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The majority of gallery goers look for the correct meaning of an artwork in the writings of the alleged experts. They usually defer to an artist’s statement, informational panel, or exhibition catalogue– now staples of the gallery experience. In art schools, students have been trained to believe that it is necessary for their art to be embedded with profound ideas and heavy-duty content. As a result, the execution of their work has become a formality– practically a chore. Nowadays, pen dictates opinion.

Prominent art critic Clement Greenberg, champion of Modernism, is the perfect example of critique turned catechism. Greenberg approved of art that conformed to his theories. Careers were built on his words, with artists such as Jackson Pollock greatly benefiting from his attention. However, Greenberg was a bit heavy-handed. In one instance, he even changed the colour of an artist’s work– without their consultation.

That’s Greenbergian Modernism. It believes in a definite hierarchy of bad, better, best. However, we are currently in the full throes of Post-Modernism—the era of equalization, where everyone prefaces a sentence with “I think” and ends with “but that’s just my opinion.” Art has become a far-reaching family of multi-media– it is piss in a jar, it is robots, it is seemingly everything.

This is perhaps why people cling to explanations. When everything seems to be Art, people don’t particularly know how to react. They don’t want to appear wrong, so they huddle around the words of those “in the know.”

Critics do need to set boundaries, but they also need to return a sense of responsibility to the viewer. Unfortunately, critiques have lost their bitch boots. A common review tends inevitably to contain the phrase “a good time had by all,” or “something for everyone.” The words are decorative and gentle. They don’t ask for, or about, much.

Now I must make an example of myself. Although I preach, I don’t really practice. I am a fledgling curator and art critic. I have an expensive education and a will to survive. Living in a small community, I drink with everyone I review, or know them well enough that we stop and chat. I worry that if I criticize too much, I may mess up an opportunity to gain ground with colleagues.

Also, I write for three papers that prefer a happy approach. I mostly cover art events and tell people to “check them out.” I have written two actual critiques—one a scathing review of a mish-mash maritime exhibition, the other an inquiry as to why a museum-style show was put in a prominent art gallery. I tried to have them published with each paper. Both articles were dismissed as having “too much opinion.”

I am learning to work with this. I am finding the benefits of finesse. Egos like to be massaged a little before you politely point out how you think they could improve, and that’s fine.

The most respectful thing a knowledgeable art critic can do for art and audience is to let them get to know each other better. Get them into a room, and get them talking. Introduce them with a bit of background, something to chew on. Tell them it’s ok to dislike robot sculptures, or even the landscapes of the Group of Seven, but help them to compare, contrast, and consider. There should be no elitist jargon, and ample room to disagree.

One should never jump into an exhibition words first. If anything is written, it needs to establish itself in dialogue. No soliloquies, speeches, or asides. This is a polite blend of modernism and post-modernism. The critic is asking individuals to take responsibility for their own opinions in an informed, but open-minded way.