Edvard Munch
Edvard Munch
Edvard Munch; 12 December 1863 – 23 January 1944) was a Norwegian painter and printmaker whose intensely evocative treatment of psychological themes built upon some of the main tenets of late 19th-century Symbolism and greatly influenced German Expressionism in the early 20th century. One of his most well-known works is The Scream of 1893...
NationalityNorwegian
ProfessionPainter
Date of Birth12 December 1863
CityAdalsbruk, Norway
CountryNorway
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.
In my art I have tried to explain to myself life and its meaning. I have also tried to help others to clarify their lives.
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.
I was walking along a path with two friends – the sun was setting – suddenly the sky turned blood red – I paused, feeling exhausted, and leaned on the fence – there was blood and tongues of fire above the blue-black fjord and the city – my friends walked on, and I stood there trembling with anxiety – and I sensed an infinite scream passing through nature.
A work of art comes only from inside a human being.
What is art? Art grows from joy and sorrow, but mostly from sorrow. It grows from human lives.
I don’t believe in an art that is not born out of man’s need to open his heart.
All art, literature, and music must be born in your heart's blood. Art is your heart's blood.
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.
Nature is not only all that is visible to the eye... it also includes the inner pictures of the soul.
We're still hopeful, but we are no longer that confident. The chances of finding the paintings diminish with time and already a lot of time has passed,
My fear of life is necessary to me, as is my illness. Without anxiety and illness, I am a ship without a rudder. My art is grounded in reflections over being different from others. My sufferings are part of my self and my art. They are indistinguishable from me, and their destruction would destroy my art. I want to keep those sufferings
From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity.
The viewers must come to understand the sacredness of painting, so they will remove their hats as if they were in church.