As noted by Orr and Shreeve (2017), the crit is one of several signature Art and Design pedagogies, and for most people who have passed through a creative education, crits are a memorable part of that.
Sadly, for many (myself included), crits were a somewhat negative experience. This was usually for a combination of reasons, including:
- Length/endurance — on my undergraduate degree, crits were an all day event, with up to 40 students individually presenting and having their work critiqued by tutors. Everyone was expected to be present, engaged and focussed for the entirety.
- Harshness of critique — I recall leaving most crits feeling despondent, hopeless, and like nothing I could possibly do would be of a high enough standard.
- Lack of support with feedback — due to the time pressures, social pressures, and lack of 1:1 tutor contact time, it often felt like there was no recourse to challenge, discuss, or get further advice on feedback given during crits.
Orr and Shreeve however, view the crit more positively, noting that:
“…when practised well, the Crit is a pedagogic tool which helps students to develop a critical and evaluative approach to creative work. Students are also able through the Crit to defend and evaluate their own work, a trait that will be important when operating in a professional context.” (p 88 – 90)
During one of our PGCert workshops, we reflected on crits through the medium of roleplay. I was assigned the role of a somewhat stern tutor, described as follows:
Tutor 1: “You have been working in the art and design school for eighteen years and you know what’s what. As a practitioner yourself, with something of a reputation, you know how tough it is out there in the real world, and you reckon you’re doing your students a favour by giving them a hard time during crits. The way you see it, if they can’t take a bit of harsh criticism now, they’ll never survive out there. And if course you believe it’s your job to pronounce judgement on their work. They’re here to learn, aren’t they?”
This was initially deeply entertaining (because this is extremely not me, but I have encountered this character). However as the roleplay unfolded, it became apparent how deeply horrifying it was to actually play out this role to its fullest extent.
The students I was critiquing were:
- A keen, competent student who lacked confidence in her work (whose confidence ‘Tutor 1’ dutifully further diminished with a scathing critique — “After all, how else will she improve?”)
- A thoughtful, creative student who was hindered by her financial situation and need to work substantial hours to fund her studies (who ‘Tutor 1’ noted would need to put in a lot more hours and effort if she was to reach her potential, and showed a complete lack of empathy for her financial situation — “If she’s here to undertake a creative education, that should be her priority!”)
- A shy, anxious, non-first language English student who struggled to convey ideas in the critique (who ‘Tutor 1’ quickly gave up on trying to engage with).
The whole experience was heartbreaking, exhausting and awkward to play out, yet for all of us, albeit perhaps not quite to such parody extremes, tutor 1’s behaviour rang true with attitudes we’ve seen or heard about in crits.
As a tutor myself now, 15 years on from my undergraduate degree, I aim to put kindness at the heart of my pedagogy. I try to reflect this in the way I directly speak to students, but there are also ways to structure the ‘crit’ which reduce its negative impacts and enhance its positive ones. I primarily achieve this by reducing the size, length and formality of crits, and continue to reflect on the vital role the crit plays in creative education, and how to make it better for tutors and students.
References
Orr, S. and Shreeve, A. (2017) Art and Design Pedagogy in Higher Education: Knowledge, Values and Ambiguity in the Creative Curriculum. 1st edition. London ; New York: Routledge. (P.88 – 90)