Sunday, October 8, 2017

A critique of critics and criticisms



Mightier than the sword as it has come to be widely acclaimed, the pen should, in all fairness, oblige its wielder to exercise a level of impartiality and objectivity and, more importantly, charity and restraint similar to what may be demanded of one who is to be trusted with a sword. Since the subject of criticism has rarely a chance to rebut or will, upon rebutting,  only appear defensive, it behooves the critic, whenever in doubt, to prefer the eloquence of silence to the venom of verbiage. Most critics of repute do indeed observe these norms most of the time if only to maintain their own credibility with the reading public and respect among performers. However, it is not rare to see transgressions of these unwritten norms, and it may therefore be worthwhile to review the role and responsibilities of the critic in the performing arts. 

The role of the critic in the arts is one of significant importance. The critic is a cheerleader for talent and, when expert, knowledgeable and articulate, can help to define and clarify the standards for excellence in the art. To live up to that role, the critic must, as Oscar Wilde says, have “a temperament exquisitely susceptible to beauty, and to the various impressions that beauty gives us.” The statement of McLuhan that “it is critical vision alone which can mitigate the unimpeded operation of the automatic” is also applicable to performing arts where the gem of creative talent is often unearthed by judiciously sifting out the more ubiquitous imitation, the “operation of the automatic” that can at best only mimic and turn the crank. Indeed, as rightly observed by Arthur Kael, “what we ask [of the critic] is that he should find out for us more than we can find out for ourselves.” 

A good critique is one that edifies, and not one that vilifies. Its purpose is not to ridicule and slander either the art or the artist, but to challenge all practitioners of the art to rise to ever greater heights. Just as the best speech is almost always the one wherein the topic assumes the dominant position and not the speaker, so also the best critiques are those in which the critic is relatively less visible than the subject. Attempts to impress through excessive jargon, irrelevant autobiographical information, or strong language when pointing out alleged slips and inadequacies are counterproductive in that they often turn the discerning reader off and distract one from one’s main thesis. The following quote from Margaret Fuller eloquently summarizes the differences in styles: 
There are two modes of criticism. One which … crushes to earth without mercy all the humble buds of Phantasy, all the plants that, though green and fruitful, are also a prey to insects or have suffered by drouth. It weeds well the garden, and cannot believe the weed in its native soil may be a pretty, graceful plant. There is another mode which enters into the natural history of everything that breathes and lives, which believes no impulse to be entirely in vain, which scrutinizes circumstances, motives and object before it condemns, and believes there is a beauty in natural form, if its law and purpose be understood.” 

In short, what is asked of the critic is no less than some of the qualities included in the description by the Lord [Bhagavat Gita, Ch. 12] of the wise as one who is without hate (adhweshtaa), is friendly and compassionate (maitrah karuna eva cha), and one who neither oppresses the world (yasmaan no dwijathe lokah) nor is distressed by it (lokaan no dwijathe cha yaha). 

The critic must constantly bear in mind that art is ipso facto highly subjective, and that no two individuals’ enjoyment of it need be the same. Thus a good review should reflect the humility born of the realization that what is written is but one person’s point of view, and what is produced 
as review is “at best ephemeral and superficial reading. Who thnks of the grand article of last year in any given review?” [Lord Byron]. Nor can everything be brought down to a set of rules and precedents. “Art is not the application of a canon of beauty, but what the instinct and the brain can conceive beyond any canon. When we love a woman, we don’t start measuring her limbs” [Pablo Picasso]. Imagine how popular and important Shakespeare would have become had the grammarians had the final say in his merit as a dramatist and poet? Luckily, the most read Shakespearian critics are those who glorify his flights of imagination and imagery and certainly not those who gloat in their own ability to find faults with his use of the language. Critics of the latter type are the ones S.Y. Krishnaswamy correctly described as “an inspector of drains in a mansion …. (whose) profession carries with it its own punishment.” Their writings often degenerate into an exercise in cynicism and a vain attempt at self advertisement. Such a critic “is always evaluating instead of enjoying. He is also thinking of what to write.” [SYK].  What a terrible way to approach the Shakespearean “food of love” which, in the context of Carnatic music, is love in its highest form as bhakthi (devotion) towards the Divine? 

None of the above is a call to abridge the prerogative of the critic to criticize, for, “culture is only true when implicitly critical, and the mind which forgets this revenges itself in the critics it breeds. Criticism is an indispensable element of culture” [Theodore W. Adorno]. Without critical analysis, a review will inevitably degenerate into empty platitude. The essence therefore is one of maintaining a constructive tone, a decent level of sensitivity and decorum, and avoiding the pitfalls of pretentious pedantry. “Good critical writing is measured by the perception and evaluation of the subject; bad critical writing by the necessity of maintaining the professional standing of the critic” [Raymond Chandler]. The review should not be antithetical to the purpose of art, namely, to uplift the human mind and to provide enjoyment. 

The effect of insensitive reviews is to stifle talent and to impede the natural expression of the artist’s creativity. It certainly can dissuade experimentation which is key to growth, not only of the artist but also of the art form. The statement, “Praise or blame has but a momentary effect on the man whose love of beauty in the abstract makes him a severe critic of his own works” [John Keats] unfortunately does not represent the mindset of most artists who through their art must also satisfy certain mundane needs and personal ambitions. Contrary to popular opinion, it is often the senior, well established artist who reacts more negatively to criticism than younger and upcoming ones who have much greater stake in favorable reviews. In Carnatic music, this often manifests itself as a refusal by them to allow the recording of one’s concerts, and this results in the loss of opportunities to capture permanently for posterity the flights of spontaneous creativity on the stage in response to an enthusiastic audience. Such moments can rarely be repeated in the stale atmosphere of a recording studio; nor does the finite amount of space in a commercial tape allow for extempore explorations that truly bring out the best of the music and the musician. Given that a good Carnatic music concert is an extempore expression of manodharma (mental prowess) and not a well-rehearsed recital from a pre-written score, there should be a total ban on writing reviews based on recorded music. The critic, who is “but an artist with his wings clipped” [SYK] may have the luxury of playing back the music ad nauseum until he can tear it apart, but unfortunately its creator does not get a corresponding chance to correct his occasional slip. Nor does he get the opportunity to retort as did the great violinst Thirukkodikaval Krishna Iyer, who said, “The purpose of your coming has been served, and you may now leave, for, I don’t intend to make another slip,” to a critic who shouted an inconsiderate sabaash (bravo) at one of the violinist’s rare uncomfortable moments on the stage! There should be a ban on critiques of concerts based on listening to their recorded version if only for the lack of the ability to capture in the recording the total experience characterized by the participation of both artist and listener. So also, verbal reviews at the end of a concert by dignitaries are to be eschewed, for, they are often nothing more than platitudes that tax the patience of the audience. 

Perfection may be a desirable goal for a performer, but that alone does not guarantee aesthetic beauty; nor need an occasional imperfection take away the overall splendor of an otherwise enjoyable performance. Consider the following story narrated by Dr.. D.E. Knuth, the reputed Professor of computer science at Stanford, a pioneer in the field of computerized text processing, whose hobbies are computerized calligraphy and computer music. With considerable effort he had conquered the difficult problem of mathematically defining accurately the curves through which one could typeset the calligraphic alphabet S and had proudly implemented it in software only to find that the `perfect’ S produced by the machine was pathetically unappealing relative to the `imperfect’ S that typically comes out of an old fashioned letter press. Exploring further into this, Prof. Knuth discovered that his computerized S became significantly more pleasing to the eye upon the addition of random errors in the computed coordinates. Dr. Knuth claimed that his experience with computer music has also been similar, and that the machine producing perfect frequencies is no match to the human, however imperfect the latter may be. If that is so with Western music, it must be infinitely more so for Carnatic music whose essence is improvisation. [In this context, I must paranthetically note my own lack of enthusiasm for such things as the use of a contact microphone for veena and fiber glass constructions of the mrdangam which are attempts at perfection at the cost of unappealing sounds that the tonal qualities of wood do well avoid.] So much for the critic who cannot forgive anything less than total perfection! 

In summary, critics and criticisms are necessary ingredients in art and therefore in Carnatic music. Both the artist and art form can gain from their contributions, and it is entirely in the hands of the critic to rise up to that challenge of uplifting. To challenge the critic to meet this lofty objective is not only the onus of the artist but also of the listening public who must not hesitate to either praise a fair review or to express dissent towards an unfair one. Indeed, the vedic prayer of the teacher and the taught 
“Tejaswinaavadheethamasthu, maa vidwishaavahai” 
(May we become enlightened, may we not wrangle) 
is one that both critic and artist will do well to adopt in their quest for greater enjoyment in the field of creative arts. 

Note: This author also wrote the books 'Innovation by India for India, the Need and the Challenge' as also 'Bhaja Govindam - A Topical Exposition'  besides writing and editing several books in his fields Applied Probability & Telecommunications.  He is a former President & Secretary of CMANA, the Carnatic Music Association of North America under whose Presidency its Sangeethasagara award was instituted.  He has penned over 40 compositions in Carnatic music.  A probabilist by profession, he has been a serial inventor with many patents, and among his positions was one as Chief Scientist at Bellcore.  He was named a Distinguished Science Alumnus by Purdue University, an honor given to a very small percentage of its graduates.