The recent death of Swedish filmmaker and playwright Ingmar Bergman reminded me of a draft I wrote a year ago on the egos of artists. Bergman has been hailed as the greatest artist of Scandinavia since the Second World War. While the “who’s great and who’s not debate” is silly, I have always been somewhat puzzled by the fame and recognition of Bergman’s work.

While his work stands out, compared to the mediocre (at best) films made in Scandinavia before the 1990s, it isn’t that great in my opinion, especially on an international level. I worked through many of his flicks when I studied film at the University of Trondheim, some ten years ago. Often called “the poet with a camera” Bergman made films about the inner life of people. Angst, love, desire, jealousy and hate were central themes in his work. It never struck a chord with me though. I failed to see how these movies were about people in general; they were all along about Bergman and his traumatic psyche. Many of his films remind me of Woody Allen on steroids – without the humor.

The real poet with the camera was Sven Nykvist of course. He collaborated with Bergman on some 23 films, to great envy of many international filmmakers. If not the only reason, Nykvist is the main reason why I still see a Bergman film once in a while. The dramatization of Bergman’s emotional problems doesn’t really interest me. In addition I have grown up and matured with a completely different film aesthetic. The acting, most notably of Liv Ullmann, is almost unbearable, especially if you speak Norwegian and Swedish. Max von Sydow’s appearances more than make up for the theatricalities of Liv Ullmann though.

The problem with Bergman and so many other artists is their ego. Narcissism (excessive love and admiration of oneself) is arguably the most common mental disease among people of the industrialized world. Why should artists be any different? After all, the turbulent emotional life of an artist is more often than not, his most important source of inspiration, at least in the form of popular myths (Beethoven’s immortal beloved, van Gogh’s alcoholism and suicide, and the women of Picasso comes to mind).

The creation of Art is an ego trip on many levels. The very act of creating and publishing art is an act of putting oneself in the center of the universe. “Hey look at me, I have made this wonderful piece of art. I have something important to say, and please don’t forget to compliment me on my achieveings”. At the same time, creating art is a luxury for a selected wealthy few. In a world were the majority of people always have been struggling to make ends meet, art is a pastime for the wealthy. Who else can, in terms of both time and money, afford to study, create, sell and buy “serious art”. When that luxury is spent wining about a mother that didn’t love you, a girlfriend that left you or that getting old is a sad and lonely experience, then you are in grave danger of becoming a narcissist.

So how do we as artist balance the act of looking within for inspiration and communicating to the public more than the size of our egos? I have no simple and straight answer, but awareness on the subject is necessary and healthy. I do however feel that surrounding yourself with independent and critical people is a good start. To have someone that is willing to give you honest and constructive feedback on your work is invaluable, but at the same time more difficult as you progress as an artist. With success comes the yes people, ass lickers and wannabes. Secondly, add some humbleness to your personality. Be confident, but not overly so.