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Inviting Me to Review You

An overview of my critical practice, and what you can expect from me if you invite me to see your show.

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If you want to skip straight to inviting me, scroll down to the contact form or email me at ryan@ryanhamilton.work

Dear Artist,

You make theatre, and I like to talk about it on the internet. I would love to sit in the dark and see the art you’ve made, and—more than likely—I'd also like to talk about my experience of sitting in the dark with you on the internet.

But before you invite me, and before I accept your invitation, there’s a couple things I think I should make clear to you.

If you put a gun to my head and ask me to define my critical practice, I would tell you I don't do reviews, I do criticism. Or more specifically, I do critical responses.

What I'm trying to get at is this: I'm just one person with one experience of your work documenting what I thought. My take is no more or less important than that of any other audience member, nor is it a final judgement on your work, and especially not on you as an artist.

I want to arrive at 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 your show:

  1. I won't always say yes to your invitation.
    1. Sometimes I'm not the best person to respond to your work, and sometimes I just don't have the capacity to show up with the time and generosity you deserve from your audiences.
  2. I will take it slow, and I won't publish to a deadline.
    1. I don't want to burn out trying to document your show within twelve hours of seeing it. That's no good for the sustainability of my practice and I reckon is part of why our critical landscape is so deserted.
    2. Criticism is an artistic practice, and deserves the same care we give to other artistic processes.
    3. I would rather spend time chewing through your work to figure out how I feel about it. Your art took so long to make, so I think a meaningful reflection deserves a similar abundance of time.
  3. I won't always publish a response.
    1. Sometimes I won’t have nice things to say, and I won’t want to publish them.
      1. 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 by yourself on your next go.
      2. It might be because I'm still grappling with how to deploy negative criticism. Social media algorithms love negativity, so I think it can be unhelpful to our sector to put negativity on social media unless it's extremely well-deserved or articulated.
    2. Sometimes I may not have anything meaningful to add to the discussion around your work; and I'd rather only speak when I have something to add
    3. You're always welcome to ask me privately why I haven’t published something.
  4. I critique from my own vantage point.
    1. We experience art through our own personal lenses. So when we succeed or fail to resonate with a work, it’s because of who we are and the baggage we carry.
    2. I think good criticism acknowledges the context from which its author writes.
    3. 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.
  5. I won't be apolitical.
    1. I have an opinion about the world I want to live in, and that will impact the way I talk about your work.
    2. If your work is inaccessible, ableist, transphobic, nihilistic, racist, fatphobic, or zionist then I will mention that.
    3. Art is political, and I believe artists have a responsibility to better the world through what they put into it.

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.