August 22, 2005
Listen to the Critics
I've been listening this week to a thought-provoking series on NPR's Morning Edition about "flops."
On Day 3, they discussed the aftermath of failure--specifically, what happens when a movie flops. Laura Ziskin, producer of "Hero," said, "You think about your failures way longer and way more than your successes."
Writer Akiva Goldsman ("Batman & Robin") said he needed honest feedback from people: "With everyone telling you, 'no, no, no, it's just fine,' you really are in danger of wandering blindly down an alleyway, which can lead you further and further away from . . . the kind of success you want."
Food for thought! You need cheerleaders. You have to have them to overcome the trials that come with being an artist. But we've all seen what happens when politicians and pop idols surround themselves with "Yes Men." They get into all kinds of trouble.
There has to be someone in your life that you can count on to tell it like it is. It can't be a close friend, spouse, or relative. It can't be an employee or someone else beholden to you.
You had the perfect person in art school: your professor. Your fellow students probably helped out as well. And if you're ambitious enough to be part of a critique group that meets regularly, you are lucky to get the feedback you need to get better.
You need to hear from people who know art and from those who appreciate and buy art. The former can talk in terms of composition, color, materials, and technique. The latter can be useful when you want to improve your matting, framing, booth set-up, or business card.
Only you can define what a flop is for you. Is it too much red? (Can you ever have too much red?!) Out-of-whack proportions? The viewer misunderstanding your intent (that's a whole other can of worms!)? In truth, while certain works might not be critical or monetary successes, you and I both know they had to be birthed. You had to get them out of you before you could move on.
Or, do you define flop differently? Is it that no one wants to give you space for your installation? No one came to see your show? No one wrote about it? Everyone likes it, but no one wants to buy it?
Luckily for Ziskin and Goldsman, they were already working on new projects by the time their previous projects debuted and flopped. Such is the movie industry, but this can work for you, too. Don't keep your work only to yourself until "it's time." Share it with someone, if only privately, that can give you feedback before any bombs drop.
Postscript: Goldsman went on to win an Academy Award for "A Beautiful Mind." He said, "The trick to a career is hanging on. It's just being stubborn enough to stay in the game."
Know This . . .
We all need cheerleaders.
Think About This . . .
Would we get any better at what we do if everyone around us told us we were the best and there was no room for improvement?
Do This . . . 
Listen to your critics. Keep two different journals. The first journal is titled "Things They Liked," and the second is "Things They Didn't Like." As you talk to people, make note of what they say. It isn't always appropriate to argue with them, but it is appropriate to argue with yourself. Write down what they've said. Write it by hand as this will give you time to contemplate the words. And respond to it. Were they right? Do they need more information? What should you change as a result? Do you need to clarify something in the work itself? In your statement? In the language you use to talk about it?
When did a flop or critic's comment help you improve? We're blogging about it on the Art Biz Blog.
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