Art Writing as a Relational Practice

My experience with art writing has, in many ways, grounded me and kept me intellectually engaged. It has given me opportunities to look more closely, ask questions, encounter new ideas, and continually rethink how I understand art and the world around me. I have therefore made it a point to set aside time to study and learn how I might deepen and improve this engagement.

Beyond my other professional commitments, I see art writing as a personal project that I hope to nurture in the years ahead. As I begin to look toward a different phase of life, with retirement somewhere on the horizon, I find in it a meaningful way to sustain my intellectual curiosity and remain connected to a practice that continues to challenge and enrich me.

The engagement with art has also opened up opportunities to explore different forms of writing. Over time, I have found myself taking on work beyond exhibition reviews, including artist profiles, exhibition statements for art catalogs, critical essays, and even project proposals for creative engagements. Each has allowed me to approach art from a different perspective and discover other ways of communicating ideas about artistic practice.

It somehow echoes a similar path in my journalism work before, where I gradually explored approaches beyond conventional reporting, including investigative, community, and solutions journalism, as well as other forms of thematic and specialized writing. Each also requires a different capacity of looking at a subject and ability to present ideas and stories.

I have come to see art writing in much the same way. As the local art scene continues to develop, I have realized that reporting on exhibitions and artistic activities, while necessary, is no longer enough. There is a need to look more closely at artworks and bring into the discussion an understanding of the social and political contexts in which they are produced and situated. This is an aspect of my social development work and journalistic experience that I have yet to fully draw upon in my art writing.

It was with this interest in broadening my understanding of art writing that I welcomed the opportunity to attend the Kalaw Ledesma Foundation, Inc. 2026 Art Criticism Workshop. Corrie Tan’s lecture, “Eye to the Undercurrent: Criticism as Relational Practice,” was particularly enlightening. It offered me new ways of thinking about the role of the writer in relation to artists and the wider artistic community, prompting me to reconsider what criticism can accomplish beyond the written assessment of an artwork.

Drawing from her experience as an arts journalist and her research into art criticism across Indonesia, Malaysia, Singapore, and the Philippines, Tan explained that a critic’s work extends beyond writing reviews or making judgments about artworks. Much of it involves navigating relationships: considering how artists might respond to criticism, how an institution’s history shapes a discussion, how to approach established artists, or how attention and recognition are distributed within the artistic community.

These considerations are not separate from criticism but are part of the practice itself. Critics do not simply visit exhibitions and return to our rooms and write in isolation. They work within networks of artists, readers, institutions, and communities, each with its own histories and expectations. For Tan, criticism is therefore a “relational practice,” one that requires understanding not only the artwork but also the relationships and circumstances in which art is produced, presented, and received.

Central to this approach is Tan’s idea of the critic—or the art writer, in my case—as a “critical companion.” She described the written page not simply as a place for delivering judgments or conclusions, but as a space where writers accompany readers in looking at and understanding an artwork. Instead of prescribing a single interpretation, criticism can open up different ways of seeing, questioning, and making sense of art.

Listening to her, I found myself reflecting on my own experience with art writing. Some of the written materials I have produced have gone beyond documenting or interpreting an artist’s work. They have also prompted conversations and exchanges between the artists and me, sometimes extending to readers and audiences who encounter the work through my writing.
Their reactions, questions, and interpretations have often brought forward perspectives that neither the artist nor I may have initially considered. These exchanges reveal that writing can create opportunities for both the artist and the writer to learn from each other, while allowing readers and the audience to become part of the conversation. Essentially, the written work does not necessarily end with its publication; it can continue to generate responses and open up possibilities for further understanding and growth.

I also found particularly thought-provoking in Tan’s proposition was the realization that critical companionship does not necessarily mean agreement or affirmation. It also makes room for disagreement, uncomfortable questions, and challenges to assumptions that can deepen understanding and encourage growth.

This idea of reciprocity extends beyond the conversations that writing can generate. Tan further develops this relational understanding through the idea of the critic as “kapwa,” a Filipino term that describes shared humanity and which she encountered in conversations with Pristine de Leon and other Filipino artists.

“Kapwa” is not merely about being considerate of others; it is about recognizing the shared humanity and interconnectedness that make relationships reciprocal. Applied to art criticism, it invites the writer to see the artistic community not simply as a source of material for writing, but as a community of which the writer is also a part, with responsibilities that extend beyond publication.

To further illustrate this idea, Tan turned to an analogy drawn from biology. Instead of treating the critic as a parasite who draws sustenance from an artist or an art scene without giving anything in return, she proposes understanding criticism as part of a more reciprocal relationship. She distinguishes three forms of interaction: parasitism, in which one organism benefits at the expense of another; commensalism, in which one benefits while the other remains unharmed; and mutualism, in which both organisms benefit.

The analogy highlights the responsibility that comes with writing about art. It should not simply be an exercise in gathering stories and ideas for publication, but also an opportunity to contribute to the cultural environment from which these stories emerge.

The question of responsibility brings me to another important point in Tan’s lecture: her discussion of “criticism as care,” informed by political theorist Joan Tronto and her collaborator Bernice Fisher. Their conception of care describes it as the activity through which people maintain, continue, and repair their world so that they can live in it as well as possible. Applied to criticism, care requires sustained attention to particular circumstances and a willingness to act beyond personal interests. It suggests that contributing to an artistic community is also about taking an active interest in its well-being and development.

Criticism as care also challenges the assumption that caring for an artistic community means avoiding conflict or protecting artists from unfavorable judgments. Tan recalled how she once feared the friction that might follow a negative review but eventually recognized disagreement as part of maintaining a relationship with an artistic community. I find this an important point, particularly in Iloilo’s relatively small art community, where familiarity and personal relationships can make criticism difficult to express and receive. There is often a tendency to avoid uncomfortable observations for fear of affecting friendships or established relationships. However, withholding difficult observations simply to preserve goodwill does not necessarily serve the community either.

These concerns matter for Iloilo’s art scene as it continues to see the emergence of galleries, residency programs, artist collectives, and other cultural initiatives. Having chronicled many of these developments, I have come to appreciate the work required to sustain them. But growth should not be measured solely by the number of exhibitions, galleries, or participating artists. It should also be reflected in the quality of conversations taking place, the willingness to examine existing practices, and the presence of spaces where ideas can be challenged and reconsidered.