To begin my research I have taken a few books out from the University library that seemed broadly relevant to the topic. The first of these that I will write about, and probably the one that has inspired the most in-depth response from me in relation to its length, is:
Manley, R. (1998) The End is Near!: Visions of Apocalypse, Millenium and Utopia. Los Angeles: Dilettante Press. ISBN 0966427270
This book is essentially a catalogue of an exhibition held at the American Visionary Art Museum in Baltimore from May 1997 to May 1998. The exhibition focused mainly on 2d work, particularly paintings, and thus misses out on the entire outsider genre of Visionary Environments, which are very relevant to the Utopia/Dystopia project, as they often represent concrete attempts to actually create a perfect world, rather than simply offer a window to heaven or hell.
As with all outsider art or 'art brut' that finds its way, by whatever means, into the fringes of the 'official culture' ( of which museums, books held in university libraries must be held to be a part) there are a lot of uncomfortable questions to be asked here about prurience, the romanticisation of mental illness, and good old fashioned exploitation. Some revel in this; the book includes an essay by Feral House's Adam Parfrey, a man who in his gleeful revels in the dark underbelly of culture has ended up dedicating his life to the confused (and so stereotypically right wing American) belief that being extremely reactionary is the same as being radical. A failure to recognise that some extremists beliefs are not so much outside the American mainstream as tributaries of it; that it is much more common to see a right wing extremist on television than it is a left-wing artist, for much the same reason it is more common to see a ufologist or an alternative therapist than a bona fide scientist. There is a suggestion in Parfrey's essay (which is, admittedly, balanced out with none other than the Dalai Lama) that, by not criticising the bizarre fundamentalist, sexist and racist beliefs that drive many of the artists featured in this book, that they have been given fair treatment which society has denied them. Like the Manichean narratives of the apocalypse artwork, this tries, like many less sophisticated counter-cultural visionaries, to construct a worldview in which everything that is 'official' is bad and everything that opposes the official is good. All others ethics are swept to one side, and though people like Parfrey claim to simply be showing hard truths that others would like to ignore, in fact they present a cartoonish worldview, defined by that which they claim to oppose in much the same way that Satanism is defined by Christianity, and act as legitimisers for neo-fascists, fundamentalists and other unpleasant extremists.
Whether the artists present in this book were or are being exploited, or presented unfairly, is a moot point however if we can strip out the presentation and look at the work itself. There is some material here that is truly astonishing in and of itself, others where the stories being presented serve to elevate unremarkable, or even childish work. This is not an unusual thing in art, of course, to find value and meaning imparted by the facts of authorship. When we talk of 'brands' in art we are normally talking about the names of particular artists whose name alone can sell almost anything: Rothko, Warhol, Van Gogh, Da Vinci, and so on. But we can also think of branding in term of movements. A work of art which is attached to a particular movement, such as Impressionism, say, or Dada, gains a particular value by that association, and 'art brut', 'outsider art' or 'visionary art' are, essentially, academically defined anti-movements. If something can be established as having a good outsider provenance (insert appropriate stories of mental illness, destitution, alienation and eccentricity here) then it becomes more collectable, and thus more saleable, and thus more valuable. It would be amiss not to acknowledge that this is probably a factor in much of the selection of or promotion of much 'outsider' work. But leaving even that aside, there is work here that sits solidly alongside the work of the 20th century's best surrealists. In saying this, I will admit I am one of those slightly perverse people who places Zdzisław Beksiński and H.R. Giger amongst that rank alongside Dali and Man Ray, but still. Some of these artists are, to my eye, so vastly superior to many of the others that the limited space granted to them seems to muddle the force of the whole exhibition, and one suspects other factors (previous mentioned commercial considerations, the availability of work, etc.) than purely curatorial in the selection process. Of course, the book gives no record of how the work was actually hung, and so some degree of judgement must be reserved. There were four artists that particularly jumped out at me; the images below were scanned by myself.
Vonn Ströpp
A British artist, who claims to feel compelled to paint, even though the process is torturous to him. There is something very delightful in the way the surreal floating and glowing elements rub up against the obsessional detail, guided by an obvious technical mastery. I have recently been re-reading John Berger's classic text 'Ways of Seeing', and it is interesting to note how works like this break absolutely with the tradition of European oil painting as identified by Berger, in terms of both their subject and sensibility. As well as perhaps inviting some comparisons with the work of Richard Dadd, Vonn Ströpp is clearly situated in the visionary tradition of William Blake, who perhaps deserves recognition as the ur-father of visionary art. The process by which the words of such an outsider could morph, through the strange machinations of culture, to becoming a nationalist anthem for the Womens Institute are endlessly fascinating to me, and will doubtless be discussed in more depth later. Blake is a figure who seems like an inescapable influence throughout the art I appreciate, and he is also obviously deeply relevant to pretty much all British utopianism of the last 200 years.
Eugene Von Bruenchenhein
Joe Coleman
If Von Ströpp represents a typically British form of outsider art, Coleman is a great examplar of a distinctly American form. Rooted in a 'low-brow' aesthetic inspired by folk art, tattoos, hot rod art and so forth. These differences in visual style reflect, perhaps the difference in religious and cultural imagery that inspires them; whilst Blake and his disciples take a strong lead from the ethereal mysticism of Emmanuel Swedenborg, artists like Coleman (and his more explicitly religious bedfellows) are clearly influenced by the American 'hellfire and brimstone' imagery associated with big tent revivalism, and the theology of 'spiritual warfare'. This theology plays strongly on the existence of evil as a real, physical and metaphysical force; in this worldview, Satan is a distinct power who plots the downfall of humanity actively, the ultimate conspiracist. There is no possibility of a 'Marriage of Heaven and Hell', and we are living in the end times, with the apocalypse imminent within the lifetime of many believers. That this belief has been a recurrent current in fanatical protestant thought since the 16th century is generally ignored. As with Von Ströpp, Coleman's artwork is elevated above the standard example of this archetype by the combination of obvious artistic talent with the obsessive attention to detail that is often seen as being a symptom of mental illness expressed in visual art.
Paul Laffoley
Paul Laffoley is an interesting case; whilst clearly related to the metaphysical obsessions of other American visionary artists, his worldview is much more personal, sophisticated and distinct, and his visual style is an mix of graphic elements and Gigeresque surrealism. One gets the sense that the abstruse concepts are being formed, as well as expressed, by the artwork. Of all the artists I have picked out here, Laffoley is the one whose approaches intrigue me enough to consider using them in my own work, building on the synthesis of art and design I have already begun to develop in Vectis.
In many ways the works presented seem like a coda to an era, a sum expression of the fear, hope and horror of the 20th century: nuclear war, conspiracism, futurism, mind control and apocalypse religion. In many senses as well they represent the coda to a mode of artistic production. Although surely the secretive loner or confined mental patient quietly devoting their life to a vast, idiosyncratic body of work must still exist (such artists are, of course, traditionally only discovered when the authorities enter their house to remove their body) they have been increasingly superceded by new modes of alienation. At roughly the same time as this exhibition was occurring, internet users were beginning to scratch their heads at Time Cube, which would soon 'go viral', as we would now say, heralding the arrival of the new digital malcontents. The democratised nature of the internet places the outsider inside the internet sphere of the audience, bringing their artistic products actually inside their home, whilst allowing people who might otherwise never have found a receptive audience for their unconventional ideas to network and exchange information. The internet abounds with highly personal artistic and literary visions produced by autodidacts in every medium and format imaginable: drawings, paintings, animation and video, writing, comics, games, music and sound art, much of it making novel use of hypertext, hypermedia, programming, interactivity and collaboration tools. In many of these fields, indeed, amateurs have led the way, and in some senses we have now reached a turning point, with alternative routes to the cultural mainstream (or at least its tributaries) via the digital sphere now firmly established, and increasingly colonised by those who seek the limelight without having to deal with the gatekeepers of culture, as well as those who feel inexorably compelled to self-expression. At the same time, the boundaries between the culturally unacceptable and the mainstream continue to erode in new and interesting ways.
Of course, these boundaries have been fluid for quite some time, particularly outside of the world of visual arts. Indeed, it seems that in some ways, the visual arts can be very strict in terms of acceptable approaches and subject matter. Compare, for example, the world of music, where a number of artists who deal with similiar themes have gone on to critical, if not commercial success. Two particularly dear to me are Current 93 and Coil, both fascinating musical units that could well find themselves being related to this project. There are a number of reasons I can think of particularly why music should be so receptive to this sort of obsessional imagery; there is a stronger focus on the purely aesthetic in music criticism, for example, and there are significant differences in the means of reproduction, communication and in how easy it is to access them. It is, I think, much easier to record an album and get it in the homes of a hundred people who love it than it is to get a work of art into a gallery and then bring a hundred people who love that work through the door; even before the advent of the internet. Further discussion of the topic will have to wait though. I have spent far too long writing this post, and can not afford to allow myself to keep moving on to other tangents. I must close off here, and move on to another book if I am to stimulate my research. This essay has become something of a block to my forward progress; it feels good to get it out of the way.
Vonn Ströpp
Vonn Ströpp
Embargo
c.1991
oil on board, 42in x 72in
Vonn Ströpp
Vatic
c.1984
oil on board, 42in x 72in
A British artist, who claims to feel compelled to paint, even though the process is torturous to him. There is something very delightful in the way the surreal floating and glowing elements rub up against the obsessional detail, guided by an obvious technical mastery. I have recently been re-reading John Berger's classic text 'Ways of Seeing', and it is interesting to note how works like this break absolutely with the tradition of European oil painting as identified by Berger, in terms of both their subject and sensibility. As well as perhaps inviting some comparisons with the work of Richard Dadd, Vonn Ströpp is clearly situated in the visionary tradition of William Blake, who perhaps deserves recognition as the ur-father of visionary art. The process by which the words of such an outsider could morph, through the strange machinations of culture, to becoming a nationalist anthem for the Womens Institute are endlessly fascinating to me, and will doubtless be discussed in more depth later. Blake is a figure who seems like an inescapable influence throughout the art I appreciate, and he is also obviously deeply relevant to pretty much all British utopianism of the last 200 years.
Eugene Von Bruenchenhein
Eugene Von Bruenchenhein
Which Shall it Be? Era of Terror or Peace
1955
oil on cardboard, 12in x 14in
Eugene Von Bruenchenhein
Apocalyptic Cityscape in Flames "Land of the..."
1955
oil on cardboard, 20in x 23in
Von Bruenchenhein is an interesting figure. The works above, part of a series of finger-paintings in oils, represents only one facet of his artistic production, which included many surreal and often kinky photographs of his wife Marie, sculptures made of bone and ceramics, writings, drawings and much else. It seems that, despite the idiosyncratic nature of his vision, the main thing that prevented Von Bruenchenhein from achieving recognition as an artist in his own life time is the fact that, quite simply, he never really showed it to anyone except his own family. This could imply a charming humbleness, or crippling social anxiety; there is not enough known about him to comment on. Though his work seems to reveal a recurrent obsession with themes of doom, it would be a mistake to try and psychoanalyse him through the works. There seems to be no suggestion in anything I can find written about him, unlike most of the other artists featured here, that he suffered from any significant form of mental distress.
Joe Coleman
Joe Coleman
Faith
1996
oil on board, 36in x 26in
Joe Coleman
Ecce Homo
1994
oil on board, 36in x 26in
If Von Ströpp represents a typically British form of outsider art, Coleman is a great examplar of a distinctly American form. Rooted in a 'low-brow' aesthetic inspired by folk art, tattoos, hot rod art and so forth. These differences in visual style reflect, perhaps the difference in religious and cultural imagery that inspires them; whilst Blake and his disciples take a strong lead from the ethereal mysticism of Emmanuel Swedenborg, artists like Coleman (and his more explicitly religious bedfellows) are clearly influenced by the American 'hellfire and brimstone' imagery associated with big tent revivalism, and the theology of 'spiritual warfare'. This theology plays strongly on the existence of evil as a real, physical and metaphysical force; in this worldview, Satan is a distinct power who plots the downfall of humanity actively, the ultimate conspiracist. There is no possibility of a 'Marriage of Heaven and Hell', and we are living in the end times, with the apocalypse imminent within the lifetime of many believers. That this belief has been a recurrent current in fanatical protestant thought since the 16th century is generally ignored. As with Von Ströpp, Coleman's artwork is elevated above the standard example of this archetype by the combination of obvious artistic talent with the obsessive attention to detail that is often seen as being a symptom of mental illness expressed in visual art.
Paul Laffoley
Paul Laffoley
Dimensionality: The Manifestation of Fate
1992
mixed media on canvas, 50in x 99in
Paul Laffoley
Der Urpflanze Haus 1-8
1996
Ink and presstype on board, 37in x 54in
Paul Laffoley is an interesting case; whilst clearly related to the metaphysical obsessions of other American visionary artists, his worldview is much more personal, sophisticated and distinct, and his visual style is an mix of graphic elements and Gigeresque surrealism. One gets the sense that the abstruse concepts are being formed, as well as expressed, by the artwork. Of all the artists I have picked out here, Laffoley is the one whose approaches intrigue me enough to consider using them in my own work, building on the synthesis of art and design I have already begun to develop in Vectis.
In many ways the works presented seem like a coda to an era, a sum expression of the fear, hope and horror of the 20th century: nuclear war, conspiracism, futurism, mind control and apocalypse religion. In many senses as well they represent the coda to a mode of artistic production. Although surely the secretive loner or confined mental patient quietly devoting their life to a vast, idiosyncratic body of work must still exist (such artists are, of course, traditionally only discovered when the authorities enter their house to remove their body) they have been increasingly superceded by new modes of alienation. At roughly the same time as this exhibition was occurring, internet users were beginning to scratch their heads at Time Cube, which would soon 'go viral', as we would now say, heralding the arrival of the new digital malcontents. The democratised nature of the internet places the outsider inside the internet sphere of the audience, bringing their artistic products actually inside their home, whilst allowing people who might otherwise never have found a receptive audience for their unconventional ideas to network and exchange information. The internet abounds with highly personal artistic and literary visions produced by autodidacts in every medium and format imaginable: drawings, paintings, animation and video, writing, comics, games, music and sound art, much of it making novel use of hypertext, hypermedia, programming, interactivity and collaboration tools. In many of these fields, indeed, amateurs have led the way, and in some senses we have now reached a turning point, with alternative routes to the cultural mainstream (or at least its tributaries) via the digital sphere now firmly established, and increasingly colonised by those who seek the limelight without having to deal with the gatekeepers of culture, as well as those who feel inexorably compelled to self-expression. At the same time, the boundaries between the culturally unacceptable and the mainstream continue to erode in new and interesting ways.
Of course, these boundaries have been fluid for quite some time, particularly outside of the world of visual arts. Indeed, it seems that in some ways, the visual arts can be very strict in terms of acceptable approaches and subject matter. Compare, for example, the world of music, where a number of artists who deal with similiar themes have gone on to critical, if not commercial success. Two particularly dear to me are Current 93 and Coil, both fascinating musical units that could well find themselves being related to this project. There are a number of reasons I can think of particularly why music should be so receptive to this sort of obsessional imagery; there is a stronger focus on the purely aesthetic in music criticism, for example, and there are significant differences in the means of reproduction, communication and in how easy it is to access them. It is, I think, much easier to record an album and get it in the homes of a hundred people who love it than it is to get a work of art into a gallery and then bring a hundred people who love that work through the door; even before the advent of the internet. Further discussion of the topic will have to wait though. I have spent far too long writing this post, and can not afford to allow myself to keep moving on to other tangents. I must close off here, and move on to another book if I am to stimulate my research. This essay has become something of a block to my forward progress; it feels good to get it out of the way.
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