Years ago, an artist friend complained to me about having applied for a fellowship for Latinx artists every year since its inception with no success. She believes that the program is too tied to the market and thus conservative, which, she argued, puts it at odds with meaningfully supporting artists of color. I suggested that she write an opinion piece about it, in which she could make a case for applying different standards of judgment for the selection of artists. Her response was that she would never “talk shit in public about our tiny resistance movement,” which initially bewildered me. On reflection, I realized that this idea of “talking shit” is based on a certain view of criticism that permeates the arts and its activist wing in particular, a perspective that is ultimately counterproductive.
Her assumption, which I think others share, is that a critical opinion piece must be diminishing or discrediting. That’s one-sided. Criticism can oppose; it can also cajole, provoke, consider, inform, and suggest. The general understanding of public critique is that it’s reductive, but it can also look to create an imagined future. More than being punitive or dismissive, public criticism can provide an opportunity to collectively look at a thing differently, and writing such a piece can be a collaborative venture. It can also be interrogative.
In writing a critical opinion piece, one might pose questions such as: What are the criteria currently used for judgment? Are these used consistently? What are the metrics for success? What have the artists who’ve been selected for these residencies gone on to do? Who is missing?
In the same conversation, my friend ended on the note of hoping that “more nationwide Latinx organizations will get funded by the big foundations.” Yes, hope “is the thing with feathers,” but it needs organized action to take wing. It’s not enough to hope. Successful social movements are built on labor, on organizing speech and action, and what compels artists toward some hopeful Shangri-La may be fear.
Denizens of the complexly socialized art scene live in fear of being ostracized or placed on blacklists, so we engage in whisper campaigns instead of confronting (with care) the people and institutions we think don’t quite get it right. Facing that fear might be liberating.
Recently, I wrote a critical review of an exhibition at the 8th Floor gallery. One of the curators, Lucia Olubunmi R. Momoh, reached out to me to push back on some of my analyses. That took courage, and I deeply appreciated being able to look at my review as the start of a conversation, not its end. But even better, what if Momoh had decided to reply to me in public, perhaps through commenting on the Hyperallergic site or writing an opinion piece of her own. Might others have benefited from the conversation? Can we plant trees whose shade we will not enjoy?
In 2016, I attended a “Changemakers” program organized by Anthony D. Meyers, who aimed to discuss strategies and tactics for art administrators of color to manifest their visions and ambitions within majority-White contexts. I led a small breakout group of six or seven people. In it, a Latina attendee told the story of her coworkers subtly othering her by refusing to pronounce her name correctly. She volunteered her story to the group, and we came up with a few ways to thoughtfully advocate for herself and demonstrate that her name’s correct pronunciation was deeply important to her. After talking it through, I asked whether she wanted to try any of these tactics. She balked. She made excuses. I understood the challenge of speaking up, but this seemed like a clear way to resolution. Later, I surmised that she just wasn’t ready to let go of her pain. Sometimes we have been marginalized for so long that we internalize that exile and struggle to imagine ourselves living otherwise. But we can.
We imagine artists to be courageous explorers. They can be and might lead on this issue. Obeying the unspoken standard against critiquing those in your circle makes us jaded, reliant on hope, less able to enact real change. It’s a cliché, but a useful one: Be the change you want to see in the world.
