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Post with 19 notes
On Artists, Critics, Fans, & Haterz
To be alive today is to be witness to a period of massive transition in the way art is produced and disseminated. I think it’s great. I understand and sympathize with the hysteria that goes along with this (Who decides what is good?! How does anyone get noticed?! Is it dangerous to give everyone a voice?! For the love of god, how do we monetize this?!), but, like most of my generation, I find the changes in media exciting and democratizing, if occasionally disturbing.
What surprises me is how little the definitions and understanding of the roles of artists, critics, and fans have evolved given the extremity and swiftness of this (I cringe to write this phrase, but I’m at a loss for a better one) paradigm shift. Which is to say, I’m surprised people are still making distinctions between them as the line grows increasingly blurry.
Critics have long been vilified. “No one ever erected a statue to a critic,” Jean Sibelius once said. There has always been a prevailing attitude that critics exist for the sole purpose of undermining artists. How often have you heard an artist say “I don’t make art for the critics; I make it for the fans”? Critics are portrayed as hateful, bitter, craven, emotionless, and lazy. What right does anyone have to say about any kind of art if they aren’t participating in it?
This attitude is several kinds of ironic. Critics, firstly, are fans by nature. Nobody becomes a critic because they hate art; you become a critic because art so moves you that you are compelled to learn everything about it, to experience it as often as possible, and to contribute to the dialogue. Critics aren’t fans in the sense of being blind followers, but fans in the sense of having so much invested in art that they cannot remain silent. They are often the only ones who care as much as the artists.
Secondly, many critics are artists. Particularly in this day and age where the production of art is so readily accessible to so many, it is far from uncommon for people to be producing art with one hand and commenting on it with the other, yet there is a pervasive assumption that this is not the case. The image of the critic as a bitter failure in the art they critique is a wholly outmoded one. Now you see the word “hater” too often misapplied to anyone who offers criticism or raises questions; only the deepest insecurity could lead an artist to believe that critics are their enemies. Moreover, criticism is an art in itself. As with any craft, the quality and style of criticism has a great deal of range. Of course there are petty and pretentious critics, but there are also critics whose work is brilliant and challenging.
In the post-At the Movies world we have come to think of critics as people who say what is good and what isn’t. Thumbs up or thumbs down. That is at best a gross oversimplification and at worst an insult. It is the critic’s job to shed light on art. Sometimes this involves passing judgment, but more often it means finding what is important and compelling in a work of art and exploring that. Sometimes bad art does strange and interesting things (this is why I find Flashdance so arresting); sometimes art can be of high quality yet utterly forgettable. A critic is someone who wants to understand why that is.
There is also a generalized fear of negativity in our culture, a raw nerve that critics have the audacity to expose, and it is important that they do so. Art does not exist in a vacuum; any artist who wants their art to escape comment shouldn’t share it. Negative criticism, provided it is done thoughtfully and in good faith (which is how all criticism should be done), is neither bullying nor snobbery. It takes a great deal of courage to put your art out there; it also takes a great deal of courage to raise your voice against popular opinion.
Critics are, moreover, not solely interested in criticizing, which is not the same as critiquing. Critics are often some of the best champions of art and works of art. As I said before, they are first and foremost fans—they want art to be good, and when it is, they want to share it. We tend to focus on negative critiques because often they are funnier and easier to write, lending themselves to the stereotype that an artist works hard to produce good art, and it is the work of a moment for a critic to tear it down (nothing further from the truth if it is done well). It is infinitely harder, however, to articulate why something is beautiful and extraordinary. When critics do this successfully, they are giving a priceless gift both to the creator of the work and a voice to all the people unable to say why it moved them.
The artistic culture we live in is a participatory one, and it best rewards people who are involved in every aspect of it, who can realize that that being a toiling artist, a gushing fan, and a cerebral critic are not mutually exclusive identities. Socrates believe that the best way to engage with the capital-T truth is through interlocution, and we are fortunate to live in a time where that has never been easier. Critics, artists, and fans are no longer strangers to each other. Critics can respond to art, and artists can respond to their critics. When done in good faith, this is a remarkable gift, one not really available to other generations—to spoil it with antipathy and mistrust engendered by outworn stereotypes is a tremendous waste.
Photo reblogged from with 50 notes
Your Request Fulfilled.
robotriley said: Old Dirty Bastard!
valblog said: 19th century baseball players
YOU GUYS. I think this actually improves on my original request.
Source: dynamoe
Quote reblogged from Geoffrey is Working with 4 notes
Welcome to Sounding Like A Pretentious Fuckhead 101, right? Well, damn straight (and fuck you, btw). I would happily encourage anyone who has the ability — the blessed gift — to tap into their own creativity in a meaningful, productive way to 1) engage it, 2) indulge it and 3) go forth and act like a pretentious Fuckhead. Life can be a lot more fun when you do those three things and do them to their absolute limit. Okay, maybe not the third one. Sometimes society wants you to reign in your Pretentious Fuckhead tendencies. Sometimes you do. But sometimes you don’t.
Source: geoffreyisworking
Quote reblogged from novaya zemlya with 145 notes
The semicolon is the most human of punctuation marks, precisely because it’s inherently ambiguous and complicated: it can join two independent clauses that don’t relate, or two independent clauses that closely relate. Its very use is a signifier of the complexity of human thought, of our knack for making connections, right or wrong, between ideas and impressions. It’s messy but it’s democratic. (Probably why Cormac McCarthy hates it.) Sure, it interrupts the rhythm sometimes, but human consciousness doesn’t always unfold with flawless cadence; it’s a reminder that we’re not always as clever as we think we are. The semicolon also occupies a place of tremendous peril because it’s not as terminal as the period, which is the universal sign of THE END, nor is it the mere slight breath of a comma, a piece of punctuation that provides only the merest of interruptions, and almost seems to be saying, ‘carry on.’ In this respect, the semicolon occupies an area somewhere between the living and the dead; its suggestion of finality, like a brush with death, will get you to pay attention to what follows a little more closely than if a mere comma were standing in your way.
Jonathan Evans, in an email to Lisa Lutz (via davidmanque)
I blame the popular sentiment against semicolons, like I blame so many other contemporary literary ills, on Ernest Hemingway. Who would have thought that so many generations of writers would balk at any kind of stylistic evolution away from terse reportage? I wonder, had he lived to see it, if he would have had a similar reaction to Alan Moore, post-Watchmen, where he basically apologized for making comics gritty and miserable for a few decades (LOOKING AT YOU, FRANK MILLER). Like, “Hey guys, was I naive to think you would all kind of, you know, do your own thing, writing-wise?”* And then go back to being smug and beardy and eventually withdrawing into crotchety irrelevance/h8erizm/a cave, also like Alan Moore.**
I would add something further about the merits of semicolons, but the quotation really sums up their exquisite nuance better than I ever could. I will say, however, that strictures against their use are completely nonsensical. But then, I am from the school of thought that thinks, with regard to style, you can do whatever you want as long as you do it judiciously. I also have been known to wear black and navy blue together, but SO DID PATRICK MCGOOHAN ON THE PRISONER, AND HE LOOKED FLY AS HELL. It doesn’t take a genius to extrapolate that I also think What Not to Wear is a stupid show with a borderline-pernicious premise.***
*Of course it is telling of my own writing sensibilities that my Fauxmingway sounds like a mad casual, comma-lover, but you try growing up in the San Fernando Valley and majoring in Classics, and just see if it doesn’t rub off on you. COLLOQUIALISMS & SUBORDINATE CLAUSES 4 LYFE.
**I like some of Alan Moore’s work, but I think Watchmen is pretty dated and heavy-handed, and also Alan Moore says that nothing good or original is happening in comics right now, which means he obviously doesn’t have a clue about anything, because GRANT MORRISON, if nothing else (and there is a lot of else!).
***In general, I hate the lowest common denominator approach to style and creativity, which emphasizes rules over the more difficult, but infinitely more rewarding, method of seeking out the sometimes intangible “it” factor that makes things (books! outfits! music! etc.!) work even when it doesn’t seem like they should. It’s a sloppy learning curve, but at least it doesn’t produce armies of clones.
Source: davidmanque
Photoset reblogged from EVERYTHING IS GREAT ALL THE TIME with 5 notes
These are two artworks I made with my iPad whilst drunk. One depicts Batman and the other depicts my friend Tessa.
YOU GUYS. I AM IMMORTALIZED IN ART. ON THE MOON. WITH A DINOSAUR.
Also that Batman picture is pretty great.
Source: explosionswoo
Photo reblogged from it's yellow
Down the primrose path (2003) by Victoria Reynolds at Richard Heller Gallery.
I’ll take one for every room in my house.
Source: artisticbitch
Chat reblogged from novaya zemlya with 16 notes
- WW: Can you tell me about the concept of the "provisional ego" and the role it plays in your life as a creative person?
- Annie Clark : That's a concept that my uncle talked about a lot. It's a concept that is found in the teachings of Meher Baba. It can feel like a fair amount of hubris is necessary to go out into the world and say, "Hey world, listen to what I have to say."
- The other side of that, of course, is that all the music that you have ever loved in the world is the result of someone having that "provisional ego." It's not as if you are saying, "I am the be all, end all creator of this music." You're giving yourself permission to go out and be seen, or rather heard, and put yourself out into a situation that may not feel natural to you.
Source: thismoi
Photo reblogged from ANNA STRAIN ILLUSTRATION with 49 notes
This is so incredible, I love work with bugs. What a beautiful idea.
More information on the work here, be sure to check out the link on the side for a video of the flies building their cocoons. Amazing.
Thank you, I’ll take all of them.
Source: monstrousmash
Post reblogged from ANNA STRAIN ILLUSTRATION
http://www.googleartproject.com/
This is amazing. The internet is amazing.
I love google so hard.
Look, everybody! Something wonderful!
Source: monstrousmash
Photo reblogged from ANNA STRAIN ILLUSTRATION with 10 notes
Illustration for the Hipster Handbook. Hipster at work.
The specials board really makes this.
Source: monstrousmash
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