Getting comfortable with critique_

About a decade ago I graduated from art school. People who haven’t gone to art school seem to think that it’s easy. It is not easy. Art school is hard. Art school doesn’t give out useless degrees. In fact, they are the most practical degrees for how life actually works after school.

When you get out, rarely is there a text book to follow. Rarely does an employer or a customer ask for a 20 page research paper. Rarely are you pop quizzed, given homework, given a work GPA, nor do you have midterms and finals.

You get projects. Projects that have to answer a problem and end up with something real that didn’t exist before. You have to make something from nothing. That’s what art school prepares you for.

My art classes were all 3 hours long. You were given the sole assignment to make something. But you had to come up with the idea. You had to research how to make it. You had to buy the materials. You had to plan it, build it, scrap it, start over, make it again, scrap it again and hit the final deadline and prepare to present.

You put your work in front of a body of your peers and your professors and then they dismantle it. They kick it. See if it falls apart. They find the holes. They question you. And it happens in front of everyone. Standing in front of everyone.

You may think that’s not too different from a paper or some other kind of assignment. The difference to me is that you are putting your whole soul into the art work. It’s usually deeply personal and a synthesis of everything that you are — represented by this thing you made with your hands. And if it’s not that, your peers and mentors will call your bs.

If it’s bad, you trash it. If it’s good, you try to sell it.

If that’s not real business I don’t know what is.

The most invaluable lesson is the critique.

During the critique your work is on display. You have to present it, defend it, and accept its flaws.

The critique is brutal. It will leave you in tears. It will leave you defeated. But when you accept that the work is imperfect and deeply flawed, that’s where you grow.

You learn to love the wrestle of getting your ideas across. You learn to be graceful in accepting its blemishes. You learn when to fight for what you know is right and you learn when to let go.

You also learn how to critique. How to push people to be their best. How to articulate feedback. How to avoid being precious. Not everyone is ready for that.

You tend to effortlessly let go of the things you’re not married to. You kill your babies quickly and without noise. But you fight tooth and nail for your convictions. And you end up right when you do. Not always. If not, at least you’re being true to yourself.

You go on living your life in this dance of casting out things that don’t work, acknowledging when you’re wrong, seeing beauty in accidents and imperfections and ready to go to the mattresses over your convictions. It’s a beautiful balance.

Getting comfortable with critique empowers you to become the next level of person.