The arts? Yep, I review them. Here's how...

I have a love/hate relationship with writing. I am pretty proud of myself when I finish a piece that I tried my best on, but I absolutely dread diving into a review. I will clean the kitchen to immaculateness, or run 12 miles on the treadmill just to avoid starting an assignment. (My average mileage equals…four.) So, the hardest guidance/mandatory requirement to swallow this semester has been to “set a schedule, and blog often. Posting with [regularity] will be tough,” an article entitled “How to Blog” declared, “you’ve got other things to do, and writing is a daunting task for most people. But blogging, like exercise, gets easier with practice. The more often you do it, the less onerous it’ll feel, and at some point you may even grow to like it.” Writing has not become a completely torture-less endeavor, but towards the end of the semester, I wasn’t killing myself on the treadmill or scrubbing the kitchen counters nearly as much.

When starting a review, I try to give my audience a short, and hopefully interesting overview of who I am, and where I am coming from as a commentator on a exhibit, an article, a movie, etc. If I had never been to a college choir performance before, and was now about to critique my first show (like I was in my review of the Vocal Jazz Ensemble/Jazz Pop Choir concert), I think I owe it to my audience to let them know—not because my greenness to a certain topic should discredit my opinions, but because it might help to understand why I had certain observations. However, while it is important to be aware of one’s past experiences or predispositions, it’s equally important to not let these predispositions dictate a review. A review is “my take” on an event, but I should look at every event with an unbiased eye. If I’ve hated (or adored) a genre in the past, I should address this, but then make it a point to critique an event without those earlier sentiments tainting my review. As Laura Kipnis, a feminist, admitted in her essay, “(Male) Desire and (Female) Disgust: Reading Hustler,” “I have, in fact, wanted to write this essay [about Hustler] for many years, but every time I trudge out to buy the latest issue, open it and begin to try to bring analytical powers to bear upon it, I am just so disgusted that I give up, never quite sure this automatic response is one of feminist disgust or bourgeois disgust.” Her struggle (which she did overcome) to write a thoughtful piece on a subject that she has always despised, demonstrates one of the most difficult, but essential things a valued reviewer must do—examine, from all angles, the pros and cons of a piece, and why it is successful or unsuccessful to what type of audience(s) and why. As a reviewer, I believe, I must state who I think would appreciate my subject or who would not, and why—I must not simply determine whether a subject was good or bad based on my own tastes.

In my reviews, I also want to appear relatable, easy-going and friend-like to my readers, so that they feel that they can trust my experiences. But, earlier in the semester, my reviews were centered too much on me. Because, yes, I was much more comfortable writing about or parodying myself than I was evaluating external subject matter. I think I managed to tone-down this habit over time. I have tried to remember the advice given in the article “How to Blog,” which insists, “write casually, but clearly. Write quickly, and a good way to write quickly is to write as if you’re talking to a friend. Also remember that your readers want you to get to the point. Be clear, not cryptic.” I had to realize that although I might think my personal stories are amusing, a reader did not scan my review of a gallery exhibit to hear a chunk of my life story.

I feel that I grew the most as a reviewer at the previously mentioned choir concert that I attended. As I was sitting in the audience, with my notepad and pen, I started getting really excited when I became aware of little details (like the director playfully hiding the microphone from soloists), that if I was simply an attendee of the event, I would have forgot about, or probably not have detected. I started feeling like it was actually fun (not a chore) to search for details that would make my review unique.

In our class, I have learned to be an unbiased, clear, witty, and concise (but thoughtfully detailed) reviewer of the arts.