In the future, the critic is part shaman. This is not a new role. There have always been shaman-critics. Was the first artist a shaman? Were the earliest cave painters? I don't know. But was the first critic a shaman? Almost certainly. 

The shaman-critic assesses a given cultural object while communing with the spirits, both good and evil. The shaman-critic may proclaim how a totem object may heal. Or how meditating on a particular image will allow the viewer to enter and pass through a necessary darkness, to look at and consider what might otherwise remain unseen, even if this process is difficult or painful. 

Was the first critic a shaman? Almost certainly. 

But the shaman-critic of the future (or even the shaman-critic now) isn't just reading the vibes. The shaman-critic unites the past with the future in the present. The shaman-critic listens to the ancestors and has taken in their stories. The past spools behind as the shaman-critic looks to the future. The shaman-critic speaks for the dead so as to honor them, giving voice to the objects of the past that remain with us so that they might speak to the present. The shaman-critic understands that everything, everywhere is always haunted, but the shaman's role is to know at what moment we must listen to the dead still speaking, when the dead tug at our sleeve to remind us to remember or to finally grasp the urgency of being for a moment among the living.

But where is a shaman-critic’s place? Over the past century art magazines and the arts and culture sections of newspapers have served as the primary venue for art critics. This era appears to be in its waning days. These venues will persist but their influence and number will be reduced. The shaman-critic will find their place beyond these venues. 

At the same time, the shaman-critic will find a new role in the field of language, as we enter a great age of linguistic infestation brought on by artificial intelligence (AI). Language is eroding into an increasingly anonymized free flow of information on the internet, with its data-driven digital ecosystem whose primary function is to manufacture traffic creating an ecology of machines engaging or spoofing the activities of human users for profit. In other words, the shaman-critic understands the internet as a pile of serpents.

The shaman-critic must come out from beyond the veil ofpublication and speak in shared physical space with the objects whose secrets they may reveal and whose messages and histories they may tell.

The shaman-critic must come out from beyond the veil of publication and speak in shared physical space with the objects whose secrets they may reveal and whose messages and histories they may tell. The shaman-critic will make communion with and build community around these objects without mediation (though witness to these events will be reproduced & distributed). The shaman-critics will record their words in bespoke venues in print (short-lived mags and one-off collectible zine-like critic-run publications will gain in popularity) and online (creator owned-and-run venues linking to a range ofspeaking, performance and publishing activities).

The shaman-critics may warn of what is coming, as Laocoön warned about the Trojan horse, but the shaman-critics must first become snake charmers, weathering the future, appearing in public, carving their words in print as if in stone.

John Vincler is a writer, painter, and critic. His art reviews regularly appear in the New York Times. He lives in Brooklyn and is working on a book-length project about cloth as a subject and medium in art.

Every self-described critic is in danger of getting bought out or ripped apart with the first bit of attention they receive, and so objective criticism needs ever more protection and care, but I don’t see much to go around, personally. Also, everyone seems to be afraid that writing itself could go away. Not really, but kind of. Because although AI-created art, including literature, is necessarily derivative, as its intention is always to mimic, extract, recontextualize, there is no accounting for a preference. And originality in AI is in some ways possible, if only relatively so. Meaning, everything these programs generate is based on existing references (the internet), but still, we are easily discouraged: there was nothing new under the sun anyway. All of what we write and have ever written is referential, on a spectrum of originality at best.

All of what we write and have ever written is referential, on a spectrum of originality at best.

On top of that, publishing houses and publicity firms are merging, everyone is looking for something that can make money in more ways than one, not just a book or an article but the plan for a streaming series, a podcast, a line ofmerch, all the stuff you’ve heard us complaining about as we lose our jobs or quit or pivot because the ladders we used to climb are losing rungs. And we all know that popularity has become more popular in recent years. Meaning: numbers (likes, plays, follows, starred reviews, etc.) speak louder than critical discourse can. Running parallel to—and in many ways due to—this phenomenon is a diversifying mistrust in “media.” It isn’t only the conspiracy theorists who think the New York Times is biased these days—in fact, many ofits own writers and editors have left in protest as of late. But—and I can’t exactly say why—the moment feels electric. Maybe it’s been crashing for so long, a rebuild finally seems out of the question, and so a scorched earth approach is the only way.

Natasha Stagg is the author of Surveys (2016), Sleeveless (2019), and Artless (2023). She works as a writer and editor in New York.

What lessons can media organizers draw from the waves of professional retaliation against Palestinians and pro-Palestine supporters? 

Across all sectors, Palestinians have been hit hardest, with Muslims and Arabs targeted next amidst national upticks in Islamophobic and anti-Arab discrimination and violence. But this professional retaliation isn’t new: it’s institutionalized. Fran Drescher, SAG AFTRA president, is, for instance, a noted Zionist.

More generally, the highest-profile backlashes are the ones we know most about: Melissa Barrera fired from Scream 7, Susan Sarandon dropped from UTA. Then there are the hundreds of people who have sought assistance from Palestine Legal; “Shaming and pressuring donors: Israel's strategy against antisemitism on US campuses,” published on YNet, which brings “top daily news from Israel,” describes “blocking pro-Palestinian students from long-term employment” as one of their long-term goals. 

When it comes to media, the type of repression—and recourse to it—has, to some extent, depended on whether or not writers are salaried workers at unionized publications. The Newsguild Union is currently trying to prove that the New York Times’s decision to fire Jazmine Hughes was illegal alongside their refusal to offer severance. WGA East is currently investigating Hearst, which not only restricts employees from making “political posts,” but, in socially-mediated McCarthyism, requires them to report their colleagues. 

When it comes to media, the type of repression—and recourse to it—has, to some extent, depended on whether or not writers are salaried workers at unionized publications.

Freelance media unions have also offered support, connecting media workers with legal resources and each other. This support is crucial as publications like the NYT send memos to freelancers dissuading them from any content that could “undermine the Times’s reputation.” While becoming a salaried employee at a union is becoming increasingly unlikely, as hundreds get laid-off from Condé Nast, freelancers are also increasingly held to staff writer-standards without corresponding compensation. Susan Wessling, standards desk editor at the Times, justified this contradiction in her memo by arguing that “readers do not distinguish between freelancers and staff journalists.”

For years, solidarity between writers, who often famously hate each other, has been politically and interpersonally unthinkable; but as Palestine Legal staff attorney Dylan Saba recently argued, “I’ve never seen the left more unified than it is now. YIMBYs, NIMBYs, socdems, commies, anarchists all marching and organizing together for Palestinian liberation. It’s genuinely beautiful.” From which we can now see clearly something that was already known to be true: writers need a way to collectively organize beyond individual unions and outlets. Solidarity with the Palestinian liberation movement will, per Saba, create networks, unity, and strategy that writers can use to build such  infrastructure later on. 

The future of writing is in refusing to manufacture this consent.

For now, though, both the future and present belong with the fight for a free Palestine. While Palestinians resist and report on Israel’s settler colonialist genocide, Palestinian-led groups such as the Palestinian Youth Movement(PYM) and Within our Lifetimes (WOL) organize mass demonstrations which have brought out bigger crowds than the protests against the War on Terror. They have also been doing political education in real time. “I think we’ve done up to 100 interviews, both on a local and national level,” said Mohammed Nabulsi, a PYM organizer. “A project of manufacturing consent for genocide has occurred in the media; there’s been lies and fabrications, repeated and echoed by political and public officials.” The future of writing is in refusing to manufacture this consent.

Charlie Markbreiter wrote Gossip Girl Fanfic Novella (2022).

Since the Romantic era, the aim for art in elevated circles has been to break current cultural conventions and propose unusual arrangements that open up new pathways for unique expression. It expanded possibilities for aesthetic perception. This approach comes into inevitable conflict with popular desires, as the majority always demands entertainment: pretty pictures, nice melodies, and suspenseful plots. Critics, while often cast as opponents to artists, are necessary in their mission by explaining to the public why any particular radical invention is valuable and not a random act of madness. But their interests in technical and structural innovation mean they look at art in ways that may not be useful to the average consumer, leading to the common gripe that critics are an arrogant “priestly caste” whose pedantry bends too far from common sense.

This tension reached a breaking point in the last half-century, as pop culture fully replaced avant-garde art as the central space for artistic innovation. Critics adapted their role to pay the bills and maintain their relevance, most notably, supporting consumers in making the best choices for their money. Famed music critic’s Robert Christgau’s “Consumer Guide” in The Village Voice, for example, graded new record releases, ostensibly to point readers to good music over bad.

Critics adapted their role to pay the bills and maintain their relevance, most notably, supporting consumers in making the best choices for their money.

Critics’ allegiances, however, stayed with innovators over hacks, and the lingering scent of elitism would be overwhelmed by new scrutiny in the early 21st century. This would be a “hypermodern” era, in the words of philosopher Gilles Lipovetsky, marked by “a desire for hyper-recognition which, rejecting every form of the contempt, depreciation or sense of inferiority under which one might suffer, demands the recognition of the other as equal in his or her difference.” Critics who disparaged popular tastes were no longer just mean-spirited but outright discriminatory.

A new approach to criticism—“poptimism”—offered a temporary solution: welcoming serious consideration of how mass culture, even works made as entertainment, could be enjoyed as art. This would be a welcome correction to the overly male and white presuppositions of most American criticism. But poptimism soon became a rallying cry within fan armies, and out came “ultra-poptimism”: an ideology proclaiming the superiority of things with widespread appeal over alienating innovations. 50 million Taylor Swift fans can’t be wrong, which means Taylor Swift is the best artist of our times. With the pendulum swinging this far towards mass entertainment, the leading critics dedicated most of their time to reporting on market activity, which even in the best cases, reduced coverage of experimental actions on the margins.

But poptimism soon became a rallying cry within fan armies, and out came “ultra-poptimism”: an ideology proclaiming the superiority of things with widespread appeal over alienating innovations.

The first step to restoring the role of critics in a poptimist world is to first abandon previous notions of culture existing as hierarchical bands of good vs. bad, high vs. low. Culture, instead, is best understood as an interlocking ecosystem of artists, subcultures, professionals, and capital. Where avant-garde and marginalized creators break the rules, these innovations find initial validation from educated consumers, and over time, become the new ideas that refresh mass culture. When the ecosystem is healthy and vibrant, everyone gets what they want: true artists are recognized for their structural innovations, there is enough novelty and complexity to stimulate sophisticated consumers, and mass consumers receive slightly new versions of what they already like.

Without critics spending their time unearthing, valuing, and spreading innovation, the ecosystem will cease to move, and even mass consumers will become bored. 

Critics are core to this system: They provide validation to artists engaged in ingenious innovation and introduce those innovations to sophisticated audiences. They are not necessary for alerting consumers about the latest in mass culture, as the industry’s marketing machine will always provide ample publicity. Without critics spending their time unearthing, valuing, and spreading innovation, the ecosystem will cease to move, and even mass consumers will become bored. 

W. David Marx is author of two books: Ametora: How Japan Saved American Style, and Status and Culture: How Our Desire for Social Rank Creates Taste, Identity, Art, Fashion, and Constant Change. He lives in Tokyo, Japan. David’s newsletter Culture: An Owner’s Manual is available at culture.ghost.io.

I think the future of cool, intelligent publishing depends on patrons in fashion and art. Bottega Veneta relaunching Butt Magazine or David Zwirner sponsoring The Drift are optimistic moments, modeling a kind of partnership that I hope will become more common. Conglomerate publishing sucks. Its gatekeepers are stubborn about the path to profitability and want books with comparison titles (comps) that have been proven marketable already. The result is that their bestsellers, like novelist Colleen Hoover, are more lobotomy than luxury. There are hazards, of course, in books being considered "luxury," but it's been happening already and there's a lot of potential in leaning in. I'm going to predict that in a few years, innovative books that push boundaries might have an easier time being published by Versace rather than Penguin Random House. I could see the next Tiqqun being on Balenciaga instead ofSemiotext(e). There are two problems to solve: one is that the continued existence of the visionary small presses is always precarious; two, I think there's an audience hungry for good small-press fare that's bigger than what these cash-strapped small presses have traditionally been able to reach. Maybe the future, then, is in collabs, where books can leverage a fashion brand's marketing. Imagine Celine X Seven Stories, or Dansko X The Song Cave. 

I'm going to predict that in a few years, innovative books that push boundaries might have an easier time being published by Versace rather than Penguin Random House.

Luxury brands already see publishing as part of the lifestyle nexus. Bookmarc was an early harbinger, with the first Marc Jacobs bookstore opening in 2010. Dover Street and Gucci have both housed bookstores inside their stores since. Valentino has an ongoing partnership with the Strand. Proenza Schouler threw a book launch for Ottessa Moshfegh’s latest novel while Rick Owens hosted one during Paris men’s week for the release of I Could Not Believe It, a diary by Sean DeLear, the designer’s late friend. And then, over the last decade, we’ve seen the art world invest in books too. Karma is a great example. They carved out a new hybrid business model—a publishing enterprise, bookstore, and gallery. Pioneer Works has been getting more into printed matter too — publishing books and a magazine, hosting a book fair. And a few blue-chip art enterprises have been moving with a similar energy. Take initiatives like David Zwirner Books or the new Hauser & Wirth bookstore in Chelsea. Let's see what else is possible!

Whitney Mallett is the founding editor of The Whitney Review of New Writing and the co-editor of Barbie Dreamhouse: An Architectural Survey. She lives in New York.