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| Photo by bruce mars on Unsplash |
(No, this probably isn't the 637th of these things...but who cares? It looks impressive. Roll Tape!)
If you're a creator, at some point you're going to face critique.
If you're a creator for money, you're going to definitely face critique...from people with far less imagination than you, who don't get your vision/sense of humor, and - let's face it - you don't particularly like. These could be bosses, coworkers, clients, friends, family, neighbors, butchers, bakers, candlestick makers, partridges in or out of pear trees. Anybody. All of these people have vastly different priorities than you, they're looking at the project from a certain budget and time frame, and it often seems like they just don't care that much about artistic merit at all.
I'm going to tell you, as a creator for money in both my day job and my side job, that your assumptions about the lack of imagination and creative merit in your critique-rs are not as true as you might think they are. You're going to hate this, but the money- and time-counters may not be your enemies...in fact, they can help you make your art better.
But how do you get past the pride barrier? How do you open yourself up to critique that can make your work - and yourself - better than you were?
I hesitate to call it "wisdom", but I do have some pointers I think will help you settle down, take critique, and forge yourself into a better artist:
I say: "That's 'cause you aren't communicating what you think you are."
A mind is a beautiful thing, but too often young artists (and unfortunately many old artists who should know better) are severely trapped in it. There's a movie being projected on the inside of their skull, they're watching it, and sometimes they'll laugh or yell or cry as the story progresses. Then they turn to us, their audience, and say, "Wasn't that a great movie?" We, of course, have only heard the chortles, sniffles, and gasps...so we really have no idea what they're talking about. And this makes them inexplicably angry.
Communication is definitely a skill, and requires one or more human beings to consider their expression from several angles. "How else can this be understood?" is an often-unasked but vital question. If Georgia O'Keefe decided she like to paint flowers a certain fun and interesting way, she'd better stop and get a second pair of eyes on that before someone in a gallery hollers, "THEY'RE ALL VAGINAS!!!"
Now that's not to say our speculative, naïve Mrs. O'Keefe should hurriedly paint over all her nice flowers in horror; it's just that, she should be prepared for the Tourette's-like reaction of our hypothetical art patron (probably a 7th-grader). Essentially, the two Sacred Questions of the artist are 1) What am I really communicating? and 2) Can I get away with it? An extra pair of eyes can definitely help you grasp what you're communicating, and whether or not it's having the intended effect.
The worst part, of course, is that sometimes this actually happens.
What's an artist to do? We know from evolution that Cambrian organisms developed hard shells in response to the development of teeth and jaws; as the teeth got sharper, the shells got harder and spikier...so hard and spiky, in fact, that arthropods had to literally burst through their own skin in order to become larger. A rarely-seen and grotesque natural phenomenon is the arthropod that can't get out of its own skin; its growing body is literally crushed by the confining suit of armor. This rather stretched metaphor is a roundabout way of saying that artists develop a hard shell of pride to protect their soft bits from humiliation - and it's a death sentence for their budding artistry.
All artists are arrogant to a certain extent; that's natural and healthy. It's all part of seeing the world differently from the unwashed masses. Art often views the world with a skeptical eye, or from another perspective, and so the experienced artist has earned the right to a little hauteur - like a warrior on the battlefield of the mind. It's just important that they don't get so wrapped up in themselves, they forget what the fight is really about.
"Artistic Integrity" has many names, including "Not Selling Out," or "Not Worried About Material Things", or "Irritated with non-artist Management", but usually "Doing whatever the hell I want when I feel like it". There's always been a fight between the artist and those paying them: 50,000 years ago, when Ogga was commissioned to paint the ceiling of the Lasceaux Cavern (speculation), she was locked in an epic struggle with Big Chief-Priest Bugga. "No Mammoth there," BCP Bugga complained. "Need more mammoth. Make BCP Bugga riding on biggest mammoth." At which Ogga angrily slapped some paint on the wall, and we have the now-infamous and mysterious Phallic-Symbol-Over-Mammoth glyph which has puzzled archaeologists to this day.
But here's the thing: no matter how many tantrums they threw (Michelangelo), or projects they flaked out on (Leonardo da Vinci), eventually artists had to wake up and do what they were told...otherwise they didn't get paid. Even now, in the era of artists without patrons, when "pure" art is up for sale, artists still get stuck doing the same thing over and over again...because it pays.
Now you could say this is awful...in some ways it is...but think about it: should all artists be bums, living their truth without material goods? Like Prophets of the Lord, residing in the wilderness with only birds and plants to sustain them, feeding on the pure, rarified air of their art, waiting for someone to stumble upon them and raise them out of obscurity? This is certainly a Romantic ideal, but in reality it's patently ridiculous (even just from the standpoint of materials - where are you going to get canvas and paint without a little dosh?) And to claim this kind of "either-or" stance - either you are an Artist, or you make money - is part of the problem with society's view of the Artist.
I'm not saying you should sell your soul and chase the Almighty Dollar; what I am saying is that you have to tamper your idealism, or you'll lose it entirely. Like the ex-hippie corporate raider, those who cling most uncompromisingly to their ideals are the ones most likely to flip to the exact opposite stance. Their cynicism becomes pathological. Even if you did shoot to art-world superstardom on a platform of Pure Art, it would quickly become nothing more than a pose, an exercise in cognitive dissonance that either pushes you into fraudulence or drives you to drink.
My prescription? Cut the bollocks. If you're just starting out, you don't have much of a stance to claim Artistic Integrity anyway. Take a job as a graphic designer, or a drafter, or a sign painter...think of it as, "conning the corporate overlords" if you have to. If you apply yourself, you'll not only learn some amazing new skills that will come in handy later, but you'll learn how to take critique and develop discipline. These very uncool skills will actually help make you a better artist. Once you're a better artist, armed with skills and discipline, you can then sit down to the task of developing Artistic Integrity...and find out it's about a lot more than just "Doing whatever I want when I feel like it." You'll have a bajillion people coming in with opinions, some of them important to your work (like managers) and some of them unimportant (like Lenny in the Mail Room); you'll quickly figure out who has legitimate ideas and who's full of shit (You'll also come to the realization that many of those shit-fullers are in charge, and you'll have to do what they say in order to get paid...but that's a whole nother problem).
I think the big lesson of all of this is: Let other peoples' opinions shape your art. Your friends should be willing and able to tell you plainly what you are communicating; the money men will tell you whether or not a piece of art will sell/sell product; more experienced people can give you tips and tricks and suggestions about where to go next. And yes, there is a danger that you might become too reliant on other people...but that doesn't mean you'll stay like that forever. And if you go down the wrong path and get stuck in a rut, set it down for a bit, then come back and see if anything has shaken loose. Stubbornly "maintaining your integrity" as an artist is merely fear of trying new things, and may actually set you on the path to losing what little integrity you had.
Let's use the example of a doctor: you go to the doctor for a routine checkup. He finds a lump in your...pick a body part, anywhere. He immediately says its Stage-4 Body Part Cancer and your are going to die in two days.
What do you do? You get a second opinion. But who from? Your next-door neighbor? Your mailman? Your psychologist? A baker of cookies, a letter-deliverer, and a feelings examiner are three people who should not be re-diagnosing your Stage-4 Body Part Cancer; instead, you should go to another doctor. Specifically, an oncologist. Why? Because they are qualified to give a second opinion.
But you know if a doctor is qualified because of their, well, qualifications...what about getting a second opinion on your art?
Here's where things get tricky. Presenting your art before a class is exposing yourself to critiquers as inexperienced as you are; generally they will express opionions that are a) something they heard somewhere b) very prejudiced to their own thoughts on art, and c) an attempt to spare your feelings. A true ignoramus will sneer at a decent piece of art simply because he heard "that kind of art" wasn't in vogue at the moment, and wants to appear sophisticated. An self-styled abstractionist, considering herself on the cutting edge, will lambaste a realist piece for being "too figurative", nevermind its actual technical or artistic merit. And your typical Pollyanna will attempt to stammer out a number of vaguaries and "in my opinions" and "in a good ways" in order to land somewhere in the thousand-mile-radius of "I don't like it and I don't know why". None of these are useful, and the artist ends up being discouraged and confirmed in her suspicion that her classmates are a bunch of clowns with too much money.
A good start to finding better critique is to tap the brains of real, working artists. Usually teachers are the best at this; they have a mandate to be honest with their students, and they know you a little better than the average working artist, so they aren't bound by politeness as much as a stranger. Having friends who are artists also helps - so long as you are able to listen to said friends without being hurt or getting snappish. Some of the best (or worst) critique can be found in online artist forums; as long as you are familiar with the contributors and can avoid the less civilized sites, there's nothing wrong with getting the Interweb's opinion on your piece. Just be warned, putting your art out there may draw the wrong kind of attention, and you have to be wary and force yourself not to engage with trolls.
Hopefully the above tips will help you on your Creative journey. I think the biggest takeaway from all this is, be humble. That doesn't mean being a doormat, or caving in to every suggestion, but rather that you allow yourself to look at your own work objectively, through someone else's eyes, and consider their suggestions without allowing another person to take over your art. With practice, you'll not only learn how to take critique to develop your art better, but to balance your confidence in your ability with a critical artistic Eye.
Rick Out.
1. Art is Communication.
You say: "You just don't get what I'm trying to say."I say: "That's 'cause you aren't communicating what you think you are."
A mind is a beautiful thing, but too often young artists (and unfortunately many old artists who should know better) are severely trapped in it. There's a movie being projected on the inside of their skull, they're watching it, and sometimes they'll laugh or yell or cry as the story progresses. Then they turn to us, their audience, and say, "Wasn't that a great movie?" We, of course, have only heard the chortles, sniffles, and gasps...so we really have no idea what they're talking about. And this makes them inexplicably angry.
Communication is definitely a skill, and requires one or more human beings to consider their expression from several angles. "How else can this be understood?" is an often-unasked but vital question. If Georgia O'Keefe decided she like to paint flowers a certain fun and interesting way, she'd better stop and get a second pair of eyes on that before someone in a gallery hollers, "THEY'RE ALL VAGINAS!!!"
Now that's not to say our speculative, naïve Mrs. O'Keefe should hurriedly paint over all her nice flowers in horror; it's just that, she should be prepared for the Tourette's-like reaction of our hypothetical art patron (probably a 7th-grader). Essentially, the two Sacred Questions of the artist are 1) What am I really communicating? and 2) Can I get away with it? An extra pair of eyes can definitely help you grasp what you're communicating, and whether or not it's having the intended effect.
2. Pride masks Fear.
Performance anxiety is one of the most powerful and frustrating fears we as humans can experience. Whether you're making a speech in front of a huge audience or presenting your new art piece for a small group of classmates, being the focus of everyone's laser attention and minutiae-parsing judgment is an awful position to be in. What's really happening is the fear of humiliation - essentially that you'll get onstage, attempt to dance or speak or show your painting or whatever, and everyone will laugh at you.The worst part, of course, is that sometimes this actually happens.
What's an artist to do? We know from evolution that Cambrian organisms developed hard shells in response to the development of teeth and jaws; as the teeth got sharper, the shells got harder and spikier...so hard and spiky, in fact, that arthropods had to literally burst through their own skin in order to become larger. A rarely-seen and grotesque natural phenomenon is the arthropod that can't get out of its own skin; its growing body is literally crushed by the confining suit of armor. This rather stretched metaphor is a roundabout way of saying that artists develop a hard shell of pride to protect their soft bits from humiliation - and it's a death sentence for their budding artistry.
All artists are arrogant to a certain extent; that's natural and healthy. It's all part of seeing the world differently from the unwashed masses. Art often views the world with a skeptical eye, or from another perspective, and so the experienced artist has earned the right to a little hauteur - like a warrior on the battlefield of the mind. It's just important that they don't get so wrapped up in themselves, they forget what the fight is really about.
3. Artistic Integrity is Bupkes.
Now that I have your attention, let's back up a couple of steps."Artistic Integrity" has many names, including "Not Selling Out," or "Not Worried About Material Things", or "Irritated with non-artist Management", but usually "Doing whatever the hell I want when I feel like it". There's always been a fight between the artist and those paying them: 50,000 years ago, when Ogga was commissioned to paint the ceiling of the Lasceaux Cavern (speculation), she was locked in an epic struggle with Big Chief-Priest Bugga. "No Mammoth there," BCP Bugga complained. "Need more mammoth. Make BCP Bugga riding on biggest mammoth." At which Ogga angrily slapped some paint on the wall, and we have the now-infamous and mysterious Phallic-Symbol-Over-Mammoth glyph which has puzzled archaeologists to this day.
But here's the thing: no matter how many tantrums they threw (Michelangelo), or projects they flaked out on (Leonardo da Vinci), eventually artists had to wake up and do what they were told...otherwise they didn't get paid. Even now, in the era of artists without patrons, when "pure" art is up for sale, artists still get stuck doing the same thing over and over again...because it pays.
Now you could say this is awful...in some ways it is...but think about it: should all artists be bums, living their truth without material goods? Like Prophets of the Lord, residing in the wilderness with only birds and plants to sustain them, feeding on the pure, rarified air of their art, waiting for someone to stumble upon them and raise them out of obscurity? This is certainly a Romantic ideal, but in reality it's patently ridiculous (even just from the standpoint of materials - where are you going to get canvas and paint without a little dosh?) And to claim this kind of "either-or" stance - either you are an Artist, or you make money - is part of the problem with society's view of the Artist.
I'm not saying you should sell your soul and chase the Almighty Dollar; what I am saying is that you have to tamper your idealism, or you'll lose it entirely. Like the ex-hippie corporate raider, those who cling most uncompromisingly to their ideals are the ones most likely to flip to the exact opposite stance. Their cynicism becomes pathological. Even if you did shoot to art-world superstardom on a platform of Pure Art, it would quickly become nothing more than a pose, an exercise in cognitive dissonance that either pushes you into fraudulence or drives you to drink.
My prescription? Cut the bollocks. If you're just starting out, you don't have much of a stance to claim Artistic Integrity anyway. Take a job as a graphic designer, or a drafter, or a sign painter...think of it as, "conning the corporate overlords" if you have to. If you apply yourself, you'll not only learn some amazing new skills that will come in handy later, but you'll learn how to take critique and develop discipline. These very uncool skills will actually help make you a better artist. Once you're a better artist, armed with skills and discipline, you can then sit down to the task of developing Artistic Integrity...and find out it's about a lot more than just "Doing whatever I want when I feel like it." You'll have a bajillion people coming in with opinions, some of them important to your work (like managers) and some of them unimportant (like Lenny in the Mail Room); you'll quickly figure out who has legitimate ideas and who's full of shit (You'll also come to the realization that many of those shit-fullers are in charge, and you'll have to do what they say in order to get paid...but that's a whole nother problem).
I think the big lesson of all of this is: Let other peoples' opinions shape your art. Your friends should be willing and able to tell you plainly what you are communicating; the money men will tell you whether or not a piece of art will sell/sell product; more experienced people can give you tips and tricks and suggestions about where to go next. And yes, there is a danger that you might become too reliant on other people...but that doesn't mean you'll stay like that forever. And if you go down the wrong path and get stuck in a rut, set it down for a bit, then come back and see if anything has shaken loose. Stubbornly "maintaining your integrity" as an artist is merely fear of trying new things, and may actually set you on the path to losing what little integrity you had.
4. Know your Critiquer
I give all of the above advice with a word of caution: critique, in the wrong hands, can be very dangerous.Let's use the example of a doctor: you go to the doctor for a routine checkup. He finds a lump in your...pick a body part, anywhere. He immediately says its Stage-4 Body Part Cancer and your are going to die in two days.
What do you do? You get a second opinion. But who from? Your next-door neighbor? Your mailman? Your psychologist? A baker of cookies, a letter-deliverer, and a feelings examiner are three people who should not be re-diagnosing your Stage-4 Body Part Cancer; instead, you should go to another doctor. Specifically, an oncologist. Why? Because they are qualified to give a second opinion.
But you know if a doctor is qualified because of their, well, qualifications...what about getting a second opinion on your art?
Here's where things get tricky. Presenting your art before a class is exposing yourself to critiquers as inexperienced as you are; generally they will express opionions that are a) something they heard somewhere b) very prejudiced to their own thoughts on art, and c) an attempt to spare your feelings. A true ignoramus will sneer at a decent piece of art simply because he heard "that kind of art" wasn't in vogue at the moment, and wants to appear sophisticated. An self-styled abstractionist, considering herself on the cutting edge, will lambaste a realist piece for being "too figurative", nevermind its actual technical or artistic merit. And your typical Pollyanna will attempt to stammer out a number of vaguaries and "in my opinions" and "in a good ways" in order to land somewhere in the thousand-mile-radius of "I don't like it and I don't know why". None of these are useful, and the artist ends up being discouraged and confirmed in her suspicion that her classmates are a bunch of clowns with too much money.
A good start to finding better critique is to tap the brains of real, working artists. Usually teachers are the best at this; they have a mandate to be honest with their students, and they know you a little better than the average working artist, so they aren't bound by politeness as much as a stranger. Having friends who are artists also helps - so long as you are able to listen to said friends without being hurt or getting snappish. Some of the best (or worst) critique can be found in online artist forums; as long as you are familiar with the contributors and can avoid the less civilized sites, there's nothing wrong with getting the Interweb's opinion on your piece. Just be warned, putting your art out there may draw the wrong kind of attention, and you have to be wary and force yourself not to engage with trolls.
Hopefully the above tips will help you on your Creative journey. I think the biggest takeaway from all this is, be humble. That doesn't mean being a doormat, or caving in to every suggestion, but rather that you allow yourself to look at your own work objectively, through someone else's eyes, and consider their suggestions without allowing another person to take over your art. With practice, you'll not only learn how to take critique to develop your art better, but to balance your confidence in your ability with a critical artistic Eye.
Rick Out.
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