Not too long ago, I was speaking with my friend, Rubi Orozco Santos and was commenting on a recent post on her blog Tradiciones Sanas. The article I read was about her cooking demonstration at the El Paso Downtown Artist and Farmers Market and was a wonderful hybrid of personal narrative, native food wisdom and love. The conversation we had culminated in us forging an agreement that we should both be writing more often and challenged each other to make at least one blog post a month. Writing however has proven to be difficult, at least for me, thus far, but I am submitting unto the world the following statement as my first entry. Thank You to Rubi for the encouragement!
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A Little Something About Critique
There are many reasons why I love the study of art history. It is this field of study that combines some of my favorite things, obviously art and history, philosophy and critique. Most importantly, it is a field where I am able to read books that are full of images. This is a huge plus. Picture books are fun.
As a visual artist, when you think of the sheer magnitude of artists in your field, many so fantastic and legendary and groundbreaking, this history of everyone working before you and even alongside you as contemporaries, can feel like a burden. Because, as you get older and you work more and more and learn more and more, you begin to understand that there really is nothing that novel under the sun that you can create. This is not to say that I am jaded or that my work or any other artists’ work is necessarily unoriginal. It is perhaps just a coming to terms with the fact that I am no more special than the next person working in the same medium as I am and that my work has to stand on its own in spite of the weight of the historical precedents that have influenced what or why I paint or don’t paint.
I have made a great deal of bad art and written tons of bad essays and poems and sang off key more times than I’d like to count or admit to. But one of the things I am most grateful for in life is that I have had mentors and friends and colleagues who will tell me when I make a bad painting or when I lose the rhythm of a song. There has, more often than not, always been a lesson in how to become a better artist or writer or guitar player and some things I hear constantly are: “Layer more paint on that canvas” or “loosen your wrist so you can play those chords faster.” Of course, it always stings to hear a bad critique, but I am of the opinion, that we always know, if we let ourselves truly see or listen, where we could make improvements or when we simply did not try. So critiques have become less painful as I work to be the best at what I do, for what my capabilities allow. And it is true as well, that the only limitations here are ones that I place on myself.
I am often at a loss when I hear artists, working in any medium, vilify legitimate criticism of artistic work, as if having any kind of analysis of an object or a song or performance is antithetical to being a supporter of the arts. And, yes, to be clear, I understand that there is a whole host of completely valid reasons to steer clear of critique, especially when those voices so often heard are rooted in an aesthetic tradition that is reflective of a dominant western artistic cultural understanding rather than a global tradition that is inclusive of the myriad voices of artistic practice. That being said, there has to be room to have an open, honest conversation amongst artists that allows us to question and challenge each other in a way that nurtures us to grow and create work that is honest and true to who we are as artists. I’m still trying to figure out how this can be done. But I have to believe that when posed the question “What do you think of my art?” evoking an honest answer is the best way to start.
Rebecca Ann Muñoz 