THE CRAFT OF REVIEWING THE ARTS

Writing on the Performing Arts is prone to be a tricky activity. The writer is ever torn between tackling the sensibilities of a diverse readership whilst bearing the burden of having to give an objective account of a performance. Essentially a process of translating a largely subjective enterprise into a commercialized product, it bears the risk of tainting or distorting the simulacrum.

Besides, it seems a tough prospect for a writer of the Arts not to allow the writing to spiral into a splish-splash of colourful adjectives and hollow, interchangeable phrases. It sometimes seems as though the writer is trying to compete with the singer themselves in bringing out equally charming creativity. They tend to sound very mesmerizing, but quite often a phrase seems overburdened with inapt synonyms dredged up from a thesaurus. Often the writer may be tempted to write on music as though they were doing a 5th grade prose writing assignment – full of poetic platitudes and verbal exuberance. While it is fair to assume that the writer hopes to drench the piece in the atmosphere that the performance created in the auditorium, when one writes in that nebulous way, it sometimes sounds unrelatable.

For instance, SVK writes in his December 22 piece titled ‘In a reflective mood’ about Bombay Jayasri – “Her gentle, elegant voice blended seamlessly with melodic harmony, creating an amicable aura.” It is commonly known that harmony is the distinct opposite of melody, so this phrase sounds like an attempt to juxtapose contradictions to create and avail of a resulting shock value. Another phrase ran – “She used silences between sancharas and cadences in the tara sthayi to make the raga a rhapsody of sound.” This is ambiguous in that it asserts that silence added to the total sum of sound in the performance. It is hard to ascertain whether this is a poor use of language, or whether the author referred to an actual, tangible phenomenon.

At times, the writer also tends to forget that the reader might not appreciate being patronized by being force-fed a certain opinion as gospel. The readers of music and art reviews in themselves tend to be quite proud of their personal judgements, and would resent the absoluteness of a statement that contradicts their opinion. For instance, on December 25, G.Swaminathan writes on Sikkil Gurucharan’s performance, “With his pliable and attractive voice in good control, Gurucharan mesmerized the audience with his delineations of a rare kriti.” Such a statement might well evoke complaints such as “speak for yourself!” Also the reader might object to being collectively bunched as ‘the audience’ like a pack of sardines.

Furthermore, polarized pronouncements such as those cannot do much in the way of conveying the performance to someone who had not been present for the programme.

“Kalyani normally stimulates the artist to go for fast paced brigas and akaras than finer karvais and loaded pauses. But Gurucharan comprehending the potential of the great Kalyani, utilized his vocal prowess to bring the best encompassing both ragas and brigas.” This stands as a classic example of verbosity detracting from the otherwise valuable point. While the writer sensibly gives a backdrop to the point being made, the mention about the singer’s prowess seems an unnecessarily banal commendation that renders the point a prosaic platitude in the end.

When dance reviews are not saddled with dispensable terms such as ‘footwork’, ‘fluency’ – and other such fixed notions upon which to judge an innovative, expressive art form – but are rather analysed on their representations and articulation of ideas, they tend to work better.

In a refreshingly interesting read, Vidya Saranyan’s piece titled ‘Power-packed presentation’ explores the nuances of Suryanarayana Murthy’s performance based around body language and eye movement. It goes further to unravel the articulations in the dance and the ideas represented in its choreography – “..he distinguished the walk of Rama from the swagger of Manmatha and the story ....with tones of remorse and sorrow, were moments where the dancer sidestepped conventional sringara interpretations in favour of devotion.” This seemed to have a relevant understanding of a reader’s intention of picking up a review to read. It gave the reader an idea of what unfolded in the performance rather than simply condemn it or confer accolades.

In contrast, Rupa Srikanth writes in ‘Fine footwork, vibrant style’ on December 22, “Her [Sailaja] footwork on the whole was clear and precise, except the footwork on the brass plate that left much to be desired.” It can be sensed that the only reason one doesn’t throw up one’s hands and demand to know by whom the performance left much to be desired is because the pronouncement is made by an esteemed connoisseur. The expert’s role could be better played out if they analysed the structure and efficacy of the performance instead of sitting back on the arm-chair and doling out polarized judgements. Not many must read reviews to simply keep track of what the expert opinion is on a certain performer, unless they are interested in the art for the sake of dropping names and borrowed opinions in elite circles.

A polite eavesdrop into the conversation between seasoned rasikas would reveal a myriad aspects of music that a lesser being would struggle to comprehend. Yet, there is the unmistakable air of snobbish cooperation between them wherein each member strives to uphold the credibility of the House of musical aristocrats, and their collective claim to be able to judge a subjective art in an absolutely objective manner. In the end you just have to lay down arms and accept that you might be dealing with a realm which is beyond your comprehension, and thus one which you are not qualified to have critical thoughts about. Maybe this is the very same disabling culmination that the art critic relies on every time they advance an opinion in the public forum.