The case for cantankerous critics

In her pre-show remarks at the opening of Philadelphia Theatre Company's Resurrection, City Councilwoman Blondell Reynolds Brown quoted Picasso on the importance of the arts: "All children are artists. The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up." Afterward one theater professional e-mailed me to say that Brown's speech was "the best part of the whole evening" and that it addressed "a message that I deeply believe in."

There's an important issue here, all right, but not necessarily the one Blondell Reynolds Brown and my theatrical friend had in mind.

Many of the responses to "The Wilma Papers"— BSR's recent colloquium about the propriety of reviewing unfinished script readings, specifically by me— offered a solution to Picasso's quandary. Several theater professionals sided with the notion, as articulated by Blanka Zizka of the Wilma Theater, that playwrights (and by extension, all artists) need a "safe space" in which to create and nurture their work.

Gary Garrison, executive director of the Dramatists Guild of America, took this idea a step further. He argued that we need to stop "the continuing erosion of safe habitats for that most endangered of species: the American dramatist," a sentiment he conveyed after comparing my review of a work in progress to smothering a baby in its crib. (To read his complete letter, click here.)

Fragile creatures in need of protection?

According to these respondents, the way to nurture and protect the next generation of artist and arts patrons lies in treating them like infants, fragile creatures who need to feel sheltered from the world or (at least during the "early stages of a dramatic work") from harsh criticism. What this says about artistic production, I'm not exactly sure. An infant's main output, after all, consists of excrement, vomit and whining (all, to be sure, materials that some contemporary artists use).

More important, what keeps struggling artists going, other than the virtues of courage, patience, diligence and self-discipline? They may bitch about their non-theater jobs and drink a lot (I know— I drink with them). But the best artists persevere from a belief in their ability to achieve their goals, regardless of rejection, criticism or what the world wants or doesn't want.

"'Let it sit in a drawer forever'

Some accomplished playwrights understand this. In The Four of Us, Itamar Moses portrays the novelist Benjamin saying of his own work, "I think if I did write something good…I would be satisfied to let it just sit in a drawer forever." But many responses to BSR's "Wilma Papers" pervert the notion of perseverance into a favorable set of outward conditions, something that society owes the artist (or at least must make possible) rather than an actual virtue that one possesses as part of one's individual character.

Many kids do indeed suffer constraints imposed on them while they grow up. My friend's mother forced her son to practice piano for three or four hours every day. High school athletes experience physically grueling practice sessions. Does that sort of experience destroy character? Or does it build it?

The forging of Asher Lev's character

Aaron Posner's outstanding adaptation of Chaim Potok's My Name is Asher Lev (currently at the Arden) painstakingly portrays a young artist's incredibly difficult psychological and aesthetic development: The young Asher Lev must rebel not only against his parents and his upbringing, but against his entire community. Asher's mentor, the eminent painter Jacob Kahn, refuses to create a "safe space" devoid of criticism; instead, Kahn constantly pushes Lev beyond his (current) limits, shouting a plethora of Nietzschean aphorisms about art, identity and self. Kahn criticizes Lev's work ruthlessly, demanding that the budding artist shed boundaries, develop his own voice, and forge beyond his fears.

The production of art, I would submit, is a moral as well as an aesthetic venture. The fragile, sensitive genius who can't stand up for his art wins no sympathy from me. As my BSR colleague Dan Rottenberg remarked, "Not all creative people can deal with open evaluation of their work before it's finished (or even after). But those who do so are stronger for the experience." Any artist who could be smothered in his crib by the likes of me should probably find another line of work.

Some artists seek refuge from the world; others forge a sword with which to confront it. Both are valid strategies. All artists can rightly object to external constraints on their creativity. But those constraints don't come from disapproving audiences, hostile or indifferent critics, or consumers who prefer to spend their money elsewhere. There's only one way a community can create or sustain artists: by fostering an environment in which everyone enjoys freedom of expression. That includes cantankerous critics like me.



To read responses, click here and here and here.
To read a related colloquy between Dan Rottenberg and David O'Connor, click here.