When I got into the Art Student’s League’s juried Red Dot Show, I (of course) took it as no more than my due. But I have fumed about shows I didn’t get into; that’s a natural reaction. Sometimes after a few years, I’ve realized there were issues with my paintings. Perhaps the jurors, while still numpties, weren’t entirely off base.
In the days when I was still sensitive, I could cry on my bestie’s shoulder. Today there’s a nefarious new player in the business of accepting art criticism: the internet.
“How do I handle someone who is slandering me on social media and in my local painting groups about the way I judged an event?” a fellow artist asked. (None of my loyal readers would do this, of course.)
My advice was to say nothing. Any tit-for-tat on Facebook adds fuel to the fire. A person who’s a jerk to you has been a jerk to lots of people, and others already know to take it with a grain of salt.
However, there does come a time when people are really impinging on your reputation.
The trouble is figuring out when you’ve crossed that line. A person saying, “I didn’t like Carol’s decision,” is entitled to his opinion. Even saying it loudly, repeatedly and with swear words is not necessarily something I need to answer.
There’s a difference between criticism and a campaign.
If someone is simply unhappy with a decision I made, I can live with that. Jurors, teachers and gallerists make subjective decisions all the time. Sometimes they’re wrong, but sometimes the person on the receiving end is wrong.
In the old days, we grumbled to our friends. That might travel around the local art community, but it would eventually fade away. Now the grumbling can be repeated indefinitely, amplified by people who weren’t there and presented to an audience that has no idea what actually happened.
If that happens, the answer is to quietly document the campaign. You will probably not need to do anything more with the texts and posts, but if harassment veers into the criminal, it’s good to have documentation.
Don’t take the bait.
The temptation is to jump in and correct the record. It’s never worth it.
The internet has an insatiable appetite for conflict. If you respond to every accusation, you can find yourself spending half your day defending yourself against things you never imagined anybody would believe in the first place. Worse, you make the accusation much more visible.
No matter which side you’re on in the debate, avoid subtweets, screenshots with sarcastic captions or recruiting your friends to defend you. That turns a disagreement into a spectacle and raises the profile of the original post.
You cannot control what other people do; you can only control your own behavior. When I judge a show, I do my best to judge it honestly and according to objective elements of design. If I make a mistake, I need to own it. If somebody disagrees with me, I need to be willing to hear it. Sometimes that’s painful, but in the end, I have to just forget it and get back to work.
If we make our emotional equilibrium dependent on universal approval, we’re going to have a miserable career. When we enter juried shows, we tacitly agree to accepting art criticism. We’ve given the juror permission to rank us. That is part of being an artist. We put our work, our judgment and our reputation into the world, and other people get to have opinions about them.
And when even that can’t calm my ruffled feathers, I remind myself that the other guy will probably die before me anyway. Why do you think I exercise so assiduously?
I have just two workshops left in 2026! Reserve your spot:
- New! Color Clinic 2026 | Rockport, ME, October 3-4, 2026
- New! Composition Week 2026 | Rockport, ME, October 5-9, 2026
- High-Desert Light & Monumental Form | Sedona, AZ, Apr 26, 2027 – Apr 30, 2027
Can’t commit to a full workshop? Work online at your own pace: