A Critic’s Manifesto
Chapter 1: I’m A Writer, Not Middle Management
The Devaluation Of Arts Criticism
Arts criticism has been devalued for two reasons: first, the abandonment of arts coverage by daily newspapers; second, the corporate/academic style of criticism that is as much fun to read as the performance evaluation you have to sign in front of Human Resources.
I begin my examination of the role of the critic by answering a question I was asked by a curious employee of the Buffalo AKG Art Museum. She observed Prussian Blue ink on my hands, told me I couldn’t use my fountain pen near Monet’s “Towpath at Argenteuil, Winter” (a wise precaution), and gave me a little golf pencil.
Why Should I Read Your Review?
We started talking and I explained I was writing a review. She asked, “why should I listen to you?” or, put another way, “why should I read your review?”
To be clear, she was not being rude. She asked because she had never read a gallery review and was intrigued that someone was writing one.
“Why should I read your review?” goes to the very heart of the role of the critic. In a media culture dominated by listicles where “views” are currency, why should my evaluation be more worthy of her attention than anyone else’s?
There can be only one answer to this question: she should read my review because she will enjoy it.
Who Are You To Judge?
As a critic, if your reflexive response to the question, “why should I listen to you?” is to recite your resume of education and accomplishments, then you are giving evidence in support of a broken model.
If a critic believes that his body of knowledge and experience is itself sufficient to command the attention of others he is falsely placing himself in a role superior to that of the reader and artist, like a professor issuing a grade or a corporate middle manager writing a performance evaluation.
Academic credentials and a list of impressive accomplishments are nice, but if your work doesn’t inform and entertain then you don’t deserve to be read.
Arts criticism is no more or less important than any other type of writing. If your readers do not enjoy reading your work, you have failed.
No one owes you their attention. Readers must be earned.
Going To A Bills Game
The fabricated role of critics as essential intermediaries between audience and artist has gone far to repel a generation of intelligent, thoughtful lovers of the arts from reading criticism.
A corporate/academic critical style that judges rather than explains distorts artistic expression, portraying it as a puzzle with an answer rather than an experience to be enjoyed.
To illustrate, I describe two discussions about a Buffalo Bills game. The first conversation was with a young woman who had no knowledge or interest in football; the second was with a retired football coach.
The young woman told me she met a guy she liked and wanted him to ask her out. She feigned interest in the Bills, he took the hint and invited her to a game. She described the experience as “thrilling,” although she neither knew nor cared about the complexities of the sport.
She recalled, “this guy caught a long pass and he ran really fast. I didn’t know anyone could run that fast. He scored and the whole stadium was screaming and cheering and then he kissed me.”
In contrast, the football coach described the same play as: “their defense got caught in a run blitz and the safety bit on the play action. Man coverage on our #2 receiver with no help up top.”
I ask you, dear reader, who had more fun at that Bills game?
It was the young woman, of course. She processed the experience without an imposed, conceptual filter demanding she deconstruct and analyze the game, thus allowing her to feel unmediated pleasure.
She simply enjoyed the experience.
There Is Nothing To “Get”
Last year I had coffee with a friend before I reviewed the Stanley Whitney exhibit at the Buffalo AKG. She is an intelligent, educated person who loves the arts. I asked her to join me but she demurred, explaining, “I don’t get abstract art.”
This notion that the arts are a riddle with a solution for critics to reveal must be challenged and overcome for my friend and people like her to feel comfortable engaging with unfamiliar artistic experiences.
There is nothing to “get.” Had she seen it she might have simply said, “I liked the colors,” like the woman thrilled by the Bills game.
You “get it” by engaging in the experience.
If she had attended the exhibit and then read my review, she would have learned about Stanley Whitney, Abstract Expressionism, and colorism; my words may or may not have added to her experience.
While I hope she would find insights, she would search in vain for a final, validating judgment. It is not for me to declare Stanley Whitney’s art “good” or “bad,” like some corporate middle manager deciding whether his work “exceeds expectations” or “needs improvement.”
As a critic I can provide context and insight, but in the end I’m just a writer who likes art.
Critics are an important element of a healthy artistic ecosystem, but we must use our knowledge and critical thinking skills to foster understanding rather than rank and exclude.
We are writers who must earn our audience, not middle managers whose evaluations are required reading.