{"id":457,"date":"2010-04-20T17:35:33","date_gmt":"2010-04-20T17:35:33","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/lifesapitch\/wp\/?p=457"},"modified":"2010-04-20T17:35:33","modified_gmt":"2010-04-20T17:35:33","slug":"and_here_is_my_worst_nightmare","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/lifesapitch\/2010\/04\/and_here_is_my_worst_nightmare\/","title":{"rendered":"And here is my worst nightmare"},"content":{"rendered":"

From Macy Halford on The New Yorker’s <\/i>Book Bench<\/a> blog:<\/p>\n

While enjoying a typical New York Sunday morning yesterday–coffee, two eggs on a roll, the Times<\/em>,
\nNPR–I had an unexpected moment of empathy for someone much, much richer
\nthan myself: Yann Martel, who reportedly got three million dollars for
\nhis new novel, “Beatrice and Virgil<\/a>,”
\na Holocaust parable about a donkey and a monkey who meet a terrible
\nfate at the hands of a taxidermist. Also about a writer who resembles
\nMartel.<\/p>\n

…I am sitting there, rereading Michiko Kakutani’s review<\/a>
\n(“misconceived and offensive”), wincing, laughing, biting my nails,
\nmarvelling at the power of the critic and also at the baseness of the
\ncritical pursuit, when I hear a voice, elegant, subtle, drifting from
\nmy Sony boombox (vintage 1994). It’s Yann Martel.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

When asked by the NPR <\/i>host if he reads his reviews, Martel responds:<\/p>\n

Mr. MARTEL: Yes and no. It’s interesting, this book has
\nbeen very divisive ’cause there was a terrible review in the New York
\nTimes, a terrible review in the Washington Post and a terrible review
\nin the San Francisco, I think it’s called the Chronicle, Im not sure.<\/p>\n

HANSEN: Yes.<\/p>\n

Mr. MARTEL: Then there was an extremely positive in other papers –
\nthe Cleveland Plain Dealer, I think it was called, a very good one in
\nthe Huffington Post, I think it’s called, which is interesting and
\nperhaps to be expected. We are very cautious about the Holocaust, which
\nof course we should be. But let’s compare it with war.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

“Anywayz, back to the Holocaust…” I don’t even know what I would do if one of my artists said the words, “I think it’s called the Chronicle” to NPR.<\/i> I would maybe just take the $50 out of the First Chair account, get on the first plane I saw at LGA, and go teach sophomores history somewhere. <\/p>\n

Two Decembers ago, I wrote a blog post<\/a> wondering if critics intended for artists to read their reviews and if not, what was the point? I rambled: <\/p>\n

Think about all the answer combinations to the question, and then
\nconsider the power dynamics, or, more accurately, the perceived power
\ndynamics, that ensue: 1. Critic writes review intending to change an
\nartist’s performance; artist reads and changes the way he or she
\nperforms. 2. Critic writes review intending to change an artist’s
\nperformance; artist never reads review, or would never change
\nperformance based on review. 3. Critic writes review to comment on, but
\nnot actually change, an artist’s performance; artist reads review
\nanyway and changes the way he or she performs. 4. Critic writes review
\nto comment on, but not actually change, an artist’s performance; artist
\nnever reads review, or would never change performance based on review.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

 Alex Ross<\/a> was among the very thoughtful commenters, adding to the discussion:<\/p>\n

Actually, I believe there are two different issues here: institutions
\nand artists. I do occasionally hope to have some impact on how
\ninstitutions think and act. I’m cautiously proud of a couple of
\ninstances where my writing may have had a bit of influence.
\nInstitutions have a tendency to make decisions by committee, and
\ndecisions made by committee can often be poor. Critics certainly have a
\nrole to play. It’s good for someone to stand up and say, you know,
\nmoving the Philharmonic back to Carnegie Hall is a really bad idea.
\nWhen it comes to individual artists, however, I am pretty horrified by
\nthe idea that something I say might lead them to make a change. I
\nbelieve artists should entirely tune out the critics. Indeed, most do.
\nThe criticism that counts is that which comes from trusted colleagues.
\nEven a critic’s praise can be a dangerous quantity. Glenda Dawn Goss
\nmade a good case in her book on Sibelius and Olin Downes that Downes’
\nincessant hero-worship contributed to the shutdown of Sibelius’
\ncreativity. I feel my most precious asset as a critic is my enthusiasm,
\nand yet I know full well that passion can cause harm. On the whole, I
\nlike the idea of being read, but I don’t like the idea of my writing
\nhaving a measurable effect. That’s one reason I was never comfortable
\nat the New York Times, where the effect was immediate and obvious.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

All that said, the outcome I did not anticipate in my list above–#5, if you will–was an artist publicly announcing that he hated a critic in the presence of that critic. Nope, did not see that coming. On Friday, April 16th, New York Times<\/i>‘ Classical Music and Dance editor James Oestreich posted the following on the Times <\/i>blog ArtsBeat:<\/p>\n

Musicians never read reviews. Just ask them.<\/p>\n

But don’t believe a word of it. They read, all right, and they remember, however selectively.<\/p>\n

Andrew Parrott, the English conductor and early-music specialist, was in town yesterday, in his function as music director of the New York Collegium. The occasion was the annual Clarion-Collegium Week, a collaboration with the Clarion Music Society. As you may have heard, Monteverdi’s great “Vespers of the Blessed Virgin,” the so-called 1610 Vespers, is enjoying quite a run in its 400th-anniversary year, and on Monday evening, Steven Fox, Clarion’s artistic director, will conduct the groups in the work’s fifth prominent New York performance this year, at the Park Avenue Christian Church.<\/p>\n

So Mr. Parrott, a consummate expert in the work, came to discuss it in a public seminar at the church with Mr. Fox and Raymond Erickson, a well-traveled musicologist. Mr. Parrott opened with a master class in Baroque vocal music, dispensing practical and scholarly wit and wisdom to seven gifted young singers.<\/p>\n

Then things turned, at least from my perspective, a bit bizarre. Between sessions, Mr. Fox mounted a little ceremony, presenting Mr. Parrott with a Clarion award for his service to early music in New York. Mr. Parrott, seeming genuinely surprised, was almost at a loss for words. But he found a few. He thanked Mr. Fox, then said: “One thing I haven’t managed yet is to get rid of James Oestreich. But it’s not for want of trying.”<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

And he was IN THE ROOM. He was in the room! Can you even imagine? (Side
\nnote: how exactly did The Parrott plan on “getting rid” of James
\nOestreich? I mean, what did he “try”?) Read the rest of the post here<\/a>,
\nand die a little inside for artists who should know when to complain to
\ntheir friends and when to graciously accept an award. The post ends
\nwith the following:<\/p>\n

As a critic, you wish, when something like this happens, that the performer remembered all the favorable things you’ve said about him over the years. A fair representation in this case was a review of Mr. Parrott’s performance of Monteverdi’s 1610 Vespers with the Collegium in 2003: “The performance swept one along, with Mr. Parrott’s brisk and canny pacing, fully in thrall to his gripping conception.” Here’s hoping that Mr. Fox does as well on Monday.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

So what I need to know, is was the Monday concert already assigned, was it unassigned, or was it assigned after this incident? I will be eagerly refreshing the Times site in the next few days. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

From Macy Halford on The New Yorker’s Book Bench blog: While enjoying a typical New York Sunday morning yesterday–coffee, two eggs on a roll, the Times, NPR–I had an unexpected moment of empathy for someone much, much richer than myself: Yann Martel, who reportedly got three million dollars for his new novel, “Beatrice and Virgil,” […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[9],"tags":[],"class_list":{"0":"post-457","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","6":"category-main","7":"entry"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/lifesapitch\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/457","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/lifesapitch\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/lifesapitch\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/lifesapitch\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/lifesapitch\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=457"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/lifesapitch\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/457\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/lifesapitch\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=457"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/lifesapitch\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=457"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/lifesapitch\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=457"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}