Art and Soul: The “Spiritual” Roots of Abstract Art

Abstract art as the representative art of our time is secure. Witness all of the banks, universities, airline terminals, and shopping complexes that sport abstract painting or sculpture. Isn’t it self-evident that abstract art is about pure form and aesthetic enjoyment—as so many critics have told us?

While the answer to that question is neither simple nor self-evident, there is growing interest in the art world about the genesis of abstraction, and mounting evidence that many abstract artists were (or are) in earnest pursuit of the “spiritual.” This is the point of an important traveling show, “The Spiritual in Art: Abstract Painting 1890–1985.” The show—accompanied by a weighty exhibition catalogue of the same title—originated at the Los Angeles County Museum. After a stop at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago, it closed late last November at the Gemeetemuseum in The Hague, Netherlands.

Other-World Spirituality

It is immediately apparent in both the show and its accompanying catalogue that the “spirituality” that has captivated so many abstract artists lies outside traditional Christianity. Indeed, the show could easily be subtitled “The Influence of Theosophy and the Occult in Abstract Art.” Included was a large display of esoteric, mystical, and occult books, and anyone familiar with the genre would quickly recognize names such as Böhme, Besant, Blavatsky, Ouspensky, and Steiner.

It is instructive to see the paintings of the great pioneering abstract artists in the context of such literature. The relationship between the illustrations of spiritualist ideas in the books and the paintings on the walls were as compelling as any scholarly citations in establishing that these artists were influenced by theosophical and occult sources.

Wassily Kandinsky and Piet Mondrian were probably the best-known pioneering artists of abstraction who turned to the esoteric wisdom of the occult for help. The Russian-born Kandinsky, who taught at the Bauhaus in Germany, is widely believed to have made the first abstract paintings in 1911. (But at the show was work of a little-known Swedish painter, Hilmas Af Klint, who made explicitly spiritualist abstractions as early as 1906.) In 1912, Kandinsky wrote Concerning the Spiritual in Art, in which he argues for an art of internal truth to replace what he viewed as a debased realism—debased because it was superficial and materialistic.

In his book, Kandinsky imagines an exhibition of all kinds of “nice” paintings, including “a Crucifixion by a painter who does not believe in Christ.” His desire was to transcend the empty external forms represented by paintings like the crucifixion with an art of inner spiritual truth. He enthused about “the tremendous spiritual movement … which has even assumed a material form in the Theosophical Society,” and he endorsed its search for an inner knowledge.

We find a similar attraction to internal things in Piet Mondrian. A Dutchman, Mondrian began as a landscape painter. His paintings gradually evolved into an elemental grid of black lines, primary colors, and white. He believed he had penetrated the surface of appearances to uncover a universal visual language.

Like Kandinsky, Mondrian was well acquainted with Theosophical thought, and he joined the Dutch Theosophical Society in 1909. Raised in a devout Calvinist home, he later stated that he “got everything from the Secret Doctrine” (a book about Theosophical thought by Helena Blavatsky, a founder of the society). Perhaps someday an art historian will consider his shift from naturalism to abstraction as a consequence of the change in his religious orientation.

The late Dutch art historian H. R. Rookmaaker has argued that the rise of abstract art is an important manifestation of the West’s move away from the Christian faith, and he emphasized the spiritual and ideological sources of that shift. Understandably, Rookmaaker’s analysis was not enthusiastically embraced by evangelicals who appreciate abstract art. They had heard enough hostile things in the church about abstract art—and did not need an art historian providing more ammunition. From their point of view, it was better to stress the aesthetic and ignore any connection to dubious ideas. In their defense, mainstream critical opinion was also saying abstract art was about aesthetics. It is a bit ironic, then, that Rookmaaker’s analysis has in some ways been supported by recent scholarship.

A Wide Gulf

Of course, anything as diverse, as complex, and as private as abstract art is bound to contain a variety of sources and ideas. Here “The Spiritual in Art” show went astray. While there is ample evidence that many abstract artists have drawn on spiritualist sources, others have not. Thus, the presence of artists such as Ellsworth Kelly (an American “minimal” painter) only obscure the show’s point, and make “spirituality” a meaningless category. The show simply included too many popular artists whose relationships to spiritual texts or ideas are tenuous at best.

For Christians interested in culture and the arts, the show poses interesting questions. Clearly, there is a wide gulf between “spirituality” that is variously labeled occult, Theosophical, esoteric, mystical, or Spiritualist, and historic Christianity. For instance, there is an antimaterial bias to all of these ideas that runs counter to Scripture, which insists on the importance and goodness of creation. We are never encouraged to believe we can uncover spiritual “principles” or create a smorgasbord of the best in world religions. That seems to have more to do with the basic and weak principles of the world (Gal. 4:9).

But, do the “spiritual” sources of abstract art invalidate certain kinds of abstraction, either as imagery or as a source of visual pleasure? Those inclined to answer affirmatively need to look carefully at the Corinthian columns and classical porticos that adorn our churches. We all know their source is found in Greek temples—but it seems unlikely anyone would object to their being incorporated into a church building for that reason. They have been a part of the church’s architectural vocabulary for so long that their presence seems natural.

So, while “The Spiritual in Art” show has helped us to see some abstract art in a new light—and more in it than we might have seen previously—it does not diminish the accomplishments of great painters. The “spiritual” roots of the work may confirm that abstraction is a limited and problematic visual language. But it does not mean thoughtful and capable Christians are unable to use that language for good ends.

By Theodore Prescott, associate professor of art at Messiah College.

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