Critics: A Little Perspective

No critic has ever said it better:

“In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read.…[T]here are times when a critic truly risks something, and that is in the discovery and defense of the new. The world is often unkind to new talent, new creations.” Anton Ego, Ratatouille

Yes, I took a quote from a movie about a rat who wanted to cook. If you’ve seen the film, you’d understand. Or maybe not. But if you’ve ever attempted to step out and do something new, be it enter a new industry or profession, run a race, hell, cook a soufflé, there will be those—critics— who cut you down, telling you you can’t because you’re not experienced enough, out of your league, don’t have what it takes, or, you’re not following the “club rules.”

I’m just perplexed as to why? (Wasn’t I perplexed in my last post, too? Is it the full moon? Or is it that time of year?!) Monsieur Ego provides some insight. Be you a professional critic or simply an armchair pessimist (like myself), there’s no risk when you criticize someone else. Even if you think in a know-it-all kind of way that it’s in the best interest of the person you’re taking down. But it IS risky to step out of your comfort zone, away from the crowd you run with, to suspend what you believe and allow new ideas and a little fresh perspective in. Even riskier when you share those new ideas with others. (Gasp! The thought of such a thing!)

We don’t have a lot of time on this earth. The idea to relish new ideas, to embrace and support those who step out and at least try should feel refreshing somehow, shouldn’t it? Don’t we like to live vicariously through others? So why all the naysaying? It’s like when I was an exchange student in Finland, and my first time in sauna. “What? Go in naked? With other people?” I could’ve said, “Are you absolutely hullua? Take my clothes off and beat myself with what?” But in that moment I saw an opportunity: to grow. Instead of being a critic, I chose to suspend judgement, to let go of what I knew, and in I went.

Guess what? Well, first, I survived. Second, I LOVED it. And third, it was the beginning of an unexpected journey (no, not a naked sauna journey, geez) that has since enriched my life , taught me to believe and trust not only in new ideas but in myself and the decisions I make. That one moment and what I chose to do with it is most likely a key influencer to me sticking with our vineyard and wine making venture (kiitoksia, saunasta!). All from a shifting of my beliefs for a simple experience that I could’ve so easily let slip by—not before bashing it (and the people who feel so strongly about it), of course, because that’s what critics do.

I’ll end with another Ego quote, this one with a fill-in-the-blank, (my own addition):

“Not everyone can become a great [put your label here], but a great [put the same label here] can come from anywhere.”

So there. A critic will always be a critic, and that’s fine; the world needs to be kept on its toes. But it’s the knee-jerk critics whose egos thrive on their (often self-appointed) messiah position, feeding on the creativity and courage and the takedown of others, well, that’s what I find so unsettling. In the end I must remind myself, the reality is that if critics are not out in the trenches doing “it” like the rest of us (and so often they’re not), getting their hands dirty with the very thing they’re criticizing, then chill, LaMonica, because they’re in no position to ever really know, anyway.