This essay was about art in the light of influences from occult/mystical sources in the late 60s and early 70s, and how video and other approaches sought to break down the traditional role of art and the artist in society. Jarring male personal pronouns everywhere. For a recent review of the spiritual in art, see Jennifer Higgie (2022), “Artists and the Spirit World” (five episodes, BBC Radio 3, “The Essay”)
Author: D. Everitt (1973). Second year essay, Fine Art degree course
Nothing being more important than anything else, a man of knowledge chooses any act, and acts it out as if it matters to him. It’s controlled folly makes him say that what he does matters and makes him act as if it did, and yet he knows that it doesn’t; so when he fulfills his acts he retreats in peace, and whether his acts were good or bad, or worked or didn’t, is in no way part of his concern. —The character Don Juan in Carlos Castaneda, “A Separate Reality”
I will begin by stating a theme: The function of art in the finite world is to modify infinity, by modifying the creations of infinite energy. (matter is a modification of energy—therefore so is art). I assume acceptance of:
Modifications of this energy can be classed beneath two headings:
(for if we do not consider ourselves separate, we invalidate the grounds for communication on the subject) We also separate man because we assume his creations to differ from those of other agents, because of the element of conscious mind. He is a thinking animal. He is also a thinking vegetable and mineral-in other words, a part of the modifications of nature which has taken on qualities of a kind usually associated with the modifier-a mini-god, by virtue of his conscious powers of creation or choice as opposed to instinct or necessity. He therefore wields more scope as a modifier than does the rest of creation because, besides being a part of nature or ‘tool of the infinite’, he can also be aware of that fact, while consciously using the tools he has (body mind etc.) to operate under direction from his own choice. He can, and this is where he is unique, use these tools to reflect his own identity, thereby reflecting the force behind his actions, the energy which gives him life. This faculty has sprung from the individuality of man which gives rise to self-consciousness; and the ability to perceive that consciousness through self-reflection, which other forms cannot do due to their lack of choice. To reach the state of super consciousness, which is a conscious integration of a man’s life with the force that sustains his life and consequently the force that sustains all other life, giving the realisation of an expanded individuality and unity with all things; to reach this state we have to grow from:
At the stage where we are doubtful as to whether we are a part of, or distinct from nature, or both; we have the paradox: if man is a part of nature, what distinguishes human skill from natural, since art is defined in the dictionary as: “human skill as an agent as opposed to natural”. It seems that human skill is the action of human self-will, based upon observations centred upon the sense of ‘I’-ness, and that natural skill is the action of an indwelling yet superior will or intelligence operating via man and nature, and centred upon the sense of universality, co-operation and synthesis, as witnessed in all the universe; an ‘intelligent energy’.
Art appears to be an idiosyncrasy of human self-will or choice, and cannot exist outside it. To create art necessitates a separative tendency—to be apart from one’s surroundings, enabling the artist to achieve a particularly detached viewpoint. This state has been forcefully induced in the twentieth century because the surroundings have proved harsh and hostile in many cases. We could add that if surroundings became harmonious, art would dissolve into them, since no-one would notice it as it would have to be integrated with an environment that would be pleasing enough not to encourage the desire to be apart from it; at least to the degree of seeing separate units such as ‘art’, ‘science’ etc. without sensing the whole. When life becomes art, one cannot create from selfish will because one is bound to produce that which the infinite wishes to create via oneself (or that would have to be the way of seeing the situation) and that creation would be of greatest benefit to the greatest practical number, as in all nature, when viewed as a whole. As a consequence, benefit to the group would be stressed, rather than the individual, as would group creation (we see the beginnings in ‘happenings’ and such groups as Fluxus1). Whether the group knew each other or not would become irrelevant (as is the case in contemporary art where many are now arriving at common means, independent from each other—yet they may still be considered as a ‘group’. Corot may not have known Constable, yet they both played major parts in the group of ‘landscape painters’). There would be no room for genius in such circumstances. Man as a group becomes ‘nature’ once more (as he does when considered as a ‘race’) because when we see it that way, he loses the individuality which separates him from nature, and so human skill ‘as opposed’ to natural skill becomes redundant.
When we observe the world, we notice that the modifications by nature (the whole creation including man but not his artefacts) appear to have a more fundamental effect upon man’s consciousness than do man’s own modifications such as art, which are usually produced as a response to the natural modifications. We also notice that however far man may depart from mere representation of things or ideas, he is bound to work within the same rules which govern the rest of nature. We could say that he is bound to imitate nature, not directly, but in that he is bound by the same laws. He can only use what is available in nature, however much he modifies it, yet we can safely say that all material occurring in nature is already combined in a harmonious and inter-dependent yet ever-shifting manner. In fact, if it were to be combined in any other way, man as he is would encounter serious problems. We may have found the source of man’s ill at this point: he has attempted to combine materials occurring in nature in ways disharmonious to those already in existence (there have also been harmonious ways—Buckminster Fuller comes to mind as a recent example). This has produced forms of creation which are bound to decay as soon as they are completed (for they run contrary to a greater flow) giving rise to isolated and untimely ‘isms’ and movements which die rapidly and are only recalled as being isolated occurrences. In some cases, however, a synthesis of art and life is produced, and the influence is incorporated into day-to-day living, such as occurred with the renaissance or the Bauhaus, but these examples have only a small effect upon mass life and consciousness when compared to a more basic and profound form such as is apparent in the great pyramid or—on a less majestic scale—as the circle or swastika. This attempt to create in spite or ‘in competition’ with nature and already naturally-occurring forms must be due to ignorance of the way in which nature creates, that is, a lack of direct intuitive perception of the vaster and more concealed ‘plan’ behind all external forms. It is therefore necessary, if man is to create forms which will act harmoniously with those already existing, that he learn to play his full part willingly and as a conforming unit of nature. The first signs of striving to learn the function of man is the rejection of former external modes, and the simplification of same, often seen as a ‘revival’ or ‘return’ to previous similar forms. However, all forms are identical when simplified. This ‘revival’ is apparent is apparent in America as an affinity with Native American (and even South American) culture:
I said I was sorry there were so few people in the museum to hear him. His answer was: “It doesn’t matter. You play to the creator like the Hopi Indians. You don’t wait for an audience. Not even yourself. —Joan Lowndes, “The Canadian Presence in Paris”, Arts Canada, October 1973
This apparently casual reference to Hopi Indians by the Canadian artist John MacGregor2 is actually a deep-rooted feeling of affinity in manner of approach. Other artists paint indian mandalas and make ritual objects. Perhaps the modern American is beginning to discover that the indian, who inhabited the country for a considerably longer period then they have, has (or had) a generally more harmonious manner of life than modern America, who, having lost a little of her pride, is now willing to learn from the indian after having all but exterminated him (perhaps this tendency is best illustrated in Carlos Castaneda’s books on Don Juan, a Yaqui indian, and his encounters with the character).
The idea of art as the act of man in contrast with the ‘art’ of other forces implies that he is something distinct; that although he is a part of nature, he is beyond and above it, too. This is not because he can create anything new, but because he has the faculty of conscious appreciation and discrimination; he can choose from all around him what he wishes to use in order to fulfil his desire—for instance; I decide that if all is coloured red in my vicinity, then I will achieve some given aim, so I either eliminate all non-red objects or paint everything red, or place red cellophane before my eyes if I wished only to involve myself. In other words, I use my choice and discrimination and impose it upon my perception of the outside world. A plant or animal cannot choose to be or do anything other than what it already is or does, but man can; and this is what he has done. He has attempted to become something other than what he really is, and has lost his true and fundamental identity in the process. Having searched outside of himself through many means including art, he has concluded (or is concluding) that he must set his own inner self to rights before further procedure. In such a way arises the desire to ‘return’ to ‘be reborn’ and ‘simplify’, according to the loftiness of his mental conception. It is as if the artist has realised that he and society are ill, and he feels that to have any effect upon his surroundings, he must first heal himself. The way to regeneration is through those who are able to discover and cure within themselves the radical disturbances troubling them and their fellows. Having done this, the cured ones lead the rest of the people away from the illness they themselves have conquered (see “The Artist as Shaman” by Jack Burnham3, Arts Magazine, May-June 1973. The above passage is related to a quote from “Art in Crisis” by Hans Sedlmayr in that article. Also see article on Penny Slinger4 mentioned later). ‘Persona’, from which we obtain personality, literally means to ‘sound through‘ as in a mask—in which context the word was used. It is the ‘masks’ which we adopt in dealing with all phenomena, including our own internal perceptions, which prevent our real grasp of all things, including each other and ourselves, for any mask must conceal something, and our ‘masks’ influence our discrimination to a logically ridiculous degree, even to the point of unquestioned acceptance of a narrowed perception which includes only that which we, with our fallible judgement, consider to be most pleasurable to us, or most beneficial.
I conclude that to arrive at a state of art as life, man must either broaden or by-pass his present personality-based reactions, in order to enable him to ‘sacrifice’ the transitory pleasure necessitating constant renewal, gained from pleasure/pain choices (such as we see in animals) for a lasting vibrance with surroundings gained by allowing the higher self (be that the idea of ‘conscience’ or of ‘spirit’) to guide the ‘persona’ into situations which it may even dislike, but which will eventually even out the one—sidedness of the ‘mask’. Man, or ‘a man’ has to undo all that his various masks have done since childhood, in order to approach his ‘child’, protected for so long.
In the inner place where true artists create there exists a pure child. To recognise this is to recognise beauty as a living, abiding presence completely untouchable by all the devices of man, such as moral codes, creeds, intellectual analysis, games and clichés, the acquisitive instinct, or lust for anything whatsoever… Every genuine artist protects this child, his real self, from all possible impingements. He may resort to any form of anarchy, even of wildness, to do so because of the great contrast of strain he is in, for the world as men generally know it with its mechanisms and defences, protections and hypocrisies, social regimentation and codes is as nothing in his sight. —Lawren Harris (quoted by painter Gordon Smith5, Arts Canada, October 1973) Because of his compulsion to purify himself to attain balance, some artists are undergoing a catharsis—one example will illustrate. Penny Slinger (in ‘Art and Artists’, November 1973) uses her work to break down her personal ‘hangups’ in order to go ‘beyond’ them:
The only way to come to terms with existence is to be born again.—Penny Slinger (Art and Artists, November 1973)
John MacGregor (in the same issue of Art and Artists) said:
I’ve never been aware of my own death till now. I’m saying here that this is the problem of the majority of people. You have to be born to die.
There is an undercurrent in many contemporary artists of a motivation derived from active interest in the occult—a rather more ‘practical’ than ‘mystical’ approach though. Bob Watts6—formerly of the famous FLuxus group—displays an active interest in psychic phenomena, the writings of Ouspensky, Gurdjieff and Castaneda. He refers to cosmic forces, reincarnation, pyramids and astrology. From that list, the books of Carlos Castandeda (“A Separate Reality” and “Journey to Ixtlan” being the latest and most most influential works) stand out as a prominent factor in the list of contemporary ‘occult’ influences upon artists today. After looking through three or four recent art magazines, I discovered four separate artists who displayed an interest in or declared that the teachings of Don Juan via Carlos Castaneda’s books had no small influence on their life and work (Geoff Hedericks7, Penny Slinger, Bob Watts. Art and Artists November 1973; John MaGregor, Arts Canada October 1973). Among these teachings, Don Juan often stresses that one should be aware of one’s death, though not in the way we would expect. It resides to your left. This is a prime instance of non-logical thwarting of the logical mind. In other instances he stresses the importance or maintaining a certain way of seeing something, rather than that usually employed. We in the western tradition would call it ‘optical illusion’ but it has a deeper significance—just as Kandinsky received perhaps his most significant (in terms of art) revelation upon beholding an abstract form in one of his representational paintings, as he received it, sideways-on, by accident. The painting, of course, is abstract when seen without any conscious interpretation. Don Juan also maintains that when properly ‘seen’ any man appears as a ‘luminous egg’, a perception which all clairvoyants maintain, as was elaborated in the Theosophical works popular among the Blaue Reiter.
When infinite energy begins to govern man’s actions in the world then will the ‘persona’ be laid aside. Hence we arrive at the place of art on a society which has transcended the ego, and personal separativity. Even if the ego is slightly overridden, then art’s position would have to change radically. The existence of the term ‘art’ implies a certain separativeness. It often signifies art as another externalised source of pleasure from the point of view of the observer, and an externalised self-expression from the artist’s viewpoint. When seen in this way, art loses its power as a direct communication of energy, idea or inspiration. Any separative art, seen as above, is but a solace unneeded and impossible in a transcendent community where life itself is the solace and there is no need to create pleasing or meaningful things or even ideas, for life itself contains those qualities. As in ‘primitive’ society, art does not figure as a separate pursuit, distinct from life and other pursuits, unless the civilisation becomes decorative and decadent. The demand for external pleasure then overrides the lost sense of universal/universal integration with the community and its life in nature. Separative art encourages isolation while life as art thrives upon synthesis and integration.
It seems strange that we should direct human skill as art into a solacious (‘providing solace’) cul-de-sac, when problems exist which could be considerably lightened by the effort normally put into art, so that any solacious tendencies would be unneeded. If art is to be beneficial to its surroundings, it can only—in moving towards the transcendent society—create or modify harmoniously and at one with those surroundings, rather than imposing upon nature man’s personal hangups. The idea of owning a ‘piece of art’ becomes a total farce sometimes. Charles Harrison quoted an example of his amusement and contempt for the person who purchased a ‘piece’ of his, consisting of several filing cabinets containing a laborious work from comparison of several articles and their agreement with each other, all in letters and numbers, with the pages also displayed on the walls. He also brought to light the purchase of a ‘work’ where so many gallons of white paint ’could or could not’ be sprayed in one place on the purchaser’s floor. The artist or the purchaser or anyone may carry out the piece. It consisted of the paint and a piece of paper with instructions printed on it, and was purchased for over £1000! This position appears to occur when an attempt at non-separative art is confronted with the separative approach of acquisitiveness. Just as farcical is the idea of ‘owning’ land—or anything for that matter—for ‘ownership’ is obviously an illusion, yet we persist in behaving as it it were not. Ideally art should be self-existing. Once produced one does not sign one’s waste or children or cling to them beyond reason (create: from Latin ‘creatus’, to bring forth, produce, procreate, cause). Why is art used as an ‘enjoyment’ rather than being incorporated with life? Does man lack some satisfaction within himself or even his partners, to the extent that he needs to seek and attempt to create it outside of himself, where he knows it will not fully satisfy? Art is as good as ineffective when confined as an ‘ism’ or possession, when it can be a tool useful in altering consciousness and outlook towards a life-art synthesis, which it can only do if it by-passes the immediate personality reactions. The video camera is becoming increasingly popular as a tool for disorienting the conscious mind; Peter Campus (also interested, I am compelled to mention, in the Chinese I Ching ‘oracle’, astral projection/out-of-the-body experience, and pyramids as cosmic units) is involved in attempting to displace the human consciousness through the use of video, by constructing situations in which the viewer is confronted by several contrasting images of his body, or in which the scene he beholds is at variance with that which the rest of his senses are experiencing (see ‘Arts Magazine’, May, June 1973). ‘Arts Canada’ 1973 was totally given over to the use of video in art. One particular article proved especially relevant (David Ross, ‘Process and Ritual’, an article on the work of Nam June Paik8, Frank Gillette9, Juan Downey10). Juan Downey uses a bio-feedback system which amplifies variations in alpha waves produced in various states of meditation. In the piece called ‘Plato Now’ the participants meditate, their own shadows before them, a video image of their faces behind them. The alpha wave variations trigger taped quotes from the cave scene in Plato’s ‘Republic’, no doubt chosen with intent. The end of the article states that:
if video art tends to blur the line between art and life and make less of a difference between artist and viewer, perhaps it is because (…) we are approaching a culture where we, like the Balinese, can have no art, but rather do everything well. In any case, video art in the hands of such artists as Paik, Gilette, Downey and many others contribute to what is perhaps a deeply and urgently needed ritualisation of one’s self, one’s life and environment. Man in the West has a lot of trouble in accepting the dissolving of the ego as beneficial, but until it does dissolve, or begin to dissolve, the illusion of separativeness will prevail and art will remain invariably a museum piece to be looked at, participated in, desired or thought about, rather than being so wholly incorporated in everyday life that the idea of ‘art’ gives way to the gradual incorporation of art as harmonious arrangement or adaptation of surroundings an life, in life. As long as a man thinks that he is seeing the trees and not the wood, or an artwork instead of what that ‘artwork’ really affects him as, then he will not experience that which harmoniously incorporates itself in life. When he can accept ‘art’ as it stands without feeling it best behind a frame or interpretation, or any context whatever, then will the climate be ripe for art as life, which of course is not art at all, but simply harmonious living. Perhaps this is why much art in the twentieth century has played the part of ‘upsetting the conventional’ in order that the usual way of seeing is by-passed, and the ground is cleared for a fresh start (all overlapping of course). We must all receive something of the nature of Kandinsky’s sideways abstract perception of his figurative work, except this time it must be a lasting and not a fleeting vision.
The artist must possess inner harmony himself, before he attempts to create and influence others, or else he can only display the confusion and struggle existing within himself, which is no use to an already confused and struggling world, which needs no-one to tell it of the state it is in—it needs a solution instead. If an artist cannot provide a solution, his work is worthless in this age.
Fluxus had no single unifying style. Artists used a range of media and processes adopting a ‘do-it-yourself’ attitude to creative activity, often staging random performances and using whatever materials were at hand to make art. Seeing themselves as an alternative to academic art and music, Fluxus was a democratic form of creativity open to anyone ↩
Jack Burnham (1931-2019), act.mit.edu, and American art critic and theorist who established the parameters of “systems” art—his term for work, emerging in the 1960s and ’70s, that was rooted in digital networks and natural structures. ↩