The Notes I Have Made Are Not

I Have No Fear Of Photography As Long As It Cannot Be Used In Heaven And In Hell.

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.

What Is Art? Art Grows From Joy And Sorrow, But Mostly From Sorrow. It Grows From Human Lives.

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.

Some Colors Reconcile Themselves To One Another, Others Just Clash.