It is better to have a good painting with ten holes than ten bad paintings without any holes.
EDVARD MUNCHI painted the picture, and in the colors the rhythm of the music quivers. I painted the colors I saw.
More Edvard Munch Quotes
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Without fear and illness, I could never have accomplished all I have.
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There is a battle that goes on between men and women. Many people call it love.
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I don’t believe in an art that is not born out of man’s need to open his heart.
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I find it difficult to imagine an afterlife, such as Christians, or at any rate many religious people, conceive it, believing that the conversations with relatives and friends interrupted here on earth will be continued in the hereafter.
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Anybody who perceives colors can become a painter. It’s simply a question of whether or not one has felt anything and whether one has the courage to recount the things one has felt.
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Death is pitch-dark, but colors are light. To be a painter, one must work with rays of light.
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What is art? Art grows from joy and sorrow, but mostly from sorrow. It grows from human lives.
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The rich man who gives, steals twice over. First he steals the money and then the hearts of men.
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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.
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No longer shall I paint interiors with men reading and women knitting. I will paint living people who breathe and feel and suffer and love.
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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.
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The viewers must come to understand the sacredness of painting, so they will remove their hats as if they were in church.
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But can they great works get rid of the worm that lies gnawing at the roots of my heart? No, never.
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The way one sees is also dependent upon one’s emotional state of mind. This is why a motif can be looked at in so many ways, and this is what makes art so interesting.
EDVARD MUNCH -
I was walking along the road with two friends. The sun set. I felt a tinge of melancholy. Suddenly the sky became a bloody red. I stood there, trembling with fright. And I felt a loud, unending scream piercing nature.
EDVARD MUNCH