On Creativity

On Creativity

Vincent Van Gogh

The letters of a Post-impressionist

I really don't know how I paint.

Armed with a white panel I take ip a position in front of the spit that interests me

Contemplate what lies before me

And sat to musefl

That white panel must be turned into something

Dissatisfied with my work i  return home 

Put my panel out of sight,

And after taking a little rest

Go back to my work

Almost with qualms to see what it looks like

But even then I am not satisfied

For glorious nature is still , Too vividly stamped on my mind

Nevertheless,  I find in my work a certain reverberations 

of that which fascinated me

I know that Nature told me something

That she spoke to me

And thay I took down her message in a shorthand

Perhaps my stenographic script contains words that are undecipherable

Be like there are faults and omissions  in it too

Still i may possess something that the wood, the beach or the figure said;

And this is never in a tame or conventional language that did not spring from Nature herself!