A true artist is community property. That is what they become. Just like any other respectable occupation provides a service, art is the artist’s. Their task is that of attentively working in observance of the times, environment, culture, the self, and allowing their work to bring forth the critiques, narratives, and the stories of themselves and the people. That is the role of the artist: 20% for themselves, and 80% for the people.

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            The other day I had gotten in an argument with a friend of mine about carelessness on social media platforms. The bullshit, the hype, the inconsistency of support and friendship. My friend claimed that his work possesses no room for improvement, that everything was perfect, and so I felt compelled to write this essay – my thoughts on the topic.

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            The goal of the self-critic is to inform the public that they are a step ahead of them on the concept of themselves. It takes a sheep-like audience to miss the fact that the self-critic, the self-criticizing artist at that, is in no way martyr-like, ascetic, or hero-ified in the form of the matter. Nor are they in any way to themselves, for they are the self, but rather, the intentions of the self-critic root from a place of repression, denial, and everything contradictory to the artists’ vulnerability.

            The greatest vulnerability there is in life, is ever debatable. Yet, when we, the public, for I am like you, a subject of mankind -- when we are asked who the most openly vulnerable people are in the world, we automatically assume: the artists. That in no way means however, that the individual who assumes the title of artist, is a person whose living is based in vulnerability.

            If that is the case, what exactly does it take then, to become amongst the greats, the violently freeing, the self-destructive, the far removed from self-criticism; the real role of the artist. What does it take? It first takes the understanding and acceptance that, no successful artist has ever become successful in the eyes of the public by living their life as self-critic. To be vulnerable and ever criticizing of oneself and work are as conflicting as water and oil, black and white, and other literary oppositions.

            There is quite a difference between being ‘critical’ and ‘criticizing.’ The successful artist is critical of their work, while the forgotten ‘artist’ presents no form of trust in their own story. To possess true confidence and trust in one’s narrative takes the strongest form of vulnerability. This is the reason why being an artist is amongst the most difficult and selfless occupations to ever exist. Take one of the world’s most famous and greatest performance artists, Marina Abramović and her 1924 Rhythm O performance as an example. A performance where she had stood nude in front of a table of 72 objects, ranging from a rose and feather, to a scalpel and a gun loaded with one bullet.

            She allowed the audience participation, to do whatever they wanted to her. Abramović showcased levels of confidence and ultimate vulnerability in humanity that only exists in the true artist. Artists make art because they believe in humanity and their capability to be human, to feel, to understand, and to connect. Not to say that this vulnerability is unattainable, but to reach that level takes more mental and emotional practice then it does formal education.

            The act of critique is reserved for the true artist. For the writer who tells their stories and beliefs honestly to the audience. For the painter who wears her conscience like her skin in the nude. For the musician who takes not inspiration from contemporary tunes, however, uses it as life experience in order to form their own belief system in the artform. Critique is only a successful and intellectual act when its approach is founded in objectivity and in consideration of form. Any other approach of critique is not to be trusted. Not that subjective critique outside of form is non-beneficial, but it provides no certainty, for it is subjective. Unless the artist themselves proclaims it as so, it is best not to even consider informal negative critique, for it can easily stem from hate, envy, or a lack of understanding projected onto a work. Not understanding a piece, from the viewers perspective is also yet another reason why critique shall remain objective.

            The knowledge an artist deems necessary, intentional or non, can freely appear in their work. It is okay to create something for a specific audience, otherwise all art would really be for everyone, and what good would that do? Sometimes it is best to make a work so utterly simple that the layperson and their child can view it in appreciation, while the aristocratic bigwig may revolt at the frame of the image before glancing twice. The same is applicable vice versa. The true intention behind the work is not necessarily to establish an audience so specific that only a few can appreciate it, but it is for the artist to relay their knowledge and experiences onto a piece that is solely their own; where it does not matter who is capable of comprehension or relatability.

            Those of the ‘artists’ who cannot respond well to objective critique, are the worst of the self-critics. A photographer growing frustrated and angry at the critique of objective form in their work, is not what you would call a well-practiced photographer. They may not understand that, not having mastered the fundamentals of a medium strips them of the privilege to skip at an objective critique. A clearly great photograph does not need deciphering of composition and color, rather, an art viewer can immediately begin to think about the purpose of object placements, their relation to one another, the colors in the foreground vs. background, and the narrative or intention behind it all. However, the lack of formal practice becomes a hindrance for the want-to-be artist, and this is readable in an individual from the very moment they receive formal critique, dependent on their reaction.

            One may question how exactly an individual who doesn’t receive objective critique well could be a self-critic. When in reality, the “want-to-be” artist, whom I will refer to as “Proud”, is one of the prime self-critics this essay is referring to. To be a self-critic in art is to be proud. The ego deprives a person of expressing their true self due to things like repression, trauma, or discontents. And chances are, all artists start in a place like this before breaking away from the chains that is self-criticism. Often, it is the self-critic who is hungry and desperate for public approval. They fear for their work and its lack of ingenuity. It is a subconscious battle whether they know it or not and all one can do is hope that they find out sooner rather than later.

            Just because someone feels that their work is good does not always mean it is good. People love to refer to Van Gogh, Hemingway, or other tortured, misunderstood artists, and compare themselves to them. They may say, “My work is just not fit for contemporary minds,” or “Who gives a f*ck if they don’t like it.” But that’s just plain wrong, Van Gogh was not thinking that his work was just not “fit”, and he certainly was not happy that people did not support him. He desperately wanted that support, because he had painted with his blood and let free his very soul and vulnerability. To present the world with your stripped, and beaten down self, in the expectance that you’ll be welcomed with open arms, only to be casted out and shut down, can be the nightmare of any man. It is incredibly arrogant, especially for a proud artist today, to believe that their work is so great, formal critique is not acceptable. Every medium takes up formal elements that makes any and every work successful or a failure. One must take these into account and force their practice in it, until they can show a work to an art viewer and formal critique is not even in the question. It should simply be accepted as a piece that took form into account, then judged as a work afterwards.

            Many art makers today, whom we refer to as “creatives” or even the borderline blasphemous term of “creators” may not be creating just yet. They specifically may find that their problem does not lie in being proud or unaccepted, however, it is in their lack of the necessary art critic in their life. The concept of being an artist has become free and easy in the minds of the public. Critique, especially formal critique has lost its role and value in lower art societies, therefore, making it close to impossible for the proud artist to break away from their habits. If one finds comfort in mediocre work, because society tells them it is “good” then they will struggle to ever grow into a great artist. People have become fearful of being the one to break critical news to the proud artist, and it is this very person who creates the proud artist in the first place.

            A personal example of this would be my own upbringing as an artist. With luck and fortune, my childhood was full of arts and the practice. In my high school years, I began making art vigorously, and when you are a well-liked individual in high school with some type of community support, everyone will tell you good things, despite what they do not know and all this can get to one’s head, especially as a youth. However, I had an art teacher, Ms. M, who would assign me projects that I never failed to do wrong. My pieces would break the rules of every guidline we were ever given. There would be an assignment calling for an impressionistic painting using all colors but black, and my final product would consist of all black and little color.  Or we’d be assigned a charcoal still life utilizing 2 point perspective only for me sketch without a straight edge and shade in everything with pencil.
   
  What I realize now, is that my ego had gotten to my head. I had become proud, sickened with the perception that everything I made would just be “good” because non-artists and white kids had told me so. After a whole year of this happening to me, it took my Ms. M’s final speech to me to make me question the quality of my work.

             One of our final assignments had been a Kandinsky imitation piece, which funny enough is one of my favorite painters today.  The project consisted of us using magazine cutouts to represent our person and ancestral history in collage form, and use this to influence an abstract, geometric, non-realist work. The one rule being, “no tangible objects, just shapes and abstract elements”, yet despite how many times I may have heard that, it just didn’t seem to go through my head. Not only did I not follow directions, but I never came to class to work on it, forcing me to turn in the piece a month late. Luckily, Ms. M, along with being an immense critic, was an amazing soul who was supportive of my creative endeavors. She would promote my high school art shows and let me take class off to go out into the world and make the art I wanted to make, and never pressed me about it, until this assignement.

   I finally brought the work in one day, over a month late, and Ms. M just could not seem to understand. She did not know what she was looking at, and I informed her that it was my Kandinsky imitation. She looked at it confusedly, then looked at me, and looked at it again, then looked at me, and I would laugh because I thought it was funny. Then she pointed at the other students’ pieces all over the class room and asked me what I saw in my piece. So I looked at my painting, this piece with at least five faces, tangibly distorted objects, a background that could only have been an after though of brushstrokes, and a piece that bared no resemblance or trace of inspiration to Kandinsky. It lacked composition, the colors were sporadic and childish, and I cared not whatsoever.

            Ms. M laughed, and said, “Bilal, this is what I’m going to show to students as an example for what they are NOT supposed to do.” And I laughed with her, because I thought “I’m different, it’s okay”, until she began explaining everything that was wrong with it -- why the form was bad, the composition not thought out and spasmodic and verbally tore apart my piece. All that class ever taught me was form, line, shape, composition, perspective, color – the fundamentals. Yet, I never thought about these things in my work. It didn’t matter how charming I was, or how different I was, I knew good work when I saw it, and for a long time my vision towards my own work had been clouded by pride and public approval. Her comment left me constantly questioning my work from then on, which at the time was beneficial for it opened my eyes early to the pitfalls of the artist ego. High school teachers are not supposed to shut you down, it was not her place to say my work was terrible or that I needed to try again, it was her job to just take my work for what it was, and she still gave me more than that. I was privileged by her support. She put me in art club with the most talented artists in my school when I couldn’t even paint a landscape, and gave me the real world knowledge I needed to be freed from becoming the self-critic that thrives off of singular success and public approval, that could never truly last. She taught me the importance of fundamentals in art and life: that one needs to take objective critique before they can move to any form of comfort in their work.