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The critical voice in Roberta Smith’s head is mercifully, blessedly silent.
“I can walk into a show now and not have the first line of the review pop into my head,” said Ms. Smith, 76, who retired last month as chief arts critic of The New York Times.
The announcement sparked tributes on social media from fellow critics, artists, gallery owners, curators and readers, who called her “legendary,” “incomparable” and “critical pattern for life.” During her 38-year career at The Times, Ms. Smith built a reputation for intimate observations delivered in accessible prose. She began her career as a freelance critic for The Times in 1986, before being hired in 1991. In 2011, she was promoted to chief art critic, the first woman to hold the title she shares with Holland Cotter.
But now, without the pressure of presenting a point of view in The Times, she is free to do what she loves most – visit exhibitions and galleries just to look.
“I watch the shows less carefully when I’m not writing about them,” she said. “It means that sometimes I might not come out with a really formed opinion because there’s not that pressure.”
In a recent telephone conversation from her Greenwich Village apartment, where she lives with her husband of 32 years, the New York magazine art critic Jerry Saltz, Ms. Smith discussed her path to becoming a professional critic, how her taste in art changed over the years and what it’s like to be married to a fellow critic. These are edited excerpts.
How did you get started as a critic?
I started writing when I was 25, freelancing for Arts Magazine—which no longer exists—with a feature on artist Bryce Marden. I became a critic the same way many people become critics: by immersing myself in a subject and having the confidence to listen to their opinions. Criticism is not really an academic subject. I don’t think it can be taught in school; it’s much more visceral. That’s what happens when you’re in front of art, looking at it, articulating opinions, and trying to translate those opinions into clear prose.
Before joining The Times, you worked at the Museum of Modern Art, the Paula Cooper Gallery and with Donald Judd, the famous minimalist. How did these experiences shape your career?
All of these jobs exposed me to different people and their professions, their thinking, and also some understanding of how the art world works on a very personal level. But it was writing for The Village Voice in the early 1980s that shaped me the most. It gave me a very real feel for writing under a deadline. This proved to me that I am actually a critic and not a fraud. That was important to me. I had never taken a journalism course. Editors and copy editors—especially at The Times—were my real teachers.
How has the art world and in response your rhythm changed over the years?
When I started writing about art in 1972 at Arts Magazine, the art world was a very different place. SoHo barely existed as an art destination; Madison Avenue and 57th Street had the main galleries. Conceptual art dominated then, which meant an emphasis on ideas rather than much on form or materials. It forced me to write more about narrative – and sometimes about everyday life – in a way that I hadn’t before. There was also a tendency in the 1970s to think, well, that’s over; painting is dead; figurative sculpture will no longer happen. As time went on, those assessments proved to be wrong, fortunately.
How did you grow as a critic?
I think I have changed a lot. Early in my career I somewhat assimilated the point of view of Donald Judd – who was extremely strict in applying judgment. Critics have to be more flexible than creators. You have to be open to being changed and pushed in new directions by art. I don’t feel obligated to take a firm stand on things.
My main goal has always been to point out art that people would enjoy seeing and show them how I saw it and enjoyed it. I think if I have any legacy, it is to teach people how to look at art. It requires a certain kind of concentration, attention and openness.
What’s it like to be married to a fellow critic?
Being a critic is really lonely. Jerry made sure I wasn’t alone and that was a huge gift. He also has really interesting art instincts that blow my mind. It helps that we have different approaches to our work and to art. I generally stick pretty close to the art objects and the experience of them and work in a more traditional format. For Jerry, the object is often just a starting point for a wider discussion. He is more free and fluid in his writing.
Your retirement announcement was met with a cascade of tributes on social media. What was it to see?
This stunned me. There are many times when I absolutely despise my job, so I was quite surprised. It was amazing.
