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I do not believe in the art which is not the compulsive result of man’s urge to open his heart.

Edvard Munch

My art is rooted in a single reflection: why am I not as others are? My art gives meaning to my life.
EDVARD MUNCH

Art Life Meaning Myself Reflection
Some colors reconcile themselves to one another, others just clash.
EDVARD MUNCH

Color Oneself
And I would often wake up at night and stare widely into the room: Am I in Hell?
EDVARD MUNCH

Hell Myself Room Stare Wake Up
I don’t believe in an art that is not born out of man’s need to open his heart.
EDVARD MUNCH

Art Believe Born Heart Man Need Open
All art, literature, and music must be born in your heart’s blood. Art is your heart’s blood.
EDVARD MUNCH

Art Blood Heart Literature Yourself
The notes I have made are not a diary in the ordinary sense, but partly lengthy records of my spiritual experiences, and partly poems in prose.
EDVARD MUNCH

Experience Myself Note Ordinary Poem
Through my art I have tried to explain my life and its meaning. I have also intended to help others to clarify their lives.
EDVARD MUNCH

Art Clarify Explanation Life Live Myself
A work of art can only come from the interior of man. Art is the form of the image formed upon the nerves, heart, brain and eye of man.
EDVARD MUNCH

Art Brain Eyes Interior Man Work
I painted the picture, and in the colors the rhythm of the music quivers. I painted the colors I saw.
EDVARD MUNCH

Color Myself Painting Photograph
Photography is an art which touches and grips one’s own heart’s blood.
EDVARD MUNCH

Art Blood Heart Oneself Photography Touch
My will exceeds my talents.
EDVARD MUNCH

Inspirational Talent Willing
I learned early about the misery and dangers of life, and about the afterlife, about the external punishment which awaited the children of sin in Hell.
EDVARD MUNCH

Children Dangerous Hell Learning Misery Sin
For as long as I can remember I have suffered from a deep feeling of anxiety which I have tried to express in my art.
EDVARD MUNCH

Anxiety Art Expression Feeling Remember Suffering
Without fear and disease, my life would be like a boat without oars.
EDVARD MUNCH

Boat Disease Fear Life Myself
The rich man who gives, steals twice over. First he steals the money and then the hearts of men.
EDVARD MUNCH

Heart Man Rich Steal
Without anxiety and illness I would have been like a ship without a rudder.
EDVARD MUNCH

Anxiety Myself Ship Sick

I do not believe in the art which is not the compulsive result of man’s urge to open his heart.

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I do not believe in the art which is not the compulsive result of man’s urge to open his heart.

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