critiquing the critics

As a Theatre student, I was taught to be critical.
Constructively.

If we watched a scene, the director/professor would ask for opinions afterward. There was no such thing as simply saying "I liked it" because he would always push for why.

We began to dissect... everything. Lights, direction, acting, costumes, sets... to question every choice the production's director and actors made.

Sometimes I wish I never took that course.

There is no way I can separate myself from the critique.
Every time I watch a live performance my mind is constantly whirling, as ears, eyes and brain combine to make a fine tooth comb of analysis, running it through the hair of the performance as deliberate as looking for lice.
It happens with film, music and books as well, although I tend to be harder on the stage because this is where it began. It has just spilled over into other areas of art.

Of course there is nothing wrong with constructive criticism but I have to remind myself that not everyone has the same background, same experience.
But inevitably when I emerge from a performance, someone will ask the question
"what did you think?"

Ugh.

I'm sure friends who ask roll their eyes inward, waiting for me to hate it and tear it apart.
I should just say I liked it, and move on. But it doesn't sit well in my guts.
I'm sure it comes off as pompous, as if I think could do better.  I don't. Okay, in some cases I do, but in fairness, in some cases my cat could also do a better job.
 
One of my pet peeves with local theatre here in Nova Scotia is not as much with the productions, but with the audiences. It seems that people misunderstand the purpose of the standing ovation. It would appear that if anyone walks across a stage, it is applauded by jumping to your feet. But by far, the worst culprits are the local reviewers who always praise, never picking out anything that could and should be addressed, something  to be improved upon.

While it is very kind to want to be so supportive, it breeds mediocrity and unwarranted ego. How can an artist grow if s/he thinks they have no need to improve?
I'm not speaking of those critics who hate everything, who feel the need to tear it all down.
Criticism should be constructive, not destructive. It is meant to build toward something better, not to tear something down.

As a performer and director I have been reviewed many times and I can say that if the critique was favorable nine times out of ten, it was the tenth that stayed with me. As a person it is easy to take it personally. As a performer it should be taken as a gift. It puts a seed in the back of your mind that grows into other options, other choices.


However, with all of this being said, I have to remind myself that not everyone thinks this way. Some people enjoy a production simply because they found it entertaining.
I envy that.
It's not fun realizing that the Wizard is just a man behind the screen, or knowing the trick to every illusion.
Every time I answer the question "what did you think?" I obsess about my response for hours afterward. I worry that I offended someone or made them feel that their opinion was invalid.

While it may appear that I am too critical, it is nothing compared to my own review of my review.
Sadly, that voice is not a constructive one.

one hundred and twenty six days

On January 1st of this year, I gave myself a task; a mission, if you will.

In trying to challenge myself creatively, I made a pact to take a photo a day. The subject and content doesn't matter. Even the quality doesn't really matter, as long as I have captured an image.
To this date, I have captured 126, and since this is the 126th day of 2013, I have managed to maintain the goal.
126 days, and I am already aware of the benefits of this project.

Even as a child, I saw everything in frames, as pictures, but it is even more so now.
My view changes angles, composition happens before my eyes. I feel more focused on what is around me.

But it also makes me complete a task, and these days, that is a task in itself.

When you see everything as a photograph, the next step is to find the next shot. I'm always looking. But more importantly, I'm always seeing. I'm seeing more.
It's also fun and interesting to go back from time to time, to the very first shot on New Year's Day, and follow the journey, day by day, for all one hundred and twenty six.
Some shots are funny, some quirky, some mundane.
Others are random, accidental, or taken with someone in mind.
But they all invoke a memory. They all return a piece of that day.

Sometimes I have something in mind, and sometimes, out of the clear blue, they are presented to me.
That was the story of today's shot.

While driving with friends through Grand Pre, in search of the Bay of Funday mud flats, I spotted these doors on the top of a hill.
It all felt a little Alice in Wonderland.
But I do love the shot.

It looked like a scene from one of my dreams.. or a Tim Burton movie.