A few months ago, my wife shared with me an interesting article about the discovery of a long-lost painting by the vorticist artist Helen Saunders, which has been found beneath the surface of another painting
I didn’t know much about Vorticism prior to this article; however, upon doing a quick Google image search, I found the aesthetics of this movement instantly familiar.
While Vorticism has well-documented influences from Cubism and Futurism, that’s not where my mind kept going.
1915, Helen Saunders, Atlantic City
Where else had I seen this before? Angular edges, heavy diagonals, jagged lines… I soon realized it reminded me of the visuals in "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari," the iconic 1920 German Expressionist film.
Mind you, I had no knowledge of any historical connections between British Vorticism and German Expressionism, I simply noticed some aesthetic similarities.
A bit of research revealed that despite their distinct differences (German Expressionism portraying a foreboding worldview, Vorticism a fascination with the machine age), they did share certain broader influences from having coexisted in the same era, and perhaps that’s what I saw. I considered the case closed at that point.
Yet, something kept bugging me… Why did Vorticism still evoke such a sense of familiarity? My “aha!” moment came instants later when I remembered a series of drawings that my father Roberto Pignataro had made in art school in 1961.
These drawings were part of a study on light and shape relationships. At the time, I hadn't given much thought to their significance since they were just art school assignments. Now, I see them in an entirely different light.
What fascinated me was how the aesthetics my father employed in this series resonated so well with both the disparate kinetics of Vorticism and the cartoonish ominousness of "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari."
How did this blend come about?
It's possible that stylistic influence played a role, or it could simply be a matter of mere coincidence. However, what truly piqued my interest was not so much how he arrived at this style, but rather the broader question it raised in my head: What motivates artists from diverse historical periods and geographic locations to gravitate towards similar aesthetics? Is it truly the product of purely arbitrary choices or does an underlying connection exist that somehow guides them towards shared creative mindsets?
I believe a compelling case for the latter can be made if we examined Roberto Pignataro’s drawings from a historical perspective. Allow me to elaborate.
As I have learned, Vorticism represents “a critique of the rapid industrialization and urbanization of early 20th-century Britain”, while The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari “portrays a chaotic and oppressive society, mirroring the destabilized political climate and the sense of unease following World War I”.
Oddly enough, comparable sociopolitical contexts existed simultaneously in Argentina at the time my father made these drawings. For instance:
1) In 1960, Argentina was still reaping benefits from significant post-World War II industrial developments, with the middle class experiencing unprecedented expansion, urban life undergoing modernization, and arts and culture flourishing like never before.
Night street view of 1960s Buenos Aires
Here, perhaps a parallel with Vorticism could be drawn, with the nexus being the use of dynamic geometry and high contrast to portray elements of industrial and urban life.
2) On the other hand, Argentina had been grappling with the consequences of a deep-rooted authoritarian mindset in the ruling spheres, resulting in recurring military coups, cyclical political violence, and social unrest. The economy was also showing signs of imbalance, with mounting inflation, a growing fiscal deficit, and a reliance on foreign borrowing.
1955 Coup d'état attempt by Argentine Navy, bombing of downtown Buenos Aires.
Here, perhaps a parallel with The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari could be drawn; with the nexus being the use of pronounced dark shadows to symbolize the political somberness of this time, and the distorted shapes and twisted geometry representing sentiments of angst and anxiety.
In my view, this peculiar juxtaposition of industrial progress and political strife that unfolded in the latter part of mid-century Argentina created a plausible scenario in which Pignataro’s drawings could have channeled the same creative impulses that inspired Vorticism and German Expressionism, this time to signify the malfunctioning of the machine—the ultimate symbol of industrialized societies—and to convey a foreboding sense of its impending collapse.
