BITTER WINTER

Josef Váchal, Theosophy, and the Portmoneum

by | Jun 22, 2024 | Featured Global

The rediscovery of a Czech Theosophical artist who decorated an extraordinary esoteric home for a friend and produced iconic woodcuts and paintings.

by Massimo Introvigne

Josef Váchal at the Portmoneum. From X.
Josef Váchal at the Portmoneum. From X.

The rediscovery of artists who were involved with Theosophy and a variety of esoteric movements has generated a growing interest for Josef Váchal (1884–1969) as well, in the Czech Republic and beyond. I came across Váchal as part of a broader study of Theosophy, Anthroposophy, and the visual arts in the Czech Republic, and visiting the Portmoneum in 2016 was a memorable and truly unique experience.

Josef Váchal was the illegitimate son of sportsman Josef Aleš-Lyžec (1862–1927), one of the pioneers of modern skiing. His father introduced Váchal to Theosophy, and Josef joined the Theosophical Society at age 19 in 1903. Born in Milavče, in the region of Pilsen, Váchal was raised by his grandparents in Písek. His father, however, decided to support his study of bookbinding in Prague and put him in touch with his cousin, the celebrated academic painter Mikoláš Aleš (1852–1913). Váchal emerged as a talented young artist, although he was more interested in German Expressionism than in Aleš’ academic style.

Váchal participated in the gatherings in Prague in the studio of Theosophist and sculptor Ladislav Jan Šaloun (1870–1946), himself an artist with significant esoteric interests and the organizer of Spiritualist séances. Because of his participation in Šaloun’s occult experiments, Váchal started experiencing nocturnal sightings and hearings of beings with misty bodies and feelings of horrible fear. As he later reported, only “when I began to occupy myself with Spiritualism and even with the devil, my fear ceased.” Váchal kept attending Spiritualist séances for years, and the theme never really disappeared from his work.

Josef Váchal, “Spiritualist Séance,” 1904–6.
Josef Váchal, “Spiritualist Séance,” 1904–6.

Beyond Spiritualism, the Prague Theosophical Lodge introduced Váchal to a larger tradition of Western and Eastern esotericism. In his 1913 book “Mystics and Visionaries,” he paid homage to the leading figures of Western esotericism, including Jakob Böhme (1575–1624). For seventeen years, from 1903 to 1920, Váchal annotated the Czech edition of Madame Helena Blavatsky’s (1831–1891) book “Foundation of Indian Mysticism” (1898) with comments and fantastic drawings, evidencing his demonological interests. Váchal’s reading of Kabbalah, a recurring theme in his art, was also influenced by Blavatsky.

Váchal’s drawings and notes in his copy of Blavatsky’s “Foundation of Indian Mysticism.”
Váchal’s drawings and notes in his copy of Blavatsky’s “Foundation of Indian Mysticism.”

In 1912, as several other artists did in these years, Váchal produced his own set of divination cards, a variation of the Tarot. Váchal was in touch with the leading exponent of Czech symbolism, František Bilek (1872–1941). Primarily a sculptor (and famous for his “Monument to Comenius,” 1926), Bilek was not a member of the Theosophical Society but was familiar with its literature. Together with Jan Konupek (1883-1950) and others, Váchal founded in Prague in 1910 the Sursum group, devoted to spiritual and occult art and often referred to as the second wave of Czech Symbolism.

Some of Váchal’s divination cards.
Some of Váchal’s divination cards.

Váchal was also influenced by Polish novelist Stanisław Przybyszewski (1868–1927), regarded by Swedish scholar Per Faxneld as the author who “formulated what is likely the first attempt ever to construct a more or less systematic Satanism.” Satanic themes are a constant in Váchal’s work, although serious esoteric allusions often co-exist with the artist’s signature humor.

Disturbing satanic, as well as Theosophical and Christian, images were painted by Váchal between 1920 and 1924 in the extraordinary murals in the home of collector Josef Portman (1893–1968), in the Czech city of Litomyšl, where he worked while he was writing his “Blood Novel,” a book including allusions to the home. The Portmoneum is reminiscent of Aleister Crowley’s (1875–1947) Abbey of Thelema in Cefalù, Sicily, but luckily, unlike the Sicilian residence of the British magus, it has been saved from the disrepair into which it felt in Communist times and reopened as a museum in 1993.

Decorations of the Portmoneum. Photos by Massimo Introvigne.
Decorations of the Portmoneum. Photos by Massimo Introvigne.

Visiting the Portmoneum, as I did in the Spring of 2016, is like entering a fairy tale, but demons as well as angels lurk in the shadow and there is no guarantee of a happy end. By the time he decorated the Portmoneum, Váchal had become critical of certain secret societies, and one of the murals alludes to the dangers and shortcomings of some of them. Facing the previous mural, another image celebrates the Theosophical unity of all great religions, a pacifying theme overcoming the dangers of the occult.

The dangers of occult societies (left) and the pacifying unity of religions (right) at the Portmoneum. Photos by Massimo Introvigne.
The dangers of occult societies (left) and the pacifying unity of religions (right) at the Portmoneum. Photos by Massimo Introvigne.

In 1926, Váchal self-published only seventeen copies of a richly illustrated edition of “Hymn to Satan,” by the Italian poet Giosuè Carducci (1835–1907). The poem was in fact a hymn to rationalism, but Váchal interpreted Carducci’s Satan through the lenses of Blavatsky’s comments on Lucifer. The book is currently a collector’s item, commanding high prices in international auctions.

Váchal’s illustrations for Carducci’s “Hymn to Satan.”
Váchal’s illustrations for Carducci’s “Hymn to Satan.”

Váchal experimented also with sculpture but was mostly famous for his prints and ex libris woodcuts. During the Communist years, he lived in obscurity and was isolated by the regime, although after the Prague Spring of 1968 he received the medal of “Meritorious Artist” shortly before his death in 1969.

An iconic image from the Portmoneum.
An iconic image from the Portmoneum.

And meritorious, in his own way, he was. Although we can regard some of his artistic experiments as bizarre, he powerfully contributed to the spread of a spiritualist art in what was then Czechoslovakia.

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