How to Turn Art Criticism into Constructive Growth

Let’s talk about art criticism. Not the kind you invite in when you’re feeling super confident and everything’s going well. I’m talking about the kind that shows up when you’re already a little unsure about what you made... and then someone swoops in with a comment that lands wrong. Maybe they meant well. Maybe they didn’t. Either way, it sticks. And you sit with it. And sometimes, it stings more than you’d like to admit.

I’ve been on both sides of this. As someone who’s been making art for over twenty years and teaching it nearly as long, I’ve had my fair share of critique sessions that felt incredibly helpful... and a few that felt like a punch in the gut. Early on, I used to take every bit of criticism personally. Every single comment, even if it was delivered with kindness, felt like an attack on who I was as an artist. I’d leave class or walk away from a studio visit feeling like I needed to start over. Or worse, stop altogether.

But over time, something shifted. And it didn’t shift because I suddenly got thicker skin or stopped caring. It shifted because I started to see critique as part of the process. Not the end of it. Not a measure of worth. Just... part of the work. Part of learning how to make better, stronger, more honest art.

If you’re struggling with criticism, I want you to know you’re not alone. It’s normal to feel defensive or discouraged when someone points out flaws in your work. It’s even normal to disagree with their opinion. But there are ways to work with criticism so it actually helps you grow, instead of shutting you down.

Let’s start here: consider the source. Not all criticism is created equal. Feedback from someone who understands your goals, your medium, or the kind of work you’re trying to make will usually be more useful than random internet comments or a stranger at an art walk. When I was younger, I didn’t filter this at all. Every voice had the same weight. Over time, I’ve learned to tune into feedback from people I trust creatively. That doesn’t mean I ignore everything else, but I do take it with a grain of salt unless it’s coming from someone who really gets the kind of work I’m trying to do.

Also: ask yourself what’s being said, not just how it’s said. Some of the most useful feedback I’ve ever gotten came in awkward or clunky packages. The delivery was off, but the core of it made sense. Once I got past the tone, I realized they were pointing out something I hadn’t considered... or had avoided. This is hard to do, especially in the moment, but if you can step back later and sift through the comments, sometimes there’s a gem in there worth holding onto.

One thing I recommend... especially if you’re in a critique group or class... is to write things down. When you’re getting feedback, take notes. Not just on what’s said, but how it lands with you. You don’t have to agree with everything. You don’t have to change your work to fit every suggestion. But noting your reactions can give you a pattern over time. Are you always pushing back against color comments? Is there something about your composition that keeps coming up? Patterns are where the real growth happens. Once I noticed that every critique I got in grad school included some variation of "your work feels unresolved," I started looking at what that actually meant... and how I could define resolution for myself instead of guessing what others expected.

Another thing that’s helped me is reframing feedback as a conversation. Instead of thinking of it as someone talking at me, I try to think of it as a dialogue. Even if I’m not saying anything in the moment, I ask myself later: what’s the question behind their comment? Are they confused? Are they reacting emotionally? Are they suggesting a different direction? When I taught studio courses, I encouraged students to do this too. Write down the comment, then write a question in response. This turns critique into curiosity, which is much easier to work with.

There’s also the emotional part of this... and it matters. If criticism shuts you down completely, take a break. Not from your work, but from the commentary. Give yourself space to remember why you made the piece in the first place. Look at it through your own eyes again, before letting the outside voices back in. Sometimes I just sit with a piece in silence for a few days before I decide whether the critique made sense. Other times, I let the piece go entirely and move on. Not every piece has to be saved or revised.

One thing I do in my own studio practice is keep a "post-crit" journal. After group critiques or studio visits, I’ll jot down what stuck with me, how I felt about it, and what I might want to explore further. It’s not formal. It’s usually messy. But it gives me a way to reflect without having to respond right away. This habit has helped me separate emotional reactions from useful insights.

If you’re navigating online spaces... especially as someone who shares work publicly... criticism can feel different. Sometimes it’s not critique at all, just someone being rude. When that happens, I give myself permission to ignore or block it. Not all feedback deserves your energy. But sometimes, even online, someone asks a question or points something out that’s worth reflecting on. I try not to assume all criticism is hostile just because it’s on the internet... but I also don’t take it to heart unless I find it useful.

As someone who teaches, I also want to offer this: how we give critique matters too. If you’re in a position to offer feedback to others, do it thoughtfully. I always try to ask questions first, like what someone is trying to do with the piece. Then I base my feedback on that. I’m not there to redirect them toward my aesthetic. I’m there to help them get closer to their own vision. That’s a lesson I had to learn the hard way, both as a student and as a teacher.

When offering critique, try leading with curiosity. Instead of jumping in with what you think should be changed, ask about their choices. What were they trying to communicate? What part felt the most successful to them? When you approach it this way, you create space for the artist to reflect and respond rather than retreat.

Another helpful move is to separate personal taste from constructive insight. If you simply don’t like a style or subject, that doesn’t mean the work is flawed. Be specific. Instead of saying "this doesn’t work," you might say, "I’m not sure the placement of this shape is supporting your composition... is that something you’ve played around with?"

And timing matters. If someone is sharing something new, rough, or personal, check in before launching into critique. Ask if they’re looking for feedback, and what kind. Sometimes folks just need to be heard. Sometimes they’re open to revision ideas. Knowing that before you speak makes a big difference.

Lastly, remember that your words have weight. Especially in group settings or when teaching. You can frame critique as an invitation instead of a directive. Saying something like "what would happen if..." instead of "you should..." opens up possibilities instead of shutting someone down.

So if you’re wondering how to grow from criticism, here’s what I’d say: start by noticing how it feels. Then ask yourself what’s underneath the feeling. Look for patterns. Be honest about what you want your work to do. And give yourself permission to disagree when something doesn’t land. Growth doesn’t mean saying yes to every suggestion. It means staying open, staying curious, and building the kind of resilience that lets you keep making work even when the feedback isn’t easy.

Critique isn’t about pleasing everyone. It’s about learning more... about yourself, your process, and how your work connects with others. If you can see it that way, it becomes less of a hurdle and more of a tool.

So tell me... what’s your relationship to criticism like right now? Are you avoiding it? Wading through it? Trying to figure out what to take and what to leave behind? I’d love to hear how you’re navigating this part of the process.