Critically critical

The light of my life, Tyler, the Creator, just dropped his third hip-hop album, “Wolf.” Despite acknowledgement of fellow rappers’ approval and his own relentless insistence the album was subpar, he refused to send copies to big magazines for early reviews. The reason he said was that he wanted to let people “make up their own minds about it.”

I completely respect his decision to do whatever he wants with his own music and anything ever. He’s perfect.

But I want to question his view of critics, particularly because it seems to be one so widely held by the artistic community.

Ultimately, arguments against criticism and manipulating peoples’ perception are backed by the fact that a person’s opinion belongs deeply to him or herself. Everyone approaches a work with different experiences.

But that’s precisely my point.

Critics, at least the professionals, are people who have studied their craft and the history of the one they review intensively and analytically. They should be able to recognize merit and weed out those doggy-paddling above average.

Why is it such a bad thing that they influence public perception if it prevents a waste of time and money and makes room for projects more deserving of attention?

That brings into question the fairness of someone labeling themselves an expert and deeming their opinion the only one that matters.

If you imagine critics merely as mustached villains dictating which dreamers aren’t worthy of love and claim that the angelic glow of their good reviews is illusory, it’s very easy to elicit antagonism toward them.

After many of his films were slammed as rotten tomatoes, comedian Jamie Kennedy’s documentary “Heckler” explored the role of critique. He traveled around the country, confronting his judicious adversaries, revealing many of the harsher ones to be insensitive, cocky slime-balls.

While I wasn’t at all sympathetic with these losers festering in their mothers’ basements, I feel like choosing them as subjects wasn’t representative of a much wider field.

It enforced the perception that those who can’t do, critique — that media or any criticism is reserved for those who lack their own talent, using jealousy and spite as a form of creation.

But it’s childishly defensive to question, “Well, what have you ever done?”

Opposition comes with the territory of a wider audience, especially in a technological age where there is no shortage of vicious personal attacks.

The notion that critics don’t matter is crippling.

Developing a thick skin and willingness to improve is part of necessary roughness. Not everyone can live their lives like an open wound and separate censure of their work from that of their person.

Those people that aren’t honest with themselves about their abilities aren’t prepared for the reality of competition, whether in sports or media or science.

Critique isn’t pathetic — it’s artistic Darwinism.

­— ashhendr@indiana.edu