Filmmaker Ingmar Bergman has died.
“Film as dream, film as music. No art passes our conscience in the way film does, and goes directly to our feelings, deep down into the dark rooms of our souls.” -Bergman
Nothing could be any truer.
I can still remember seeing the knight playing chess with Death, an image that's been burned on my and the collective unconscious' brain. It's a theme culture has readily snatched up to parody, mock, and reproduce, but that distilled, laconic image still haunts us with Bergman's personification.
I know it has deeply affected my art. The incorporation of death imagery with the cerebral is powerful, yes, sometimes morbid, but filled with too much pregnant meaning to be ignored. I unconsciously must have thought, if he can do it and make it genius, make it loved by critics and audiences, then there must be some validity to it.
So I trudge on, hoping for a small sliver of the insight and prowess he achieved.
He will be missed.
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