The poor photographers! They no longer work in sylvan quietude. Also their efforts are now exposed to the utterances of harsh criticism, in the same way that sensational books, music-hall artists, and prize fights are.
I do not know whether the photographic profession considers this an advantage or a disadvantage. I believe they are, in this respect, very much like the painters; they like to be talked about, but they do not like adverse criticism.
They fail to see that we live in an age of advertisement and that no matter whether a notice is pro or con, it is of value. Of course the artistic photographer does not desire the adulation of the mob, he is mostly an amateur, and not dependent on his art for a livelihood. But he would like to establish his name, to become well known to the profession and the art-loving public. And for that the press, unfortunately, is indispensable. Good work alone is not sufficient. If a man is but little known to a community like ours, he is apt to be entirely forgotten; as it is, he has to make his reputation over again every five years. Naturally, if a man stands so high above common mortals that art is all to him, and that he entertains an utter and honest indifference to the public, he may also shrug his shoulders at criticism. I am certain that such a man would be amused by intelligent blackguarding. But too high an opinion of oneself bars every improvement.
The art critic is the agreeable means of intermediation and conciliation between the artists and the public. And the best criticism is, after all, nothing but an individual, carefully considered estimate of a man of taste, and, in rare cases when it is at its best, the concentrated opinion of a certain part of the public. Professional men should appreciate the difficult position of the art critic in a country which is as stagnant, commonplace, and businesslike in art matters as America is in this year of grace 1899. And in Europe conditions are not much better. There the production of paintings has reached such alarming conditions that Emile Bergerat, the "Caliban" of the Figaro, exclaimed in despair, "I return from the Salon and am dumb-founded; painting is no longer an art -- it is a vice." It is well nigh impossible for a critic to sift the hundred thousands of prints which artistic photography produces and do justice to others and to himself. For is it not the critic's duty to enter an artist's individuality, to discover his intentions -- intentions of which the artist himself is perhaps unconscious -- so as to judge how far he has realized them, and then to determine what place he occupies in contemporary art?
The trouble with photographic criticism at present is that it is maudlin and insignificant, without the slightest pretense to any educational or inspirational power.
The so-called criticisms that appear now and then in the professional magazines are written either by photographers who have a special view to defend; or worse, by amateurs who consider photography, as well as the writing of the article, merely a pastime, or by clerks of wholesale houses of photographic material. That such concoctions are not worth serious thought is quite natural. They are merely ordinary writers, without any knowledge or discrimination about art, who indulge either in cheap praise or unjustified fault-finding. Some merely enumerate and write biographical notes, while others fill pages without venturing a single straight-forward opinion. Apollo be merciful to them!
The only branch in which something has been accomplished is in general technical criticism. I, however, know of no work on photography which would compare in clearness of purpose and expression with Philip Gilbert Hamerton's etchers' handbook. But an account of processes can hardly be termed criticism, and criticism of individual methods becomes too easily didactic to be of much use. We all like to know how a man does a thing, but it is futile to advise him how to do it. The critic is not necessarily a pedagogue, although the majority of them possess that philanthropic disposition. When they visit a photographic exhibition they equip themselves with a big bag of regulations, and woe to the poor photographer who dares to violate one of these. They pursue with indefatigable advice, pity, and hostility all who are obstinate and endeavor to search for truth in roads different from those they consider right.
There is, in reality, only one kind of criticism which is just to all, and the man who practices it must be willing and able to understand and absorb the artist's idea and judge his work from the artist's point of view. No matter whether a photographer depicts New York models as Weeping Magdalenes, or himself as Christ, scientific foreground studies or Fifth Avenues in Winter, Japanese ghosts or morose Old Masters; no matter how he exposes, retouches, and paints; whether it is over or under exposure, whether he dodges or applies chemical baths, etches on the plate or lets it take care of itself; whether he prints light or dark, on platinum or on aristo Ñ all that is but little consequence. The question is simply whether the artist has something to express and expresses it well, and it is the critic's business to tell his own impression frankly, without personal subterfuge, to his readers.
Only in the highest order of criticism is didacticism permissible -- that is, in the laying down of universal rules for one or another art, as Lessing has done for painting, sculpture, and the drama, and Boileau for poetry. These critics do not bother with individuals and specimens of work unless they serve the purpose of proving one of their theories. Ruskin, who endeavored to establish rules for a certain school of painting, the Pre-Raphaelites, unnecessarily limited his field of labor, so that his theories now seem partial and already, in most cases, hopelessly out of date. They will be forgotten unless his style saves them.
Photography is still too young an art to command such a critic. The time has not yet arrived to write a history of artistic photography ˆ la Taine. The material would not warrant it. The majority of photographers do not consider their profession an art. Even a Demachy and Stieglitz feel very sceptical about it. What, then, can be expected of the critic!
Looking over the list of the prominent art critics of to-day, I could not mention a single one who has occupied himself seriously with artistic photography, except in now and then launching an anathema against the mechanism of photography, which is received with great satisfaction in artistic circles, for the painters and illustrators, who do not disdain to use photography as a help, are very reluctant to give it a place amongst the fine arts.
And, sad to state, the general mass of production is quite unworthy of the critic's attention. The majority of amateurs seem to imagine that composition and chiaroscuro of a degree of badness which nobody would tolerate in a painting somehow becomes allowable in photography; that because no clearly-defined laws exist for the art of Daguerre, a photographer is at liberty to set at defiance all the known laws of nature and art; that the mere pressing of the rubber bulb implies in itself a cleverness, elevating the practitioner above the common canons of criticism.
There are a few able artistic photographers, a very few, however, and, of the quantities of prints which are turned out every year, nine out of ten are not only valueless, but a nuisance, doing much harm by propagating and confirming those false conceptions of the art which are still generally prevalent.
Here is, indeed, room for criticism, but hardly for that which demands printer's ink and paper. Verbal criticism, such as is practiced at private lantern slide exhibitions in the clubs, is by far preferable. There is no use analyzing nonentities for the public. The critic can only give his attention to exhibitions of the work of men that command universal attention. Even then his scope will be very limited.
No, indeed, the critic of artistic photography has no easy task. Very few of the exhibitors have a striking individuality, which would be as easy to handle as that of some European celebrity in the world of art. The critic of artistic photography has to dispense with brilliancy of style and striking metaphor. Instead, he has lovingly to pick out those more modest qualities deserving praise, to strengthen feeble knees and encourage the flickering blaze, and at the same time continually to contend against prevalent prejudices.
However, one satisfaction is undoubtedly contained in it; that of having been a pathfinder and roadbuilder when the victory at last is won. And I can only state, for my part, that it would be one of the greatest satisfactions of my life to see artistic photography occupy its proper place in the world of art.
This essay originally appeared in Camera Notes, No. 3 (January 1900), pp. 101-04.
