It’s interesting and sad that these two are so often seen as combatants, rather than as family, extensions of one another, working towards a common good.
That said, I’m afraid I fall into the first camp.
Nearly every time I am required to read and regurgitate literary criticism, it is a painful process and comes at the expense of my creativity, my “muse” if you will. It is a struggle for me to suffer through the deliberately obtuse language and thought process propounded by academics that seem to believe they are “paid by the pound” for the verbiage they generate. I resent such manipulators grabbing the power to, in most instances, destroy the last vestige of a work’s literary beauty in their apparent hunt for self-aggrandizement, and I truly don’t believe I’ve ever heard an adequate explanation for this selfishness. It seems a variant of the old saw is at work: s/he who can, does; s/he who can’t criticizes. Hopefully my ignorance is speaking, hopefully there’s a closet full of successful creative writers and poets who, having taken their art to the pinnacle of personal and peer satisfaction, have gone on to then dissect, analyze, and write about the work of their less advanced (or less privileged?) brethren.
But I don’t think so.