Anyone who doubts the subjective nature of art need look for persuasion no farther than Amazon’s review pages. For instance, Stephen R. Lawhead’s Hood received opinions varying from the effusive “Lawhead at his best” and “rip-roaring good story” to the insistent “no real plot, resolution, or drama” and “slow, uninspired and pointless.” How could the same piece of writing inspire such wildly differing reactions? You have to wonder if these reviewers were even reading the same book!
For better or worse, art (like life) is subjective. Not one of us looks at a story, a painting, a movie, or a concert in the same way. We each see the same structure; we each read the same words; but we all take something individual, and therefore indefinably precious, away from the encounter. Experiencing art is like watching clouds. Two people can lie on the same grassy hill, watching the same cloud formations. But how they interpret the shapes of the clouds is an entirely individual experience. You may see a poodle on a leash, while in the same cloud, I see a drag race.
Part of the magic of the artistic experience is its endless evolution. It is never static. Even once the writer has put the final touch on his piece, it continues to live and morph and grow through the experiences of the reader. When we hand our writing over to others, we’re unavoidably surrendering our control over it. We can’t sit at the reader’s shoulder and dictate how he envisions our characters or how he reacts to the themes. If we could, it would largely defeat the point of art, not to mention the enjoyment.
Subjectivity is sometimes a hard notion to accept. Because we’re limited by our own visions of the world, it isn’t automatic for us to realize that other visions are not only out there but, in fact, they are everywhere. It’s a natural human reaction for us to suppose that our own reactions and beliefs should be shared by everyone. As a result, it can sometimes be quite a shock to realize that everyone isn’t going to view our writing the same way we do.
Despite its universalism, this is a truth that few of us manage to grasp right off. However, it’s very important that we do grasp it. Until we do, we’ll never be able to take advantage of it.
Once we embrace the subjectivity of art, we can:
- Accept that the painful rejection of our work by some of our readers is inevitable and even warranted, given the wide range of personalities who will read it.
- Realize that bad reviews aren’t necessarily reflective on the quality of our work. Everyone and his mother’s uncle is entitled to his opinion. And no two people’s opinions are going to be exactly alike. If one person adores your work, then you can expect that someone else will hate it with equal fervency. Your work can’t speak to everyone. The sooner we accept this fact, the easier it will be to brush away the sting of negativity.
- Open our eyes to the fact that differing opinions give us the opportunity to widen our scope and deepen our work. Occasionally (and sometimes more than occasionally) your negative reviewers may just have a point or two. If you can handle the negativity, you may just gain more from reading your bad reviews than you do from your good reviews. The varying vantage points of other people can help you see yourself, your writing, and your flaws more clearly.
- Embrace the wide variety of humanity. If everyone in the world shared our opinions down to the last dot, it would be a ridiculously dull place. Despite the drawbacks and occasional nicks of pride, subjectivity, at its very heart, is the only reason art is worth pursuing. It allows us all a broader canvas on which to paint, experiment, fail, and succeed.
The Importance of Pleasing Ourselves in Our Writing
Putting Your Ego in Your Back Pocket
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Story by K.M. Weiland
Tags: Art , artistic vision , criticism , Critiquing , subjectivity
I so agree with this, and it is a fact I hold on to dearly every time I get a rejection letter--whether it be for my novel or a short story. One editor finds my pacing wrong and the subject matter tired. Another--regarding the same story--raves about the descriptive language and originality and selects the story for publication. My most recent rejection was on a short story, and the editor failed to see the forest for the trees--but it was his perspective. Another will see it from an entirely different angle and love it as much as I do!
Subjectivity is also the deciding factor in what we usually refer to as the "rules." We all concede that there is good writing and there is bad writing. But the truth is that there is no definite line between the two. So much is dependent on perspective and opinion.
At the same time, I always find it a delicate balancing act between deciding whether someone "not getting" a piece is due merely to perspective or because I could have written it better.
Putting our writing on the chopping block requires us to step back, watch the chips fly and then gather them up into our arms for examination.
GREAT metaphor, Shaddy! I may have to borrow that one sometime. ;)
Your poll essentially asks a much deeper question: can there be any such thing as universal art?
I take that to mean "can there be anything which is universally (that is, objectively) appreciated as artistic by all observers?"
IMHO, no. Every kind of art I know of is more appreciated--that is, considered to have greater artistic merit--by people who are studied in that medium.
A poet best appreciates a poem. A painter best appreciates a watercolor. A programmer best appreciates an elegant algorithm.
While a non-poet might enjoy a poem, while a non-painter might enjoy a painting, and while a non-programmer might (once it is sufficiently explained) see the cleverness in an elegant algorithm, none of those observers will appreciate those works as well as someone who is actually skilled in the art (no pun intended) of creating them.
All people bring to the observation a different set of skills, backgrounds, and personal affinities. There is no craft, no type of art, no medium of expression, for which all people are equally well versed.
In the strictest logical sense, it does not follow from this that there could not be such a medium of expression. Absence of evidence does not equal evidence of absence. Nevertheless, I believe that to be so. I can't think of an example, nor can I construct a hypothetical example which fits the bill. Maybe you can, and prove me wrong.
But until someone cleverer than I can find an example, I hold that there can be no art that is universally appreciated by all, and that as all art is inherently subjective, subjectivity must therefore be vital to the nature of art itself.
It's interesting (and slightly ironic) that artists perforce see art in a slightly different light from others. I wonder sometimes if we can ever see our work in the same light as those who aren't creators but merely experiencers of art. Does that put us at an advantage or a disadvantage? It's also probably a good explanation for why those who deeply experience art are drawn to create it themselves.
So very true. I wrote something similar on my blog the other day. The best thing a writer may could do is not to read reviews, unless they are prepared to handle whatever may come.
If curiosity kills the cat, then I'm definitely a cat. :p I can't help myself from reading reviews, even when they're negative. And, in the end, I think I learn just as much from the negative reviews - once I get done screaming, of course.
You make some excellent points. It is impossible to please everyone and not everyone is going to get you or your book.
Of course, we always hope that *most* people will get it ('cuz otherwise we'll be out of a job!), but understanding that not everyone *has* to get it is very freeing.
Great post - and something that is especially good to remember while querying!
It's also something I try very hard to remember in viewing and judging others' writing. Just because it doesn't float my boat doesn't mean it's necessarily worthless.
[1:41:16 PM] Belle: My mom has this saying that she tells us from time to time, "You can please some of the people all of the time, but not all of the people all of the time. Good post.
Was it Abraham Lincoln who originally said that, I think? Very true!