Inger Munch. It seems clear that Inger was a very talented photographer and painter. She of course had to suffer the condescension of her brother regarding all her talents, and as a woman she could not gain the education her brother had access to. In 1918 she was in her fifties, and had started to paint. Here her brother on her:
“She means well, but it doesn’t work. Do you know, a few years ago she wanted to publish an illustrated book about our Oslo river – Akerselva – and don’t you suppose she waded into the river to her knees to get the best perspectives on her pictures. They were good too; she has a fine sense of surfaces. But I couldn’t imagine people standing in line to buy a book about Akerselva. Her publisher planned it as a major work – soft paper and leather binding. From me he wanted original etchings and ten thousand kroner – for a major work, you know.”
“No, I can’t stand to have her in the house. I have told her not to come and not to call me up. But I do call her. Every week I call Mr. Syversen, the grocer, who lives in the same house. “Is this Mr. Syversen? This is Munch. Have you seen my sister Inger lately? Does she look all right? Tell her I have called and that I’ll send her a package, What do you think she wants – eggs or apples?”
Munch, about some flower paintings by Inger: “No, please don’t buy any. Inger is so excitable. Right now she does nothing but paint. I don’t know how it would be if she were able to sell.”
She must have no doubt a lot of “insider” information about her famous brother and I believe she was in the position to look at him as sisters do – with a healthy dose of disrespect.
Rose Hammer 