Abstraction Before Abstraction: When Hilma af Klint Painted Under the Dictation of Spirits

This story begins in a smoke-filled parlor in Stockholm, where five women hold hands around a trembling table. They invoke spirits, record their messages, draw under their dictation. Among them, Hilma af Klint, a 44-year-old academic painter, would receive a mission that would change everything: to paint for a temple that would never exist. For ten years, she would obey this voice from elsewhere, creating more than 193 abstract paintings, long before the world was ready to understand them. Today, as her works draw record crowds in museums, one question lingers: what if modern art owed everything to the occult?

01When Spirits Dictated the History of Art: Spiritualism at the Dawn of the 20th Century

To understand Hilma af Klint, one must first plunge into the stifling atmosphere of the spiritualist salons of the late 19th century. At a time when science was discovering X-rays and radioactivity, when Darwin was shaking religious certainties, Europe was gripped by a mystical fever. Séances, ectoplasm, and messages from beyond fascinated as much as they frightened. In Sweden, a land of deep forests and Nordic legends, spiritualism took on a particular character. The Swedes, nourished by the writings of Emanuel Swedenborg—an 18th-century scholar who claimed to converse with angels—saw in these practices far more than mere entertainment. For them, it was a science of the invisible.

It was in this context that the group De Fem ("The Five") was born in 1896, with Hilma af Klint at its center. Every Friday, the five women gathered for mediumistic séances. They used a spirit alphabet, recorded messages from the dead in notebooks, and above all, drew. These automatic drawings, made with eyes closed or in a trance, were the first steps toward abstraction. The forms that emerged—spirals, waves, geometric symbols—represented nothing known. They simply were. As if, through their hands, the spirits were revealing another reality, a universal visual grammar. In 1904, a decisive turning point occurred. The spirits—or at least, that is what af Klint claimed—ordered her to paint "for the Temple." A series of monumental paintings, destined to adorn the walls of a spiral-shaped sanctuary. For ten years, she would obey this command from elsewhere, working in the strictest secrecy.

What is striking is the boldness of this approach. At a time when the European avant-gardes—Futurism, Cubism—were still seeking to deconstruct reality, af Klint skipped the stage of representation. Her paintings were not interpretations of the visible world but transcriptions of the invisible one. She did not paint what she saw but what was shown to her. And what was shown to her were the secret laws of the universe: the evolution of species, the structure of the atom, the cycles of life and death. In this, she preceded by several years the research of Kandinsky or Malevich. But while the latter theorized their art in manifestos, af Klint simply obeyed. To whom? To what? The question remains open.

02The Secrets of Creation: When Painting Becomes Alchemy

Step into Hilma af Klint’s studio, and you will find far more than a simple creative space. It is a laboratory, a place where painting transforms into a mystical experience. To create her Paintings for the Temple, she developed techniques that blended academic know-how with occult practices. First, the support: unlike the painters of her time, who favored canvas, af Klint often worked on thick paper, sometimes glued onto wooden panels. These sheets, which she assembled to create monumental formats, were prepared with a special ground, a mixture of hide glue and Meudon white. A recipe reminiscent of medieval illuminators’ techniques, as if she sought to inscribe her work within an ancient esoteric tradition.

Next, the pigments. Af Klint used pure colors, often applied in flat areas without prior mixing. Ultramarine blue, a symbol of spirituality in the Theosophical tradition, dominated her early series. Yellow, associated with intellect, appeared in The Swan and The Dove, where it dialogued with vibrant reds, the color of passion and life. But what is most striking is her use of metals: gold, silver, even mica powder, which she incorporated into her paintings to give them an almost supernatural glow. These materials were not chosen at random. In alchemy, gold symbolizes spiritual perfection, the ultimate stage of transmutation. By using it, af Klint did not merely paint: she transformed matter, like an alchemist seeking to turn lead into gold.

The most fascinating technique, however, remains her approach to drawing. Before painting, she traced geometric sketches in pencil, following precise proportions. Her notebooks are filled with calculations, diagrams, attempts to inscribe perfect forms within the space of the canvas. One can recognize the trace of the golden ratio, logarithmic spirals, circles divided into equal sections. These constructions recall treatises on sacred geometry, like those of Luca Pacioli or Agrippa von Nettesheim. But for af Klint, geometry was not an end in itself. It was a language, a means of communicating with the invisible. Her forms were not abstract in the modern sense. They were concrete: concrete like the laws of physics, concrete like the messages of spirits.

Finally, there is the very process of creation. Af Klint did not paint alone. Or at least, she was not alone in the room. She often described sessions where, seated before her canvas, she entered a state of receptivity. Her hands moved almost despite herself, as if an external force guided her brush. Sometimes, she worked for hours without stopping, without eating, without even lifting her eyes. Her largest paintings, like The Ten Largest, were completed in a single session, as if she feared the inspiration might escape. This way of working, almost mediumistic, recalls the practices of the Surrealists later, with their automatic writing. But for af Klint, there was no room for the unconscious. What spoke through her were the spirits. And what they had to say was too important to wait.

03The Revelation of Spirits: When an Academic Painter Became a Medium

Hilma af Klint was born in 1862 into a family of sailors and scientists. Her father, Fredrik af Klint, was an admiral who spent his evenings calculating the trajectories of stars. Her mother, Mathilda, raised her five children in the traditions of Swedish piety, between Lutheran faith and a fascination for natural sciences. From a young age, Hilma showed a precocious talent for drawing. At 18, she entered the Royal Academy of Fine Arts in Stockholm, where she trained in academic techniques: portrait, landscape, still life. Her early works, like Storm (1890), demonstrate a perfect mastery of light and shadow. Nothing in these restrained paintings foreshadowed the revolution to come.

Everything changed in 1880, with the death of her younger sister, Hermina. This loss plunged af Klint into a profound spiritual crisis. How could she reconcile the Lutheran faith of her childhood with the pain of loss? How could she accept that her sister’s soul had vanished forever? It was in this search for answers that she turned to spiritualism. In 1889, she attended her first séance. A revelation. Around a trembling table, she discovered that there existed a world beyond the visible, a world where the dead could communicate. For years, she participated in spirit circles, recording messages from the beyond, learning to enter a trance. But it was not until 1896, with the creation of the group De Fem, that her life took a decisive turn.

De Fem was not just a circle of mediums. It was a laboratory for spiritual experimentation. The five women—af Klint, Anna Cassel, Cornelia Cederberg, Sigrid Hedman, and Mathilda Nilsson—gathered every Friday for collective mediumistic séances. They used a spirit alphabet, drew under the dictation of spirits, and above all, developed a unique practice: automatic drawing. These drawings, made with eyes closed or in a trance, were the first steps toward abstraction. Forms emerged, symbols appeared, as if the spirits were revealing a new visual grammar to them. In 1904, a message changed everything. The spirits—or at least, that is what af Klint claimed—ordered her to paint "for the Temple." A series of monumental paintings, destined to adorn the walls of a spiral-shaped sanctuary. For ten years, she would obey this command, working in the strictest secrecy.

What is fascinating is how af Klint managed this double life. On one hand, she continued to paint landscapes and portraits, exhibiting regularly in Stockholm. On the other, she devoted her nights to her Paintings for the Temple, hiding her canvases in her studio, far from prying eyes. In 1908, she met Rudolf Steiner, the founder of Anthroposophy. Steiner, who had himself explored the links between art and spirituality, was impressed by her work. He advised her not to show her abstract paintings for at least fifty years, until the world was ready to understand them. Af Klint followed this advice to the letter. Until her death in 1944, her most important works remained locked in crates, waiting for their time.

04The Paintings for the Temple: A Cosmogony in 193 Paintings

In 1906, Hilma af Klint began the series that would change everything: the Paintings for the Temple. One hundred and ninety-three paintings, created over a period of ten years, forming a unique cosmogony in the history of art. Each series explored a different theme: the evolution of species, the duality of masculine and feminine, the cycles of life and death, the structure of the universe. But what is most striking is how these paintings are organized into a coherent whole, like the chapters of a sacred book.

Take The Ten Largest (1907), a series of ten monumental paintings, each over three meters tall. These works, completed in just a few weeks, represent the stages of human life, from childhood to old age. Against pastel backgrounds—pinks, blues, yellows—biomorphic forms intertwine, evoking cells, embryos, and galaxies at once. The omnipresent spirals recall the laws of organic growth, as if af Klint had captured the very essence of life. But these paintings are not mere allegories. They are revelations. Af Klint incorporated alchemical symbols, references to the Kabbalah, and Theosophical motifs. The circle, for example, represents divine unity. The triangle, the Trinity. The serpent, forbidden knowledge. Every form, every color, every line has a precise meaning, like in a grimoire.

Another major series, The Swan (1914–1915), explores the duality of masculine and feminine. Against black or golden backgrounds, two swans confront or embrace each other, their bodies forming perfect geometric patterns. These paintings, among the most abstract of her oeuvre, seem to anticipate the research of Mondrian or Malevich. Yet for af Klint, abstraction was never gratuitous. It always served an idea, a revelation. In alchemical tradition, swans symbolize the union of opposites, the philosopher’s stone. By painting them, af Klint was not seeking to create a harmonious composition. She was revealing a universal truth.

But the most mysterious series remains the Altarpieces (1915). Three monumental paintings, conceived as altarpieces for her imaginary temple. The first, Group X, No. 1, shows a golden pyramid against a night-blue background, surrounded by alchemical symbols. The second, Group X, No. 2, depicts a Greek cross inscribed within a circle, with motifs reminiscent of Tibetan mandalas. The third, Group X, No. 3, is an explosion of geometric forms, as if af Klint had captured the moment of the world’s creation. These works, among the most accomplished of her career, summarize her entire approach: art as a path to the divine, painting as a sacred language.

05The Keys to the Mystery: Deciphering Hilma af Klint’s Secret Language

To understand Hilma af Klint, one must accept diving into a world where every symbol, every color, every form has a precise meaning. A world where art is not an end in itself but a means of communicating with the invisible. Her paintings are not abstract compositions in the modern sense. They are revelations, coded messages from elsewhere. And to decipher them, one must know the keys.

Take colors, for example. In the Theosophical tradition, each hue corresponds to a spiritual state. Blue, the color of the spirit, dominates her early series. Yellow, associated with intellect, appears in The Swan and The Dove. Red, the symbol of passion and life, radiates in The Ten Largest. But af Klint went further. She also used "vibrant" colors, like violet or orange, to create almost hypnotic effects. In Group IV, The Ten Largest, No. 7, a pale pink background is traversed by golden spirals, as if the canvas itself emitted light. These choices are not aesthetic. They are magical. For af Klint, colors had power. They could heal, elevate the soul, or reveal hidden truths.

Forms, too, are laden with meaning. The omnipresent spirals represent the perpetual motion of the universe, organic growth, but also the spiritual quest. Circles, symbols of unity and perfection, evoke the divine. Triangles, often associated with the Trinity, can also represent the three stages of alchemy: nigredo, albedo, rubedo. In Group VI, Evolution, a series of paintings shows forms emerging from chaos, as if af Klint had captured the moment of creation. These motifs recall Kabbalistic diagrams, where each form corresponds to a sephirah, a divine emanation.

But the most fascinating language remains that of symbols. Af Klint drew from a vast esoteric repertoire: alchemy, Theosophy, Rosicrucianism, Kabbalah. In Group X, No. 1, one recognizes the symbol of the philosopher’s stone, surrounded by motifs evoking the four elements. In The Swan, the swans represent the union of opposites, a central theme in alchemy. In The Dove, the dove, a symbol of the Holy Spirit, is reinterpreted as a feminine, almost pagan force. These references are not incidental. They show that for af Klint, art was a sacred science, a means of piercing the mysteries of the universe.

Yet despite this symbolic richness, her paintings remain open to interpretation. For af Klint never provided a definitive key. She did not theorize, did not publish manifestos. She simply painted, leaving it to each viewer to decipher her messages. And perhaps this is where her modernity lies. In a world where contemporary art often seeks to explain everything, to rationalize everything, her paintings retain their mystery. They are not made to be understood. They are made to be felt.

06Art from Elsewhere: How Hilma af Klint Changed Our Perspective

When Hilma af Klint died in 1944, struck by a tram in Stockholm, no one knew she had revolutionized the history of art. Her abstract paintings, hidden in crates, waited for their time. It would not be until the 1980s that the world discovered her work and realized she had painted the first non-figurative canvases in history, long before Kandinsky or Malevich. But beyond the question of primacy, it is our entire conception of modern art that is called into question.

For af Klint did not belong to any avant-garde. She did not seek to break rules, shock the bourgeoisie, or invent a new language. She obeyed a voice from elsewhere. And it is this voice that makes her a unique artist. By painting under the dictation of spirits, she introduced a new dimension into art: transcendence. Her paintings are not creations but revelations. They do not come from her but from something greater than herself. This idea, revolutionary for its time, foreshadowed the research of the Surrealists, who explored the unconscious, or the Abstract Expressionists, who sought to capture pure energy.

But af Klint’s influence does not stop there. By integrating esoteric symbols into her paintings, she paved the way for a new form of spiritual art. Artists like Agnes Pelton, Emma Kunz, and even Georgia O’Keeffe drew inspiration from her research, blending abstraction and mysticism. Today, as contemporary art seeks to reconnect with the sacred, her work has regained urgent relevance. Exhibitions like Theosophy and Art (2019) or Hilma af Klint and Piet Mondrian: Forms of Life (2023) show how her approach resonates with current questions.

Yet despite this belated recognition, af Klint remains an artist apart. For her work is not merely an influence. It is a silent revolution. A revolution that reminds us that art is not just about forms and colors but also about beliefs, mysteries, things that surpass us. In this, she joins the great visionaries of history, those who saw further than their time. Those who, like her, painted what no one else yet saw.

07The Ghosts of the Studio: Anecdotes from a Life Between Two Worlds

Behind the monumental paintings and esoteric symbols, the story of Hilma af Klint is also made of strange details, unsettling coincidences, moments when the veil between worlds seems to tear. These anecdotes, often recounted by those close to her or recorded in her notebooks, give her work an almost supernatural dimension.

Take the story of the "commission." In 1904, during a séance, af Klint received a clear message: she was to paint for the Temple. A series of monumental paintings, destined to adorn the walls of a spiral-shaped sanctuary. For years, she obeyed this voice, working in the strictest secrecy. But who gave her this mission? The spirits, she answered. Entities she called The High Masters, from whom she regularly received instructions. In her notebooks, she described sessions where her brush seemed to move on its own, where forms emerged without her needing to think. Sometimes, she worked for hours without stopping, as if an external force guided her hand. Once, she recounted painting The Ten Largest in just a few weeks, without eating, without sleeping, as if in a trance. When she emerged from this state, she remembered nothing. Only the completed paintings bore witness to what had happened.

Another unsettling anecdote concerns the temple itself. Af Klint did not merely paint the paintings. She also imagined the space that would house them. In her notebooks, one finds sketches of a spiral-shaped building, with a ramp reminiscent of the Guggenheim Museum, built much later. She described rooms where visitors would ascend gradually, like in a spiritual ascent, discovering the paintings as they progressed. She spoke of this temple as if it were a tangible reality, as if she had already visited it. Yet it was never built. Today, some see in this a premonition, proof that her visions truly came from elsewhere.

Then there is the story of the "lost notebooks." Af Klint left behind more than 125 notebooks, filled with drawings, notes, and spirit messages. For years, these documents remained inaccessible, hidden by her family, who feared they might harm her reputation. It was not until 2019, with the publication of Hilma af Klint: Notes and Methods, that the public could discover the extent of her research. One finds detailed descriptions of her mediumistic séances, sketches of alchemical symbols, attempts to decipher the spirits’ messages. But the most fascinating are the pages where she described her visions. Cosmic landscapes, luminous beings, geometric forms floating in space. As if, through these notebooks, she had captured the moment when the invisible becomes visible.

Finally, there is the story of the "missed encounter" with Kandinsky. In 1908, af Klint exhibited in Stockholm, in the same salon as the future theorist of abstraction. The two artists did not speak, did not know each other. Yet three years later, Kandinsky published Concerning the Spiritual in Art, a manifesto that laid the foundations of abstraction. In this book, he described art as a path to the divine, an idea that strangely echoes af Klint’s research. Did he see her paintings? Was he influenced by her ideas? No one knows. But this troubling coincidence adds another layer of mystery to the story.

08Seeing the Invisible: Where and How to Discover Hilma af Klint’s Work Today

If you want to understand Hilma af Klint, you must first see her paintings. Not in reproduction, not on a screen, but in person, in their monumental format, with their vibrant colors and infinite details. For her works are not merely to be looked at. They are to be felt. And for that, nothing beats a visit to one of the museums that house them.

The first essential stop is the Moderna Museet in Stockholm, which holds the largest collection of af Klint’s works. Here, you can see The Ten Largest, those monumental paintings representing the stages of human life. Standing before these three-meter-tall canvases, you will feel as if you are plunging into another world. The golden spirals seem to move, the biomorphic forms evoke cells or galaxies, and the pastel colors create an almost hypnotic atmosphere. The museum also organizes temporary exhibitions, such as Hilma af Klint: A Pioneer of Abstraction (2013), which traces her unique journey. Do not miss the section dedicated to her notebooks, where you can discover her automatic drawings and spirit notes.

Another must-visit is the Guggenheim Museum in New York. In 2018, the museum organized a major retrospective, Hilma af Klint: Paintings for the Future, which attracted over 600,000 visitors. The exhibition, presented in the museum’s famous spiral, seemed almost predestined. For af Klint, in her notebooks, had imagined a spiral-shaped temple to house her paintings. Seeing them exhibited here, one feels as if she has finally found her place. Among the works on display, do not miss The Swan and The Dove, two series exploring the duality of masculine and feminine, as well as the Altarpieces, those monumental paintings that summarize her entire approach.

If you are in Europe, the Louisiana Museum of Modern Art in Denmark also holds a fine collection of af Klint’s works. The museum, located by the sea, offers an idyllic setting for discovering her paintings. Here, you can see Group IV, The Ten Largest, No. 3, a painting representing adolescence, with its swirling forms and vibrant colors. The museum also organizes temporary exhibitions, such as Hilma af Klint and the Spiritual in Art (2020), which explores the links between her work and the esoteric movements of her time.

For the most passionate, a visit to the Hilma af Klint Foundation in Stockholm is a must. The foundation, created in 1972, manages the artist’s legacy and organizes guided tours of her studio. Here, you can see the places where she painted her works, the notebooks where she recorded her visions, and even the objects she used during her séances. The foundation also publishes reference works, such as Hilma af Klint: Notes and Methods, which reproduces her notebooks and drawings.

Finally, if you want to deepen your knowledge, several temporary exhibitions are worth the detour. In 2023, the Tate Modern in London organized Hilma af Klint and Piet Mondrian: Forms of Life, an exhibition exploring the links between the two artists. In 2024, the Centre Pompidou-Metz will present Hilma af Klint: The Secret Paintings, a retrospective focusing on her most mysterious works. And if you cannot travel, know that several museums offer virtual tours of their collections, such as the Guggenheim or the Moderna Museet.

But beyond museums, af Klint’s work continues to live on. In books, documentaries, exhibitions, and the collective imagination. Today, as contemporary art seeks to reconnect with the sacred, her approach resonates more than ever. Her paintings, once hidden, have become icons. Icons of an art that comes from elsewhere, an art that seeks to reveal the invisible. And if you listen closely before one of her canvases, perhaps you, too, will hear the voices of the spirits.