Got away from the books on Wednesday and went to hear Joan Acocella,
New Yorker dance critic, talk about reviewing and arts criticism. Since this is the primary topic of my thesis, it was a welcome change of pace to listen to someone talk about the "nuts and bolts" of writing a critique. It was a good test of my research and findings. Practice over theory, you know.
She talked about the two essential elements that determine the shape of a review - deadline and word count and how they "limit the amount of serious thinking a
reviewer can do." She then put on a nine-minute clip of Mark Morris'
Mozart Dances and gave us an in-the-moment account of her process for analyzing a dance. What struck me was how fluidly she shifted from analysis of the movement to placing it in context - "they're giving us just the steps, this is modern" or "here you'll notice complete bilateral symmetry, which of course, is classical." This shifting illuminated the dance but also made it part of the larger conversation of dance itself.
This sort of work is why I read criticism. I like to see a critic's thinking- see them put a work of art into an artistic, social, or political context. I like seeing how they interrogate their response to a work of art and how they convey that experience to the reader. It's a difficult task and I stand in awe of those who do it well.
Later Acocella discussed criticism as a form of advocacy - a way of advancing "new styles of art" which are "inherently disadvantaged." Think of Martin Esslin and Margret Croyden advocating for Theatre of the Absurd or Norman Hapgood recognizing the place Ibsen would one day claim in dramatic art. Acocella eschews forming personal relationships with artists and companies feeling that she can't truly advocate and support their work. She feels that the more personal your relationship with the artists and companies the less able you are to write what you want - ie. criticize their work constructively - ie. write a negative response.
To a certain degree, she's right. But, for me, she fell short in analyzing why this situation is so. It isn't the relationship with artists that makes it difficult to write what you want. It's the commercial aspect of criticism whereby your negative review translates into dollars at the box office. Yes, it might seem like a betrayal to the artist to write negatively about their work. It's a resilient relationship that can navigate through frank and honest criticism. But the difficulty is compounded by the fact that what you write will effect the artist financially, if you put any stock in the notion that the public is swayed by bad reviews. Put another way, more people are likely to buy a ticket based on a good review. Do you ever, ever, go to a show after reading a negative review saying to yourself, "why this show sounds positively heinous, I must see it for myself!" Ah, if only.
The most negative, most well-written and absolutely on target review I've personally received was a half-page in the now defunct
San Franciso Examiner. It killed the show. And maybe deservedly so. I didn't mind the criticism, like I said, it was right. But financially, it meant that I was going to be living in a tent in a friend's backyard for a month until I made back the money I lost. Not the critic's concern. It seemed to me that Acocella wanted to shield herself from those realities. They exist and her work contributes to an artist's success or failure whether or not she engages with that artist personally.
Finally, she closed by talking about newspaper arts coverage acknowledging that, as we all know, "electronic forms are taking over from print." Her particular take on arts blogging is that while blogs do "let the people speak," bloggers are not trying to do the same thing as reviewers. She feels that "internet commentary is more exclusionary" since "most of the talk is not aimed at the general public, it is written by fans for fans" making it "more of an elite coverage than print coverage."
reviewer can do." She then put on a nine-minute clip of Mark Morris' Mozart Dances and gave us an in-the-moment account of her process for analyzing a dance. What struck me was how fluidly she shifted from analysis of the movement to placing it in context - "they're giving us just the steps, this is modern" or "here you'll notice complete bilateral symmetry, which of course, is classical." This shifting illuminated the dance but also made it part of the larger conversation of dance itself.
