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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.

Edvard Munch

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Edvard Munch
Age: 80 †
Born: 1863
Born: January 1
Died: 1944
Died: January 1
Draftsperson
Drawer
Graphic Artist
Painter
Printmaker
E. Munch
Munch
edv. munch
Talent
Education
Academies
Art
Mechanical
Ends
Academy
Come
Feds
Nothing
Factories
Great
Machines
Painting

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I have no fear of photography as long as it cannot be used in heaven and in hell.
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In my childhood I always felt that I was treated unjustly, without a mother, sick, and with the threat of punishment in Hell hanging over my head
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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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There is a battle that goes on between men and women. Many people call it love.
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Nature is not only all that is visible to the eye... it also includes the inner pictures of the soul.
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I sense a scream passing through nature. I painted ... the clouds as actual blood. The colour shrieked.
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Certainly a chair can be just as interesting as a human being. But first the chair must be perceived by a human being... You should not paint the chair, but only what someone has felt about it.
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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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By painting colors and lines and forms seen in quickened mood I was seeking to make this mood vibrate as a phonograph does. This was the origin of the paintings in The Frieze of Life.
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Without fear and illness, I could never have accomplished all I have
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Youth must go ahead and prosper. These young painters are all very talented people, but they all paint frescoes.
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Some colors reconcile themselves to one another, others just clash.
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Without fear and disease, my life would be like a boat without oars.
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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.
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Without anxiety and illness I would have been like a ship without a rudder.
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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
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To die is as if one's eyes had been put out and one cannot see anything any more. Perhaps it is like being shut in a cellar. One is abandoned by all. They have slammed the door and are gone. One does not see anything and notices only the damp smell of putrefaction.
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My father was temperamentally nervous and obsessively religious—to the point of psychoneurosis. From him I inherited the seeds of madness. The angels of fear, sorrow, and death stood by my side since the day I was born.
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I was walking along a road one evening – on one side lay the city, and below me was the fjord. The sun went down – the clouds were stained red, as if with blood. I felt as though the whole of nature was screaming – it seemed as though I could hear a scream. I painted that picture, painting the clouds like real blood. The colours screamed.
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It was always my intention that The Frieze should be housed in a room which would provide a suitable architectural frame for it.
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