In response to last month’s comics criticism roundtable, R. C. Harvey has a post up on the main site in which he lays out his philosophy of criticism.
But, seriously, a critic does what he does for what is a very shallow reason.
When I first set out to make a living in the world, I did it by teaching English in high school. Years later, one of my former students wrote and asked me why I chose teaching English as a profession. I thought about it and realized that I had no messianic purpose. I liked literature and I liked talking about it with others who liked literature and liked talking about it. I taught literature because that was a way of creating others who could talk about it in ways that were congenial with my own passion. It was a way of creating a conversation I enjoyed.
Harvey adds, “The other thing that criticism does, apart from gratifying the passions of the critic, is to enhance appreciation of the art being critiqued. In fact, I suggest that enhancing appreciation is the only legitimate function of criticism (beyond a critic’s self-indulgence).”
Logically enough, he then goes on to argue that the purpose of art, like that of criticism, is essentially to increase enjoyment.
The function of art, to pursue this topic into tedium, is to enhance enjoyment of life. A wise man once said, “The more things you like, the happier you’ll be.” Makes sense to me. Art—drawing, painting, music, and so forth—provide an assortment of things that one can choose from to like, thereby fostering one’s chances at being happy.
Harvey’s argument, then, as far as I understand it, is, first, that critics write for reasons which are shallow — because they happen to like things. Critics who claim to be writing for a higher (or lower?) purpose — such as, for example, to influence people, are fooling themselves. Or as Harvey puts it:
It would also be nice, and highly beneficial to mankind and civilization as a whole, if everyone would do exactly as I tell them—if cartoonists reformed and perfected their practices in accordance with my prescriptions, if other so-called critics started talking about comics as a visual art form as well as a narrative one, and if the Grumpy Old Pachyderm became the GOP of “Yes.” But—well, I, like most critics, may be self-absorbed, but I’m not delusional. Not yet.
The only legitimate purpose of criticism, then, according to Harvey, is to enhance appreciation of art. The purpose of art, in turn, is to make people happy. Thus, for comics critics, the goals are, (1) don’t delude yourself into thinking you have a deep and weighty purpose, and (2) make people happy.
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I’m going to take the second point first. Harvey presents this dictum (make people happy) as a common sense, non-weighty point (as he says, “Makes sense to me.”) I don’t think it’s either of those things, though. On the contrary, the rule-of-thumb that the goal of art and/or of life is to make people happy, and that making people happy can be tied to quantitative measures ( “The more things you like, the happier you’ll be.”) comes out of a very specific philosophical tradition: utilitarianism.
Utilitarianism is usually described as “the greatest good for the greatest number,” and while it may seem common-sensical, it’s implications lead to all sorts of crazy places. For example, if you take the logic of utilitarianism seriously, you could end up suggesting that starving parents eat their children. After all, the children would die anyway; if the parents eat them, the parents at least will live. It’s a common sense solution, right?
That scenario is, of course, a thumbnail paraphrase of Swift’s “A Modest Proposal.” Swift’s essay is art, in the sense that it is imaginative. It’s also criticism, or at least a critique. And what it’s critiquing is, in part, utilitarianism.
So…is Swift attempting to make us happy with his essay? Or is he attempting to make us — particularly if “us” means utilitarian thinkers of his time — unhappy? Does he want us to laugh at his cleverness, or does he want us to recoil in horror at the logic he puts forward, in the hopes that, by making us unhappy with the world, we may act to change it? No doubt there’s some of both in there — but surely it’s an oversimplification to say that Swift’s purpose, or his effect, is geared primarily, or solely towards making people happy.
And, in fact, art can have many goals other than happiness. Art can glorify god. It can be part of an effort to create community. It can criticize society in an attempt to change it. It can advance particular political interests. It can be intended as a moral lesson. It can try to sell us crap. And so forth.
Caro made some of these objections in comments, and Harvey responded
Art wouldn’t work to do all the things you say it does, Caro, if it didn’t also, and probably primarily, enhance our enjoyment of life. We expect it to do that, and in that expectation, we attend to art even when it is chiefly selling us something or promoting a political position.
The problem here is the problem with all monolithic definitions of complex phenomena — it’s reductive. A gospel song which explicitly tells you to turn away from enjoyment of life and embrace a glorious hereafter — is that meant to enhance our enjoyment of life? You could say “yes”, I suppose, and argue that the gospel singers are deluded about what they’re doing, or that believing in a hereafter actually enhances our enjoyment of life…but why go through all those tergiversations? Why, in short, does the “enjoyment” have to be the base, the real thing, while everything else is a secondary superstructure built on top of it? If someone says their art is intended to glorify god, or to pursue truth, or to change minds…why are those reasons less valid or legitimate or more self-indulgent? Why do they have to be transferred to a paradigm of “enjoyment” if they are to win Harvey’s imprimatur?
Or, to put it another way, whose enjoyment is enhanced, in short, by a definition of art which makes enjoyment the highest purpose? Is the enjoyment of devout Christians enhanced? The enjoyment of starving Irish peasants? Or is what’s at stake here the enjoyment of those of us who have come out modernity’s backside, for whom art is a commodity and commodity is a fetish?
“A wise man once said, “The more things you like, the happier you’ll be.” Who is this wise man? It’s not the Buddha, who would presumably argue that the fewer things you like the happier you’ll be. It’s not Moses, who told his people they’d be happier if they engaged in elaborate dietary rituals which certainly limited the number of things they could like. It’s not Kant, who believed true happiness was tied to not liking things. It’s not Marx, certainly…and not even, actually, Adam Smith, who believed fairly strongly that acquisition was not a simple game of numbers, but needed to be moderated by moral considerations. Indeed, it doesn’t, even on a commonsense level, seem to be the case that the more things you like the happier you are. Liking things can be fun, yes…but surely, liking and liking and liking in an acquisitive orgy of increase can, at times, get in the way of more important things. Like, for example, love.
I’m not saying here that Harvey is always wrong, or that it’s illegitimate to write criticism the goal of which is appreciation, or to create art the goal of which is happiness. My point is, rather, that these aren’t the only ways to approach art and criticism, and certainly not the only legitimate ways to do so. Aesthetics is about enjoyment in part, but it’s also about love, and faith, and even perhaps loathing and despair. To make it solely, or primarily, about enjoyment, I would argue, robs it of its enjoyment — turns it into a utilitarian and rather ugly machine.
So, again I ask, why does Harvey make this argument? Is he enhancing our enjoyment of life by presenting criticism as shallow and art as about happiness? Perhaps in part. But surely he also is doing exactly what he disavows; pushing an agenda, with at least some hope that it will affect or convince his readers. Humility can be a tyranny, too. “Shallowness” for Harvey is not just descriptive, but proscriptive —a stricture enforced by the waiting censure of “self-indulgence” and the accusation of “delusion.” It’s worth remembering, though, that another name for the self can be the soul, and that what one person sees as delusion, another may see as art.
I can’ t fault Harvey, I am constantly finding myself in his position. I am at the most thirdly a critic, so I will respond with my other two hats. Which places me apposed to the notions of singularity.
As a teacher of art, I am interested primarily in cognitive development and secondarily in socialization. (i know i am already ranking them…everything is relatively close to first). The placement of self indulgence and creation of like minded aesthetic pupils is at most a repressed after thought. (with acceptation). This does not make me nobel…it’s the job. I utilize and am interested in the students perspectives, interests, experiences, aesthetics. I use these and inform them in part with fundamentals, art history, multi culturalism , problems to solve, ect… I will use my own interests, but only as examples. Not as the central lesson. The pursuit of happiness is a motivating factor in art, as is expression of angst, political voice, advertising, ect… But the real value is in the practice of finding a problem and knowing how to work it out using an informed process and the ability to think outside the box. The value socially in art comes from understanding a visual lexicon that helps in deciphering communications that are designed to pray on your instinctual visual lexicon. They can be disarmed with an intellectual understanding of the manipulations in visual communications. This is of value to consumers in a democracy.
As for individual art forms, I look for students to find their passions (mine is comics). Each art form requires artist who enjoy the stories of past artists, are at home in the hard labor, are custodians of tradition, are innovating with the intention of evolving and shepherding, are interested in discovery, truth, imagination and their own voice, and who will continue despite the absence of recognition and money and the likelihood of suffering. In the end they hold onto living in process and having fun, but happiness is no sure and not the purpose alone or even a requirement.
I think this spells out my perspective as a cartoonist clearly enough. Do I have moments of pride in myself, enjoyment in subject, a line or a composition? He’ll, yeah. But these are fleeting and alone cannot sustain me, given the pressures in art. There is more then just happiness or pride. There is even more then expression and connection with others. There keeping my mind sharp and prepared for a problem with real life consequences. There is through Cannibalizing culture an act of understanding others intentions and being prepared to take action in responds, not just with a brush.
Tradition, expression, fun, community, culture, story; the usual art buzz words that excite some and cause others to be nauseated…are all part of this art, the art education, the artistic process, the critique…but pushing our minds, solving problems, engaging in the evolution of society, survival provide a greater purpose, that may seem like a stretch. However, why else do it? Entertainment alone is not why we create. If that is so then the often harsh criticism I read is hardly justified.
I guess I’m a critic. Maybe? I write reviews of things. When I started I thought I was an advocate for the art form. But I”m not. I’m an advocate for the reader. Comics cost money. Reading them takes time. I’m just trying to save the readers a little of both and to help them find things they might enjoy trading their time and money for. But I can’t know the reader. Not really. I can only speak for my own reaction to the thing. I owe the art form nothing. I owe the artist nothing. And all I owe the reader is honesty. That’s it.
Ben, you’re arguing for art and criticism as an intellectual discipline. Shannon, you’re talking about criticism as a consumer guide. Those are both entirely legitimate approaches, I think.
Yeah, “intellectual discipline” is a totally different thing. “Hey this new book came out and here is what I thought about it” is totally different from “this book will have a tremendous impact over the next 25 years and now I will tell you why”. I can handle the first kind of criticism but the later takes more time, energy and passion than I have. I do enjoy reading both though. Like with movies- sometimes a thumbs up or down is plenty. Sometimes I want Pauline Kale. Different strokes and all that.
Shannon, I think Ben is also talking about using criticism or art as a way of figuring out the world. So not so much just putting a book in context, as using critical essays to think about, say, pacifism, or beauty, or love, or aesthetics, or all the other stuff people might think about. (I think that’s what Ben’s saying….I could have things garbled.)
But yeah, I agree with you that there’s no reason to limit yourself to just one.
I think the “wise man” was Bertrand Russell. “The more things a man is interested in, the more opportunities of happiness he has…”
Aha! Good call. It’s a little different than Harvey’s rephrasing…but I still don’t buy it.
Shannon and Noah, I admit typically there is a separation, but I am not comfortable with it. As a cartoonist, teacher and audience member I want to squeeze all I can out of it. This means valuing my time, money, past time, intellect, aesthetics, and anything else. Criticism should take all of this into consideration.
That said, as with artist, you find the critic that speaks to your interests. Has your back. For me there maybe a simple summation (thumbs up or down). But often I like the depth and banter in my criticism. I would error on the side of verity, and if that means separating commerce and intellectualism, then so be it. As long as everyone can find the critic, that can find them the art, to fill their life with what ever form and function they need. If the criticism benefits the artist, the form, the people, the planet…then right on.
If I had to choose *one* critic that doesn’t make me happy I would choose R. C. Harvey.
That makes sense…the argument that art and criticism should be about enjoyment must make steam come out of your ears….
I’m often not super-interested in the material Harvey writes about. In addition, the criticism-as-appreciation meme he sticks with gets boring for me fairly quickly. On the other hand, he’s very knowledgeable, he’s a solid and sometimes quite funny writer — and he does actually sometimes (as in this piece) make forays into polemic and into theory which I enjoy tussling with. Our interests and approaches are too different for him to be a favorite writer of mine, but I respect what he does and have enjoyed many of his pieces (I quite liked the survey of WW’s costume he wrote this week, for example.)
Comment # 9 was written in tongue in cheek mode. The idea that rationalizing something (which is the only thing that the critic can do) can bring an appreciation to the reader (watcher, etc…) of said object is patently absurd, “emotional intelligence” notwithstanding. But more than that: my taste is light years apart from Harvey’s.
I’m not a huge fan of most of Harvey’s writing in TCJ (too strip focused), but his two Art of the Comic Book/Strip books were a huge influence on me in regards to how I think about comics formally. I’m not sure it makes me happy, but it did help increase my enjoyment of the works I read, and my ability to articulate some of what I enjoyed/saw.
I”m sure that would please him in turn!
Can you pinpoint a couple of ideas from there that you got that were especially helpfuL?
I believe that the role of art is to give us new views of the world. The role of criticism is to give us ne views of art.
Noah: For me, it was the idea of “four distinct graphic threads useful for analysis: narrative breakdown, layout, panel composition, and style.” (14) (stealing a quote from my 2006 summary of the books).
These “threads” (not really a fan of that term) have provided my with a starting point for writing/thinking/reading in regards to comics. (Because as you probably realize, I’m more of a formalist than not.)