Repulsive Interactions

3rd April 2011

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.

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