I Learned Early About The Misery And

I Have Been Given A Unique Role To Play On This Earth: Given To Me By A Life Filled With Sickness, Ill-starred Circumstances And My Profession As An Artist. It Is A Life That Contains Nothing That Resembles Happiness, And Moreover Does Not Even Desire Happiness.

Colors Live A Remarkable Life Of Their Own After They Have Been Applied To The Canvas.

I Sense A Scream Passing Through Nature. I Painted ... The Clouds As Actual Blood. The Colour Shrieked.

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.

Without Anxiety And Illness I Would Have Been Like A Ship Without A Rudder.