I build a kind of wall between myself and t he model so that I can paint in peace behind it. Otherwise, she might say something that confuses and distracts me.
EDVARD MUNCHBut can they great works get rid of the worm that lies gnawing at the roots of my heart? No, never.
More Edvard Munch Quotes
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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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Through my art I have tried to explain my life and its meaning. I have also intended to help others to clarify their lives.
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I painted the picture, and in the colors the rhythm of the music quivers. I painted the colors I saw.
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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.
EDVARD MUNCH -
There is a battle that goes on between men and women. Many people call it love.
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One can easily tell that the creator of the paintings in the Sistine Chapel was above all a sculptor.
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Disease, insanity, and death were the angels that attended my cradle, and since then have followed me throughout my life.
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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.
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The Academies of Art are nothing but great painting factories – those with talent are fed in at one end, and they come out as mechanical painting machines.
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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.
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Without anxiety and illness I would have been like a ship without a rudder.
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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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Painting picture by picture, I followed the impressions my eye took in at heightened moments. I painted only memories, adding nothing, no details that I did not see. Hence the simplicity of the paintings, their emptiness.
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.
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A person himself believes that all the other portraits are good likenesses except the one of himself.
EDVARD MUNCH