LETTERS FROM ABROAD
“Your pictures, which I saw in your room in London and some reproductions of your pictures which appeared in some Art Journal, profoundly moved me, They made me realise one thing which is obvious and yet which one needs to discover for oneself over and over again; it is that Truth is infinite. When I tried to find words to describe to myself what were the ideas which your pictures suggested, I failed. It was because the language of words can only express a particular aspect of truth, and the language of pictures finds its domain in truth where words have no access. Each art achieves its perfection when it opens for our mind the special gate of the infinite, whose key is in its exclusive possession. When a picture is great, we should not be able to say what it is, yet we should see it and know. It is the same with music. When one art can fully be explained by another, then it is a failure, Your pictures are distinct and yet are not definable by words, Your art is jealous of its independence, because it is great.”
PARIS, October 12, 1920.
Thad not even a distant idea before I came to the Continent what a welcome had been waiting for me in Europe. I see more clearly every day what is asked of me and what is the meaning of my Santiniketan. The West and the East are to meet in the coming age, and there must be seats made
