When art criticism is not about taste or opinion or expertise, but a willingness to recognize what is working and what is not working, and for whom
Lately I’ve been thinking about what kind of art criticism I enjoy reading and how I might approach writing critically about art. I’ve practiced a lot in private, jotting down my impressions of exhibitions and performances, but it hasn’t really helped me get closer to understanding what art criticism means to me and what I want to say from my particular lens.
In the past few weeks, I happened to come across a definition of art criticism on the Meanjin podcast that was especially helpful. Cher Tan offers the idea that “criticism is care,” while the other interviewee spoke about art criticism as an act of paying attention, treating something in a respectful, inquisitive, and intellectually rigorous way.
As Tan mentioned in the podcast, the idea of criticism as care actually comes from the poet Hanif Addurraqib who articulates in an interview with The Nation how one can simultaneously critique and honour an artist. Addurraqib actually goes beyond the word care to define critique as an expression of love: “The fairest way to critique someone is out of love, or out of the feeling that you were let down in some way.” That really struck a cord. Isn’t it true that we are the hardest on those we love?
I found these definitions of how to engage in art criticism helpful because unlike most writing advice which is solely practical (ie. write in the morning, keep a journal, write a lot, pitch a lot, see a lot) this gave me an emotional rubric to begin to understand and navigate the writing impulse. I feel that the element of care would be the difference in me doing reviews for myself and being motivated from the right place to offer them to a wider audience.
Tan’s comment on Meanjin also led me to connect the dots between a few texts which up until now, I had completely forgotten about but could also be taken as valuable guiding principles on how to formulate a critical response to art.
I’m going to quote Pascal Gielan here who writes about curating as an act of love in Manifesta Journal 10:
In caring for others the loving curator loses himself, so that he may fully live up to the original meaning of his own name: curare! Falling in love, the curator might completely disappear behind the artists in whom he believes, the society and audiences he serves, or the political and artistic idea for which he stands. Only then will these protagonists of the contemporary art world be able to step out of the competitive logic of a hectic succession of projects and self-promotion.
Gielan is cognizant of the trouble with current network production in the curatorial profession, which he feels is short-lived, nomadic, and in servitude to a machine of biennales, the art market, and projects churned out only to ingratiate the art world. So for Gielan, love is offered as a solution. Why? Because love is long-lasting. It supports strong networks with artists even in the face of market change and creative evolution.
It is the same reason why art criticism benefits from being considered an act of care. The meaning of care is not in the sense of giving 100% effort. It means that as a critic, even if the artist or artwork doesn’t resonate with you, you take the time to reflect on, as Addurraqib puts it, “what is working versus not working,” and more importantly, “for whom is this working if not for me?”
From the perspective of care, good art criticism seems to be as much about the critic ascertaining value from his/er subjective standpoint to being upfront about what is unsettling in an artwork, what leads to further questions, or what it is that overturns expectations. Significantly, to write from a place of care is to act without ego. I can align myself with that-- an art criticism that develops its own voice and form without obliterating the artwork or the artists, without pandering to art history or theory, and always respectful, inquisitive, and intellectually rigorous.
