First published in: Journal of the Indian Society of Oriental Art, Vol. XV, 1947.
Many people carry the impression that Gandhiji had no sense of art or of beauty in him; that his life was so rigidly drilled and spartan in character that there was no room left for any of the softer graces of life. Among those who formerly shared such a view, the artist Nandalal Bose was one. But there was an occasion when Nanda Babu had an opportunity of completely revising his opinion in this respect.
It was during one of the Congress sessions that Nandalal Bose had been invited by Gandhiji himself to undertake the task of decoration with such materials and genius as was available in the surrounding villages. An exhibition in which village arts and crafts were displayed, had just been opened and Gandhiji came to visit the stalls. When he entered the exhibition, Nanda Babu was there to receive him. Everything had not yet been completely arranged, and a few retouches yet remained to be made here and there. As Gandhiji entered the room, the first remark that he made, put the artist and his co-workers there almost to shame. Beneath one of the tables on which the exhibits had been arranged, there was a tin bucket which had been hurriedly shoved into a corner before the distinguished guest arrived. Gandhiji noticed the thing and remarked that it fitted very badly with the atmosphere of the place. It was, of course, immediately removed.
Nanda Babu accompanied Gandhiji as he moved from one table to another examining the exhibits carefully. It was indeed surprising to find him take such a keen interest at each of the objects, as well as about the men who had been responsible for their manufacture. But, within a few minutes time, Nanda Babu noticed that Gandhiji had become absentminded and stood gazing at the earthen floor of the exhibition hall.
The hall had a thatch of leaves, which shut out the sky rather imperfectly. It was a bright, sunny day: and the beams of sunlight which had made their way through the leaves succeeded in creating a playful pattern upon the dull grey of the earthen floor. Gandhiji stood gazing at this, and then broke the silence with the remark, “Nandalal, you cannot make anything approaching this, can you?”
It was then that Nanda Babu realized in a flash how deep a sense of the beautiful Gandhiji carried in his bosom. It might have needed no outward form or symbol for its satisfaction, but it was there all the same. Perhaps its primary function was to transform Gandhiji’s own life and character until it shone like a poem of great beauty and of epic grandeur.
It was only on very rare occasions that Gandhiji was ever called upon to express his views on art. But there did come such occasions, when he said all that was significant in his own judgement about this aspect of life. We can do no better than share with the reader a number of such passages as they will throw an unexpected light on this aspect of his thoughts.
There are two aspects of things-the outward and the inward. It is purely a matter of emphasis with me. The outward has no meaning except in so far as it helps the inward. All true art is thus the expression of the soul. The outward forms have value only in so far as they are the expression of the inner spirit in man. Art of that nature has the greatest appeal for me, But I know that many call themselves artists, and are recognised as such, and yet in their works there is absolutely no trace of the soul’s upward urge and unrest.
All true art must help the soul to realize its inner self. In my own case, I find that I can do entirely without external forms in my soul’s realization. My room may have blank walls; and I may even dispense with the roof, so that I may gaze out upon the starry heavens overhead that stretch in an unending expanse of beauty. What conscious art of man can give me the panoramic scenes that open out before me, when I look up to the sky above with all its shining stars? This, however, does not mean that I refuse to accept the value of productions of art, generally accepted as such but only that I personally feel how inadequate these are compared with the eternal symbols of beauty in Nature. These productions of man’s art have their value only so far as they help the soul onward towards self-realization.
All truths, not merely true ideas, but truthful faces, truthful pictures, or songs, are highly beautiful. People generally fail to see beauty in truth, the ordinary man runs away from it and becomes blind to the beauty in it. Whenever men begin to see beauty in truth, then true art will arise.
Truly beautiful creations come when right perception is at work. If these moments are rare in life they are also rare in art. -Young India, 13.11.24, p. 377.
True art takes note not only of form but also of what lies behind. There is an art that kills and an art that gives life. True art must be evidence of happiness, contentment and purity of its authors.-Young India, 11.8.21, p. 253.
We have somehow accustomed ourselves to the belief that art is independent of the purity of private life. I can say with all the experience at my command that nothing could be more untrue. As I am nearing the end of my earthly life I can say that purity of life is the highest and truest art. The art of producing good music from a cultivated voice can be achieved by many, but the art of producing that music from the harmony of a pure life is achieved very rarely.- Harijan, 19.2.38, p. 10.