Criticism is one of those words people love to hate. When one imagines the recipient, it is easy to conjure a frown, a defensive stiffening of the spine, or even a knee-jerk visceral reaction. No one wants to undergo surgery for the fun of it, and if one does, we question their sanity for a good reason. Criticism is like that in a sense, a dissection that most people would like to spare themselves from if not for the absolute necessity of it.
However, while criticism can be advantageous, it is essential to recognize that not all criticisms are equal, and not all have the best interests of the object they critique at heart. In that same vein, this opinion piece was specifically conceived as a response to the growing dialogue in the flourishing Iloilo art scene. It aims to shed light on the fact that the discussions about art often lack a certain angle – the accountability of the art critic.
Before I delve into the topic at hand, I would like to begin with a confession: when I started penning this piece, I wasn't planning to write it too personally. Objectivity, after all, is the prized attribute of the intellectual, but somehow for the topic at hand, I find that approach too detached, almost disingenuous. The truth is, I am an artist, and this is about art; it is personal.
For as long as recorded memory has existed, people have had numerous debates about what art truly means. I don’t claim to know them all. I can’t even claim to have read one book about it from end to end. A large number of complex theories have been developed to dissect the topic and these scholarly disciplines are immense, spanning the work of centuries. What I have as a basis for this piece are my own experiences as an artist and my years of being a student and teacher of art, and for this specific endeavor, I hope they would suffice.
The Role of the Critic
Before we begin, a short summary of the role of criticism in art should be established. When one deals with art, one inevitably deals with criticism. It is unavoidable in any endeavor that aims to communicate and connect to a larger audience. But the role of the critic is just as elusive as the definition of art itself. It varies in the context of its purpose, the author's goal, and the type of institution that utilizes it. Reception to criticism too varies with the temperament of the artist, its content, and how the critic approaches it; for example, the use of language and whether it was done publicly or privately.
Art Criticism – with its appropriate capitalization – ties in with the theories and analysis of art, materials, and techniques, and finding an artwork’s place in the expansive milieu of human history. The essential attributes of the art critic are critical thinking, communication skills, and the ability to engage with diverse perspectives. But criticisms are also done colloquially and in informal settings like with exhibit visitors, passers-by, or a well-meaning friend. Someone from the outside looking in lends a fresh perspective to the artist cooped up in their own work, and if lucky enough, encourages productive breakthroughs. Negatively, it could further discourage creativity by making the artist feel self-conscious or overly-critical, a path that leads to frustration which may end in tragic inactivity.
Critiquing the Critic
While I personally haven’t come across a guidebook on how to navigate the sensitive topic of criticism, I have compiled some criticisms to discuss and provided my rationale as to why I think some criticisms are effective and others are not. I have provided the links to the original works and their authors to enable readers to cross-reference the pieces and form their own conclusions. It would be ideal to read them first before proceeding. For further transparency, I should note that two of the criticisms I have chosen specifically mention myself and my work. While it is fair to assume this piece is a defensive response to criticism, I would like to invite my readers to first view my counter-arguments with an open mind.
John Barrios’ critique ‘Babae bilang konstruk sa art exhibit’
(https://iloiloartkritik.blogspot.com/2022/03/babae-bilang-konstrak-sa-art-exhibit-na.html) views the exhibition of thirteen Ilongga artists at the University of the Philippines Visayas through the feminist lens. In his writing, Barrios associates the Ilonggo word 'lin-ay' (woman/muse) with frequently used feminine imagery like pregnancy, flowers, and nudity, which he arguably views as "weak, sexually objectifying, and exploitative."
As a woman artist, I am often reminded that female nudity in the art world is considered a homage to the notorious ‘male gaze’ and the sight of our bodies arouses nothing more than the crude, predatory, ‘masculine’ instinct. However, hearing this over and over as a woman artist, the message starts to distort. I found the insistence on such a perspective reinforces quite a narrow idea about the female form. As a woman artist, I can’t help but question whether or not it is fair that our body be interpreted merely as a conduit of lust and not a celebration of beauty; that our personal exploration on desirability is a pointless quest of vanity and not a human curiosity to explore our own physicality; that our inclination towards tender and nurturing ways are somewhat a sign of frailty? I don’t know what Barrios aims to achieve with his criticism by eschewing our lived experience and I find it terribly worrisome that as a woman I can’t even represent myself without having an outsider question the credibility of my womanhood.
All in all, I find it curious there was little else to tell what Barrios truly thought aside from generalized statements derived from textbook feminist beliefs. It would have been an interesting take had he challenged or expanded the validity of its applications vis-à-vis the motivations behind the artworks as was stated in its brochure: “...[The Ilongga artists] speak of the identities, knowledge, and strengths of the Ilonggo women that these may be heard – sundry but distinct.” Another point of concern was the lack of commentary on the technical aspect of art-making, which is quite a shame considering the myriad of materials and expressions displayed by the artists coming from different backgrounds. As a result, his review comes across as seemingly excluding the artists from his demographic.
Allyn Canja’s piece ‘Where are all the Ilongga artists?’ (https://thriveart.org/where-are-all-the-ilongga-artists/) starts with laudable intent, but a problematic premise. The rhetorical title seeks to emphasize the diminutive presence of Ilongga artists in local galleries. I understand the call for more representation of women artists and her insights about their tokenization are also on point. But Canja's argument falls short when she presents the issue as nothing more than a cynical powerplay between collector-institutions vs. women artists.
One of the glaring fallacies lies in what constitutes the idea of ‘success’ for instance. Is becoming a gallery artist the sole pathway to that coveted goal? If it is, doesn't that seem like a limiting prescription for the rather limitless capability of art? For the sake of following the nature of her implicit argument, let’s focus on that. The presence (or lack thereof) of the Ilongga artist in that particular community has multi-varied reasons that cannot be neatly summed up into easy conclusions. Let's expound on the potential reasons first. Out of the top of my head for example, how many artists do gallery art for a living? Is it an economically viable career? Is the demand high? How steep is the competition? And to top it all off, how many women are actively pursuing that kind of career? I do not deny that problems exist, but if we are talking statistics, it would be helpful to provide further context to the numbers and provide some in-depth analysis so it may help address the issue accurately.
As a result, I find the piece lends very little sympathy to the struggles and choices of artists. Art, for all its impassioned rationale, still depends on economic rules for its survival. We still fall under the mercy of supply and demand, and it's a steep, niche market. Becoming an earning, living artist is a combination of skill, patience, courage, and an abundance of luck; not at all that different to any successful business for that matter. I know many balk at the idea of commercialization, like many things, it has advantages and disadvantages. While it is a common sentiment to 'pedestalize' art, the reality for the artist is very different: choosing to be a full-time artist is hard; physically, mentally, emotionally, and financially, and depending on the kind of background the artist has, it can be a freeing and fulfilling endeavor or a lonely, exhausting career to pursue. Despite this, there are still a number of Ilonggas who rise up to the occasion and earn a name in their respective art practices within and without galleries and museums, and that too deserves just recognition.
Considering the whole point that is being belabored is the participation of the Ilongga artists, the way their actual contribution is mentioned seems pointedly downplayed. For Canja to write that there are no current Ilongga artists that, and I quote, “surfaced which merited writing and documentation” is either a poorly worded statement or a blatant disregard of our contributions. Have the contemporary Ilongga artists done nothing worth preserving? Or is it the critic's perception of value that needs to be reexamined?
I am uncertain what concern Canja is focusing on confronting or what remedy she is suggesting for that matter. Overall, her essay seems to try to address multiple issues without delving deeper into the different reasons why the dilemma existed in the first place, which makes for a rushed, unsatisfying attempt at tackling a legitimate problem.
Eric Abalajon’s ‘Pinning down the Mundane in Punctum: wounds of time’ (https://thriveart.org/pinning-down-the-mundane-in-punctum-wounds-of-time/) writes a vivid recollection of the exhibition. One of the things that stood out in his writing was how well he articulated clearly and sympathetically his curatorial suggestions. He writes as someone visiting the exhibition. He explains the impressions he sees and feels on the spot, almost taking the reader along with him as he makes his rounds. In addition to the artworks, he noted how the venue affected his experience of the exhibition. Abalajon considers both the presence and production of multimedia exhibitions; the challenges it faces in presenting its context, execution, and the space it inhabits. The review was concise, easy to follow, and straight to the point. As an artist or curator reading, it is educational if you’re inclined to use or feature the same media as the mentioned artists, preparing yourself for its potential hardships and pitfalls.
Another exemplar review was written by Theodore Bautista, ‘Weaving histories in Green Papaya’s Intertextile’ (https://thriveart.org/weaving-histories-in-green-papayas-intertextile/). Not only was his review beautifully written, Bautista gracefully weaved the process of textile art into its material history, threading through the complexities intertwined within its context and creation. What I particularly love about this review is how Bautista, a historian, injects his own knowledge and sensibility into his review. He allows us to see the artworks through his eyes as he walks us through the materials before they were transformed by the artists. Bautista tangles the present with the past, stitching rich narratives (raising valid points and expansions) beyond what is visibly seen or read on title cards and artist statements. For artists reading, it may inspire us to delve beyond the topical properties of our media and instead consider its history as a tool for further articulation, playing with both direct communication and its potential subtext.
It is important to emphasize that what makes Abalajon and Bautista's writing effective and worth emulating is because it sought to expand and question the works within its own parameters. As an effect, it ensured the artist's place in the conversation rather than relegating us as merely a convenient topic to be talked over. If the goal of criticism is for the betterment of the art community, it is imperative that artists and their artworks are given proper representation and critics should show decent care and understanding about the subjects they are discussing.
Conclusion
I won’t be surprised that this writing will consequently be critiqued as too emotional; that assessment would be fair. However, it is important to point out that art has never been the domain of the purely rational. It is not a field devoid of emotion. It is not a strict ‘science’ if we are to be pedantic with definitions. There is an undeniable humanity in art-making that taps in the rawness and expansive range of all of our human experience; delving straight into the chaos, the fragilities, and the contradictions. There is something about the process of starting an idea from the ether, a borrowed inspiration that we can’t really tell whence it came, and the grueling journey you take as you slowly build upon that vague feeling, often done in blind faith in hopes that what you create would be good and worthwhile, that encapsulates the entirety of the human experience. That very same humanity offers art both its privileges and its perils, its beauty and its flaws, and gives us all an insight into what heart and mind could achieve when it poured itself into the cause of self-expression.
As an artist, you get to have that unique chance to relive profound experiences over and over again; the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. This reminder seems poignant nowadays, almost prophetic in its weight, even more so with the onset of quick gratification of generating mass outputs by AI programs. But that is another topic worthy of its own piece.
I wrote this piece not just for the critics to hear what I have to say, but to hopefully normalize a respectful and informed dialogue between the two factions, that artists do have a seat at this table and we are free to express and challenge the narratives surrounding our work and our community without being labeled or dismissed as incapable of accepting criticism. Our feedback matters, too. We add value to the conversation.
While the artist-critic relationship is often fraught with tension, I don't believe it must devolve into bickering and resentment. Artists and critics alike should acknowledge the necessity of their symbiosis and hold each other accountable for its flourishing. Professionalism and respect are the key factors in maintaining cordiality and both parties should do their due diligence.
As individuals, both as imparter and receiver of criticism, before we speak or accept what we are told, we all must ask ourselves these two questions:
'What value does the critique impart?'
And more importantly,
'Who does the criticism serve?'
Overall, in the particulars of intents and imaginations, it is deeply advised to retain the lens of humanity; to see art not merely as an object, but a culmination of human effort, a testament to the collective knowledge that survived through the chaos of the years, a glimpse of intimacy of another person’s deepest voices and desires, and in the heart of it all is the quintessential child that trudges on a lonesome journey of understanding and seeking to be understood. In this circumstance, the pen is indeed mightier than the sword; for one can injure the body, the other can kill the soul.
Digital Drawings by Noel Epalan Jr.