A Work Of Art Comes Only From

Disease, Insanity, And Death Were The Angels That Attended My Cradle, And Since Then Have Followed Me Throughout My Life.

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.

If What You Want To Paint Is The Emotive Mood In All Its Strength... Then You Must Not Sit And Stare At Everything And Depict It Exactly As One Sees It.

This Kind Of Painting With Its Large Frames Is A Bourgeois Drawing-room Art. It Is An Art Dealer's Art-and That Came In After The Civil Wars Following The French Revolution.

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.