Does the thought of an impending art critique bring tears to your eyes? Does it make you feel like crying in your Wheaties?–(who came up with that phrase, anyway?) For a lot of art students, it certainly does, and can be very intimidating, especially if we’re not accustomed to speaking in front of an audience. But with a little practice, you too can sound edu-ma-cated in front of others!
In order “properly” to critique any given artwork (in a way that is acceptable by any institution assigning four-digit numbers to its classes), you need only remember the acronym “DAIJ.” It stands for “Description, Analysis, Interpretation, Judgment,” or as a clever student in my highschool art class once said, “Dem Apples Is Juicy.”
For an example, I have randomly chosen an artwork to critique by taking a lame, five-second-long quiz, entitled What Famous Work of Art Are You?…the result of which, for me, was Salvador Dali’s “Landscape With Butterflies.” (Okay, so I’m not crazy about butterflies, but the opinion part comes later.)
In order to perform a criticism on any type of art, you simply carry out the 4 steps of DAIJ–remember, it’s “Description, Analysis, Interpretation, Judgment.” Or, if you’re really lazy, you could just use this handy Instant Art Critique Phrase Generator that I came across today. Sure, no one will be the wiser…
But if you really want to be intelligent, follow the darned steps already!
Just as it says, first you describe the facts, including the name of the work, artist, medium, etc. Next, what does the art look like, what is it made of, what objects do you see in it? What textures, shapes, or colors are there? Are the colors vivid and bright, or subdued? Remember, all of these are straight facts, with no opinions added yet.
If you wanna be really thorough, look for and describe each of the “elements” of art: line, shape, form, color, space, texture and value. (I’ve also seen “time” and “mass” included in others’ lists, but they seem superfluous to me at this point.) Be very general at first, then get more specific later on.
The first step goes something like this:
In this painting, I see butterflies (obvious, but necessary). There are two of them, and they are in flight with their wings open. I also see what appears to be the side of a cliff, or a flat wall that has been broken off. It is daytime because the sky is blue, but there is also another drastic light-source coming from the right side, creating harsh shadows. The landscape appears to be outdoors, because of the sky and because of the vast desert in the distance. The colors are very intense, especially the blue and the orange. There is a strong contrast between light and dark, and overall, the lines are very defined. The viewer is either very close in proximity to the butterflies, or the butterflies are rather large. As the viewer, we appear to be standing in front of this scene, looking straight at it, and the overall effect is realism. Etc.
*Note: Through all this, you are not supposed to say whether or not you “like” any of the things…you’re just describing at this point.
Next, tell how all the answers from the description you just made are related to each other, ie, how the above facts are organized, compliment one another, or create harmony or distress. This step can often be the most confusing, because it is very similar to the first and can easily overlap. A good suggestion is to think about some of the “principles” of art: movement (or rhythm), variety, proportion, emphasis, balance, contrast.
(I have seen some people list “scale” as an art principle, but again this seems redundant to me–it’s basically a more detailed word for what we mean by “proportion.” The Wikipedia entry on design elements and principles is a valuable resource if you need specific help sorting out and defining all of these terms.)
So put on your detail goggles and dive in…
As I view this piece, my eyes are occasionally led over to the vanishing point on the left (in the distance), but keep coming back to the focal point around the butterflies. This movement happens largely because of the shadow that the rock casts in that direction. The blue of the sky and the orange of the rock are very intense and bright (highly saturated), and their opposition with each other also contributes to the back and forth motion of our eyes as we view the painting. If the blue color was not as saturated, more focus would be on the right side of the painting, it would have too much “weight,” and our eyes would linger there more. As a result, the painting’s composition would be less balanced.
Also, because the butterflies appear to be abnormally large (in comparison to what we assume is a rock face or cliff), we do not have a concrete sense of scale or proportion. This creates an interesting sense of ambiguity, and as a viewer we’re not sure if in fact we are very small, or simply lying close to the ground, or if these are mutated giant butterflies next to a huge cliff. Who can be sure? There aren’t even any pebbles on the ground or other recognizable objects in the paintings to give us clues about scale. The bottom-most butterfly shadow (as well as the butterflies themselves, and the shadow cast by the rock) has a sort of glow around it caused by the lighter orange color surrounding it. This causes the shadow to further “emerge” from the surface it’s supposed to be cast on, making it appear more three-dimensional and adding focus to it. We know that actual, “real-life” shadows do not have this effect, and so it creates a surreal feeling–one of the things Dali’s paintings are most famous for.
Basically, how does the painting make you feel? What does it make you think of? (Don’t say you think the artwork “sucks”…Not yet! That comes in the next step!) What do you think the artist is trying to communicate to you as a viewer? But just because this step is more open-ended than the previous two, and there aren’t really any “right or wrong” answers, in my opinion it’s the most important (and fun) step.
I don’t feel either sad or happy when looking at this…The colors are nice ‘n bright, and butterflies usually make people feel happy, but I mainly feel “curious,” and maybe a bit confused. I’d like to have more details about what’s going on that are not available in the painting. The colors to me feel very cool, and even the oranges and browns have a lot of light “coolness” to them, but the surrounding visuals suggest a desert of some-sort, or somewhere very dry. The butterflies are painted fairly realistically, and are beautiful, but the wings on both are stuck in the same exact position, like they are pinned onto an entomologist’s board. Not to mention their somewhat unrealistic shadows and highlights.
So this is what I think Dali probably did: I think he found some recently dead butterflies and wanted to paint them, like one would paint a still-life with fruit or flowers or something. But to make them less boring than a typical still-life of butterflies pinned to a board, he added an imaginary background to make it into a “landscape” instead. That way, as a viewer, we could have the sense that these creatures are alive and kicking, in their own little colorful world. To me, I think this is a great concept, and a creative way of approaching a painting and making it more intriguing than a plain old still-life.
Of course, I have no idea if this is really what Dali intended people to feel when they viewed his painting. But it’s my interpretation, and I’m entitled to give it during this stage of critique.
Okay, so whether or not in the previous step you interpreted the painting as “reminding you of dog crap,” you NOW get to say whether it is a success or a failure in your opinion. Also, do you feel it is original or not original? Would you hang it on your wall at home? Here’s the place for all the gut feelings that you had when you first looked at the artwork.
In general, I think this is an interesting and unique artwork. I enjoy the bright colors and would hang it up in my house if someone gave it to me for my birthday, but I probably wouldn’t buy it myself unless it was on sale. (Dali doesn’t do “bargain basement” prices?–oh well, never mind then.) As an artist myself, I appreciate the technical skill it took to create such a painting, and might be inspired to create a painting similar to this in the future, but perhaps with another subject. I certainly recognize the elements of “surrealism” that Dali’s artworks are famous for, and I think it succeeds, representing this category of art fairly well.
(EDIT: 2012-08-07: the links below are out of date. Please allow me some time to change them. Thanks!)
If you’re interested in viewing some other valuable resources about critiquing, may I suggest:
* The Kennedy Center’s “how to” article on Teaching Students to Critique
* Custom-Writing.org’s How to Write an Art Critique
* Keystone Central School District (in PA)has a web page with some very basic instructions for teachers, which are targeted towards younger students. There’s a “process” link to steps/instructions for critique, but there’s also a link to some really cute student art critiques written by some of their sixth-graders. Worth the entertainment if you’ve got an extra minute.
About jamieJamie is an award winning artist who has recently taken a hop, a skip, and a few jumps, and has landed happily in California. She specializes in textile/fabric pieces (art that you wear), but also creates paintings, sculptures, and quilted works of art.
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It turns out the ever-sassy Frank Lloyd Wright was not the only person to serve up a flavorful platter of architectural put-downs of beloved buildings. If the architecture was groundbreaking (hi, Mies van der Rohe) or particularly unusual (you too, Le Corbusier) it was probably eviscerated by a critic or two. Properly eviscerated if that critic was creative, like, say, esteemed New York Times and Wall Street Journal writer Ada Louise Huxtable, who was the doyenne of brutal analogies for everything from "palazzos on lollipops" to "marble sarcophaguses in which the art of architecture lies buried." Snap.
↑ ln the April 1953 issue of House Beautiful, the editor's note denounced Mies van der Rohe's crown achievement, the Farnsworth House. The ultimate in pared-back and something of a figurehead for modern home design, Farnsworth is far from perfect: it's not particularly livable or energy-efficient, for example. Of course, House Beautiful's issues were way less sensical. The editor called it a "threat to the new America," and splashed about in the waters of McCarthyism, saying the building was the icon of "a sinister group of International Stylists," that were trying "to force Americans to accept an architecture that was barren, grim, impoverished, impractical, uninhabitable, and destructive of individual possessions, as well as of individuals themselves," or at least that's how Peter Blake once paraphrased the article. The editor writes: "We know that less is not more. It is simply less!"
↑ "The style of the Kennedy Center is Washington superscale, but just a little bit bigger," writes architecture criticism sage Ada Louise Huxtable. "What it has in size, it lacks in distinction. Its character is aggrandized posh. It is an embarrassment to have it stand as a symbol of American artistic achievement before the nation and the world [...] The building is a national tragedy. It is a cross between a concrete candy box and a marble sarcophagus in which the art of architecture lies buried."
Palace of Industry
↑ After a visit to São Paulo, Swiss architect Max Bill came back disturbed by Oscar Niemeyer's take on modernism. "There I saw some shocking things, modern architecture sunk to the depths, a riot of anti-social waste, lacking any sense of responsibility toward either the business occupant or his customers [...] for such works are born of a spirit devoid of all decency and of all responsibility to human needs," the die-hard Bauhaus devotee wrote. "It is the spirit of decorativeness, something diametrically opposed to the spirit which animates architecture, which is the art of building, the social art above all others."
↑ Frank Lloyd Wright did not like Le Corbusier's Villa Savoye, which he derided as a "box on stilts." Wright also deigned to call the French modernist's oeuvre, which was grounded in a philosophy that a "house is a machine for living in," a "childish attempt to make buildings resemble steamships, flying machines, or locomotives."
Eiffel TowerPhoto by WDG Photo/Shutterstock
↑ By the time construction wrapped, the Eiffel Tower was pretty unambiguously beloved, receiving some two million visitors for the 1889 World's Fair. Still, the humorists of the day were positively gleeful during its construction, calling it a "truly tragic street lamp," a "belfry skeleton," and a "mast of iron gymnasium apparatus, incomplete, confused and deformed." It was called a "high and skinny pyramid of iron ladders," a "giant ungainly skeleton upon a base that looks built to carry a colossal monument of Cyclops, but which just peters out into a ridiculous thin shape like a factory chimney." It was a "half-built factory pipe, a carcass waiting to be fleshed out with freestone or brick, a funnel-shaped grill, a hole-riddled suppository." Oh, 19th-century French satirists.
↑ Upon the opening of Brooklyn's Barclay's Center in 2012, The Real Deal's critic James Gardnerwrote it was "about as tawdry and uninspired a piece of work as I had anticipated." He even hated on the new subway station. "Quite clearly, it never occurred to anyone that somebody might actually want to design the place. Rather it has been conceived in the dullest and most functional style imaginable, with standard issue turnstiles, and little more than some ill-conceived brown and white tiles braying their laughable insufficiency across the walls."
Gallery of Modern Art
↑ When it opened in 1964, New York's Gallery of Modern Art was shredded by Huxtable, who wrote it "resembles a die-cut Venetian palazzo on lollipops." That being said, she wrote some 30 years later that she got "a little lift, a sense of pleasure" when she walked by the building. In 2008, despite huge efforts by preservationist groups, the building got a major glassy overhaul.
↑ Another good Huxtable line comes from her review of Washington, D.C.'s Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garde, which she dubbed a "bunker or gas tank, lacking only gun emplacements or an Exxon sign." She continued, "It totally lacks the essential factors of esthetic strength and provocative vitality that make genuine 'brutalism' positive and rewarding style. This is born-dead, neo-penitentiary modern. Its mass is not so much aggressive or overpowering as merely leaden."
↑ Connecticut's Glass House, the masterpiece by American architect Philip Johnson, was controversial at the onset—and not just because of its spare forms and blasphemously un-American modernism. According to former New York Times critic Nicolai Ouroussoff, Ludwig Mies van der Rohe "stormed out in a huff when he saw it," because it was so obviously derived from the German architect's Farnsworth House. The fact that Glass House managed to wrap construction first made matters worse. Ouroussoff wrote that "Johnson's vision lacked the intellectual rigor and exquisite detailing that were so critical to Mies's genius," and wrote that the I-beams at the corners of Johnson's work are "clumsily detailed—especially disconcerting in a work of such purity."
General Motors Building
↑ But, in the end, it all comes back to Huxtable. For the General Motors skyscraper, a 1.8M-square-foot midtown Manhattan monolith by architect Edward Durrell Stone she gave this description:
"Behind the marble cladding and bay windows, architecture, like the proverbial thin man in the fat man's body, is signaling wildly to get out."
· All Archicritics posts [Curbed National]
· All Starchitecture posts [Curbed National]
· Frank Lloyd Wright Threw All Kinds of Shade in This Interview [Curbed National]