I am the most important person in theatre.

I am not. But that I am not is a reflection of a fundamental failure within the artistic communities.

Don't get me wrong. When I say 'I', I don't mean Gareth K. Vile, Mad Cyril or even Criticulous. The 'I' in question is the critical cohort - the diverse group of people who write about performance and offer it up to the public. The 'I' is a network of writers, sometimes in agreement, more often in conflict. The critic is the most important person in theatre, if that theatre culture is healthy.

Of course, there is a counter-argument that holds considerable sway. The most important person is the artist. That is the basis of most programming (this artist will attract audiences, reflect well on a venue's identity et c, et c) and funding philosophies. Cash gets handed to the makers, so they can make stuff. Without the art, there is no theatre community.

A more interesting take might be to recognise the audience as the most important aspect, but that's another essay. 

The critic, however, stands at the point of contact between artist and audience: previews are supposed to attract the audience into an event, reviews document and quality assess a particular production. The public discussion about art, although not determined by critical opinion, is at least guided by it. And if a play, a ballet, a puppet show or circus is to have any impact, the conversations that it provokes need to be developed.

Sadly, criticism is frequently stuck in an old fashioned model: star ratings, quality assessment, predictable praise and negative critique. It is reduced by companies into an advert (here's our show: it got five stars!) which both encourages the idea of critical objectivity and distracts from a more thoughtful use of criticism - as a place for public discussion which isn't a mere series of tweets in response to Stephen Fry's latest video lecture.

As it stands, criticism as an art form is not even recognised by funding bodies, which is why I live in abject poverty. It is marginalised by the newspapers, who can always find money for a supplement on the football but rarely for ongoing analysis of artistic events. To be fair, a second division football match can attract a bigger audience than even a major ballet show at the Edinburgh Festival Theatre. But it does not offer the same opportunities for the discussion of various political and social themes.

This is an appeal, a rhetorical polemic that rejects my usual standards of dull dialectic for a more direct message. Until funding bodies, private enterprise and theatre companies recognise the importance of the critical cohort, theatre will remain a minority interest. Not quite sure how it is going to happen, but a start would be retweeting me indiscriminately.