With his actions, Günter Brus created iconic images that have entered the collective visual memory. The slender body, painted white and divided lengthwise by a black line, walking from Heldenplatz towards Stephansplatz in ‘Wiener Spaziergang’ (Vienna Walk), only to be stopped by a policeman after a short time, stands as a paradigm of society in post-war Austria. The jerky line symbolises the injury, the cut, the wound, the split, the breaking open of the self. Whenever Austria commemorates 1968, the year of change, Günter Brus cannot be ignored. The so-called Uni-Aktion (university action) is Austria’s single relevant contribution to the worldwide protests of that year. The fact that it took an artistic rather than political turn reflects on Austrian society just as much as the nature of the protest. Decades later, the Austrian author Peter Turrini congratulated him on this ‘great human and artistic achievement’. ‘It was the most beautiful thing you could do.’
Günter Brus was born on September 27, 1938 in Ardning in Styria, one of five children. His father Alois ran a moderately successful general store, his mother Anna was a housewife. Brus spent his childhood first in Mureck and then in Gießenberg near Stainz. The boy developed a keen interest in art, music and literature at an early age. An acquaintance of the family, recognising the boy’s talent for drawing, convinced his parents to enable him to receive instruction in art. From 1953, he attended the class for commercial art at the School of Arts and Crafts in Graz. After moving to Vienna, he first attended Paul Kurt Schwarz’s class for commercial art, then Eduard Bäumer’s painting class, though he quit both courses. Together with Alfons Schilling, he travelled to Mallorca, where he encountered abstract expressionism and created his first informal paintings.
The explosive energy of Art Informel opened up a new avenue for him to break away from the rigid conventions and narrow confines of panel painting. Movement in space and acting with the body during the painting process were what came to matter. A decisive shift in emphasis occurred from the finished object to the ephemeral event. In November 1964, he realised his first action, which he called ‘Ana’ after his wife’s Croatian name.
While in Art Informel the body is extinguished as figuration in order to find its way back onto the canvas as a sensual, dynamic trace of the painter in the act of painting, in actions such as ‘Selbstbemalung’ (Self-Painting), the body and painting, painter and painted object merge into one. The artist’s white head set against a white background is divided by a black line and confronted with sharp objects such as knives, razor blades, swords, axes and scissors. These symbolise human vulnerability and unconscious fears.
Throughout 1967, Brus developed his concept of ‘body analyses’, in which he took as his theme elementary existential experiences. Brus dispensed with any artistic material, working exclusively with his body and its functions: ‘My body is the intention, my body is the event, my body is the result. On June 7, 1968, he carried out one of his ‘body analyses’ in Lecture Hall 1 at Vienna University as part of the ‘Art and Revolution’ event. A scandal is the result, with Brus charged and sentenced to the maximum penalty of six months ‘strict confinement’. ‘Vilification of Austrian symbols’ and ‘violation of morality and modesty’ were the reasons given. Brus fled to West Berlin, where he spent the next ten years. His work meanwhile underwent a decisive change: the actionist became the picture-poet. In 1979, for the sake of his daughter Diana, he and his family returned to Styria, where he has lived outside of Graz ever since.
When Günter Brus is spoken of, he is usually labelled a ‘Viennese Actionist’. Yet the once most reviled Austrian only carried out actions for seven years, yet drew continuously for 60 years. In 1970s Berlin, he succeeded in expanding the medium of drawing by merging visual art and literature. In this way, he also overcame his doubts about the possibilities offered by the two-dimensional image. He founded the genre of ‘pictorial poetry’. This is characterised by a synthesis of language and image, in which the two forms of expression, rather than being mutually dependent, instead lead to a form of dialectical and contrapuntal coexistence and cooperation. In obsessive and intense work sessions, he produced comprehensive image-text cycles in which he also engaged with composers, writers and artists he held in high regard. Those he was invited to design costumes and stage sets for included Gerhard Roth, Fritz von Herzmanovsky-Orlando, Leoš Janáček and Arnold Schönberg. Although he received international recognition and numerous exhibitions from the early 1980s onwards, he always remained grounded.
He was as likely to turn down requests for professorships with thanks, as he was participation in this or that major international exhibition, if the concept or focus did not suit him. He always remained true to his stance, never buckling for anyone or anything. That he was never invited to the Austrian pavilion at the Venice Biennale was something he shrugged off, fully aware as he was of how Austrian art policy works. However, the award of the Grand Austrian State Prize in 1996 gave him a certain satisfaction. From then on, the honours and retrospectives piled up, resulting in a certain irony: while his cabinet was full of medals, his drawing pad lay empty from a certain point on. After around 40,000 drawings, a measure of creative emptiness had set in.
In 2008, the BRUSEUM in Graz dedicated its own museum to him. This institution has been dedicated to researching, preserving and communicating his work ever since. What we do not find in the numerous publications on his oeuvre, however, is the private side of the artist. Brus was a true family man. In his wife Anna, by his side since 1961, he, a shy and insecure man, found protection from the vicissitudes of life. Not only was she his lover and manager, but also his closest confidante, his essential support – and his most important critic. For his daughter Diana he invented his own fairy tales, riddles and games; the two of them developed their own private language over the years, too.
With the death of Günter Brus, not only the last of the Viennese Actionists leaves us, also a great Austrian artist. His fearless uncompromisingness, clear and non-negotiable attitude and essential radicalism have produced an outstanding and exemplary body of work. He will be sorely missed.