Approximately $55  US Dollars

On Contemporary Visionary Art: Origins, Meaning, and Movement

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Visionary Art is not a new phenomenon. Throughout history, certain painters have woven a tapestry of the visionary into the broader story of art. A complete account of the global visionary tradition could fill volumes, and many have attempted to define it—often with a brush too broad.

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To me, a truly visionary work is what I call creatuitive: a synthesis of heightened creativity and acute intuition. It is a form of in-sight—a vision emerging from the contemplative eye, the seat of spiritual imagination. Visionary Art transcends, yet includes, the physical world. It presents an expanded awareness, often rooted in ecstatic or mystical states accessible through the rich, subjective realms of the individual. What unites visionary artists is their intensely personal and often unconventional psychic imagination. Their gift lies in rendering—"in minute particulars," as Blake put it—the infinite spectrum of consciousness and spirit, from shadow to light.

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The term Visionary Art was first coined in 1933 by Carl Gustav Jung in Modern Man in Search of a Soul. He described it as a revelation, a vision of beauty or profundity that defies verbal expression, arising not from surface psychology but from the deep archetypal reservoirs of the collective unconscious and the transcendent. Visionary works can be astonishing, disorienting, disturbing—or utterly sublime. While often misunderstood as necessarily religious, visionary art need not be tied to any doctrine. I’ve seen profound works born from atheists and agnostics alike, those who self-identify as “spiritual but not religious.” These artists access visionary states through meditation, mysticism, entheogens, dreams, or altered states of consciousness, detached from the dogmas of institutional religion.

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Historically, before the 20th century, the terms religious and spiritual were nearly synonymous. But with the rise of science, modern biblical scholarship, and cultural relativism, a shift occurred. Faith increasingly moved inward—into the private domain of experience, contemplation, and mysticism—while the religious became associated with public institutions, rituals, and creeds. Visionary Art reflects this movement: the exploration of personal experience, inwardness, and universal archetypes over doctrinal narrative.

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As a modern movement, 20th-century Visionary Art traces its lineage from Metaphysical Art and Surrealism through the Vienna School of Fantastic Realism. The artists emerging from this lineage—those who studied directly with Ernst Fuchs or were inspired by him—developed wildly diverse styles and visions. In New York, the seeds of the contemporary Visionary Art movement took root over 45 years ago, led by a small tribe of dedicated artists such as Mati Klarwein, Brigid Marlin, De Es Schwertberger, myself, and others including Robert Venosa, Martina Hoffmann, H.R. Giger, Alex Grey, and Jose Arguelles. Most of us had studied with Fuchs between 1964 and 1974, and though scattered geographically, we shared a core impulse: to express the ineffable, the numinous, and the inner worlds of transformation.

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Brigid Marlin founded a group in England focused on imaginal painting, while artists on the West Coast like Gage Taylor, Mark Henson, Cliff McReynolds, and Bill Martin explored cosmic forces, nature, and psychedelic states. Though separated by distance and aesthetics, we were bound by a shared drive to reveal hidden realms. In the pre-internet world, discoveries of kindred spirits—like Johfra in Holland or Fabrizio Clerici in Italy—were rare, treasured moments that reassured us we were not alone in our visions.

 

Today, the landscape has dramatically expanded. There are now thousands of artists around the world who identify as visionary, many influenced by figures such as Alex Grey, Android Jones, and the late Robert Venosa. The festival circuit has become a major platform for this art, where “live painting” and sacred commerce have replaced the Happenings and countercultural gatherings of the 60s and 70s. Yet, while the seeds have grown into a global movement, I often pause to reflect: Where is this current headed? What is its true intention—and whom does it serve?

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Since the early 1970s, we have struggled with labels. “Visionary” has always carried a certain weight—perhaps even a touch of arrogance. We experimented with terms like transformative, transcendental, psi art, and integral art. Bruce Rimmel aptly remarked: “Visionary is an honorific—one you should never give yourself.” I agree. For me, it's not a label, but a responsibility.

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