Introduction
The invention of photography in the 19th century played a crucial role in the emergence of modern art. Freed from the obligation to depict the external world realistically, art took a significant leap into the unknown.
This cliché has been repeated so often that it risks becoming meaningless; yet, it contains a profound truth. While many factors contributed to the birth of modernism's various movements, photography rendered many forms of traditional visual art redundant. The purely representational and objective aspects of art had to give way to something more spiritual and subjective – elements that photography could never fully capture.
Just as naturalist and realist tendencies lost relevance with the advent of photography, modernist art may now be losing its significance in an age where a brief snippet of text can generate a (superficially) decent modernist painting as easily as it can create a naturalistic scene – albeit without producing a tangible object made of physical paint.
Surely, the invention of image-generating AI is poised to give rise to yet another paradigm in visual art, similar to the birth of modernism after the invention of photography.
The New Paradigm – What is the Future of Traditional Painting?
But how will this paradigm manifest? What kind of transformation can we expect? And what parallels can we draw between the current situation and that of the late 1800s?
If the invention of photography compelled art to delve deeper into the human experience –exploring emotional and personal interpretations of the psychological and spiritual realms, rather than merely mechanical representations of the physical world – what will the rise of AI-generated images compel traditional painters to do? Will it be a similar shift, but to an even more extreme degree?
It is highly likely that the appreciation of traditional painting – pigments on canvas – will become an even more niche interest, akin to those who seek the perfect analog sound or those who dedicate themselves to cultivating the ideal bonsai tree.
This is a positive thing.
We can be certain that we will be inundated with impressive AI-generated images; in fact, we already are. Just as many people choose to decorate their homes with kitschy photos or posters of Thomas Kinkade's paintings, the majority will likely prefer visually stunning AI-generated images over traditional paintings.
This, as well, is a positive thing. There is nothing wrong with decoration. However, it does imply that all forms of painting aimed solely at being decorative, commercial, and superficially visually appealing will be overshadowed by AI-generated images.
Just as the invention of photography did, this development will not only allow but also compel traditional artists to explore deeper aspects of their own humanity – venturing into realms that prioritize spiritual depth over superficial decoration and technical prowess in the outward appearance of their works.
The Future is Old – Pure Art is Eternal
Regarding pure art – art without commercial, political och personal agendas, free from the need to impress with superficial technical abilities – I argue that this new paradigm will elevate the role of traditional painting – pigment with binder applied to a prepared surface – to greater heights. The development of this fine art of the future must involve a shift away from the digital and mechanical, toward an anthropocentric art that captures the spiritual within physical matter.
This means that the artisan's techne, once again, will have to be separated from the category of a pure fine art, whose sole purpose is to uplift the human spirit. The fine art of a post-AI era will therefore reflect the essence of what it means to be human – spirit captured in matter.
In other words, the fine art of the future will not be entirely new; rather, it will echo the transcendent tendencies of humanity that gave birth to art and culture in the first place.
Transcendence? Spirit caught in matter?
Is this merely a lofty and vain attempt to retain some semblance of validity as a traditional painter in a world where impressive-looking images can emerge from nowhere in seconds?
Well, no.
However, my ability to prove this is, of course, just as limited as any physical being's ability to demonstrate the reality of spirit outside of the self-referential loop of material existence. What I can do is compare our current situation to that of the turn of the last century, when photography became more prevalent and compelled artists to explore new avenues.
So, let’s do just that.
New Technologies Changing Art and Culture
As the popularity of photography grew in the late 1800s, the evolutionary course of Western art, which had been on a steady path since the Renaissance, began to change rapidly. Whole new visual languages emerged – impressionism, symbolism, expressionism, and eventually cubism, surrealism, and pure abstraction.
One could argue that the modernist artists' inclination toward non-realist imagery was a reaction to the fact that human hands were no longer necessary for creating convincing depictions of physical reality. However, the birth of abstraction was just as much a response to the mechanistic and soulless image-making of the camera.
So where did artists of that time turn?
The most aware ones of course ventured into realms that machines could not – and I argue, never will – explore. The emotional, psychological, philosophical, and political dimensions were not enough, as they are all extensions of the human biological machine. Therefore, the focus had to be on the metaphysical and spiritual – those aspects that transcend the mechanistic elements of human biology and cannot be perceived by either the human eye or the eye of the camera.
This wasn’t so radical as it might sound, as this intangible essence is what originally gave birth to art, as well as to magic and religion, long ago in a distant past.
The camera will never compete with the brush and palette – until such time as photographs can be taken in Heaven or Hell.
– Edvard Munch
Pure Art is Spiritual Art
That all art – and, by extension, all culture – has its roots in mankind’s experience of the spiritual is evident. The first preserved man-made images, such as cave paintings dating back up to 40,000 years, possess an unmistakable shamanic and ecstatic quality, apparent to anyone open to these dimensions of the human soul. The function of an “artwork,” as well as the act of creating it, was inherently intertwined with religion and magic.
In fact, in shamanic societies, art, religion, and magic can be considered one and the same.
The organizing principles of all human societies, from small groups of hunter-gatherers to vast empires and civilizations, have always been metaphysical in nature. Only the nonphysical, that which lie beyond the material aspects of man and society (ideas, laws, abstract phenomena, and entities), can occupy the highest position in any society’s pyramid of hierarchy.
Today is no different.
Even if we label that metaphysical organizing principle as “science” and do not recognize that we are following the Newtonian/Darwinian mythology of “scientism,” society is still guided by ideologies and constructed world models, often with even less grounding in actual reality than the myths of old. This is also why the spiritual foundation of modernism is frequently buried and overlooked in later discussions of its evolution.
Still, any true artistic revolution (and cultural or societal revolution, for that matter) must draw upon the metaphysical, which means it must be inherently spiritual – or anti-spiritual, which still acknowledges the metaphysical.
The sudden naturalism of Greco-Roman sculptures around 450 BC, the abstract tendencies of Christian iconography following the fall of the Roman Empire, and the realism of the Renaissance – all were responses to spiritual and religious changes in society at the time, either directly influenced by new myths gaining prominence or by new technology and science prompting humanity to reevaluate its position in the cosmos.
The Dumbing Down of Modernism
In contemporary discourses the birth of modernist art is often described as a purely philosophical and esthetical project of reinvention, an evolution of progressing abstraction loosely based upon the reaction to photography and new scientific world models. Extremely simplified: Cezanne’s intellectual project influenced the cubists, who influenced the likes of Mondrian, and there you have it: abstract art. Or another line of evolution: Van Gogh’s free use of color influenced the fauvists and the expressionists, who in turned influenced Kandinsky to invent abstract art.
This dumbing down of art history is largely due to the rationalistic tendencies of postmodern society, especially among academia after WW2, stripping away everything that seemed like superstition among the founding fathers and mothers of modern art, as if their entire project had been a precursor to the mechanistic, materialist, nihilist, and anti-spiritualist commercial phenomena of Warhol and postmodern pop-art.
Theosophy, Magic, and the Unconscious: The Fathers of Modern Art as Mystics
In reality, the birth of modernist art was fundamentally a spiritual project. The shift away from naturalistic depictions was not only a reaction to photography’s ability to represent the physical world more quickly and accurately, but also an abandonment of mechanically reproducing the world as it appears to the bodily sense of sight – or to a camera lens.
Instead, modernism sought to represent the world as it appears to the spiritual senses. The artist transformed from a mere illustrator or artisan into something akin to a shaman, acting as a visual communication channel between earthly society and the spirit realms. Of course, precursors to this transformation existed prior to the advent of modernism, particularly during the Romantic era, often influenced by mind-altering substances such as opium and hashish.
As new scientific theories like relativity and quantum mechanics began to question the validity of a purely materialistic world view, a renewed sense of spirituality and the occult was bubbling beneath the prudish veneer of Victorian and post-Victorian Europe. A certain Russian woman named Helena Blavatsky emerged on the European scene, spreading what became known as Theosophy.
Meanwhile, spiritualist séances were held in ordinary households, and Eastern religions found their way to the West through figures like Swami Vivekananda.
“Before the soul can see, the harmony within must be attained, and fleshly eyes be rendered blind to all illusion.”
– H.P. Blavatsky
The role of Theosophy in the development of modern art has long been grossly underestimated, though its importance is gradually being acknowledged. Academia has often been reluctant to associate artistic geniuses with a figure like Blavatsky, who is widely regarded as a charlatan. However, the list of painters involved with Theosophy and its offshoots is both long and impressive: Paul Gauguin, Constantin Brancusi, Franz Marc, Paul Klee, Max Beckmann – and, of course, Kandinsky and Mondrian.
It is no mere coincidence that Kandinsky and Mondrian, two of the most significant figures in the development of pure abstraction, were both Theosophists. While it is legitimate to view their paintings as a logical progression from Cézanne, Cubism, Expressionism, and Fauvism – all of which certainly opened the door to abstraction – their true inspiration lay in the intangible, metaphysical reality described by Theosophical thought. (Notably, the earliest pure abstract paintings were created by occultists as early as the 1800s.)
A prime example of Theosophical influence on modern art is of course Kandinsky’s Concerning the Spiritual in Art (1912). In this work, he argues that the artist’s role is to communicate the spiritual realms to others.
In other words, the artist as a shaman.
Although his works, like those of Mondrian, may superficially appear as mere decorative pieces, they ideally should embody a spiritual depth that no pastiche – whether created by less spiritually gifted copy-artists or by AI – can ever achieve.
“The spirit, like the body, can be strengthened and developed by frequent exercise. Just as the body, if neglected, grows weaker and finally impotent, so the spirit perishes if untended.”
–Kandinsky
Even Picasso
The most iconic and renowned of all modernist artists was, of course, Pablo Picasso, often described as self-indulgent, brutal, misogynistic, and a communist atheist. However, one need only scratch the surface of his art and persona to uncover the spiritualist tendencies that seep through the later academic interpretations. His inclination toward magical thinking becomes evident upon closer inspection. Remarkably, he was even known to read tarot cards in his spare time – perhaps one of the least traditionally masculine expressions of spirituality!
Despite the risks associated with drug use, it is worth noting his opium-smoking days during the Blue and Rose periods, which undoubtedly opened his mind to at least the possibility of alternate realities. (Regardless of one’s views on the validity of such drug-induced experiences, many scholarly perspectives on shamanism assert that the use of hallucinogenic plants and fungi has played a significant role in unlocking human spirituality and art.)
In fact, Picasso’s entire artistic oeuvre can be seen as one grand magical act in defiance of the God he later claimed not to believe in. The story is well-known: a fourteen-year-old Pablo made a promise to God that he would stop painting if his sick sister Conchita’s life was spared. Tragically, Conchita died, and Pablo, of course, continued to paint. Thank God (or the devil) for that.
Later hailed as the inventor of Cubism alongside Georges Braque, Picasso’s approach to Cubism was quite different from Braque’s more intellectual method. Although their paintings were nearly indistinguishable during the analytical phase of Cubism, particularly in 1911, for Picasso, Cubism was an expressive act of magic – a defiant deconstruction and reconstruction of a flawed world for some grand alchemical and transformative purpose.
Painting isn’t an aesthetic operation; it’s a form of magic designed as mediator between this strange hostile world and us.
– Picasso
Obviously, Surrealism
By the 1920s, representational images had reemerged in avant-garde art, now manifesting in the shocking and dreamlike constellations of Surrealism. Much has been said about Freud (who was a materialist) and his influence on Surrealism, but just as significant was the impact of Freud’s more metaphysically inclined student, Carl Jung – himself a fine painter and sculptor. Jung and Freud famously parted ways partly due to Freud’s disdain for Jung’s mystical inclinations.
“The secret of artistic creation and the effectiveness of art is to be found in a return to the state of 'participation mystique' – to that level of experience at which it is man who lives, and not the individual.”
—C.G. Jung
Jung’s ideas about the collective unconscious, alchemy, and archetypes – which perhaps unfairly, but somewhat accurately, can be described as a form of Gnosticism disguised as academic research – would influence the evolution of modern art all the way to the pop art of the 1960s. This is especially true for the American abstract expressionists of the 1950s. Pollock, Motherwell, and Rothko all underwent Jungian analysis at some point in their lives.
Notably, a few months before his death, Pollock is known to have said, “I’ve been a Jungian for a long time.” Emerging from the abstract expressionist milieu we also find artists like Agnes Martin, who drew deep inspiration from Taoist and Buddhist thought, which heavily influenced all the arts in the U.S. during the 1950s and 60s.
Modernism Died with Post-Modernism, True Art Died with Pop Art
This spiritual vein continued until the end of what is widely regarded as true modernist art, epitomized by the American abstract expressionists. Up until the late 1950s, much of contemporary painting and image-making were still viewed as somewhat mystical practices. After that, postmodernism took over, fundamentally altering the landscape of avant-garde art.
The abstract expressionists had pushed pure painting to its absolute limits, especially Jackson Pollock. Where does one go after ones technique is basically throwing paint onto a canvas on the floor? For Pollock, his method was obviously just a natural progression and a means to an end, but unfortunately, modern art began to be associated with avant-garde progressions and techniques for their own sake.
Soon, the “strangeness” of the image was no longer seen as an inevitable result of exploring the subconscious, the non-physical, or the spiritual; instead, it became “strange” merely for the sake of being "new", "shocking", and "avant-garde". The public placed too much emphasis on Pollock’s “revolutionary” and “weird” technique rather than the images it produced and the subconscious realms it emerged from.
So where could painters go after Pollock if their only aim was to be "new"?
Well, the only way to maintain a forced sense of “progress” was actually to regress, to cynically strip painting of all its deeper meaning. Thus, pop art, op art, and so-called hard-edge abstraction emerged, all of which removed any traces of emotional depth and the human hand, favoring factory-like mechanical representations exemplified by Warhol (who, perhaps paradoxically, was a devout Catholic).
“Art is anything you can get away with.”
– Andy Warhol
“I am a deeply superficial person.”
– Also Andy Warhol
Without a deep rooting in a spiritual essence, art becomes nothing more than a vain play on emotions, an intellectual game, a commercial manipulation, or an egotistical display of technical brilliance. While this may be impressive and entertaining in the moment, it inevitably leaves one with an empty feeling of meaninglessness, which soon must be filled with something new that is equally pointless and superficial.
The truly great artists of all time, regardless of genre, were artists that combined technical mastery with a deep rooting in spirituality. Still, it is important to remember that such geniuses – geniuses like Da Vinci, Rembrandt, Van Gogh, and Kandinsky – are rare oddities in every generation. This proclivity of getting caught in the superficial aspects of art is not without its predecessors throughout history. Unfortunately, the digital age – where our noses are glued to screens displaying endless constellations of pixels – is particularly conducive to getting stuck in such a tendency.
With an attention span of eight seconds, only the superficially impressive images capture our attention, and even they cannot hold it for long.
Stuck in the Addictive Loop of Postmodernism
In many ways, we still live in the postmodern era, both artistically and culturally, as well as philosophically. Although countless individual artists continue to infuse their work with spiritual depth, we no longer have any dominant art movements that explore reality in any meaningful way.
Instead, we are presented with an endless mishmash of styles competing for attention through superficial means, aiming to look “cool” on pixelated screens. But what value do such superficial images hold now that AI can generate thousands of them in mere seconds? The same applies to all other forms of art, including literature and music.
It’s as if we no longer care as long as we get our dopamine hits, brainwashed and deeply embedded in this postmodern world that is materialistic, mechanistic, atheistic, cynical, and, at its core, nihilistic in nature. Just as the spiritual has been reduced to mere chemical errors in the brain, the depth of the artistic impulse has been diminished to the purely mechanical and reproducible (consider Warhol’s repetitive images of Monroe and soup cans).
The sole intention of the postmodern artists in reacting against the modernism that preceded them (from Van Gogh to Pollock), was to strip art of its spiritual aspects and depth, reducing it to empty consumer goods – just another image among the millions that today rush by as pixels on a screen.
“The nightmare of materialism, which has turned the life of the universe into an evil, useless game, is not yet past; it holds the awakening soul still in its grip.”
– Kandinsky
Evolving Back to the Spiritual Roots
Surely, it is time for a change. AI has, thankfully, compelled us once again to reevaluate what art truly is and what humanity truly represents. Just as was the case around the turn of the last century, humanity has become infatuated with its own technical progress, including in the realm of art, thus forgetting what art originally was. While technical abilities are undoubtedly important, we often become blinded by the technical brilliance of certain artists, allowing ourselves to focus solely on the surface aspects of their work.
But in the end, all technical brilliance is merely a mechanical method. It can always be outperformed by a machine. Just as the astounding realism achieved by some artists in the 1800s was soon eclipsed by photography, the magical and fantastical creations of today’s artists can be replicated by AI in mere seconds.
Is this to be lamented?
No.
Faced once again with the challenge of new technology, artists must delve into the depths of their inner selves, exploring them as shamans have always done. With the torches of their consciousness, they can uncover images on the surfaces of the rock walls of the soul. They must paint, sculpt, write, compose – whatever method is necessary to bring these visions back to physical reality.
And there you have it: a new paradigm of art that is not new at all, but returns to pure art, as it was from the beginning, inherently tied to magic and the spiritual – a channel between this world and realms inaccessible to the bodily senses.
Thus, a relevant role for traditional painting in the future can only emerge if it firmly establishes its connection to the spiritual essence of humanity, the one thing that machines can never threaten – unless they have already drained the soul from us, causing us to lose touch with our spiritual depths.
This is a very real threat, especially with our noses constantly buried in an endless flood of addictive distractions, and particularly if transhumanists achieve their goal of merging our biology more and more with technology. This could mean that the spiritual depths, currently obscured from the majority beneath layers of cultural hypnotization and dogma, may be irretrievably lost as humanity, captivated by its own technology, becomes forever trapped in the illusion of matter.
Change of Terminology – Not Art but Mystical Realism
Certainly, a small niche of traditional painting may survive as a mere technical demonstration of what the human hand can still accomplish in terms of craft. However, if traditional painting is to endure with any kind of relevant role, however small, it must take the form of what I have long referred to as Mystical Realism. Not that I have invented this concept of pure art; it is simply what I have chosen to call it out of necessity, as it seems to go against the grain of regular art-making and it reflects the way I naturally work when I am at my best (which may not be very often), apart from the times I make art out of sheer boredom.
At 42 years of age I am still perfecting it, consistently battling technical and societal distractions that pull me away from the pure exploration of consciousness. So far, this method has consistently produced works that superficially appear extremely varied, defying categorization into genres such as Cubism, Classical Realism, Surrealism, Abstract Expressionism, and so on. In the end, I chose to name my art after my method rather than the resulting appearance of my paintings.
Since all of my art-making, not just painting, has always been intimately connected to my spirituality, the term has also expanded to encompass my entire outlook on reality and existence – what it is and how it is. Therefore, the Mystical Realism I speak of has little to do with the genre of magical realism, which is sometimes referred to as mystical realism, although a mystical realist artwork can indeed take on the appearance of magical realism.
So why exactly that name?
Without delving into all the deeper philosophical implications, my view is this: True realism must be mystical in nature, as it seeks to capture that which is eternally and fundamentally real and true. This reality cannot be found solely in the forms of material existence, rendering literal depictions of true reality impossible. Mystical Realism, therefore, serves as a term for that which lies beyond the grasp of human concepts and language – both of which are inherently empty constructs – as well as beyond the limitations of the human body's senses.
Mystical Realism also posits that the nature of existence, which is not synonymous with reality, is inherently fleeting and ever-changing, and thus not truly real, even though it exists. (This is merely a necessity of terms and categorization and does not diminish the importance of manifested existence.) Therefore, simply depicting existence as it appears to the senses does not necessarily equate to realism.
In the non-physical dimensions of our consciousness, we can discover essences that do not exist in three-dimensional space and time, yet hold a purer reality than anything found in this world. In fact, the phenomena we experience in our material 3D world have their roots in these non-physical dimensions.
Mystical Realism as a bridge of consciousness
Ultimately, Mystical Realism serves as a bridge between the real and the seemingly existing, between essence and form, and between the eternal and boundless and the constraints of space and time. More often, it serves as a bridge between forms manifested on nonphysical planes and their recreations in material spacetime. The mystical realist artist acts as a shaman, visiting non-physical realms, bringing back stories, visions, and/or sounds from those worlds into the physical.
Whether through painting, sculpture, music, or poetry, this process is fundamentally different from how contemporary art and AI-generated images are created, yet it closely resembles the original artistic impulse of humanity. While contemporary art often exists as an endless loop of commentary on society or personal feelings and experiences, and AI essentially functions as a supercharged mishmash of previous works to create something new, Mystical Realism – much like the ancient shamanic experience – serves as a form of communication with ourselves on higher planes of existence.
Many viewers, when looking at a painting, see only the image conveyed by the paint, as if physical paint applied to a surface by a living, breathing human were no different from pixels on a screen. Even if they appreciate the idea of viewing the “real thing,” it would make little difference if they were looking at a printed photo of the same painting, as such a photo basically would convey the same image.
This is not the mystical realist way of appreciating art. The mystical realist approach to both creating and experiencing art involves viewing the artwork as a hyperdimensional living object. In physical reality, it has grown organically to its current state, and this process can be observed within the artwork itself.
This process is the higher dimensions of the object, captured in space and time.
Simultaneously, it has one foot in a timeless, spiritual realm – an essence that remains unchanged, even as the artist continues to work on it. The artist draws from this timeless realm as a model for the physical object he creates, and the viewer may access this timeless dimension of the artwork through contemplating it.
In essence, a mystical realist artwork is an icon – in the religious sense of the word! As a physical recreation of something spiritual it serves as a window into a more eternal realm. It is worth noting that, according to the Abrahamic traditions, the first icon was humanity itself, created in the image of the eternal and timeless version of itself, or of God.
Therefore, paradoxically, the physicality of the mystical realist artwork is part of its spirituality. The way the painting has grown – like a living being under the hand of the artist – mirrors how we grow under the hands of God or Nature. The various layers of paint intersect and intermingle, creating something new that is not present in either of the individual parts. This process is fundamentally different from an image of pixels created in an instant, which exists only as zeros and ones.
The mystical realist painting exists as an object not only in space, which already distinguishes it from a digital image, but also in time due to its creation process, which is absolutely different from a digital image, even if it is printed and framed.
Conclusion
Of course, it is still very obvious that many people will roll their eyes at these lofty ideas. Isn’t all of this mumbo jumbo still just a vain attempt to preserve relevance for traditional painters in a post AI-era?
While I personally know this is not the case – and that the so-called “mystical” is not just very real, but the actual reality of the mirage we commonly call reality – let’s entertain the notion that these ideas are indeed mumbo jumbo without any grounding in actual reality. Ideas still possess the power to change our 3D existence, even if they lack a foundation in what we consider physical reality.
Why? Because ideas take shape in the nonphysical planes that shape the physical world.
Moreover, what other choice do we have in the world and time we are living in? This is not just about art, after all, even though art is one of the few things that holds the power to change society. Are we simply going to drown in a world of purposelessly grinding machines, merging with them and upholding the mechanistic aspects of our biology as the essence of what it means to be human, thus rendering ourselves irrelevant, as these aspects of us will forever be inferior to the machines?
All because we cling to the erroneous 19th-century worldview that we are, at our core, machines ourselves?
That would be a profoundly foolish path to take in so many ways that it’s difficult to comprehend the totality of it. Materialist and atheist types love to bestow so-called “Darwin Awards” on individuals who commit acts so foolish that they lead to their demise.
If we choose to go down a totally materialist, mechanistic road, mythologically and practically speaking, we can only say:
"And the Darwin Award goes to humanity."