The Building Of The Winter Studio 1929

Edvard Munch painted this with oils, and you can feel the chill in the air. I imagine him standing there, brush in hand, capturing not just the scene but the very act of creation. There’s something about the rawness of the brushstrokes that invites you into the experience, all those blues and browns. You can almost smell the wood, feel the bite of the winter air. It's like he's not just showing us a building being made, but how a world comes into being, stroke by stroke. The paint is applied thinly and with a frantic energy. It’s easy to see Munch, wrestling with the canvas, maybe battling his own demons as he builds this space for art. It reminds me of my own studio practice - the physicality of painting, the push and pull between intention and accident. Painters are always talking to each other, across time and space. I can imagine the conversation between Munch and other artists like Van Gogh. The joy and struggle and what it means to make something new.