I remember walking into the Guggenheim in February 2019 and rushing to the Mapplethorpe exhibition, Implicit Tensions. I had waited years to see this many Mapplethorpe photographs in one place. All the iconic images were in the exhibit and I needed to see them. The main galleries were dedicated to a little known (at that time), Hilma af Klint: Paintings from the Future. I had never heard of her and thought there might be a relationship to Gustav Klint (How sexist and ignorant, Gregory). I rushed past the massive paintings to get to see the photographs of my gay Catholic icon. After I spent time with Mapplethorpe I wandered back to the rotunda. You always gradually end up back to the rotunda as Frank Lloyd Wright designed for visitors. I was overwhelmed by the paintings and did not know what I was looking at. I am comfortable with abstract and like most abstraction, but there was something different about these paintings. It was a different palette, there was much more fluidity and pastel coloring. The paint was more sensitive, less imposing, and felt more intentional. I generally veer away from paintings that feel like tempra paint, or lighter colors. (Ah, the sexist palette strikes again- dark, masculine, and the 90 degree angle, how predictable?). I didn’t take that many photographs of the paintings. How might I even capture an entire painting? I generally snap a few photos of paintings I like, or specific cropped areas of a painting. Not in this exhibit and I have always wondered why? Was I rushing? Was I just that overwhelmed and present? She commanded my full attention. I was listening. Af Klint’s exhibition is one of the most widely attended exhibitions in Guggenheim history. Since that exhibition, af Klint has been arriving at her rightful  place in the art historical canon, as few women have been able to fight through the noise of the patriarchy. There has been a wonderful documentary made and now to my wonderful surprise, a moving graphic novel now exists, The Five Lives of Hilma af Klint (David Zwirner Books) by husband and wife duo Julia Voss and Philipe Deines. 

I have a general love of graphic novels with Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic by Alison Bechdel (made in a Tony Winning Best Musical) and Pride of Baghdad by Brian K Vaughn being in the frequent list of my favorite literary and visual achievements. Though not as widely respected, the graphic novel commands illustration and text together, unfolds like drama on a stage. The Five Lives of Hilma af Klint burrowed quickly into my new favorites. The story is as compelling as af Klint’s artistic journey. Rarely have I been moved so much as how this story unfolds. As the reader, you follow Hilma through her own artistic discovery in materials, spirituality, and rejection. She persists. She keeps painting, drawing and asking questions of the past. She travels. She falls in love. And all with an eye on creating art that is unique. I noticed, while sitting with the book, the quality of the paper and size were perfect. The book is solid and open to holding the grandeur and complexity of af Klint’s paintings.

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And you would think the heroine of the story would get to bask in her artistic achievement, but no. Such satisfaction rarely exists in the art world, or any endeavor for women throughout time. She comes to a quiet resignation that she will not be “understood” as an artist in her lifetime. I am not sure if we “understand” even now, but she has certainly gained popularity. I do not like using the term “ahead of one’s time.” Hilma af Klint was not ahead of her time. She was of her time. Artists observe the world and their work helps them understand themselves and world around them. They pay attention. Hilma af Klint was paying attention to the mystical world that made up her life. She was undeniably trying to quench a thirst to reflect the mysteries she encountered in her time here. How wonderful she was able to capture those curiosities? And now, her life and work has captured my imagination once again in this lovely, accessible, and joyous artistic book that has convinced me ever more that Hilma af Klint deserved our adulation then, and most certainly now.

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