Be a snob.

The truth about art critique (that might get me cancelled).

“There is no such thing as “‘reading between the lines.’” — Professor Bill Jolliff

I studied English Literature in college.

After switching my major three times—from print journalism, to film, to broadcast journalism, and then, finally, into the waiting arms of Hemingway, Frost, and Chaucer—I managed to fight through the trenches of athletic challenges on the tennis team, unmedicated neurodivergence, a surprise concussion, and a bloodlettingly obsessive desire to write my own work, rather than study the work of others.

I was so entranced by the characters, worlds, and stories prancing around in the back of my mind, that I had little reason, or care, to pay attention to my lectures.

But, when I came across work that sunk its claws into me, there was no choice but to open the door into those stories, and peruse the minds behind them. The imaginations of poets. The woven imagery crafted by screenwriters.

I learned to understand poetry through the eyes of a professor who wrote his own pieces with intense respect and even more intense scrutiny. He challenged his students to pick apart our poets of choice—for me, it was Philip Levine’s What Work Is, and pretty much anything penned by Mary Oliver—and peer into the text to understand, line by line, word by word, why each piece carried real, tangible reflections within them.

He was tough, but fair. Intelligent, but not pretentious. Observant, but straightforward. He challenged me in a field I loved more than myself. I absolutely loved his classes.

This professor was also the person who taught me that there is no such thing as “reading between the lines.”

I wrote the line almost offhandedly in an essay. I don’t remember what I was writing about, but what I do remember was getting this paper back, and seeing those words written in harsh red pen, underlined six or seven times.

I still remember scanning that line over and over again, wondering why I hadn’t applied that logic to my own writing, and reading. It became so clear once I started to ruminate and truly think about this one piece of feedback, and understand the importance of why it mattered so deeply.

This was also during a time where we, as a class, were learning the basics of binary oppositions—which, in simple terms, describes how pairing opposite concepts provides meaning, conflict, and/or ideological foundations—and it was very difficult seeing the world the same way after dissecting those fundamentals.

This professor, his classes, and learning these under-discussed points of literature taught me a very important lesson that has followed me every day since then:

Learning how to view art objectively—by applying logical analysis to abstract personal work—is one of the most valuable skills to build as an artist.

I’ve seen people argue that you’re either a critic, or an artist.

I’ve always been both.

It’s easy for me to separate what I love vs. what I think is objectively well-made. It’s taken years of practice—and, of course I’m not perfect all the time—but it’s a skill to be able to view art through a logical frame, and recognize when your personal tastes are potentially conflicting with objective standards.

I also write, create, and build voraciously. I have an insatiable appetite for the literal hundreds of stories clouding my brain and focus on a daily basis. It’s very difficult to control my inner critic while I write, because I want my ideas to be communicated with clarity and real intention.

No one is harsher with my own work than me.

My own friends have called me a snob because of this. I’ve always been okay with that. People get easily offended when you point out problems in character, brush stroke, or story with art they love, be it music or literature or film or beyond.

It’s in our nature as humans to grow attached to art we love. It’s a beautiful thing about us, as both creators and critics. (I refuse to use the word “consumer,” as this categorizes us in a way that degrades progress, rather than enhances it).

However, to develop real taste—and recognize the good from the bad, as well as separate the personally loved from the objectively magnificent—we need to learn how to view abstract work through these perspectives.

When I first read “there is no such thing as reading between the lines,” I had no idea how profound that sentence would be.

Some people would look at that feedback and tip their nose at their professor. Others would look at it and wonder how that could be possible, when so many public figures, under-educated thinkers, and people who strictly create and do not critique, tout the opposite.

If an artist or a critic claims that there is such a thing as reading between the lines, they’re admitting that they don’t know how to read what’s truly there. They have to imagine a made-up conclusion that has nothing to do with the text they’re reading, or the art they’re observing. Instead of looking into the pieces of evidence used in the art itself, they theorize based on context that does not exist within those lines.

This, I’ve learned, is laziness disguised as evolved thinking.

A critic who claims you “have to read between the lines” to understand a piece of art, is not a real critic. An artist who tells someone viewing their art that they must “read between the lines” to understand what they’ve made, is a lazy artist.

Learning to be a “snob” is simply learning how to truly see the hierarchy of good, bad, and unfinished. It’s learning how to shape your perspective through observing evidence of what’s truly there within the art itself, and not allow your mind to get distracted by the sparkly “maybes” of what’s beyond the text.

For example, if I read a poem about a woman caring for an orchard that only fosters golden apples, I’m not going to immediately guess that the apple, the woman, or the orchard is a metaphor. I’m going to look into the poem—observe the actual lines, not whatever I believe is “between” them—read it multiple times, and truly try to dissect what it means without donning a pseudo-intellectual coat and pretend that it’s all a symbol for… something.

Symbols are, after all, not a symbol unless there’s evidence within the text to support it. I’ve learned most people passionate about reading, art, or something similar who gain large followings on social media—but who have little to no formal education in literary analysis or art critique—seem to believe that a symbol can simply be a symbol because they “feel” like it is.

This is the equivalent of assuming the answer of a convoluted long divison math equation is a random number that you “feel” is right, when the actual answer takes actual work and thinking to be discovered.

I understand many artists will be offended by this. Many writers, too. Readers, of course—because many readers are praised for half-baked, fake-intellectual opinions in the digital universe, nowadays.

If that’s you, good.

I’m grateful you took the time to read this, to understand a point of view that may not be yours. It’s a choice to be offended, and most people would rather waste their time being offended instead of truly listening and learning the perspective of someone they disagree with.

For opinions similar to this, I’ve been called a snob—heh—a moralist, a gatekeeper, etc. simply because someone didn’t like what I had to say. And, I think they have every right to feel that way. I do not have to agree with someone else’s conclusion to respect their right to speak. I do not take it personally, and I think it’s good that we can have uncomfortable conversations in order to grow as people.

What I can promise you is that you will start to view the world of art, literature, music, and beyond with a much more dynamic lens once you start to understand these rules of critique.

It’s not a bastardization of the art, but a way to appreciate the art for what it truly is, not what we project onto it.

And this, unfortunately, is one of those classic rules of art that seems to be pushed to the wayside on massive social media platforms. People would rather attach themselves dogmatically to what they love instead of learning to view their art with both love and respectful, real analysis of the work.

Not everyone is meant to be a true snob.

Maybe that’s for the best.

- Taylor

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