Critique and Self-Critique
How to distinguish between your eye and your inner critic
This week challenged me in many different ways, but I came out the other side a better version of myself.
As I type the words, I can’t help but stop myself right there. How do we define “better”? Do I mean prettier? More productive? More popular? More loved? More ethical? More “right”?
This post ponders the question of critique and self-critique as essential elements of living a creative life. Everyone defines “better” differently — so how do we give honest feedback to ourselves or to others? When we critique ourselves, we carry baggage, blindspots, biases. Perhaps one of the best ways to get better at telling people how you really feel, is by becoming more aware of your own inner critic as something inherently different than your ‘eye,’ your taste, or your true judgement.
When I say I became a better person this week, I mean that I listened deeply, and I let the universe be creative with my spirit. I let myself be made better. How do I know this happened? I feel a little more ease, a little more patient when things go wrong, a little more joy when I’m surrounded by loved ones, and a little more honest with myself and others.
Sunday, March 12th
Today, I was having a restless night. I’ve been struggling with some interpersonal conflict at home, and to be honest, it was tormenting me. I was still wide awake when the sun rose, so I decided to embrace it. I took some bleary-eyed sunrise photos.
I really struggled to capture the sky the way I wanted to. I wanted to get the clouds in sharp focus, with the silhouette of the trees as a soft foreground. Unfortunately, my 70mm F5.6 on a zoom lens wasn’t cutting it. Although I like the composition of the photo, the clouds still feel a little soft and the focus would need way more falloff for the foreground effect to work. I should have pulled out a longer prime lens to get a better shot, but at that point the light was changing and my hands were freezing so I changed subjects instead.
Once wrapped up in the warmth of home, I became fixated on an hourglass and took at least one photo I quite like. I thought this photo was overexposed when I took it, but once I offloaded, I realized that a little bit of peaking helps the overall image.
I’ve been learning more about the new Arri Alexa 35, and recently attended an event at Koerner Camera to hear from an Arri technician about the Reveal color science. He spoke about the way the highlights bleed more like film. Up until now, I have been so afraid of overexposing my images that I avoided any bleed at all. Now I’m learning to thread the needle and allow the highlights to kiss my shadows, while still suggesting color detail. It’s exciting to have these small breakthroughs, and realize that all the hours of learning really do payoff (eventually).
Monday, March 13th
Today, I gave my friend feedback on the first feature-length documentary that he directed. To made matters worse, I deeply admire and aspire to the level of cinematography of his brother, who DP’d the film. To give honest feedback feels painfully difficult sometimes because you have to balance 1) caring about other people’s feelings and 2) feeling smart enough/talented enough/worthy enough to believe your thoughts are worth sharing.
The only reason I am able to overcome these blocks and give them my feedback, is because I know how important helpful, honest feedback is for me. As a creative, there are no black and white metrics for success. That’s one of the greatest challenges of working in a creative discipline.
I remember when I was in college, I took a notorious class called Design 166. It was a weed out class for design majors: intentionally demanding, competitive, and crowded. The first assignment was a photography project. Rather than getting a grade from the teacher, we had to print, frame, and hang our photos for the rest of the class to critique. I dropped out of the class during Week 7, and described the class to my friends as “the Hunger Games” of art. I hated it.
Looking back, I understand that learning how to give and take criticism comes with the territory. I know that at the end of the day, my friends and colleagues asked for my feedback because they want to improve their film, and because they trust me to be thoughtful, intelligent, and honest.
As I continue working through my interpersonal conflict at home, I think my gift for critique is also the heart of my issue. One of my housemates told me, “You’re amazing at improving things.” This was his really gentle way of saying, “You’re not the best at accepting things the way they are.” I admire how gently he gave me honest feedback.
The message of the documentary was simple: You are loved, you are special, and you are perfect just the way you are.
How ironic that we’re doing our best to perfect the way we deliver that message. I’m learning to thread the needle in more ways than one. A little over exposure can make the picture perfect; a little forgiveness goes a long way in telling people how much you love them just the way they are.
Tuesday, March 14th
Today, I was on set as an AC/Grip for a shoot at Ada Developer’s Academy. In this hybrid role, I was able to meaningfully contribute to the creative process for a series of two-cam interviews.
What I found most engaging about this particular job was fine tuning our lighting and camera settings for each person we interviewed. While the overall setup stayed consistent throughout the day, several factors were variable, such as natural light, and subject skin tone, hair style, height, shirt color, accessories, and body language.
Having time to really focus in on the details of each individual subject again challenged my ability to self-critique. While I was working under the direction of an experienced Director of Photography, I was still able to bring a critical eye that helped us achieve the highest possible quality for each subject.
Besides making sure each interviewee shined, we also needed to ensure consistency between interviews so that they would all cut together in an edit. We had to balance considerations like wanting a clean background on a particular b-cam shot, with keeping the b-cam angle and a-cam background consistent between setups.
Whereas in a unique interview setup, we might have simply raised or lowered tripods to adjust for height, in this series, we needed to be more creative with our adjustments. For example, we opted to raise and lower the subject height with off-screen platforms.
Multi-cam interviews always feel like a puzzle that needs to be solved, except there’s no defined “correct” solution. You keep working until you run out of time, solving the bigger problems first, and working your way down to the smallest details, until you finally say: “Okay, let’s slate it.”
Creative work never truly ends though. Throughout the interview, you constantly self-critique, making minor adjustments to camera exposure, tilt, and pan. Occasionally, you interrupt the interview to change something, or make an opportunistic lighting adjustment while the talent takes a sip of water. Continuous improvement is the name of the game.
Yet, finicking too much disrupts the “flow,” something which is essential for an interview to succeed. Learning to relax and accept small imperfections ultimately improves the overall product. It comes down to knowing that your contributions are in support of something bigger than yourself.
Wednesday, March 15h
Today, I was flipping through an old journal when I found a self-portrait that I sketched in 2021. The self-portrait hardly resembled me. At first, I thought the problem was with my drawing skills, but when I flipped the page, a sketch of my mom felt almost alive on the page.
Therefore, I have to conclude that the subject of self challenged my eye, rather than my draftsmanship. When I say my ‘eye,’ I’m referring to my ways of seeing the world. The Bauhaus artist Paul Klee wrote about ‘non-optical ways of seeing,’ referring to the knowledge that an artist brings about a subject which goes beyond the surface.
Klee saw this knowledge as useful, allowing a work of art to be more than photorealistic; to be insightful. Yet it’s in the pesky self-portrait where all of this knowing overwhelms our straight-forward, optical ways of seeing.
Still pondering the idea of self-critique, I decided to draw another self-portrait. Reaching for a Sharpie, rather than fine point pens, charcoal, or pencil, I felt free. A Sharpie is a simple, mundane object. I felt my inner critic shrug, like “Who cares what you do with that?” and I drew.
My quick self-portrait turned out ugly. I want to criticize it on many levels: the sketch itself, as well as my presence within it. The truth is that life itself can be ugly. That we create ugly things sometimes should come as no surprise.
As tempted as I am to hide my ugly ducklings, they are a part of the process. If I took the fear of creating bad pictures too seriously, how would I create any pictures at all?
Thursday, March 16th
Today, I visited a friend who recently lost a family member. Their family has been on my mind for the past two weeks, but it’s completely different to communicate through text messages than to be present with them in person. I didn’t expect to do anything creative today, or over the weekend, but I was pleasantly surprised when an opportunity to get creative presented itself.
My friend and I rode longboards in a special place, and mostly just talked. There’s no right thing to say, no right way to feel. We just spent time together and got out of the house for a while. Once we found a good place to sit down for a while, I wanted to goof off a bit, and they seemed up for my respectfully silly behavior. I pretended to be a “longboard yoga” instructor.
They were a good sport, and played along with my game. We blew off some steam, stretched a little, took some deep breaths, and experienced perhaps a fleeting moment of joy.
Friday, March 17th
Today, I drew another sketch with my Sharpie and small notebook. I didn’t draw from reference, yet to say I drew from imagination doesn’t quite fit either. This sketch is something else entirely — a drawing from muscle memory. I started drawing roses like this sometime in elementary school, and the repetitive pattern always turns out beautiful in its own way.
These types of drawings feel like personal motifs or geometric sketches more than anything else. By comparing this pretty sketch with my ugly self-portrait from earlier this week, I’m reminded that the only way to grow is by risking failure.
Saturday, March 18th
Today, I didn’t have time to edit or publish my post because I was spending meaningful time with friends and family. I jotted down quick notes for myself so that I could return to this post when I had time. As more time passed, I fought the urge to forget it and move on. “Finishing is better than starting. Patience is better than pride.”
