blamebrampton (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
blamebrampton) wrote2010-01-28 11:58 pm
blamebrampton) wrote2010-01-28 11:58 pm
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On concrit, more or less ...
Being a rampant egoist* I'm going to talk about myself for a minute. As a young woman, I liked to perform. Singing, dancing, acting, showjumping, debating, dressage, you name it, I was all for it. Part of the joy was that I actually like doing all those things, part of it was that I was generally good at them, and I liked to receive the ribbons, prizes and reviews that came with them. Even when the reviews were along the lines of 'An enjoyable performance until one of the soloists ended upside-down in the timpani' (tragic story involving last-minute relocation, shorter stage and me always looking at the back of the audience, never at my feet), I could always take something from them that would help me learn and grow.
As an older woman, I became a reviewer, writing about contemporary music and books for the most part, but also events, film, theatre and even fashion on a few memorable occasions. It was an interesting enterprise as I tried to separate the ways I looked at artefacts and to judge them on levels beyond personal taste and the intent of the author. Because while both those things matter, they're not the most important things. For example: Jeff Koons has a sculpture called Puppy, which is a 12-metre-high installation of a sculpture of a West Highland terrier clad in flowering plants. Now, Koons describes his own work as having no subtle artistic intent, though he seems happy to be paid well for it. And, being a bit of a wanker, I am inclined to think that Koons is a a post-Pop opportunist who is thrilled Andy Warhol died in 1987, and sniffily disapprove of him on principle. However, neither my taste nor the author's intent are the thing that form my response to Puppy. Because it is actually impossible to have a 12-metre-high terrier blooming in front of you and not smile. It's pure Festival, in the sense of the public taking a moment out of the everyday to commune with something that is anything but everyday. Once we did it with religion, now we sometimes do it with art.
All this is background.
Where I am going with it is that I like criticism. As a performer I liked reading it to push me, and as a reviewer I liked thinking about works beyond the simple 'Oh, yes, that was lovely' or 'La Fura dels Baus are really scary and I am not used to having to run away at the theatre!'** I like reading critiques for themselves, as well as in relation to works I am going to see/read, either before or after. I read works by dead critics.
If you ever want to criticise my work, you are free to do so, and I in fact encourage it. One really brave fandom friend has just challenged a few of us to leave critical comments on all her work at the moment (and if she is fine with probably having a few people come to gawp, I'll edit this paragraph to pop her name in, although anyone not reading her already is mad, I tell you!) I am completely up for the same experiment.
However ...
Criticism in fandom is really hard. I've been chatting about this with a few friends who are often smarter than me, and there are a few recurring themes. From here on I am going to be talking about concrit, which is the general fandom expectation of the critic (how this is similar to and different from the above would take up too much space at the moment, so I am conveniently ignoring it: this is LJ, not an aesthetics journal.)
The obvious one is that a large percentage of fandom writing (read art and writing, but I am a shameless text slut and so will talk about writing) is written to entertain. To respond in terms of personal taste is exactly the right response for this set, because that is the way the work is meant to engage with an audience. Concrit here can often be bad spirited, like saying 'Look, I liked that joke and I did laugh, but I think that your timing was off in the phrase before the punch line.'
Then there are a lot of people who are 'new' to writing, or still feeling their way through their creative process. To provide gentle concrit when asked for can be helpful if done kindly, but to unleash both barrels can be like attending the fourth rehearsal of a play and tearing apart the performances. Sometimes I feel that![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fanficrants is devoted to this sort of exercise.
For writing that is done at a more serious level, where it would certainly be attracting reviews if it were original, it's not a simple matter, either. As one of my smarter friends said, criticism in publications comes out of what is largely a shared language and the readers of the criticism feel free to engage with it in a similarly critical mode, as letters to the arts editor often show.
In fandom, concrit is often seen as being much more emotionally loaded. Sometimes perhaps because it is: I have seen a few comments that read as though the commenter just wanted to make the writer feel bad, which may be as much about ineptitude in the part of the commenter as about actual bad blood. But I've also seen emotion read into a comment by the person who received it. And, much more often, by others. It ends up with bad feeling all around because something that started as an unloaded statement -- eg 'I feel your second act was a little rushed and would have loved to see it developed as strongly as the first and third' -- can finish up as being perceived as a comment on the worth of the writer.
Of course the correct response to such a comment is either 'Hmmmm, actually, yeah, good point' or 'I think you're wrong on that. Certainly the shifts in character and emotion were more subtle, however ...' but if you don't have a strong ego and a solid background of what we used to politely term vigorous critical debate, then this is not a game you will enjoy playing. (Again, I'm lucky to have been encouraged in this field. I had a professor whose greatest joy came when his class was disrupted by shouts along the lines of: 'Brammers you Postmodern Bolshevik you cannot tell me that Titus Andronicus is the Terminator of the Elizabethan Stage' 'Of course I can, Carruthers, you Tynanesque Tyrant, and if you had half the insight of your idol, you'd agree'.)
In many ways, concrit is like croquet: if you know how its played and you are up for it, it can be a great experience that leaves you feeling invigorated and intellectually excited. But if you find yourself suddenly in a field with unexpected mallets flying and have no idea which hoop is which, it's a bloody nightmare. And since fandom is largely a croquet-free zone, I am fine with the convention that one does not mention the hoops until one is invited to. Even though, as a massive fan of croquet (literally and metaphorically), I would like nothing better.
Add to this that sometimes the fandom audience is actually a terrible judge of work, since it's a place where a flash of penis can outweigh actual genius (in my own case, lacking penis and genius, amusing farces generally score far higher comment counts that the few works that have more substance). And sometimes writers have tangled up their self-worth so far into their writing and/or the reception of their writing that it is not possible to comment on the one without it being felt by the other. It ends up less of a croquet lawn and more a bloody minefield!
All of which is a long way of saying: I do get why a lot of my friends don't like concrit and there are dozens of good reasons and a few bad ones not to, but I'm personally fine with it and think you should feel free over here, even if I respond by telling you your point is not actually as valid as you think. For example, you might now like to criticise the rambling of the above paragraphs, and I would have to grant that you make an excellent point.
On a final and unrelated note, GO ANDY MURRAY!!
*Anyone who has just launched into a Beautiful People Egoiste re-enactment, I love you. Also, anyone who has just clicked both those links and is wondering WTF?? I have nothing. The 1990s are beyond even my powers of explanation.
** I started going to panto at three, so that's 40 years of everything from highly experimental theatre to a bucketload of Elizabethan, with even a full Peter Brooks Mahabharata, and LFdB is the only time I was in fear of my life. TheatreWorks's Desdemona made me briefly want to top myself, but that was largely because I was in a very bad mood after being bumped from my flight for a bevy of politicians including a vile ex-boyfriend and missed the performance I really wanted to see just before that one.
As an older woman, I became a reviewer, writing about contemporary music and books for the most part, but also events, film, theatre and even fashion on a few memorable occasions. It was an interesting enterprise as I tried to separate the ways I looked at artefacts and to judge them on levels beyond personal taste and the intent of the author. Because while both those things matter, they're not the most important things. For example: Jeff Koons has a sculpture called Puppy, which is a 12-metre-high installation of a sculpture of a West Highland terrier clad in flowering plants. Now, Koons describes his own work as having no subtle artistic intent, though he seems happy to be paid well for it. And, being a bit of a wanker, I am inclined to think that Koons is a a post-Pop opportunist who is thrilled Andy Warhol died in 1987, and sniffily disapprove of him on principle. However, neither my taste nor the author's intent are the thing that form my response to Puppy. Because it is actually impossible to have a 12-metre-high terrier blooming in front of you and not smile. It's pure Festival, in the sense of the public taking a moment out of the everyday to commune with something that is anything but everyday. Once we did it with religion, now we sometimes do it with art.
All this is background.
Where I am going with it is that I like criticism. As a performer I liked reading it to push me, and as a reviewer I liked thinking about works beyond the simple 'Oh, yes, that was lovely' or 'La Fura dels Baus are really scary and I am not used to having to run away at the theatre!'** I like reading critiques for themselves, as well as in relation to works I am going to see/read, either before or after. I read works by dead critics.
If you ever want to criticise my work, you are free to do so, and I in fact encourage it. One really brave fandom friend has just challenged a few of us to leave critical comments on all her work at the moment (and if she is fine with probably having a few people come to gawp, I'll edit this paragraph to pop her name in, although anyone not reading her already is mad, I tell you!) I am completely up for the same experiment.
However ...
Criticism in fandom is really hard. I've been chatting about this with a few friends who are often smarter than me, and there are a few recurring themes. From here on I am going to be talking about concrit, which is the general fandom expectation of the critic (how this is similar to and different from the above would take up too much space at the moment, so I am conveniently ignoring it: this is LJ, not an aesthetics journal.)
The obvious one is that a large percentage of fandom writing (read art and writing, but I am a shameless text slut and so will talk about writing) is written to entertain. To respond in terms of personal taste is exactly the right response for this set, because that is the way the work is meant to engage with an audience. Concrit here can often be bad spirited, like saying 'Look, I liked that joke and I did laugh, but I think that your timing was off in the phrase before the punch line.'
Then there are a lot of people who are 'new' to writing, or still feeling their way through their creative process. To provide gentle concrit when asked for can be helpful if done kindly, but to unleash both barrels can be like attending the fourth rehearsal of a play and tearing apart the performances. Sometimes I feel that
fanficrants is devoted to this sort of exercise.For writing that is done at a more serious level, where it would certainly be attracting reviews if it were original, it's not a simple matter, either. As one of my smarter friends said, criticism in publications comes out of what is largely a shared language and the readers of the criticism feel free to engage with it in a similarly critical mode, as letters to the arts editor often show.
In fandom, concrit is often seen as being much more emotionally loaded. Sometimes perhaps because it is: I have seen a few comments that read as though the commenter just wanted to make the writer feel bad, which may be as much about ineptitude in the part of the commenter as about actual bad blood. But I've also seen emotion read into a comment by the person who received it. And, much more often, by others. It ends up with bad feeling all around because something that started as an unloaded statement -- eg 'I feel your second act was a little rushed and would have loved to see it developed as strongly as the first and third' -- can finish up as being perceived as a comment on the worth of the writer.
Of course the correct response to such a comment is either 'Hmmmm, actually, yeah, good point' or 'I think you're wrong on that. Certainly the shifts in character and emotion were more subtle, however ...' but if you don't have a strong ego and a solid background of what we used to politely term vigorous critical debate, then this is not a game you will enjoy playing. (Again, I'm lucky to have been encouraged in this field. I had a professor whose greatest joy came when his class was disrupted by shouts along the lines of: 'Brammers you Postmodern Bolshevik you cannot tell me that Titus Andronicus is the Terminator of the Elizabethan Stage' 'Of course I can, Carruthers, you Tynanesque Tyrant, and if you had half the insight of your idol, you'd agree'.)
In many ways, concrit is like croquet: if you know how its played and you are up for it, it can be a great experience that leaves you feeling invigorated and intellectually excited. But if you find yourself suddenly in a field with unexpected mallets flying and have no idea which hoop is which, it's a bloody nightmare. And since fandom is largely a croquet-free zone, I am fine with the convention that one does not mention the hoops until one is invited to. Even though, as a massive fan of croquet (literally and metaphorically), I would like nothing better.
Add to this that sometimes the fandom audience is actually a terrible judge of work, since it's a place where a flash of penis can outweigh actual genius (in my own case, lacking penis and genius, amusing farces generally score far higher comment counts that the few works that have more substance). And sometimes writers have tangled up their self-worth so far into their writing and/or the reception of their writing that it is not possible to comment on the one without it being felt by the other. It ends up less of a croquet lawn and more a bloody minefield!
All of which is a long way of saying: I do get why a lot of my friends don't like concrit and there are dozens of good reasons and a few bad ones not to, but I'm personally fine with it and think you should feel free over here, even if I respond by telling you your point is not actually as valid as you think. For example, you might now like to criticise the rambling of the above paragraphs, and I would have to grant that you make an excellent point.
On a final and unrelated note, GO ANDY MURRAY!!
*Anyone who has just launched into a Beautiful People Egoiste re-enactment, I love you. Also, anyone who has just clicked both those links and is wondering WTF?? I have nothing. The 1990s are beyond even my powers of explanation.
** I started going to panto at three, so that's 40 years of everything from highly experimental theatre to a bucketload of Elizabethan, with even a full Peter Brooks Mahabharata, and LFdB is the only time I was in fear of my life. TheatreWorks's Desdemona made me briefly want to top myself, but that was largely because I was in a very bad mood after being bumped from my flight for a bevy of politicians including a vile ex-boyfriend and missed the performance I really wanted to see just before that one.
no subject
No cookies, thanks, on diet.
Not at all sure where you're going with the imposing a binary standard. Recognising that some people don't like being critiqued and that their reasons for not liking it are more important than my reasons for liking to -- as you say -- critique anything, is neither a binary standard nor one that I in any way insist others should follow. And you'll note that I explicitly make no claims for logicality.
I do stand by my opinion that some things are bad choices for the critical enterprise, though. While you might have fun critiquing a rehearsal or a text that is clearly written just for the fun of the writer, it doesn't do anything useful as it won't impact on the writer, won't be read by the audience who are in it just for the amusement value, and won't give you much of an exercise of your critical facilities.
[Sentence edited as it addressed point which has since been clarified.]
no subject
it doesn't do anything useful
Criticism of anything can be useful in itself, without outside influence or feedback, to the person doing the criticising. Criticism does not exist for writers alone. When you approach a thing from a standpoint of what doesn't work about it, you can learn things about a) writing (and how to do it), and, perhaps more importantly b) yourself. One of the most amazing essays I read last year was I Didn't Dream of Dragons (and the follow-up she wrote for white allies). While her main point has precisely nothing to do with concrit, I think these two essays demonstrate rather aptly that engaging in critical thinking about anything, whatever it was "meant" to do, is important and can be enriching to the critic. If someone ALSO wants to write down their critical thoughts and publish them, that is her right. The binary standard comes into these discussions because people inevitably come down on either one side or the other: should criticise, shouldn't criticise. Nobody ever wants to listen to the actual criticism; it's all about whether or not it's okay or not okay to engage in it. It's annoying.
If someone approaches fiction from a "The Author is Dead" perspective, even in a situation where the author is actually right there in your extended social circle, that is their choice and their right. Trying to take that away because the author wants full control over her work is just toxic. Also, even if there is no deep exploration of self involved, if someone is doing something for fun, that's useful too; fun is an important part of the human experience, and I think that as long as no one is being actively harmed, anything is fair game. And criticism, despite the shirt-rending and wailing fanbrats like to engage in over a passing "this doesn't quite ring true here" does no real harm.
no subject
OK, I need to come back and address some of this at more length tomorrow night, but far too briefly:
I've been online since the Arpanet days, but only in fandom for two and a half years, so my online experience is much more than my fandom, which is almost solely LJ. However, here, I can't agree with you that criticism is divorced from its topics as you see it.
I'd LIKE it to be, and I think it would be better in general for people if they saw it as being so. For me personally, critique of my work in any field is not a comment on my value as a person, only on how well I conveyed that work to that critic. And sometimes the critic is quite wrong in their response, too (I've both misread and been misread in turn.)
However, I do think that there is a difference in the spheres of consumption for which authors open themselves up. And while I am happy to have a dead author for works in a fully public environment, I disagree that every fandom author considers their works as going into that environment. For a great many, especially on LJ, their work is written as a dialogue within a closed community, and I do think they have some say over its treatment, which includes the ability to opt out of a critical response.
The right of the individual to ask for a degree of authorial privacy is not, I think, negated by the offering up of a text for reading, just as an actor appearing on stage does not give away their right to have a private life free of paparazzi. It's not the same right, note, but it is one that has been similarly culturally negotiated within this fandom long before I arrived here and one that I respect.
Within that context, it actually is necessary to say 'I'm fine with whatever you have to say about my work', as you yourself have done, since that is not the default position.
And while anyone is at liberty to think as critically as they like on the work of people who ask that their work not receive concrit, I'm less convinced of the 'right' to insist that those people receive te results of the critical exercise.
I think that were it all along the lines of 'this doesn't quite ring true here', then I'd be tossing out the old Australianism of Harden the Fuck Up, but sometimes the wailing that things are personal attacks is justified. More often it's not, and some hardening could be done in some quarters to good effect, but then who am I to tell people they need to be tougher? It's their decision whether they want to enter into that arena. There's no difference here to saying that people ought to be fitter, as we were discussing the other day. In both cases there is a clear-cut case that a bit of fortitude, mental or physical, does you a world of good. But there are myriad reasons why people may not be able to or ready to embrace it. Insisting its good for you is not going to make those reasons go away.
no subject
Oh, definitely. For much the same reasons as you, I don't think there is anything shameful or objectionable about a fan author saying "look, I'm doing this for my own amusement and I don't really care if you don't like it, so save your breath" for criticism left directly on her work. I just don't think this can or should extend past feedback; if a fan author does not want her work criticised in a public space, ever at all, the end, then her only real option is not to post the work in a public space. Anything else basically comes down to demanding that people cater to her specific needs and attempting to silence people in their own spaces, which has never once gone over well.
LJ feels like a closed community, but it's not. It would be a closed community if it were not accessible to the wide internet, but it is, and any sense of security one feels for being in this space is quite simply false. If you go poking around on delicious for H/D, you will see plenty of rec or to-read links, often compiled by people who don't even have an LJ and don't participate in LJ-fandom aside from occasionally looking for fic to read. Sometimes these links will feature comments on the story quality. That's par for the course.
I think the analogy between an author's relationship with her work and an actor's not wanting paparazzi in her private life breaks down immediately, because the critic is not peeking into the author's bedroom or snapping clandestine pics of her kids. An actor has a right to a paparazzi-free life, but a paparazzi-free life is not at all the same as a life free of theatre/movie critics, even amateur ones, commenting on the actor's work.
I don't know what you mean by "culturally negotiated" -- there is a cultural expectation not to criticise publically in some fandom spheres, but it is far from universal to all fandom, ever, even within the boundaries of LJ.
I'm less convinced of the 'right' to insist that those people receive te results of the critical exercise.
Yeah, leaving criticism on work whose author has specifically requested no criticism is fucked up. Putting those critical thoughts elsewhere (i.e. any space not immediately controlled by the author), however, is a different matter entirely. An author has a full right to say "if you don't like this, don't tell me about it". She does not ever have a right to say "if you don't like this, shut up and say nothing about it to anyone, ever". She just doesn't.
As for personal attacks, well, flames are tacky. That's a universal, I think. :D It's difficult to talk about this stuff divorced from context, but it has been a very long time since I've seen a bit of constructive criticism that was actually a personal attack; so long that I'm not even sure what that would look like. Can you provide a (hypothetical, even) example?
I don't subscribe to "if you can't stand the heat, get outta the kitchen" standpoint -- I used to, long ago, before conversations with reasonable and also sensitive writers convinced me that it's not a good approach to take. I do subscribe to "if you can't stand the heat, take precautions against it and don't hang out so close to the stove" -- i.e. be upfront about not wanting criticism, don't seek it out if you know you can't handle it, and above all, don't attempt to silence people when you come across them being critical in a place where it's not for you.