On Contemporary Visionary Art: Origins, Meaning, and Movement

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Visionary Art is not a new phenomenon. Throughout history, certain artists have woven visionary threads into the broader tapestry of art. A full account of the global visionary tradition could fill volumes—and many have attempted such definitions, often painting with too broad a brush.

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To me, a truly visionary work is what I call creatuitive: a fusion of heightened creativity and acute intuition. It is a form of in-sight—a vision arising from the contemplative eye, the seat of spiritual imagination. Visionary Art transcends, yet includes, the physical world. It reveals an expanded awareness, often rooted in ecstatic or mystical states accessed through the deep, 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 said—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 resists verbal expression, emerging not from surface psychology but from the deep archetypal reservoirs of the collective unconscious and the transcendent. Visionary works can astonish, disorient, disturb—or utterly uplift. Often misunderstood as inherently religious, visionary art is not bound to doctrine. I’ve witnessed profound works created by atheists and agnostics—those who describe themselves as “spiritual but not religious.” These artists access visionary states through meditation, mysticism, dreams, entheogens, or other altered states of consciousness, untethered from institutional religion.

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Historically, before the 20th century, the terms religious and spiritual were nearly interchangeable. But with the rise of science, modern biblical scholarship, and cultural relativism, a shift occurred. Faith increasingly moved inward—into the private domains of experience, contemplation, and mysticism—while religion became more associated with public institutions, rituals, and creeds. Visionary Art reflects this shift: favoring personal insight, interior exploration, and universal archetypes over dogmatic narratives.

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—many of whom studied directly with Ernst Fuchs—developed wildly diverse styles and visions. In New York, the seeds of the contemporary Visionary Art movement took root over 45 years ago, nurtured by a small tribe of dedicated artists: 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 studied with Fuchs between 1964 and 1974, and though we were geographically scattered, we shared a common 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 on the West Coast, artists like Gage Taylor, Mark Henson, Cliff McReynolds, and Bill Martin explored cosmic forces, natural mysticism, and psychedelic states. Though separated by geography and style, we were united by a shared drive to reveal hidden realms. In the pre-internet era, discovering kindred spirits—like Johfra in Holland or Fabrizio Clerici in Italy—were rare, cherished moments that reminded us we were not alone in our visions.

Today, the landscape has grown exponentially. Thousands of artists worldwide now identify as visionary, many influenced by figures such as Alex Grey, Android Jones, and the late Robert Venosa. The festival circuit has become a primary platform for this art, where live painting and sacred commerce have replaced the Happenings and the free-admission countercultural gatherings of the ’60s and ’70s. Yet as the seeds grow 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 wrestled with labels. Visionary has always carried a certain gravitas—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. To me, it’s not a label—it’s a responsibility.