The critic as artist

The Critic as Artist corresponds with Wilde’s personal philosophy of aestheticism, and art for art’s sake, but at times I think he was being coy about it and poking fun at himself. He makes meaningful points, that the highest form of Criticism, “really is, the record of one’s own soul”, and that the, “sole aim (of the critic) is to chronicle his own impressions. It is for him that pictures are painted, books written, and marble hewn into form.” These idealistic but well argued points are balanced with witty, outrageous lines like, “We live…in the age in which people are so industrious that they become absolutely stupid. The sure way of knowing nothing about life is to try to make oneself useful.”, or when he writes that, “Anybody can make history. Only a great man can write it.” These statements are ridiculous, but instead of undermining Wilde’s arguments they have the strange effect of reinforcing it. By admitting how ridiculous some of his arguments are about criticism and art, Wilde reveals that while his passion for it is great he also doesn’t take himself too seriously.