The notion that the soul inhabits all things, that a spirit may animate even the inert, is as old as human consciousness itself. Animism, far from being a quaint relic of primitive belief, persists with luminous vitality in the realm of art, where it finds its most profound and enduring expression. From the shadowed contours of prehistoric cave walls to the luminous abstractions of modernity, the artist’s hand has been guided by a singular impulse: to reveal the hidden life of the world. Art, in its purest form, is an invocation—a way of calling forth the sacred from the profane, of imbuing the material with the breath of the immaterial.
Plotinus, the great Neoplatonic thinker, speaks of the soul as the intermediary between the corporeal and the divine, a concept that resonates deeply with animistic art. In The Enneads, he posits that the soul “gives life to all things it touches,” a statement that might describe the artistic process itself. The sculptor sees not mere marble but the vitality within, waiting to be revealed; the painter captures not simply the surface of the world but its ineffable essence. So, too, does William Blake, in his visionary poetry and painting, remind us of the sanctity of perception: “To see a world in a grain of sand / And a heaven in a wild flower” (Auguries of Innocence). This is animism in its most intimate sense—the artist as a seer, revealing the soul that shimmers beneath the surface of creation.
The Romantic poets, particularly Wordsworth and Coleridge, found in nature a living presence, a spirit that infused their verses with luminous vitality. Wordsworth’s Prelude celebrates the “soul of all my moral being” that he perceives in the landscapes of his youth, while Coleridge’s The Rime of the Ancient Mariner renders the ocean itself a sentient, almost vengeful force. These poetic visions parallel the visual arts, where animism finds expression in every age: the symbolic flora of Botticelli, the haunting gaze of Goya’s figures, the frenetic motion of Van Gogh’s stars. Such works insist on the presence of a soul not only in humanity but in the natural and material worlds, a theme that transcends cultural and temporal boundaries.
In the twentieth century, Heidegger reinterprets this animistic impulse in his philosophy of poiesis, the bringing-forth of truth through creation. In The Origin of the Work of Art, he speaks of art as an unveiling of being, a process that grants life to the seemingly lifeless. Abstract art, in particular, echoes this philosophy, with its capacity to evoke emotion and vitality through form, line, and color alone. Wassily Kandinsky, in Concerning the Spiritual in Art, writes of “inner resonance,” the soul’s vibration in response to the artist’s touch. His synesthetic use of color becomes a kind of animism, where hues themselves seem to pulse with life.
Art history reveals that animism, far from being relegated to the mystical or primitive, remains central to modern aesthetics. In the works of Louise Bourgeois, for example, her sculptures evoke a visceral sense of organic life, blending human and architectural forms. Similarly, the digital installations of artists like Refik Anadol transform code into environments that feel startlingly alive. These innovations echo the enduring animistic drive: the quest to give shape to the ineffable, to perceive and manifest the soul within all things.
Bibliography
Blake, William. Auguries of Innocence. London: Tate Publishing, 1803.
Heidegger, Martin. The Origin of the Work of Art. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1935.
Kandinsky, Wassily. Concerning the Spiritual in Art. New York: Dover Publications, 1911.
Plotinus. The Enneads. Translated by Stephen MacKenna. London: Penguin Classics, 1991.
Wordsworth, William. The Prelude. London: Edward Moxon, 1850.
Coleridge, Samuel Taylor. The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. London: Penguin Books, 1798.
Gombrich, E. H. The Story of Art. New York: Phaidon, 1950.
