The season of goodwill is rapidly approaching, but where does that leave us critics? I've never written with the intention of upsetting anyone – honest. I know that seems absurd. But I used to think criticism was somehow ignored by artists; only in the past few years have I realised how long memories can be.
"I'd like to smash all his pots with a hammer." That's what I once wrote about Grayson Perry – and, would you believe it, he was quite cross. Later I found a lot to admire in aspects of his work, and now there's an uneasy truce.
But I still scatter insults more widely than I realise. Looking something up on the Time Out website the other day, I was distracted by a rolling headline that said: "Bob and Roberta Smith responds to his dissing by Jonathan Jones." I had to look at Ossian Ward's interview with the artist to realise it referred to a comment I had made here a few weeks ago.
I think perhaps, as a seasonal gesture, it's time to restore the balance. I can't remember all the insults I've thrown about this year, but here are a few cases in which Christmas goodwill troubles my conscience.
The graphic artist Charles Avery is young and talented. I think a lot of people overrate his current work, but he has promise nonetheless. Bob and Roberta Smith … has good taste in shirts. Jane and Louise Wilson are right to adore Kubrick. Oh, and to all the people who appeared on Antony Gormley's fourth plinth: it was brave of you; the overall lousiness of the idea was not your fault.
I think that's enough goodwill for today. Damien Hirst gets no apology. He has betrayed us all.
