The Art Critic
As a visual artist the critique is always looming out there, whether you ask for it or not. Any time a work of art is shown, you get a review. Even if it’s a silent review (which can be the worst review possible). Yes, some things are better left unsaid.
I do art for the money. Usually this is dictated art. After completing several renditions of, let’s say, a logo, there’s finally the one they wanted. Sometimes all I need to do is execute a paper napkin drawing, and all is good.
I also do art for the pure joy of it. An inspiration from a flower, a house, a marsh, a news story. Sometimes I draw or write to relieve pain. The latter being more of my political cartoons as seen here, in “hydrocloroxquarentine“. Best part of this kind of art is I don’t care about the review. I’m more interested in getting the information that in my head, out. The best said critique I ever had was “it came out good”. Good, not well. Good.
The first book I wrote was on a punch and hammer typewriter when liquid paper was all the rage. Being not much of a speller, and way before spell check, there was several typos of course. Well, actually, not really typos, down right wrong guesses at spelling. After I wrote this book, which was about the cost of the Seabrook nuclear power plant. The monetary cost as well as the cost to the environment and future generations. Some pretty profound transfer of knowledge from out of my head and onto the paper. My first review came in from my father, who read every word and commented I had made 12 spelling mistakes. I printed a few books and gave them out. It had a few illustrations. I was proud. I kept one copy for myself, I’m sure the only surviving copy.
More recently, I wrote another book on diets. It had over 20 illustrations. The purpose of this book was two fold. One being I needed to brush up on drawing people and the other I wanted to figure out how and why it’s so impossible to lose weight. I worked not only writing and illustrating it, I converted it to Kindle and also for epub. Both processes needed to be learned. Plus a version for print. I was so proud of my work. I knew how much effort went into the details of the drawings, writing, then publishing. After showing my first commercially printed version of a book to my closest friend at the time, I got a critique on the paper it was printed on. Not one word was read before this comment. I finally escaped my spelling problem.
Most recently, I hung an art show with large format prints. Needless to say, another critic said something that it was hung wrong. The point of the show was overlooked by some technical error (in their minds). Luckily there were no words on the prints.
So now I have yet one more political work of art. But, I finally get the critique, the art critic is a reflection of themselves. How they may understand what is presented to them, is of their own interpretation from what they have already learned, not necessarily from acquiring new information.
