Sickness, insanity and death were the angels that surrounded my cradle and they have followed me throughout my life.
From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity.
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.
No longer shall I paint interiors with men reading and women knitting. I will paint living people who breathe and feel and suffer and love.
Painting picture by picture, I followed the impressions my eye took in at heightened moments. I painted only memories, adding nothing, no details that I did not see. Hence the simplicity of the paintings, their emptiness.
The colors live a remarkable life of their own after they have been applied to the canvas.
Nature is not only all that is visible to the eye... it also includes the inner pictures of the soul.
Without anxiety and illness I should have been like a ship without a rudder.
Disease, insanity, and death were the angels that attended my cradle, and since then have followed me throughout my life.
A person himself believes that all the other portraits are good likenesses except the one of himself.
Death is pitch-dark, but colors are light. To be a painter, one must work with rays of light.
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.
In common with Michelangelo and Rembrandt I am more interested in the line, its rise and fall, than in color.
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.
Some colors reconcile themselves to one another, others just clash.
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