Yesterday I got into a discussion about critiques. Apparently I am known for my gentle critiques of student work while a colleague is known to give hard critiques that tend to send students out to their cars crying.
My philosophy about critiquing is that we need to figure out what we did right and go further down that path to discover our personal style. I also describe it in terms of music. When a musician misses a note everyone in the room hears it. Do we really need to point it out? I don’t think so.
When I think of artistic success I strive to help people find their personal voice rather than perfection. I think of perfection like being on a cruise ship and having a band play covers in perfect pitch and tempo. They are adequate performances but not memorable.
When I was a small child and my great grandparents were alive, we would go over to their house almost every Saturday night. After dinner I would sit in my great grandfather’s lap and we would share a black watch tartan plaid blanket and sit in their den and watch the Lawrence Welk show. While I can remember Lawrence Welk’s German Accent and I can remember the accordion player because the instrument seemed exotic and yet familiar to my piano, there isn’t a single performance of a song that stands out. They were very professional and polished… but not memorable.
A singer like Bonnie Raitt is memorable for her imperfect raspy voice and her authentic performances. Johnny Cash has a voice that is hard to call pleasant and yet he is an icon who has given his personal style to every performance even when he is covering another artist work like he did near the end of his life when he sang the Nine Inch Nails song HURT.
Willie Nelson is another singer whose voice has a range comparable to a poorly tuned guitar. I can still hear him sing the song twilight. He is an icon, not because of his perfection, but for his original style and persistence.
When I critique I try to identify what the maker of an image is trying to say in the work. I want to help them find their voice. If I had to choose between technical precision or personal originality I will chose originality every time.
Another problem with critiques is that the person reviewing the work tends to tell the person how they would do it rather than exploring what the maker is trying to accomplish with the work. I like to ask questions about the makers intentions and then give feedback about whether I perceived the image in the way I was intended to or not. If it doesn’t come across as intended I can explore strategies that would help clarify the message.
I guess this goes back to my background in communication where you recognize that a message is encoded from the originator’s concept image map and transmitted to the receiver who decodes the message through their concept image map of experiences and then offers feedback that indicates the level of understanding achieved.
I really enjoy the critique process. I see it as entering into a thought partnership that helps illuminate the artist intention and purpose for the work. A good critique will help give 3-5 jumping off points for taking a concept further.
I really appreciate a good critique of my work. That was the greatest value of being part of an artist collective and sharing studio spaces with other artists who were open to asking questions and giving honest feedback that was designed to help me clarify the work. This is how my Primordial series came to be. During a critique session an artist pointed out the similarities of what I was trying to achieve with my botanicals to what I was doing with the figure studies. At that moment I had an epiphany about how the organic forms of the plants and people were similar and needed to be presented together.
Art schools are known for their hard critiques. Many professors feel it is their obligation to give a harsh critique early in a student’s career so they can see if they have the stomach to succeed in the profession. Their thinking is that the world outside of school is filled with harsh critiques that don’t go past like and dislike in making purchase decisions. They want to help the students find their independent voice by not offering affirmation. Instead they want to challenge them to push through the pain of self doubt. It is a survival of the fittest mindset.
I can understand the thinking behind this. It is the classic apprenticeship model for training craftspeople. There is a documentary I love to watch called Jiro dreams of sushi that gives insight into the journey of becoming a sushi chef. An apprentice will not be allowed to touch the fish for many years. They have to develop their discipline through years of menial tasks. The rigor weeds out many and leaves survivors who can go on to become master artisans.
I understand this approach and have even admired it. I think of books like Zen and the Art of Archery that illustrate the classic pupil/master relationship. When I was in my twenties I studied a hard style of Okinawa Karate with Master Sensei Teruo Chinen. He was as closed to the movie character Miyagi that you could get. In fact that character was based upon his actual instructor in Okinawa. A portrait of the real Sensei Miyagi hung in the dojo.
Sensei Chinen pushed me hard. He wanted to toughen up my fists so he chose a piece of wood and installed a makiwara board in my parents back yard for me to train with. I would often find myself driving with him in his old grey international pickup truck that had a makiwara board mounted on the side of the bed. If we got stuck waiting at a train crossing he would order me out to strike the board. He would count out loud ichi!, ni!, san!… and I would punch the hard plank harder and harder until my knuckles would bleed.
He took me under his wing for a couple of years. He liked me because I had been a boxer before studying martial arts. As a beginner white belt he would put me into kumite with black belts. He would tell his upper level students that they needed to learn how to fight and not just how to perform Kata.
On Friday nights after a hard workout in the Dojo he would invite some of us to his house a few blocks away where he would light a fire and cook us fried rice and tell us stories about his training growing up in Okinawa. I cherish those Friday night memories, but I also think about them in terms of being like a hard critique.
I stayed for a couple of years until an injury caused me to have to stop training for a year. By the time I was cleared to go, life seemed to take me to other places. I realized that I had done enough hard training and fighting in my life as a boxer. I had trained for an entire year with a broken nose and had career ending surgery on my shoulder just prior to nationals. I was more interested in the discipline of kata than of kumite.
I saw Sensei Chinen at the grocery store many years later just before he died. He took one look at me and smiled and yelled Mr. Gardner! We chatted for a moment, shook hands and went our separate ways. He was a master craftsman with a good heart and I will be forever grateful for knowing him. Domo arigato gozaimasu Sensei Chinen!
I think of the hard critique versus the softer critique as being like the difference between a Zen practice from a Tao practice. My path has taken that of the Tao. It has suited me well and enabled me to grow my art practice and successfully mentor others in a gentle way.
I think there is a place for the hard and a place for the softer paths to artistic enlightenment. I think that when a student is starting out they need encouragement by identifying what they are doing right. I think in order to stand out in the world you have to find a way to express more of yourself to it so that people can differentiate between your work and others. This comes from finding what notes you are hitting right and ignoring the rest. Keeping hitting the good notes over and over to master your own tune.
When you get a little further down the path I think the harder discipline has value as you learn to master techniques that work for you. Illumination comes from practice which is the discipline of doing your artwork daily.
Technical precision for technique sake tends to produce lifeless work. Technique in service of a creative vision will inspire mastery and craftsmanship while illuminating the creative idea. This what I strive for. It is a process known as a vision driven workflow.
I push advanced students harder than new students because they do need to be prepared to enter the harsh environment of the professional world. F. Buckminster Fuller figured out a long time ago while sitting on the shores of Lake Michigan in deep depression, that the universe didn’t owe him a living and that he had to do something of value to others. That is challenging for most artist who go into their practice for purely personal enrichment.
I think my colleague who gives the hard critiques and I are really providing the students the yin and yang of artistic development. It is the non-duality of both technical craftsmanship and creativity. My practice emphasizes creativity first and technique second whereas my colleague emphasizes technique and craftsmanship before creativity. Neither are wrong just as long as we don’t inadvertently destroy the spirit in the process.
There is much more to discuss on this topic but I will save it for another time. I have lit the fire and poured a whiskey. It is time to sit and enjoy the memories of my time studying under a master in the dojo.
Sayonara until tomorrow.
Ira