Rabindranath's Paintings

India recognised the genius of Tagore, as a poet, only after Europe put its seal of approval on his poetry; and now that Europe and America, through their connoisseurs and critics, acclaim him as a painter of great distinction and rare merit, India is slowly beginning to acknowledge his gifts in that direction. When news first reached India that Tagore was holding an exhibition of his works in one of the leading salons in Paris and that artists and art-critics were applauding his art, and when further it was told that art galleries in Europe and the States were purchasing his pictures at fabulous prices, many wondered and thought it a huge joke. But, as it proved later, Tagore held his exhibitions not only in Paris but in other leading art-centres in England, Germany, and New York, and some of the foremost National Art Galleries in those countries vied with one another in possessing his paintings, and his success as a painter was one of the biggest surprises in the art history of modern times.

But when he recently held an exhibition in the city of Bombay, his pictures literally puzzled and mystified the Indian public. One noticed worried looks in the eyes of visitors, and heard all sorts of amusing comments. ‘You call this art?’, snapped an outraged society lady, herself a widely traveled woman and a writer, but of nervous temperament. ‘We don’t understand these pictures, frankly we don’t, observed many well-meaning friends and admirers of Tagore and his poetry. ‘This art is beyond us’, confessed a young girl artist, and added cynically, ‘One must be born, I suppose, in Bengal to appreciate it.’ Here and there one met a person who showed interest in the pictures and discovered some artistic merits in them. If Tagore’s paintings do not arouse any enthusiasm or admiration for his art, they at least set people thinking about newer modes of artistic expression than one is generally used to.

Tagore’s works are not to be judged by the ordinary accepted academic standards, for the simple reason that they are not painted after any accepted style, school or tradition. No rules of the art are applicable to them. They are just creations of playful moods and unfettered joy, and so they share the nature and significance of all original impulses. Laws and rules do not give birth to art; art creates its own idioms and expressions. Thus there is really no criterion by which original creative efforts like those of Tagore’s could be judged. They must be appraised on their own intrinsic worth, their inner vital quality.

Tagore was not trained in any academic school. He never studied the art of painting under any master, nor does he consciously copy or follow any style or technique. The creative urge in him plays with lines and colours which take definite shape and design under the spell of his genius. He never strives after any perfection of form or idea but just lets his fancy or imagination create figures or portraits, scenes or symbols, effortlessly and without prejudice. They are like the play-creations of a child, simple, spontaneous and beautiful.

Some are crude and unfinished; some are delightfully drawn with an eye for precision of line, balance and composition. Whatever may be their aesthetical merits, there is no doubt that everyone of them is intensely alive with a dynamic vitality, like a piece of sculpture. There is grace, beauty, movement and suppleness in every line and curve that he draws. His art is really an inspired art; and there is freshness and originality in all his single figure studies and group compositions. The poetic and lyrical nature of his pictures are obvious. As he says himself: ‘My pictures are my versification in lines. If by chance they are entitled to claim recognition, it must be primarily for some rhythmic significance of form which is ultimate, and not for any interpretation of an idea or representation of a fact.’ Even the most un-finished picture of his has this rhythmic significance of form,’ and it is this that makes his art so interesting.

Tagore seldom bothers himself with the regular paraphernalia of an artist: studio, easels, palette, brushes, pigments, canvases, glues and the rest. He paints as he likes and on all kinds of papers, white or coloured, rough or smooth, big or small, even on bits of newspapers. Some of his striking pictures were done with the aid of a simple fountain-pen or piece of cloth or his own thumb and fingers. His portrait studies executed in this style are exceedingly clever. His landscape sketches have a distinct atmosphere, and he now and then paints them in colours, He has a partiality for ordinary liquid colours and it is amazing the rich colourful effects he gets out of them. His decorative designs are genuinely original and some of them ultra-modern and very intriguing.

He has indeed become a prolific painter. He has done several thousands within the last four years, and when he gets the mood he paints dozens of them at a stretch and in a single sitting. His energy is amazing and his enthusiasm is simply contagious. An Indian artist who has observed closely Tagore at work writes: ‘As regards the composition of his paintings, our Poet-Painter displays masterly skill. Once he determines the subject of his picture, the outline and spacing come off spontaneously. There is not the slightest faltering and indecision. The work progresses with a series of sweeping movements and the balanced composition remains intact. The lines are drawn with a sure hand and the spacing is so accurate as is only possible from the most experienced artists with years of practice behind him.’

On the whole Rabindranath’s paintings have an originality, sincerity, truthfulness and vital quality to be ranked as high as any of the modern masters. Dr. Ananda Coomaraswamy’s pithy statement that Tagore’s pictures are not childish but child-like is about the sanest criticism so far offered on this new phase of Tagore’s genius.