Reframing Our Perception of Criticism

I recently had the privilege to sit on the jury of a new classical music competition. Since my formal training days have ended, I’ve had the honor to be on the other side of the judging table several times, and I’ve realized that on a deeper level, this is the more difficult side to be on. Usually young artists will say something along the lines of “that must be so nice to not be nervous!” or “you’re lucky you have the easier job now.” But the reality is, though I might not be competing anymore, I feel like my job now carries more weight. In a good way.

When I was the one competing, I was responsible for myself. How I trained, how I performed, directly affected me and no one else (unless it was a chamber music competition).   

Now, how I critique, who I choose to move ahead in a competition or audition, affects someone else. And while there’s always a next time in terms of opportunity, my decision will affect how they approach those opportunities in the future.

Watching dark rain clouds rolling in over a still-snowy Providence (Rhode Island) while sipping coffee while on a lecture break, it reminds me of the roller coaster of emotions that accompanies any live performance, and even more so under the umbrella of competition. At the end is something that everyone wants: a prize, a scholarship, a spot in a top music conservatory, the accolade itself…whatever it may be, it’s important not only for a musician’s career on a practical level, but also for their emotional and psychological well-being.

I went through the experience countless times as a student. My first competition was when I was seven years old. I spent over two decades in front of numerous panels of judges. My mind well aware of not just what was at stake, but the amount of combined criticism staring silently at me. It can be lonely, and vulnerable on stage. Psychologically and emotionally, you’re in fight or flight mode. But you worked hard for a reason. Pieces of you are interwoven into the music you’ve prepared. You have something to say emotionally, so you’ll be damned if you let fear stop you. Those moments under the spotlight will break you and rebuild you in ways you didn't think possible. Then there’s the part of you that slowly starts to understand that the only way to get better is to be told what you’re not good at, to put it bluntly. So you learn to filter through the criticism, looking for the parts that are beneficial in the long run, and in the process you end up focusing on the positive aspects of criticism. It re-wires your brain’s relationship with criticism. You realize that not all of it is bad. A lot of it is much-needed! Because we’re human, and we have egos, and we often become comfortable with our deficiencies.

Once I moved full-time into the professional world, criticism became less personal. Not that it doesn’t still affect me, but I now understand it more as someone else’s opinion rather than a reflection of me as a musician. I’ve stopped seeing criticism as black and white. I’ve drilled this into my head enough times to build the mental toughness to handle it. And honestly, it’s helped me overall become a better person beyond my artistic life.

Staller Center for the Performing Arts - Recital Hall (Long Island, New York)