They’re loquacious, arrogant and sometimes even border on the offensive; yet their opinions are held under great reverence. Critics seem to have it all yet belong to nothing. They, who can be bought and sold like fruits in a market, hold our work in contempt, scornfully mock our every diminutive mistake, leaving us quite distraught; yet we set so much store by their words. And here I am antagonizing them in my first post.
What is it about a critic that entices us to allow them into our world and let them decide whether our taste matches with theirs? We are after all entitled to our own opinions. They are treated with the highest level of hospitality and yet find something or the other in a perfectly ghastly condition that so horrifies them. So imagine us poor blokes who are but regular people just wanting to have a good time.
Some critics only analyze the highest decree that a particular field of work has to offer. Convinced that they are the only breed within their species who deserve the title of a respected critic, their disparagement certainly sets new limits. They question the authenticity of every piece of the fine life, the pedigree of its forbearers, and most importantly the reason for its worth.
New ventures, however, should probably eschew critics. Denigration of a work still in its pre-natal stages is not, as it is said, for the weak hearted. But if you don’t want to procrastinate the critical analysis till a later date, go right under the hammer; sometimes our masochistic side also needs to be satisfied. Yet I would not instigate one to such an extreme, for skepticism towards critics is one this I seem to have inculcated from them.
Personally, I consider ones friends to be the best judge in the offing. Whether they are merely figments of our imagination or truly carbon based life forms, is the only question that need be asked. Either ways, as long as our work is improving, we need not interrogate ourselves on sanity issues.