devoid of its content, which originally gave value to the vessel. The building remains a great tourist and architectural achievement, a merit attributed to a structure that was meant to be a temple.

Placing “the” exhibition of Hilma af Klint at the Guggenheim Museum was undoubtedly a smart commercial move that benefited both the Hilma af Klint Foundation and the Solomon R. Guggenheim Foundation. But more than a financial success, the romantic closure of a task assigned by the spirits provides a certain satisfaction to the viewer. It’s a bittersweet ending where the artist’s dream is fulfilled posthumously, which would have categorized Hilma as a maudit if she had been a man, but instead positions her as a now immaterial being who, liberated from her bodily presence, contemplates her work in the temple and finally frees herself from her commission.

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