By Lucia Billing
Born in Sala in northern Sweden, the writer, mystic, and painter Ivan Aguéli emerged as a peculiar figure for his repeated changes in identity — he can most succinctly be described as both inwardly and outwardly nomadic. Growing up, Aguéli was informed by the writings of Emmanuel Swedenborg—a relative of his. After completing his studies, Aguéli (at the time Agelii) moved to Paris to pursue painting, a voyage also fuelled by his fascination with French radicalism. He would subsequently be tried in the procès des Trente — a series of trials enacted as a result of the “lois scélérates”—a wave of laws against anarchist movements passed by the Third Republic. Being characterised by Mark Sedgewick as having a tripartite personhood – anarchist, artist, Sufi –, Aguéli’s ultimate facet emerged as he ventured to Cairo in order to study at Al-Azhar University. There he fully came to face with Islam, quickly becoming an ardent defender of the religion against colonial intervention and religious degradation (Aguéli is known to have coined the term “Islamophobia”).
The principles behind Aguéli’s writings are brought forth by the Sufi mystic Ibn Arabi, who outlined the concept of “ وحدة الوجود” (Wahdat ul-Wujud), meaning “oneness of being”. It is the proposition of the completeness of God, and subsequently, the absence of anything beyond said God. Pantheism – as it is called – is a worldview which is incompatible with Christianity, as the existence of a personal God negates the possibility for its completeness. In regards to Judaism, pantheism remains more contentious—Tzvi Ashkenazi held a relatively pantheistic conviction, while still being overly sceptic of such hermeneutical doctrine. The Judeo-Christian attitude towards pantheism is shaped by their view of God being refracted in the universe, rather than the universe being nothing more than God.
This oneness, the theory of the world being driven by a singularity, was taken up by a peer of Aguéli, whom he met in Paris when writing the Sufi journal Al Akbariyya: René Guénon. This encounter would cause Guénon to take up the principle of pantheism and transpose it to his philosophical worldview of Traditionalism. The formation of that school of thought might be the most significant work of Aguéli’s life—an extremely unfortunate fact. Guénon subverted the Sufi doctrine in order to align it with Western cultural heritage. His work The Crisis of the Modern World follows such theories of a greater singular truth being at the core of all, including the historical narrative. Unsurprisingly, the forthcoming members of the Traditionalist school include the likes of Oswald Spengler, Julius Evola, and Savitri Devi. For such a tradition so irredeemably associated with Eurocentric conspiracy, which consistently casts degrading judgement on the Orient (Islam in particular), its origin being born out of a fascination as well as assimilation into Muslim life, exposes the shallow murkiness of its current adherents.
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A characteristically modernist painter, Aguéli is framed as a precursor to the larger Swedish modernist current. Having interacted with the likes of Anders Zorn and Richard Bergh, his emergence signalled a continuity in the tradition of great Scandinavian artists, yet also highlighting a shift towards Oriental and Modernist tendencies of the writer. In fact, if we align Zorn with Aguéli, a continental shift can be found. The former had – even if he often depicted Swedish scenes – a great interest in America. Some of Zorn’s most notable works include his portraits of US presidents—including Theodore Roosevelt and William Howard Taft. Zorn’s connection to the US, deeply rooted in his appreciation of his style of portraiture, no doubt stems from a love for a similar American artist: John Singer Sargent.
Nevertheless, this cultural focus accompanied by The Gilded Age was increasingly dissipating. The emerging front for European artists and intellectuals was shifting towards the Middle East. Such an interest in part emerged from the fascination with new frontiers, as the US and Sweden had formed quite strong relations after the great wave of Swedish migration to the US in the late 19th and early 20th century. However, it can also be said that it stemmed from a desire to escape and reform the ascetic Protestantism that Swedish culture had been built on.
Being a country which had for most of its history been deeply poor and rural, Swedish cultural and social codes were characterised by self-sufficiency in small, isolated communities. Thus, the emergence of urban centres formed a discordance between such norms and the necessities and functions of urban life. It also required an exploration of alternative lifestyle doctrines, including religious ones. Such a change was gradual, as before converting to Islam Aguéli cites Swedish inventor and mystic Emmanuel Swedenborg as an idol of his for having freed him from the grips of Protestantism.
Aguéli’s works as a painter revolve around that same unity and uniqueness of the world. His modernist view was one of singularity rather than difference. With his subjects consisting mainly of landscapes, he suggests a transcendent presence by way of a harmonious composition strengthened by the flatness of light. While his religious conviction suggests that light (God) is all, it is through such manifestations of brightness that God’s singularity is expressed in Aguéli’s work. The Christian iconographs include the halo – that symbol of brightness – to suggest Godliness. While Aguéli highlights the profusion of that quality by means of weak contrasts, and an often flat painting.
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Aguéli’s legacy is not widely regarded as being as problematic as one might suggest it to be. While he was largely unknown and dismissed for a time in Sweden due to his faith and mysticism, Aguéli has recently become regarded as one of the greatest Swedish modernist painters. Islamic faith is largely destigmatised in Europe, as the Orient has shifted from a place of study to a milieu in which Europe continuously exchanges with. The claim of the destigmatisation of Islam is of course quite weak, at least currently—it is deeply unfortunate that Islamophobia (the Aguéli-an creation) subsists. Still, it is fairly arguable to state that the West has had a (albeit slight) shift towards its relationship with Islam and those of Muslim faith.
However, as Sweden has become more comfortable with the religious faith of the painter, his emergence in the cultural ethos has not engendered the conversations about his role in the development of the Traditionalist school. Rather than the continuous ‘purgings’ which some countries seem to partake in regarding their histories, Sweden repeatedly chooses a stifled and discrete silence. Such behaviour can only be rooted back to that social convention that Aguéli felt trapped by. In order to recognise that multiplicity and cultural transcendence that Aguéli managed to integrate into his life (his name was at first Swedish, then French, then Arabic), that society in which he was born into needs to solve its festering discordance.