It's clear. It's clear. It's clear. It's clear. It's clear and true. It's clear and true and true and clear that the critic is artist as every attempt to define the gap between art and response will end up lost... the critic responds and are we supposed to believe that the artist is responding to nothing but life itself is not generating the art and the critic comes from the same place... and considerations of form make the haiku and review and the poem all equal...
Another day another we'll look at what political and social considerations are at play that keeps me down, thinks Criticulous. But now we see the true and clear and good and holy even holy urge that strives both in Luke Sutherland as he trembles the strings of his guitar and Robin Masson as he rolls deep oceans through the cello's bow and the sweat of Tony Mills, and Chris Devaney's final loving swerve... the last thing we hear is laughter as the child spins...
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