Taste becomes powerful the moment it forgets it's a preference.
"I like this."
That's an honest sentence."So do I."
That's honest too."This works."
Maybe."This is better."
The change has happened in the speaker: preference has quietly become principle.That transformation fascinates me because it's almost impossible to hear while it's happening.
No announcement marks the change.
Nobody says, “I’d now like to convert my personal preference into an objective standard.”
The language simply shifts.
"I prefer restraint"becomes"Restraint is mature."
"I like ambiguity"becomes"Ambiguity is sophisticated."
"I'm moved by sentiment"becomes"Sentiment is manipulative."
The adjectives stop describing the speaker and begin describing the world. That is where taste acquires power.
I've watched this happen in rehearsal rooms for years. A director who wants a quieter scene may call a choice "a little on the nose." A personal objection becomes "It isn't truthful" or "We're aiming for something more sophisticated." These sentences feel descriptive, which is exactly what makes them persuasive.
Those judgments may still be right. Sometimes the quieter choice really is stronger. Sometimes subtlety really is more revealing.
Experience matters.
Craft matters.
Discernment matters.
The problem begins when we forget that preferences are preferences.
The moment "I like this" becomes "this is simply better," disagreement becomes difficult.
After all, how do you argue with “better?”
Once preferences begin wearing the clothes of principles, something else happens. Different choices begin to look mistaken, unsophisticated, immature, or unserious. Belonging quietly rearranges itself around the new standard.
Taste is social because power often borrows its language.
I've become suspicious of sentences that begin,
"Everyone knows..."
"Everyone knows that's bad writing." "Everyone knows comedy is easier." "Everyone knows subtle is better."Especially when they're followed by an aesthetic judgment.
Who exactly is “everyone?” Usually it means, "The people whose preferences already resemble mine."
Those preferences aren’t worthless. They’re human.
Standards still matter; without them, criticism becomes impossible. The answer lies in remembering where aesthetic standards come from.
They begin with somebody saying,
'I like this.'Long before anyone starts saying,
'This is simply better.'That distinction matters because theatre is full of rooms where people have forgotten it.
In Signfeld 2040, Skrammer survives inside Del Boca Vista because the room has decided his eccentricity is genius. The same behavior from someone without his license would be read as disruption. Taste has already become policy: one person is original; another is inappropriate.
Taste deserves the same scrutiny as every other form of authority.
A room's preferences become visible in whom it admires.
Its power becomes visible in whom it forgives.