Art is ego. It is to say, “I’ve made this. You would do well to see it.” And yet, ego is generally looked down upon as a negative quality—does this apply to the artist? Certainly there is a healthy vein of egoism among successful actors and artists in general, is it a byproduct of success, or integral to success itself? If success was directly related to the level of one’s artistry then the latter could be argued, but the former can be confirmed at the least, for (as was stated) art and ego are inseparable, as the very act, not necessarily of creation, but of the presentation of a creation is a profoundly egotistical act. And, yet, the young artist, who has yet to develop a proper sense of self worth, will see the egoism of successful artists and scorn this, crying foul at what they perceive to be pretension, saying they’ll be different than their predecessors, more caring and communal in their approach. So, they set out to break down their ego, their sense of self worth. They start by accepting all art as being innately good and important, since the very act of creation (as opposed to the act of destroying) is a wholly positive and generally difficult thing to do. Is this acceptance necessarily good? Glossing over the fact that if all art were good and important then none of it would be, let us ask, first, what is the purpose of art? More so, what does it do? It is a difficult question to answer without devolving into the realm of consequentialism, for the question implies what does one’s art do to others? We solve this by specifying the question: What does art do for artists themselves? This can be answered. In so few words, art is a form of self-expression, or self realization: it is the arranging of one’s thoughts and experiences into a pattern from which the artist better understands his or herself and the world at large. All well and good, however, is this true within a vacuum? By this I mean, if there was no audience, would the artist be fulfilled simply from the act of creation? This is difficult to answer (think of Kafka and his wish to have his writing burned, though one can hardly argue he was “fulfilled”), though I think it’s fair to say that—regardless of whether or not it is possible to be fulfilled by creating and not sharing—art that reaches no one but its creator is effectively non-existent; it is a tree falling in the woods. This is all too overlooked by the young artist who takes for granted the fact that art is to be displayed for the sake of others, since it is this very fact which makes art a wholly egotistical thing, for (as mentioned) it is to say “I’ve made this, you (the audience) would benefit from consuming it.” The implication is that artists believe their own work to be good or important—better and more important than others’, in fact, or they would not make the attempt in the first place. This is the second great truth the young artist takes for granted: that one’s work is always regarded in relation to the work of others. If the artist does not believe their own work to be good or important, at the least as good or important as the work of others, and if the artist’s work does not exist if it is not shared, then is art not essentially an argument for the genius of the artist as compared to others? And, furthermore, would attempting to reduce one’s ego, therefore, be the same as attempting to reduce one’s belief in oneself, in the genius and sanctity of one’s work? To say that I, the artist, am of no great importance is to say that my work, subsequently, does not matter so much—that my very ideas do not matter in relation to the ideas of others. If artists are not not innately making the argument within their work for the fact that they and they alone should be saying what it is being said, then that means they are actively discouraging their audience from consuming their product—a weak stance. It is not that the artist should “have” ego in order to create art, it is that the art itself is a representation of one’s ego. 

 

The young artist turns the audience and asks, “What is it they want?” Actors stand upon the stage and ask, “Why am I here? Why me?” From this comes two common conclusions, one in which they decide that they are the next “big thing” and are, therefore, more worthy than others; and another in which they decide that they create not for their own self, but for others—for a cause. One is thought of as egotistical, and the other selflessness. Is it not the duty of artists to change the world for the better? And, not for their own sake, but for the sake of others? Sure, so long as they get a cut of the action. Is it not true that the success of a piece in making change is directly related to its popularity and, therefore, the success of the artist? One can argue that what a piece does for others is greater than what it does for the artist, but is it not deeply egotistical to say that one can make something so profound as to shake the very foundations of others’ ideologies? And, furthermore, the reduction of one’s ego in favor of others is to reduce one’s perspective and replace it with that of others—it is to pander. What remains is a coy artist who at once argues for their genius by the very act of presenting a creation, whilst simultaneously attempting to destroy or hide this fact—is the definition of humility not that one knows one’s own worth, yet pretends to be less than? It is hypocritical to create and argue against oneself in this way. The egotistical artist has a much stronger argument, and does not experience this difficulty. The egotistical artist understands that the art itself is the argument, and is only as good as can be justified. This is art: specific, intentional creation backed by tangible argument. Ego-less artists have difficulty, for they are only as successful as they are able to imitate the opinion of others whilst denigrating their own genius. 

 

What remains? Should the artist, therefore, attempt to satisfy only his or her own self and disregard the plight of the world? There’s the rub: the plight of the world is the plight of the artist. It would be disingenuous to create something that is not personal, that does not have anything to do with what is happening directly to the artist. Ironically, it becomes that the artist who creates egotistically, arguing for his or her own genius whilst touching upon topics and arguments with which they have personal experience, creates for the world. To pander is to create for a group of people (to put in place of one’s own opinions the opinions of others), even though people within any given group do not identify holistically, but individually. To create for a “group,” especially one the artist is not necessarily a part of, would be to flatten the individuals in said group—to generalize them and the art being made, the opposite of the artist's aim. It becomes that, creating for sake of the creator is the stronger argument to be made with the least hypocrisy involved. Young artists should not be afraid to create selfishly, to believe in themselves as distinct in the universe with something unique or new to say. One should not be afraid to argue for oneself, anything less becomes disingenuous, for ego is the very act of offering one’s art to the world, inseparable.

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(January 2024)