Inviting Me to Review You
An overview of my reviewing practice, and what you can expect from me if you invite me to see your show.
Dear Artist,
You make theatre, and I talk about theatre. I would love to sit in the dark and see the art you’ve made, and more than likely, I'd also love to talk about my experience of your art on the internet.
But before you invite me, and before I accept your invitation, there’s a couple things I think we should talk about.
First of all, I’ve never really liked the term reviews for what I do. I'm just one person with one experience documenting that on the internet. My thoughts are no more or less important than anyone else's, nor are they a final judgement on your work, and especially not on you as an artist.
A term that resonates with me is critical response. I think it captures how I want to arrive to your show with the openest of hearts, to then think through how I felt and how your work made that happen. I want to examine my response to your work, and try to communicate that back to you—a uniquely Ryan-shaped-mirror if you will.
So with that in mind, here’s what to expect when you invite me to 'critically respond' to your show.
I enjoy talking about theatre in long & short form writing on this site, on TikTok and Instagram reels, or in little DMs in my Instagram broadcast channel. Each medium carries a different vibe, so I'll use my best judgement to figure out where I’d like to respond to your work.
I experience art through my own personal lens. So when I succeed or fail to get a work, it’s because of who I am and the baggage I carry. I think good criticism acknowledges the context from which its author writes. So, you can expect that when I respond to your work, I’ll talk about myself. Objectivity is dead, and from its rotting carcass we’ll let a thousand blossoms bloom.
I've almost burnt out before by trying to write something about everything as soon as I see it. That’s not sustainable. I would rather spend the time to think through and consider your work than churning out a quick and meaningless response. Your art took so long to make, so I think a meaningful reflection deserves a similar abundance of time.
Sometimes I don’t think I am the best person to talk about your work—maybe I don’t have the right background or knowledge to properly respond. Sometimes I will be too busy, and I would much rather see your work when I know I can give it the time and generosity you deserve from an audience.
Sometimes I won’t have nice things to say, and I won’t want to publish them. This might be because you're an emerging artist, and I'd rather not clog up your Google results with criticism which I know you’ll resolve with practice. Sometimes I may not have anything which meaningfully contributes to the discourse; and I'd rather only speak when I have something to add. You're always welcome to ask me privately why I haven’t said published something.
I have an opinion about the world I want to live in, and that will impact the way I talk about your work. If your work is inaccessible, ableist, transphobic, nihilistic, racist, fatphobic, or zionist then I will mention that. Art is political, and I believe artists have a responsibility to better the world with their art.
Still Keen?
With all this in mind, I would love to hear from you about your show.
Additional Reading
These are a couple of books and articles which have informed my reviewing practice.
- Theatre Blogging: The Emergence of a Critical Culture by Megan Vaughan
- Inside the Critics’ Circle: Book Reviewing in Uncertain Times by Phillipa K. Chong
- The Australian one-star theatre review barely exists. But should it? by Gary Nunn
- Guy Webster’s newsletter: This Is Not a Review, particularly this post about reviewing friends, and this one about objectivity when it comes to negative reviews
- This post from Martha Latham inviting folks to review Democracy Repair Services.