Truth Is Complex
To be a friend of the people, it is necessary to know them well — without exaggeration of their virtue, without oversimplification without the ceremonious summarization of an after-dinner speech. How difficult is the job of portraying the entire reality about a people or even about a single soul, is illustrated by the words of Leo Tolstoy. Someone asked him once as to what he wanted to convey by his Anna Karenina. He replied:
"If I were to try to tell you the things which I really wanted to convey, I would have to re-write the novel (in the sense of copying it) from the first to the last letter".
In short, truth is complex: truth is many-sided: and the seeker of truth must be aware of this. Leo Tolstoy said at one place that the life and character of a human being is like a river; narrow and swiftly flowing at one place, broad and placid at another; muddied at one spot: clean and enjoyable at another. It is the writer's job to show us the whole river of life of a people, not merely its fashionable beaches. Only then do we fall in love with the river. It is desirable and realistic to base friendship on mutual interest and advantage, but friendship becomes lasting and reliable when it is based on shared feelings and emotions.
Writers are not the only ones to share the distinction of public recognition. Painters, sculptors and other artists have an equal place in this galaxy. Tyutchev, the Russian poet, was so doubtful about the capacity of the word to convey an idea that he declaimed: "Thought given to utterance becomes a lie."
Perhaps you and I do not share Tyutchev's extreme distrust of language, but it is true that the graphic arts arouse emotions which defy description.
Such is the mute ecstasy with which we admire the Himalayas reflected on the canvases of the Roerichs, father and son. This is the virtue of graphic art. And it is the privilege of the artist to represent symbolically in the best possible manner the friendship between our peoples which transcends generations and political philosophies. Roerich was born in Russia and adopted by India. Which of us shall claim him? The point can be settled by letting him represent both of us — peoples united in friendship.
I refer to Roerich as a handy symbol, but the symbol is not the whole. The whole is the galaxy which is shining around me today.
