The Critic As Artist: With Some Remarks on the Importance of Doing Nothing and Discussing Everything

by Oscar Wilde

The Critic as Artist is one of Oscar Wilde’s most well-known dialogues and, along with “The Decay of Lying,” his best expression of his aesthetics. This major work is particularly interesting in the context of late 20th-century poetics. Like several of the younger American and British innovative poets and theorists, Wilde argues, through his character Gilbert, for the equal importance of the critical faculty with artistic creation; that, in short, the artist must be both critic and creator if (s)he is to produce great art; and that the art of the critic should be as fine a creative work as that of any poet or novelist. Against the romantic notion of the artist creating from a vast unconscious storehouse of emotions and ideas, Gilbert posits that… "All fine imaginative work is self-conscious and deliberate. No poet sings because he must. At least, no great poet does. A great poet sings because he chooses to sing…. There is no fine art without self-consciousness, and self-consciousness and the critical spirit are one."

Genres: Classics, Nonfiction, Essays, Art, Philosophy, Literary Criticism, 19th Century

123 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1891

About the author

Oscar Fingal O'Fflahertie Wills Wilde was an Irish poet and playwright. After writing in different forms throughout the 1880s, he became one of the most popular playwrights in London in the early 1890s. He is best remembered for his epigrams and plays, his novel The Picture of Dorian Gray, and his criminal conviction for gross indecency for homosexual acts.
Wilde's parents were Anglo-Irish intellectuals in Dublin. In his youth, Wilde learned to speak fluent French and German. At university, he read Greats; he demonstrated himself to be an exceptional classicist, first at Trinity College Dublin, then at Magdalen College, Oxford. He became associated with the emerging philosophy of aestheticism, led by two of his tutors, Walter Pater and John Ruskin. After university, Wilde moved to London into fashionable cultural and social circles.
Wilde tried his hand at various literary activities: he wrote a play, published a book of poems, lectured in the United States and Canada on "The English Renaissance" in art and interior decoration, and then returned to London where he lectured on his American travels and wrote reviews for various periodicals. Known for his biting wit, flamboyant dress and glittering conversational skill, Wilde became one of the best-known personalities of his day. At the turn of the 1890s, he refined his ideas about the supremacy of art in a series of dialogues and essays, and incorporated themes of decadence, duplicity, and beauty into what would be his only novel, The Picture of Dorian Gray (1890). Wilde returned to drama, writing Salome (1891) in French while in Paris, but it was refused a licence for England due to an absolute prohibition on the portrayal of Biblical subjects on the English stage. Undiscouraged, Wilde produced four society comedies in the early 1890s, which made him one of the most successful playwrights of late-Victorian London.
At the height of his fame and success, while An Ideal Husband (1895) and The Importance of Being Earnest (1895) were still being performed in London, Wilde issued a civil writ against John Sholto Douglas, the 9th Marquess of Queensberry for criminal libel. The Marquess was the father of Wilde's lover, Lord Alfred Douglas. The libel hearings unearthed evidence that caused Wilde to drop his charges and led to his own arrest and criminal prosecution for gross indecency with other males. The jury was unable to reach a verdict and so a retrial was ordered. In the second trial Wilde was convicted and sentenced to two years' hard labour, the maximum penalty, and was jailed from 1895 to 1897. During his last year in prison he wrote De Profundis (published posthumously in abridged form in 1905), a long letter that discusses his spiritual journey through his trials and is a dark counterpoint to his earlier philosophy of pleasure. On the day of his release, he caught the overnight steamer to France, never to return to Britain or Ireland. In France and Italy, he wrote his last work, The Ballad of Reading Gaol (1898), a long poem commemorating the harsh rhythms of prison life.

Reviews

[Sean Barrs · Rating 5 out of 5]

I’ve just been inspired.

As if my admiration for this man, for this genius, couldn’t get any higher. Wilde…..Wilde is wonderful. Wonderful Wilde, that’s what I’m going to call him from now on. Wonderful Wilde offers a very compelling argument in here. Being a literary critic and a reviewer of art are officious and useless things, according to one his characters in here; thus, Wonderful Wilde sets himself up for a brutal counter attack. As hapless Ernest questions:

"Why should those who cannot create take upon themselves to estimate the value of creative work?”

It’s a rather generic point, one that Wonderful Wilde slays with his wit; he refutes it; he debunks it, and he utterly destroys it. Gilbert (as a representation of Wilde) argues that criticism is a form of art in itself. Classical literature, from Aeschylus to Homer and Shakespeare to Keats, borrowed elements form myth. So Wonderful Wilde argues that if authors such as these can be regarded so highly, their art so revered, then why can a critic not achieve the same thing? Can he not create a similar effect because his writing originates from another source too? Can he not create art in the form of criticism, as Wonderful Wilde clearly has done here?



This is rather brilliant. Wonderful Wilde’s criticism takes the form of a humorous dialogue between two characters; they discuss the issue in great depth. Both sides of the discussion are presented fairly, though it is clear where Wonderful Wilde’s opinion resides. This is a phenomenal piece of writing; one that I truly believe should be read by those who enjoy writing critical pieces whether seriously or just for fun. The way that it is presented is so completely convincing. Had this been written as a standard essay this would have been dull and unpersuasive.

Certainly, few could match Wonderful Wilde’s intellectual quality in a book review, but what I want to express is how inspiring this actually is. It really suggests, and demonstrates beautifully, how mundane and perhaps even lifeless writing can be delivered in such a creative way.

Wonderful Wilde, I think you just became one of my favourite writers.

[Fernando · Rating 5 out of 5]

De la misma manera que en “La decadencia de la mentira”, en este otro ensayo y también a modo de conversación entre dos intelectuales, Oscar Wilde se despacha con un manifiesto poderoso en donde posiciona al Arte, la literatura e la crítica literaria en su punto justo.
En cierto modo, sentía que me hablaba a mí mientras lo leía, y creo que también los lectores de goodreads se sentirían orgullosos, dado que Wilde sostiene que es tan decisiva como la creación del artista del que está reseñando: "La crítica, lo mismo que la obra del poeta, no debe ser juzgada por un bajo modelo de imitación o de semejanza. El crítico ocupa la misma posición frente a la obra de arte que critica, que el artista frente al mundo visible de la forma y del color, o frente al mundo invisible de la pasión y del pensamiento. Ni siquiera necesita bellos materiales para realizar su arte. Todo puede servirle."
Es sumamente gratificante leer esto de un artista con todas las letras como lo fue Oscar Wilde.
La crítica (aunque en mi caso siempre hablo de reseñas) siempre fue bastardeada y resistida por parte de los artistas y en algunos casos esas peleas fueron crueles y feroces. Es interesante el concepto de Wilde sobre la crítica. Él expresa que los primeros críticos fueron los griegos, a partir del primer trabajo crítico que se conoce como "Poética" y que legamos de Aristóteles.
Otro de los puntos fuertes de este ensayo es la magnífica reseña artística que realiza de "La Divina Commedia", de Dante Alighieri. Pocas veces leí un texto tan elevado y culto y que resuma a la perfección la obra del gran escritor mantuano. Es digna de ser leída y la recomiendo, porque es una manera de descubrir los otros textos tal vez menos conocidos de Oscar Wilde pero no por ello menos importantes.

[leynes · Rating 4 out of 5]

After finishing this essay, I rated it three stars. Upon going through my annotations again and reading all of Wilde's wonderful witticisms, I had to bump it up to four stars. Here's just a little taste of them:

# An idea that is not dangerous is unworthy of being called an idea at all.

# When people agree with me I always feel that I must be wrong.

# There is no sin except stupidity.

How can I not love this man? The Critic as Artist is an essay by Oscar Wilde, containing the most extensive statements of his aesthetic philosophy. A dialogue in two parts, it consists of a conversation between its leading voice Gilbert and Ernest, who suggests ideas on art criticism for Gilbert to reject. Gilbert (who functions as Oscar's mouthpiece) is convinced that only critical faculty enables any artistic creation at all, while criticism is independent of the object it criticises and not necessarily subject to it.

I found the essay to be harder to get into than expected, the ideas presented are quite dense and demand further contemplation. Despite the fact that I criticise books on the internet on a daily basis, I am not that interested in Oscar's take on art criticism and its importance of it. But as I am trash for the man, I found many other interesting tidbits in this essay that I am dying to talk about.

I have this weird obsession with finding all the instances in which Oscar foreshadows his own fate and ultimate downfall in his earlier works. In The Critic as Artist he writes:

Yes: the public is wonderfully tolerant. It forgives everything except genius.

It is well for our vanity that we slay the criminal, for if we suffered him to live he might show us what we had gained by his crime.

For life is terribly deficient in form. Its catastrophes happen in the wrong way and to the wrong people. There is a grotesque horror about its comedies, and its tragedies seem to culminate in farce. One is always wounded when one approaches it. Things last either too long, or not long enough.

I honestly got chills reading those passages, it just mirrors his own infamous scandal of 1895 and subsequent decline in all the bittersweet ways. In my humble opinion, Oscar was a man way ahead of his time, Victorian England wasn't ready for his genius and quite frankly, didn't deserve it. Here's to the man who believed when he died that his name would be toxic for generations to come. For hundreds of his years his works wouldn't be read. He would stand for nothing but perversion; utter disgust of a society that couldn't bear people like him. Oh, how wrong you were, darling child. You're still one of the most read authors in the 21th century and we all love and appreciate you very much. They even had to lock up your sarcophagus because people wouldn't stop kissing it. I wish you knew that. <3

Additionally, I found myself agreeing with what he had to say on the impact of art, how "after playing Chopin, I feel as if I had been weeping over sins that I had never committed, and mourning over tragedies that were not my own." and how "on a shelf of the bookcase behind you stands the Divine Comedy, and I know that, if I open it at a certain place, I shall be filled with a fierce hatred of some one who has never wronged me, or stirred by a great love for some one whom I shall never see." The power of art, how it moves us, is able to make us feel rage, love, tenderness, feelings never felt before, is beautiful in itself. He put it perfectly when he wrote: Because Art does not hurt us. We weep, but we are not wounded.

For when the work is finished it has, as it were, an independent life of its own, and may deliver a message far other than that which was put into its lips to say.

If only I could express myself in such an accurate way. I also really appreciate what he had to say about art standing on its own. The thing I despise the most are authors who are unable to let their work go, who are unable to accept different interpretations of their work, and who just don't leave fans and book reviewers alone who have an opinion that differs from their own.

The ending of this essay is the most perfect thing I've read in a while and so I will leave you with its entirety to enjoy:
"
Ernest
You have told me many strange things to-night, Gilbert. You have told me that it is more difficult to talk about a thing than to do it, and that to do nothing at all is the most difficult thing in the world; you have told me that all Art is immoral, and all thought dangerous; that criticism is more creative than creation, and that the highest criticism is that which reveals in the work of Art what the artist had not put there; that it is exactly because a man cannot do a thing that he is the proper judge of it; and that the true critic is unfair, insincere, and not rational. My friend, you are a dreamer.

Gilbert
Yes: I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.

Ernest
His punishment?

Gilbert
And his reward. But, see, it is dawn already. Draw back the curtains and open the windows wide. How cool the morning air is! Piccadilly lies at our feet like a long riband of silver. A faint purple mist hangs over the Park, and the shadows of the white houses are purple. It is too late to sleep. Let us go down to Covent Garden and look at the roses. Come! I am tired of thought.
"

[شمس · Rating 5 out of 5]

For who is the true critic but he who bears within himself the dreams, and ideas, and feelings of myriad generations, and to whom no form of thought is alien, no emotional impulse obscure? And who the true man of culture, if not he who by fine scholarship and fastidious rejection has made instinct self-conscious and intelligent, and can separate the work that has distinction from the work that has it not, and so by contact and comparison makes himself master of the secrets of style and school, and understands their meanings, and listens to their voices, and develops that spirit of disinterested curiosity which is the real root, as it is the real flower, of the intellectual life, and thus attains to intellectual clarity, and, having learned ‘the best that is known and thought in the world,’ lives—it is not fanciful to say so—with those who are the Immortals.

__________
It can be difficult to avoid popular praise for an Artist from colouring one's view before experiencing their work, but this blazing Dialogue alone justifies any and all adoration one may come across for Mr. Wilde.

Just as Wilde proposes very unconventional ideas to Dorian, through his Alter-Ego Lord Henry in The Picture of Dorian Gray, so he does so here, through Gilbert, to Ernest, before explaining more deeply his views with such wit and vivacity that one, if they are not already, cannot help but be drawn over to his side, accepting his views as truth.

Ernest: You have told me many strange things to-night, Gilbert. You have told me that it is more difficult to talk about a thing than to do it, and that to do nothing at all is the most difficult thing in the world; you have told me that all Art is immoral, and all thought dangerous; that criticism is more creative than creation, and that the highest criticism is that which reveals in the work of Art what the artist had not put there; that it is exactly because a man cannot do a thing that he is the proper judge of it; and that the true critic is unfair, insincere, and not rational. My friend, you are a dreamer.
Gilbert: Yes: I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.
Ernest: His punishment?
Gilbert: And his reward.

The ideas seem to come with such increasing unconventionality, that one may find themselves gasping in disbelief, thinking (with a smile on one's face), like Ernest,

My dear fellow!

and

But is that really so?

finally exclaiming

Stop a moment. It seems to me that in everything that you have said there is something radically immoral.

But Gilbert Wilde never relents, only continues, further and further,

Gilbert: All art is immoral.
Ernest: All Art?
Gilbert: Yes.

until you find yourself converted

Ernest: Well, I think I have put all my questions to you. And now I must admit—
Gilbert: Ah! don’t say that you agree with me. When people agree with me I always feel that I must be wrong.

The 'Essay' is on the longer side at ~70pp. giving Wilde room to touch on a wide range of topics related to Art, Aesthetics, and Criticism, and contains, in abundance, a variety of original and truly thought-provoking ideas.

Highly recommended.
_____
Read from The Works of Oscar Wilde
__________
Self-culture is the true ideal of man.

. . . while, in the opinion of society, Contemplation is the gravest sin of which any citizen can be guilty, in the opinion of the highest culture it is the proper occupation of man . . . With us, Thought is degraded by its constant association with practice.

We live in the age of the overworked, and the under-educated; the age in which people are so industrious that they become absolutely stupid. And, harsh though it may sound, I cannot help saying that such people deserve their doom. The sure way of knowing nothing about life is to try to make oneself useful.
__________
Bad artists always admire each other’s work. They call it being large-minded and free from prejudice. But a truly great artist cannot conceive of life being shown, or beauty fashioned, under any conditions other than those that he has selected.

Aesthetics are higher than ethics. They belong to a more spiritual sphere. To discern the beauty of a thing is the finest point to which we can arrive. Even a colour-sense is more important, in the development of the individual, than a sense of right and wrong. Aesthetics, in fact, are to Ethics in the sphere of conscious civilisation, what, in the sphere of the external world, sexual is to natural selection. Ethics, like natural selection, make existence possible. Aesthetics, like sexual selection, make life lovely and wonderful, fill it with new forms, and give it progress, and variety and change.

[Michelle Curie · Rating 5 out of 5]

"We teach people how to remember; we never teach them how to grow."

Any artist who has been subject to criticism will know the following internal dialogue that feels comfortable to indulge in: Who's the critic to judge? The one who doesn't even create anything himself but is merely out to shove his opinion down people's throats! Well– Oscar Wilde will calmly shake his head and get ready to teach you a lesson.



The Critic as Artist is an essay written in the form of a dialogue between two characters. One convinces the other that criticism is an art form in itself, requiring both creativity and knowledge, just as is needed from any artist to produce something.

It's a line of thinking I never followed but loved to ponder. In an age where everyone has become a judge of things (I mean, look at me writing a review just now), the question of whether we've actually got the right to give stars to works that other people have poured their time and hearts into is an obvious one. I've wondered so myself, never quite coming to a conclusion. Wilde not only provides one but takes it to an extreme: he suggests that critics are often more important than the actual art, arguing that through their interpretation and insight, they often contribute to understanding and appreciation, thereby pushing society as a whole forward.

Wilde's writing is such a joy. I could take a bath in his writing and would never want to get out. I love the way he constructs his sentences: vivid and flowery, but also clear and sharp. The dialogue feels conversational and natural but never redundant or rambling. And on top of being thought-provoking, he also manages to be funny! There's his typical humour scattered across the pages, which makes for a truly delightful read overall.

"Yes: I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world."

[Sammy Mylan · Rating 3 out of 5]

i agree with mostly everything but that doesn’t stop it from being boring!

[Momina · Rating 4 out of 5]

Criticism as an Art Form:

I assume it is widely known how witty and outlandish Wilde can get. Well, here, he simply outdoes himself; more so, because this isn't fiction and what he says here, he very well means it.

The Critic as Artist is more than one of Wilde's aesthetic statements: it is an unprecedented attempt at defending, not art or literature as has been the tradition, but criticism! The critic is hailed as being someone greater than the artist and if that does not pique your interest then I don't know what will. Written in the form of a dialogue and not just simply a dialogue but very much reminiscent of the Platonic/Socratic sort where one questions and the other enlightens, Wilde argues that criticism is not simply necessary but without it art could very possibly cease to exist.

Ernest, the guy who questions, is initially of the view that artists must be left alone and it is nonsensical for those to be allowed to judge their work who themselves are unable to create it.

Why should the artist be troubled by the shrill clamour of criticism? Why should those who cannot create take upon themselves to estimate the value of creative work? What can they know about it?

As:

... the creative faculty is higher than the critical.

Well, so it seemed to me, too, initially. Gilbert, the other guy and the mouthpiece for Wilde, counters back:

Without the critical faculty, there is no artistic creation at all.

Okay, agreed. But then:

It is very much more difficult to talk about a thing than to do it.

I cannot begin to explain the arguments that stem from this statement in the essay. But suffice it to say, Wilde holds contemplation in great esteem and is mistrustful of action. (He belonged to a group known as the Decadents not for nothing!) The critical spirit, Wilde believes, and the contemplative attitude that it yields is of great importance and must be cultivated. Meaning or value does not lie intrinsically in the text rather it is the critic who opens up vistas and finds something where it could be possible lay nothing. And there is no great artist who is without this critical spirit as all literature is in some way a critique of life and people. The artist beholds the scenery around him and in the dull and the vulgar, which we call reality, finds something marvelous. The same is the job of the critic. With him, art never dies or grows old. With every new generation of critics, previous works are reinterpreted and revalued.

The negative connotations that are commonly attached to the word "critic" could very well be because most of the critics don't do what they should be doing. Objectivity ruins criticism, surprising as it may sound. Though we must try to evaluate a text without any ethical considerations or prejudices, but to be entirely objective is 1) not possible and 2) ineffective. It may be for this reason that some of the best reviews that I have read here on GR were written by people who not only explored the concerning work but also themselves in the process. The reviews that were the most personal, for me, remain the best.

Well, the point is to read this essay because I cannot sum up all the arguments here as I am incompetent to do so. You will find yourself agreeing to things that initially will sound outrageous and preposterous. Wilde had that knack. We all know. Though I still do not agree with several things he stood for, I recommend this to you because of its boldness of thought and argument. If you are still not motivated then I believe this will stimulate even the most disinterested ones:

You have told me many strange things to-night, Gilbert. You have told me that it is more difficult to talk about a thing than to do it, and that to do nothing at all is the most difficult thing in the world; you have told me that all Art is immoral, and all thought dangerous; that criticism is more creative than creation, and that the highest criticism is that which reveals in the work of Art what the artist had not put there; that it is exactly because a man cannot do a thing that he is the proper judge of it; and that the true critic is unfair, insincere, and not rational. My friend, you are a dreamer.

GILBERT: Yes: I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.

Here's wishing you a happy reading!

[Bryn Hammond · Rating 5 out of 5]

Extra star because every sentence is cadenced.
Extra star for wit, of course, plus a touch of postmodernity.
The title comes of Ernest's argument (was it Ernest or the other chap with the suitable name? - it was Gilbert) a) that artists are critics: without the critical function they do not want to improve on or change the art that went before. This is perfectly true; b) critics are creative: often a modern novel or painting is a dreary affair, yet can kickstart the critic on a creative ramble of his own -- that may have little to do with the artwork; nevertheless such behaviour in the critic ought to be encouraged. This also is perfectly true. So, five stars for being quite sensible to boot.

[Ygraine · Rating 4 out of 5]

art is empty. as it exists, separated from its creator and context, it carries no inherent meaning; it exists and people engage with it, not as itself, but as they understand it. and so a piece of art is both meaningless and full of infinite meaning, something different to every person that touches it, something different every time it is experienced.

[James · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a short play forming a discussion on the role of the critic and of the importance of leading a contemplative life. Wilde brings this to life brilliantly and I really enjoyed it. However, there were a few too many classical and mythological references for my liking.

[Jessica · Rating 3 out of 5]

Everything Wilde writes feels kind of like a giant piss-take, and I love it.

[Andrie · Rating 5 out of 5]

It's clear that i love Oscar Wilde. With this one i was inspired...

[Victoria · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Critic as Artist is an essay written in the form of a dialogue between Ernest, who believes that criticism is easy, worthless and art-killing, and Gilbert, who is certain that criticism is a separate form of art. Gilbert states that being a critic can be (and normally is) more challenging than creating a masterpiece. Prior to reading this book, I had the same views as Ernest, but now I'm not so sure. Gilbert's reasoning seems logical, but nowadays the uniqueness of each individual and the importance of creation are exaggerated imensely, and thus the role of criticism is very much underestimated.

I will not praise Wilde on his style and talent, as this would be the most trivial thing to do, but I must say that I've never felt so dumb and uneducated as when reading this book. Wilde is definitely one of those authors who make one want to become better and wiser (even if only to fully understand his work). The book is gushing with allusions to literature, art and music of all times.

It is a must-read for every person with the slightest aspiration to do anything artistic with his life.

[José Cruz Parker · Rating 5 out of 5]

"It is to criticism that the future belongs. The subject-matter at the disposal of creation becomes every day more limited in extent and variety"

This platonic dialogue is, perhaps, not as perfect as The Decay of Lying insofar as the latter is more concise and contains less digression. But The Critic as Artist is, like most of Wilde's works, infinitely quotable. Literally every page contains a beautiful paradox, an interesting maxim, or a delightful aphorism.

[clara ☾*✲⋆ · Rating 3 out of 5]

★★★☆☆ | three and a half stars

"through the parted curtains of the window, i see the moon like a clipped piece of silver. like gilded bees the stars cluster around her. the sky is a hard hollow sapphire. let us go out into the night. thought is wonderful, but adventure is more wonderful still."

inspired by the fear of falling even father behind on my reading challenge, i screwed my courage to the sticking place and decided to finish this... a little more than a month after i started it. 😳

why did it take me sO fReAkInG LoNg, you may ask? it's only 80 pages.

well, it was, to say the least, VERY pretentious.



it's not that i can't take a lil dousing of pretentious-ness in classic lit- i loved the picture of dorian gray, and look at lord henry! but this was just SO high class british dude-y. 😕

in the end: it's oscar wilde, so obviously i loved some of the language he used, like the quote above. and it was well written and full of interesting phrases and ideas. buuut i could do without all the "oo hoo, try this excellent cigar sirrrr"

[Nat]

I loved this, but I'm glad I didn't read it as an undergrad because I probably would have tried to write my PhD on the philosophy of dandyism. I will definitely use the line about aesthetics being "higher" than ethics because it is more spiritual.

[Blanca · Rating 5 out of 5]

Te amo, Oscar, espero que lo sepas. Eres un faltón y una rata pero eres mi rata y quiero hacerte pequeños chalequitos de punto para que siempre estés abrigado y nunca pases frío.
Siempre mi inspiración para personajes de rol 💜

[Mireia Ruiz Vigatà · Rating 4 out of 5]

"La obra de arte sirve al critico simplemente para sugerirle una obra nueva o personal, que puede no tener ninguna clara semejanza con la que critica".

En aquest assaig, Wilde defensa la importància de la crítica com a forma d'art. I, al fer-ho, descriu també quins elements fan que l'art sigui art.

Per l'autor, la crítica no es basa en una mera repetició del contingut de l'obra, sinó que hi afegeix valor, ja que en parla desde la pròpia subjectivitat. Això m'ha fet pensar en el podcast de "Solteras y Fabulosas", que descriu els capítols de "Sexe a Nova York" amb molt detall i afegint punts de vista dels interlocutors. Converteixen un capítol de vint minuts en un programa de dues hores amb facilitat, ja que utilitzen els temes que desplega el capítol per fer un anàlisi psicològic i social dels personatges, introduint elements comparatius amb el món actual, experiències personals, idees pròpies, etc.
Tot això resulta en què el consum de la crítica sigui més enriquidor que el consum de la obra en sí.

El mateix passa amb el relat d'anècdotes de la vida real. Es pot fer una narració que es limiti a repetir fielment les escenes reals. Però em resulta a vegades interessant entrendre'l com una interpretació artística que anteposa la bellesa a la veritat, permetent-me construir una narrativa més rica pels meus oients.
Això em porta a l'assaig que ja vaig ressenyar de "La decadència de la mentida". Aquí també en parla:

El verdadero crítico, en efecto, será siempre sincero en su devoción al gran principio de la belleza. (...) No consentirá ser esclavo de sus propias opiniones. ¿Qué es, en efecto, el espíritu, sino el movimiento en la esfera intelectual?
Lo que las gentes llaman insinceridad es simplemente el método por el cual podemos multiplicar nuestra personalidad.

I és que, amb la insistència social que sempre assenyala Wilde en el compliment de la moral, ens estem perdent molt art i bellesa. Per què quan conec algú nou a una festa he de dir la veritat i només la veritat? Perquè dir mentides està malament? Es una qüestió purament moral, que tampoc es tradueix a cap conseqüència real. Si m'invento una història, realment la única conseqüència serà que el meu interlocutor sortirà més entretingut i fascinat de la conversa que si m'hagués cenyit a la veritat. I que jo m'hauré divertit també amb el meu exercici mental de construir una història i interpretar-la. L'emoció per l'emoció, sense més intenció que la d'enriquir la vida. I això no puc fer-ho només pel dogma de que mentir és dolent? Quina tonteria.

Wilde diu que l'art sempre serà inmoral (o almenys que es pot permetre ser-ho). Perquè de la mateixa manera que la ciència es deu a la veritat (i no a la moralitat), l'art es deu a la bellesa. El que es deu a la moralitat són les accions i la organització pràctica de la vida, la qual anomenem societat.
Associar la crítica, o l'art a la practicitat o a la moralitat es una forma de degradar el pensament.

"En realidad, la Estética es a la Ética, en la esfera de la civilización consciente, lo que es, en la esfera del mundo exterior, la selección sexual a la selección natural. La Ética, lo mismo que la selección natural, hace posible la existencia. La Estética, igual que la selección sexual, hace la vida seductora y maravillosa, la llena de formas nuevas de progreso, de variedad y renovación".

És sempre un plaer llegir a Wilde. Sento que ens haguessim entès. En el pròleg de l'edició que tinc, Borges diu "Su obra no ha envejecido; pudo haber sido escrita esta mañana".
RIP Oscar Wilde you would have loved being a gay in the 21st century moral anarchy.
Especialment crec que li agradaria el faranduleo de Cadaques, les altes esferes, la cocaina...

Li he posat un 4/5 perquè hi ha pàgines que he hagut de llegir en diagonal perquè era un namedroping constant d'autors i personatges de llibres que no m'he llegit, aparently classics i de culte, com el de La Divida Comedia, amb el que s'hi passa pàgines i pàgines. Potser si l'hagués llegit hagués gaudit molt més de la obra, però de moment es queda així.

[Joanne van der Vlies · Rating 4 out of 5]

• "The public is wonderfully tolerant. It forgives everything except genius."
• "The world will never weary of watching that troubled soul in its progress from darkness to darkness."
• "Every great man nowadays had his disciples, and it is always Judas who writes the biography."
• "They are the mere body-snatchers of literature. The dust is given to one, and the ashes to another, and the soul is out of their reach."
• "Society often forgives the criminal; it never forgives the dreamer."

[Nasar · Rating 5 out of 5]

As the author himself suggests, "It is difficult not to be unjust to what one loves", I would resist writing anything in its praise, except - Beautiful.

[Advika Ramesh · Rating 5 out of 5]

An Abecedarian on Critique:


As I am of the belief that the way I conduct my life is my greatest art, it is to be assumed that this art will subsequently come to head with (at some very futuristic point) with criticisms. But because it is so authentic to myself, so raw and real, I guess I am jarred when it becomes something outside of myself and frankly, incorrectly perceived. However, through this book, I have come to the thought that in order to have art you must have subsequent criticism - art is meaningless without a spectator with notes, and it is an honor to be misunderstood by the ignorant or mentally unemployed. To hate criticism is to be anti-intellectual, and anti-intellectualism is my greatest woe in life. Plus, as someone who daily engages with good-faith criticism in life, how can I have opposition to something so beautiful? Though callous, though underunderstanding, criticism exists as a framework of the art’s existence, hence why I never engage in any true art - I’m too afraid of the criticism. I only post things as archived stories, I write little vignettes in places no one will read, I sing to an audience of a wall, I rarely put myself out there socially or otherwise - all my art is seeped in a dark black paint rendering its being false. If I were to even consider myself an artist, I must become okay with backlash. For “the public is wonderfully tolerant. It forgives everything except genius.”

Not bad for someone whose life has become so embroiled in controversy. Does this sound like the ramblings of the mentally ill? Please let me know if it does, as I have very open access to a fluoxetine farm as a future medical professional (so it goes…). While I do accept most criticism as fodder from the peanut gallery, my speech and debate days have done me right in the way that nowadays I am unable to disagree with any argument built on a solid framework attached to not only a decent philosophy but also a bit of logic and reality. So in that same manner, I will hear out anyone who wants me dead, even though as of right now, I will not be wishing that upon myself.

I talk a lot don’t I? To think the advent of me talking to myself again was my delinquency defining me to outsiders, but it will take for ever to educate the masses that all art is immoral . I, who have never known anyone but myself - I am the critiqued, but I am also the critic. My next entry of words on this earth will be a manifesto disguised as a review for It Ends With Us by Colleen Hoover.

Fin, fin, finito.

[Andie]

“There is no sin except stupidity”
Oh oscar wilde, the original thought daughter

[Miku · Rating 2 out of 5]

"Krytyk jako artysta" to rozmowa Gilberta z Ernestem odnośnie autorów, literatury oraz roli krytyka.

Takie o, żeby się zapoznać. Było okej, ale nic poza tym. Autor przedstawił interesujący punkt widzenia co do krytyki sztuki.

[Tabish Khan · Rating 2 out of 5]

I do like the idea, I am a critic after all, and it's cleverly told as a conversation rather than an opinion piece. However, it feels far too long and meandering for the points it's trying to get across.

[charsey · Rating 5 out of 5]

Upon hearing about this title, it was inevitable to me that I'd read it. Such is the pleasure of having a well-defined, stubborn even, taste for literature both fictional and discursive. Reading old literature is a game, a treasure hunt, in which you scour for works most suitable to your nature; the better defined your taste, the easier the search. I've always been a lover of the arts, but only recently has my enchantment crossed over to art's other side—the one where the critic resides—and the role that he plays in her landscape. So you can imagine my excitement when I learned one of my favorite authors wrote a dialogue on the very topic. Before I picked up the book, I felt that Wilde wrote it only for my eyes, a most generous gift for one of his most devoted readers. Having finished it, I realize now that he wrote it for no one but himself...

The true purpose of any form of writing, its sole appeal, is that it captures the inner workings of the mind—the limitless pathways it may traverse along with every fork in the road. The problem is the mind, in its ceaseless running, often moves too fast for its owner's own good.

But are we the owners or our own minds?

Or are we prisoners to the limits of our mental processes, the confines of our memory? Thoughts can come and go without our prompting. Thoughts about thoughts about thoughts... It's stressful trying to be a "good" person, at least in the eyes of your religion, or your society, when disturbing images can pay your mind a visit without notice. Where do these images come from? Who's in control?

But writing can tame thinking. The same way Mathematics notates the ways of Nature, the world's actions, writing notates the busy mind—though not without a process of refinement. It does more, however, than simply taking a printed dictation of used thoughts. In the act of writing, the pen’s beholder is compelled to design new thoughts in real time, perhaps as a means of reinforcing the arguments he's already committed to the page. It's in writing that new ideas are born, and what's the point of writing down an idea if it's not a dangerous one?

Ideas shall be bold. They shall shake the world! Otherwise they aren't ideas at all! Just as a chef shall not shy away from alien cuisines, a work of fiction shall not shy away from being wildly theatrical. In the pursuit of knowledge, one shall not shy away from sin.

Throughout this dialogue, Wilde's ideas are as dangerous as they are meritable. It's only natural to be attracted to things that are hard to come by. The same holds true for ideas that are difficult to wrap one's head around. But once they're taken in, the reward is so full of pleasure—a pleasure all the greater for having been earned, rather than given. His writing serves as a model for all writing in its pursuit of defining the mind and charting new lands.

There is worth in danger.

It's a fallacy to think that humanity rules the Earth, that we are the ultimate living beings inhabiting it. I now understand that the only true living beings are great works of art. They are towers standing high and mighty and alive, erected together to form the culture of the world like a skyline against the sun. The more objective the work of art is, the closer you see into its creator's heart, the taller the tower stands. These towers exist in a plane that is beyond human. It is the plane of beauty.

The only suitable purpose of the critic is to enter this plane, to become one with and within it. Only then may he become a tower himself, a piece of the skyline, giving birth to still more.

[nilan · Rating 5 out of 5]

The critic as artist is a dialogue between two characters, Ernest and Gilbert. Majorly, Ernest asks Gilbert questions, therefore Gilbert is portrayed as Wilde’s spokesperson. Throughout the play, the two friends exchange ideas about art, aesthetic and art criticism. Ernest states that ancient works of art are not individual ideas, rather they are born from a collective imagination. Gilbert argues by mentioning that art requires style, which requires unity, and unity is only found within the individual. He also mentions artists like Homer and Shakespeare, both of whom had old ballads and poems to work with; However, when a poet takes a rough draft and shapes into art, it is theirs. Gilbert posits that the longer a person studies life and literature, the more certain they will become that there's an individual behind every wonderful creation.

Gilbert then moves on to state that all art is immortal. He says, and I quote, "emotion for the sake of emotion is the aim of art." In real life people have to be more practical and consider that "emotion for the sake of action" is the practical organization that upholds society. Things like morals, productivity, and hard work are necessary to the function of society but they mean death to art. The artist needs time and space to sit and contemplate. Contemplation may be a grave sin where society is concerned but it is the "proper occupation of man" according to high culture.

Ernest seems unconvinced that contemplation is the proper occupation of man. Gilbert continues to explain. Doing nothing is the most difficult and most intellectual thing a person can do. Doing nothing is the reason that carefully chosen people with artists' temperaments exist.

Gilbert exclaims that art is immortal and further states that thought itself is dangerous. He elaborates on how a proper functioning society relies on habit, unconscious instinct, and a lack of intelligence among the populace. He maintains that in general people are aware of this which is why they work so hard to keep their intellect from intruding upon their lives.

[Annie Riggins · Rating 4 out of 5]

Content: Really interesting. It asks many questions about art, thought, Culture, education, the contemplative life. What is the domain of a painter versus a poet? What is the highest art? Is criticism itself a creative art? How do morality and art mix? What qualities a true critic? What is the intellectual life?

Form: Really interesting. Written as a long nighttime conversation between two men, Gilbert & Ernest. Ernest asks all the questions, and Gilbert waxes. Absolutely could use an editor, but I don’t think that’s the aim.

Recommendation: Would be best approached page-by-page in a discussion-based college class. (Rather than say, solitary at a desk during lunchtime).

There is so much I agree with, so much I don’t, and so much to think about. These ideas will stay swimming in my mind.

[Pio Ocampo · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Criticism is itself an art. And just as artistic creation implies the working of the critical faculty, and, indeed, without it cannot be said to exist at all, so Criticism is really creative in the highest sense of the word. Criticism is, in fact, both creative and independent."

Wilde's take on art criticism as creation in itself is deeply inspiring. Gilbert and Ernest's conversations had an incredible cadence— dandyism vis-a-vis intellectualism at its peak! This homosexual may be an elitist prick, but he does make salient point on Beauty and Art in their purest forms.

[Bailote · Rating 5 out of 5]

A mais perfeita e completa defesa não só da Crítica e do crítico, mas de toda a Arte, com especial foco na Literatura. Ler Oscar Wilde significa estar sempre pronto para mudar de opinião, para crescer e evoluir, para nos aperfeiçoarmos e nos aproximarmos da perfeição que é a Arte.

"Society often forgives the criminal; it never forgives the dreamer"

[Melissa Jeanette · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was a fun way to read philosophy. It's a written as a conversation between two men that's reminiscent of dialogues with Plato. I'd recommend it to anyone interested in literary criticism or art. As an added bonus, it's a really fast read too.