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Ego Trippers ( A Short Festival on Egotism)

The Sydney Morning Herald (Spectrum) 29-30 December 2001

"Every man's work," said novelist Samuel Butler, "is always a portrait of himself." If that is true, an inflated ego must surely be a useful tool for any creative artist.

Fortunately, artists are notorious for their egotism. The portly painter, looking down on the Philistines who just can't understand his genius. The opera diva, treating her adoring public with the contempt she feels that they deserve. Even the starving writer, still typing feverishly away because he feels that the rest of the world must hear his story. All stereotypes, but not without truth.

Artists are rarely known for their humility. Perhaps we should be reminded of the exceptions. Think of Bach, whose quiet assessment of his work ("Whoever is equally industrious will succeed just as well") belied his musical genius. Consider Emily Dickinson, who lived alone, painfully shy, leaving most of her poetry to be discovered after her death. We should even note the self-deprecating film actor Marion Davies, who described her career as "five percent talent and 95 percent publicity".

Still, so many great artists possessed an arrogance that came with the job. American painter James Whistler would happily improve on God. When someone looked admiringly at the night-time stars, he was unimpressed. "Not bad," he said, "but there are decidedly too many of them, and they are not very well arranged. I would have done it differently."

Oscar Wilde described himself as "the only person in the world I should like to know thoroughly". Fittingly, he wrote "The Picture of Dorian Gray", about a man so conceited that he refuses to age, remaining young while his portrait ages in his place. Along with the Greek legend of Narcissus, who falls in love with his own reflection, it remains the classic story of ego and vanity.

Of course, as no strangers to ego, artists have portrayed ego with startling precision. Look at "Citizen Kane", an unsubtle film about an egomaniac, directed by and starring another one: the incredible Orson Welles. ("There but for the grace of God, goes God," quipped his co-writer, Herman Mankiewicz.) Tasteful subtlety might have worked equally well, but it is no way to be noticed, no way to win a reputation as the greatest film ever made.

Ego reached new levels in the past century, which gave us artists so idolised, so famous, that they were named "stars", after the celestial bodies themselves. Take the life of a film star, with their multi-million-dollar salary and their constant attention. How could anyone remain unaffected by this? Julia Roberts won an Oscar for playing Erin Brockovich, but perhaps she deserved it for playing herself: a superstar who somehow becomes a "regular gal".

Even Demi Moore, who is almost an industry joke for her string of turkeys, reportedly asks for -- and gets -- Perrier water flowing from her dressing-room shower. If that sounds ludicrous, consider this: even the most popular actresses of the nineteenth century, such as Ellen Terry and "The Divine Sarah" Bernhardt, were not seen by nearly as many people as are likely to see a failed Demi Moore film. Technology has done that, inflating audiences, idolatry and egos beyond all imagination.

Even more deluded are the popular musicians of modern times. Great composers like Verdi and Wagner were appalling egotists, as were divas like the famously arrogant Dame Nellie Melba. Since records have become mass-produced, however, an artist needn't be a genius to be an egotist. There are too many examples to name. Here is a business in which musicians, clad in glittery suits, write and perform songs about themselves with lyrics like "My name is Prince, and I am funky".

But in all the narcissism and self-delusion of the pop music world, my favourite case is Marc Bolan, the leader of the seventies rock group T-Rex. A sweet-looking, fairly talented musician and songwriter, Bolan idolised himself even more than his crowds of screaming fans. When Elvis Presley died, he made it clear where his priorities lay: "I hope I don't go this week, because I'd only get a few lines on page three."

Conceited? More so than you might believe. "If my God came into the room," he said, "I'd be awed, obviously, but I don't think I'd be humble. I might cry, but I know He'd dig me like mad."

But as The Bible is so frequently misquoted: "Pride cometh before a fall." Prince may have been funky, but due to a hastily signed contract, he lost his name itself to a record company, leaving him without that fundamental aspect of his ego. Marc Bolan was even less fortunate: a month after Elvis's death, he lost his own life in a car crash. His great fear was realised. His own immortality was overshadowed by The King.