The body is undressed to nature in twisting open, arms stretched in companionship with the sun and wind of the heavens. If one were speaking in Danish about treatment plans of the sanatoriums, one might refer to the activity of promoting «fresh air», the cure for tuberculosis, as a fidus. It is a term for a smart or cunning activity, managed by a trickster. It can also be used to describe a person or small object, that one finds difficult to characterise, or who one does simply not remember or know the name of. «Fiduskunst» is a whole art-form in itself, but one which has cheated. I found it listed in a biography of Hugo Reinhold Karl Johann Höppener among the artist’s own personal vocabulary. Fidus was his moniker, and as such he had been an active visual and verbal agent of the movement, which grew into being named the «Lebensreform». This was a complex orientation, very concerned with health. He would paint and illustrate simultaneously of naive-like awakening as dramatic / vulgar surrender. There is a certain force depicted in these drawings. The Germans called it the od; the Hindus the prana. It is an all-pervasive life force, which is said to depart from the sun and enter the body through the breath. Later this, as a visual orientation, would be characterised as the Jugendstil, perhaps Art Nouveau or more holistically as Vitalism.
In the beginning, Fidus’ face could have depicted a young fairy creature from the forest. Long stroked-back hair framed unusually rounded eyes, which turned stiffened and needled as the moral codex of the reform would spiral away from the sun, and into tunnels of facist sympathies. How would this newly freed body, mind and sexuality transmit to such purification propaganda? In the drawings of Fidus there are rune-style lettering that tangle with Nordic mythology’s symbolism. Here, myth meets nature whose conflicting elements distill to one iconic gesture; the naked body facing the sun, arms open, reaching up and out to either side. Just like plants grow and strut towards the sun, this human could appear as a joyful child celebrating its vital source. The repeating image of the body posture with arms raised high starts to operate like a brand. Both right and left arm are part of this fundament, as the movements of actual body can turn into a political movement. The raised arms could appear as a surrendering sacrifice, yet there is a switch in this encounter with the harnessing of primordial power, visible in the eventual turning of hand palms. When distributing power, see how open palms facing upwards appear to be receiving this power, and the downward facing to be applying it. Notice also how a political movement draws right and left. By the 1930s the left of the two arms reaching for the sun, is left out and hidden on the back, as the right hand, palm down, still raised, becoming now, a Heil. Fidus attempted to contact Hitler himself by sending his painted portraits, only to receive dismissal and censorship in return. The Bohemian lifestyle of nature cuddles had «no place in the Nazi party». Yet, what seemed key to the branding strategy was to take what was already there, what was already connected to a life force, and turn it into its own opposite: the swastika from Sanskrit left turn to right, or the all-pervasive appearance of green to red. Later on, the next generation of hippies in the 1960s would attempt to reclaim this swap by building an entire spiritual guide and visual expression from the aesthetics of Fidus. In particular the floral typography known from rock music posters, and the hairband tied around the forehead of long uncombed hair would be in popular fashion. Were they familiar with the fate of Fidus? The motto of Walter Benjamin «every failed ideology is a rise to fascism» fits like the hand in a black leather glove.
In Germany, it is said that the only surefire magazine covers are the ones that feature Hitler or sex. Whatever the formula, Hitler and Nazism prop up the publishing business with hundreds of new titles appearing each year. On the store shelves, they stare out at you by the dozens, barking in Gothic types in titles such as «I was Hitlers Pilot», «I Was Hitler’s Chauffeur», «I Was Hitler’s Doctor», «Hitler, My Neighbour», «Hitler Was My Friend», and «Hitler Is No Fool». Books have been written about Hitler’s youth, his years in Vienna and Munich, his service in the First World War, his assumption of power, his library, his friends in art, his love of films, his relations with women, and his predilections in interior design («Hitler at Home»). A sharp portrait of the young Hitler can be found in Thomas Mann’s essay «Bruder Hitler», the English version of which appeared in Esquire in 1939, under the title «That Man Is My Brother». Aligning Hitler’s experience with his own, Mann wrote of a «basic arrogance, the basic feeling of being too good for any reasonable, honourable activity – based on what? A vague notion of being reserved for something else, something quite indeterminate, which, if it were named, would cause people to break out laughing».