"My language is what I use, and if I lost that, I wouldn't be able to say anything"
About this Quote
Hodgkin, a painter famous for saying things with color and edge instead of narrative, slips a sly paradox into plain speech: the artist who “doesn’t do language” insists that language is his survival gear. He’s not talking about grammar. He’s talking about a private system of marks, habits, and decisions that functions like a mother tongue. “My language” is shorthand for the visual vocabulary he built over decades - those dense, framed blocks of paint that feel like memories pinned to a wall.
The line works because it refuses the romantic cliché of “art beyond words” while still defending art’s autonomy. He’s admitting that expression isn’t a magical inner essence; it’s a tool you practice until it becomes you. Lose the tool and you lose access to the self that can speak through it. That’s why the second clause hits: “I wouldn’t be able to say anything.” Not “paint anything,” but “say.” He’s collapsing speech and painting into the same act: making meaning under constraints.
The subtext is anxious and quietly defiant. Artists are often pressured to justify their work in interviews, statements, grant applications - translated into someone else’s dialect. Hodgkin flips it: the work already speaks, but only in his language, on his terms. And there’s a darker edge: aging, illness, creative drought, or cultural noise can threaten that fluency. The quote reads like a vow to keep practicing the only form of speech that feels truthful, even when the world keeps asking for subtitles.
The line works because it refuses the romantic cliché of “art beyond words” while still defending art’s autonomy. He’s admitting that expression isn’t a magical inner essence; it’s a tool you practice until it becomes you. Lose the tool and you lose access to the self that can speak through it. That’s why the second clause hits: “I wouldn’t be able to say anything.” Not “paint anything,” but “say.” He’s collapsing speech and painting into the same act: making meaning under constraints.
The subtext is anxious and quietly defiant. Artists are often pressured to justify their work in interviews, statements, grant applications - translated into someone else’s dialect. Hodgkin flips it: the work already speaks, but only in his language, on his terms. And there’s a darker edge: aging, illness, creative drought, or cultural noise can threaten that fluency. The quote reads like a vow to keep practicing the only form of speech that feels truthful, even when the world keeps asking for subtitles.
Quote Details
| Topic | Art |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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