This is the third and final instalment of Mountain Man. Parts one and two can be found by scrolling down to previous posts.
The resurrection
View of the mountains from Altherrhaus
Our evening ended with many unanswered questions, which I hoped could be gathered up in the morning. After my long journey, I quickly slipped into a deep sleep under the duck feather duvet. In a half-dream, half-waking state, I was aware of singing filtering through the house. It turned out to be chanting – Nam myoho renge kyo – I had heard it once before at a Soka Gakkai Buddhist wedding ceremony. It had a strangely hypnotic feel. I drifted gently in and out of sleep until I was awoken by the sound of a small chiming bell beckoning breakfast.
Some of the lovely groupings of objects in my bedroom at Altherrhaus
Top small plaster maquette of a car by Eduardo Paolozzi given to Oskar Altherr by the artist in the late 90s
Christian and Oskar were sitting at the kitchen table deep in reminiscence, illuminated by the early morning sun that was filling the beautifully generous room. Freshly made croissants, hot chocolate, muesli and an array of fruits graced the large table. Christian turned to me. “Mike, Oskar would like to know if you would partake in his daily activity?” “Activity?” I asked with some concern. “Yes, he has a wonderful sauna just below there in the wood.” He pointed through the window to a little pathway leading down to a wooded area. “Sauna – er, yes, yes. Sounds, um, lovely,” I said.
What I didn’t know was that it was rather more than just sitting in the warm comfort of a sauna cabin. Directly adjacent to it was a lake covered in ice, except for a small melted area just in front of the cabin. Altherr explained that some years ago, he had rigged up a series of rods that formed a circle. When hooked up to a low-voltage electrical kit, they warmed the water, keeping the circle ice-free and perfect for an exhilarating plunge.
The Sauna by the woods
The idea was that we sweat it out in the hut and then jump into the water. Simple, but I didn’t like the sound of this at all. However, here I was, naked in the heat of the sauna, being told it was my turn to take the plunge.
It took me back to a meeting I’d had with Liam Ó Maonlaí – lead singer of the Irish band Hothouse Flowers. I had been contacted by the group’s manager, who told me that Liam was keen to work with me. A meeting was arranged, bizarrely at the Porchester Turkish baths. A very strange meeting it was too, but I’ll leave that story for another time.
So here I was, as naked as the day I was born, standing above this deep, forbidding water hole. Oskar attached a belt around my waist, which in turn was attached to a sturdy rope. This was in case I got into trouble and slipped under the ice and couldn’t find my way out. Great! I thought. I counted to six (my favourite number) and jumped.
The forbidding looking ice hole
The shock of the temperature was as I imagined a heart attack would feel like: an incredibly sharp stabbing pain cutting right through me. I plunged down into the darkness and immediately thought of the opening scene from Don’t Look Now, where Donald Sutherland attempts to rescue his drowning child from a frozen pond. I exhaled and began to panic. Looking up, I couldn’t see the hole in the ice. The cold was so shocking that I ingested some water. Suddenly, I felt my body being pulled up. It was the safety rope. I surfaced and let out an incredible scream. Oskar and Christian reached down and pulled me out and back into the heat of the sauna. Hanako arrived at the hut on cue with piping hot green tea.
The fabulous studio extension at Altherrhaus in the 80s.
Now dry and with a change of clothes, we were back in the house. Hanako guided us down to the studio. This was an extremely long, sloping building with one side entirely glazed, interrupted by sturdy vertical beams. It was stunningly simple and very beautiful and had been designed by Altherr in collaboration with a group of his students. The space was filled with canvases, collages, posters, photographs, pots and assorted constructions. Further down, there was a wonderful letterpress area with shelves filled with wood and metal type. There was a pottery complete with two large kilns, then an array of musical instruments (including a piano and drums), followed by an assortment of photographic equipment. It was a creative playground. Christian pointed to one of his own design pieces produced over 40 years ago. Apparently, every student had left one piece of work displayed on a special wall: all uncredited, of course.
Top Wood-fired pots produced by the students of Altherrhaus under Hanako's direction. Above Hanako at work at her wheel.
Part of the studio's huge random pinboard with snaps of passed alumni alongside family photos
Top a rarely seen Irving Penn portrait (of one of the students at Altherrhaus) taken in the 1970s when Penn visited Oskar Altherr. Below an abstract from the 1960s by Altherr.
It was stunningly inspirational. I longed to photograph it. While Christian and I wandered around the studio, we began to hatch a plot to create an Altherr book. But I could see that Christian was doubtful. This was confirmed later over coffee when he floated the idea with Oskar. “Absolutely not, Christian. Do you think I have lived to this age to change my philosophy? No, no, of course not”. The subject was dropped. Hanako returned to tell us that there was further snow on the way. And so we reluctantly decided that we should take our leave.
Hanako presented me with a small gift, beautifully wrapped. “Open later,” she said. We left as we had arrived: through a crisp blanket of snow. I looked back from the car to Oskar and Hanako as they waved us goodbye. A deeply wonderful couple and a wonderful life. As we drove away, I had a feeling I would never see them again. Sadly, my intuition was right. Earlier this year, while having one of my livelier evenings at the Groucho Club, I felt my mobile vibrating. It was a text from Christian, asking me to call him. The club has a mobile ban, so I sat in reception to make the call. “Oskar is dead,” he said. “What happened?” I asked. Christian told me that about a week ago, Oskar had taken his morning plunge in the little lake but some of the warming rods were not working. The water was excessively cold and he caught a bad chill. This rapidly developed into pneumonia. The doctor was called, and he suggested a transfer to hospital. Oskar in true fashion said no. But after some persuasion by Hanako, he agreed to go the following day. The next morning, Hanako awoke to feel her hand being held tightly by Oskar. He looked at her, smiled tenderly and said: “Thank you, my love”. That was the last thing he said. A few moments later, he was gone.
“How has she taken it?” I asked. “Like Oskar, she is very philosophical and has her Buddhist faith. I think she will be okay. I am going to see her with some other members of Altherrhaus. We have always kept in touch because we knew that this moment would come.” Hesitant, I suggested the book idea. “Too early, Mike. But it was on my mind too. We’ll see”. “Give her my love and deepest condolences,” I said and hung up.
What was to happen next was a complete shock.
Just under a week later, I received another late-night call from Christian. “I have some devastating news. All of Altherr’s work... all of it has been destroyed”. “What? How?” I cried. He went on to tell me that when he and two other alumni members had arrived at the house, Hanako was down by the lake standing in front of a substantial fire. When he reached her, it became clear that she was burning Oskar’s work. She told them that Oskar had often discussed his death – something that had never troubled him. He saw it as part of a bigger journey. He was very clear: all work had to go with him on his journey. Christian looked into the raging flames and suddenly realised that it wasn’t just Oskar’s work on that fire, but Oskar himself. The four of them held hands and formed a circle. Quietly, they began to chant Nam myoho renge kyo. And then Christian told me that the most extraordinary thing happened. “As the flames died down to an orange glow, we looked out across the frozen lake. There was a mist traversing the lake. As it cleared, momentarily there was a figure hovering just above the ice like a white hologram. It was Oskar with his arms outstretched. We all saw it. We really did. Folds of mist engulfed the figure and then it was gone”.
Oskar Altherr is graphic design’s greatest omission. To my mind, he is the lost godfather of modern graphics. Even sadder is the loss of his entire body of work forever. But one thing’s for sure: he did achieve his life’s ambition. To be anonymous, egoless. How many of us could live that life? I leave you with his inspiring words…
“…my life’s experiment has been to become invisible.”
Top: This wonderful poster from 1952 was on the wall of my bedroom at Altherhaus. Below: From the same period a superbly minimal book cover. Both are uncredited but I believe they were designed by Oskar. But who really knows?
Above Oskar Altherr 1919 - 2010
Postscript: Below - This was inside the small package that Hanako gave me when leaving Altherrhaus.
Stoneware bowl by Hanako
To hear the only recording of Oskar Altherr and a final Postscript click HERE.