I discovered a kindred spirit today at the Museum of Modern Art in Delhi. I overheard a tour leader discussing some art that I was quite drawn too. He said that Rabindranath Tagore didn’t start painting until he was 67 and had no training. He created work that was in his heart and not what was in front of him. I purchased the catalogue and have spent my time at the airport learning about him. He won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1913.
When I was young I thought about how limiting words were for expressing oneself and thought it could be much more effective to use imagery instead. This new language would not be limited by the intellect.
“A large part of man can never find its expression in the mere language of words. It must, therefore, seek for its expression other languages – lines and colours, sounds and movements. Through our mastery of these we not only make our whole nature articulate but also understand man in all his attempts to reveal his innermost being in every age and clime —It is the duty of every human being to master, at least to some extent, not only the language of the intellect, but also the language of the personality which is the language of Art.” Tagore