Criticism never stings as much as when it comes from those you love. In this case Catherine, who was following my nascent attempts at podcasting on the road, told me that my podcasts sounded like the audio equivalent of my father’s travel diaries (which are famous in our family for including entries like “7:34 a.m. — Had a pee”). In other words, I prattled on.
Upon hearing this review from Catherine I realized that all my pronouncements about the value of criticism, about how how artists and actors should be able to separate “the art” from “the self” and use criticism as objective feedback to better themselves was, well, deluded. Or at least overly optimistic.
Honest creation is the self. So hearing “your art sucks” is hard to differentiate from “you suck.” But we can try.
At this point I have three choices: claim that I wasn’t prattling at all (hard), claim that prattling was the point (tried, didn’t work), or take her comments to heart and prattle less. I’ll try number three.
Thanks Catherine. I love you.