Without fear and illness, I could never have accomplished all I have

The camera will never compete with the brush and the palette, until such time as photographs can be taken in Heaven or Hell.

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.

I have no fear of photography as long as it cannot be used in heaven and in hell.

I don’t believe in an art that is not born out of man’s need to open his heart.

I was walking down the road with two friends when the sun set; suddenly, the sky turned as red as blood. I stopped and leaned against the fence, feeling unspeakably tired. Tongues of fire and blood stretched over the bluish black fjord. My friends went on walking, while I lagged behind, shivering with fear. Then I heard the enormous infinite scream of nature.

When I paint, I never think of selling. People simply fail to understand that we paint in order to experiment and to develop ourselves as we strive for greater heights.