Making Connections in and Through Arts-Based Educational Research 9811980276, 9789811980275

Table of contents :
Series Editor Foreword
Foreword
Contents
Editors and Contributors
Introduction
1 Connections During COVID-19
2 Socially Engaged Connections
3 Storied Connections
4 Personal and Pedagogical Connections
References
Connections During COVID-19
Re-storying Immigrant Seniors During COVID-19 Through a Lens of Narrative Inquiry
1 Introduction
2 A Roadmap
2.1 The Challenge
2.2 Our Approach
3 Narrative Inquiry
3.1 Thinking Narratively
4 Introducing Don
4.1 Narrative Analysis
5 The Butterfly Effects of Re-storying
6 Conclusion
References
Shifting Work and Home Spatialities: Connecting in and Through Arts-Based Research During the COVID-19 Pandemic
1 Introduction
2 Knotting, Weaving, and Entangling the Threads
3 Our Process
3.1 The Iso Garden
3.2 Home Under Erasure
4 Conclusion
References
Connected Across Distance: Creating and Sustaining Collegial Collaboration Through Arts-Based Educational Research
1 Introduction
2 Approaches to Pedagogy and Research
2.1 Arts-Based Inquiry and Pedagogy
2.2 Arts-Based Educational Research
2.3 Multimodal Displays of Knowledge
3 Artistic Products and Analysis
3.1 Initial Art Products
3.2 Artistic Responses
4 Conclusion
References
On Recruiting Aesthetic Experience: A Trio-Ethnography of the Affordances and Limitations of Teaching (with) the Arts and Literature in a Pandemic Year
1 Designing Art Classes for a New Reality (Anne-Marie)
1.1 By Means of a Journey
1.2 Attending to Multiple Realities
2 The World’s an Oyster: Transmediality, Ekphrasis, Aesthetic Experiences in the Virtual Literature Education Classroom (Amélie)
2.1 From Johannes Vermeer to Tracy Chevalier, Peter Webber, and Mehmet Geren: Transmediality and Ekphrasis at Play
3 Interrogating Aesthetic Experience (Boyd)
4 Conclusion
References
[Performing] Connection in the Classroom During COVID-19: An Ethnodrama on Virtual Synchronous Education
1 Towards Trauma-Informed Pedagogy
2 Why Playwriting?, or Ethnodrama as Methodology
3 [Performing] Connection During COVID-19
4 Reflecting on Ethnodrama as Methodology
5 Talkback with the Playwright
References
Socially Engaged Connections
Connecting Community: Rural Girls Using an Arts-Based Digital Dialogue Tool to Address Gender-Based Violence
1 The Rural School Community and the Participants
2 Arts-Based Methodology
3 Critical Audience Engagement
4 Connecting Rural School Community Members Using an Arts-Based Digital Dialogue Tool
5 A Moment: New Respect for Girls
5.1 Girls Speak up
5.2 Community to Step up
6 A Moment: Rural Girls in Dialogue
6.1 Owning the Knowledge
6.2 Communicating Through the Visual
6.3 Drawing on Technology
7 A Moment: Encouraging Girls’ Leadership
7.1 Girls Taking the Lead
7.2 Community Valuing Own Need to Lead
8 A Moment: We, the Community, Are Listening
8.1 Learning from Each Other
8.2 Reflecting on Selves
8.3 Thinking of Action
9 Arts-Based Research and Community Engagement
References
Hope Stories of the Arts and School-Wide Change
1 Background
2 Arts-Based Research and Hope
3 What is Hope?
4 The Urban Arts Research Partnership
5 Hope Stories and the Urban Arts
6 Transforming School Culture for Students
7 Conclusion
References
The #StopAsianHate Movement: Deconstructing Asian Hate Through Digital–Visual Approach and Letter Writing
1 Introduction
2 Method
3 The First Letter: #HateIsAVirus
4 The Second Letter: The Complexity of Asian Hate and How to Cultivate Solidarity
5 The Third Letter: Asian Versus Black—Deconstruct Identities from “the Rest” (Cat 70)
6 The Fourth Letter: How COVID-19 Exposed the “Racial” Struggle in Vietnam
7 The Final Letter: Cultivating Solidarity
8 Conclusion
References
Re-imagine Connections with Natural Environment Through Socially Engaged Art
1 The Importance of Creative Approaches in Environmental Education
2 Socially Engaged Art as a Research Method
3 Project Design and Implementation
4 Summary of Findings
5 Future Direction
References
Storied Connections
Feminist Aesthetics, Intertwined Indigenous and Immigrant Life Narratives and Teaching Practices
1 Introduction
2 Displaced Life Narratives
2.1 Roula’s Context
2.2 Carolyn’s Context
3 Processual Narration of Individual and Collective Identities
3.1 Roula’s Context
3.2 Carolyn’s Context
4 Performative Narratives of Hybrid Identities
4.1 Roula’s Context
4.2 Carolyn’s Context
5 Feminist Aesthetics in Our Educational Practice
5.1 Carolyn’s Context
5.2 Roula’s Context
6 Conclusions
References
Storytelling Through Textiles: The Re-birth of a Phoenix Called Damascus
1 Introduction
1.1 Rationale and Background
1.2 Methodology
1.3 Data Analysis, Findings, and Limitations
2 Cotton: Narratives from the Past with Impact on the Present
3 Reimagining Textiles and Storytelling
4 Connecting My Art: Looking Back to Look Forward
4.1 The Dress: The Re-birth of a Phoenix Called Damascus
5 Conclusion
References
Inhabiting/Living Practice: An Emergent Collaborative Arts-Based Exhibition
1 The Development of an Emergent Arts-Based Exhibition
2 Encountering Multiple Perspectives Within Arts-Based Research
3 Unfolding Exhibition
4 Emergent Connections
5 Developing a Creative Ecosystem
References
Inclusion as Folded Choreo-Writing
1 Context: About Choreography, Dance, and the Authors
2 Methodological Exploration: Folded Choreo-Writing as Inquiry
3 The Folded Choreo-Writing Starts from Here
4 Conclusion: As if This Is the Last Fold
References
Hold on to Your Hat! All Aboard for the Train Called Fiction no Fiction!
1 From Kathryn
2 From the Suitcase—Lights On
3 From Kathryn
4 Part 1—Balls on Their Heads
4.1 From the Suitcase—Lights On
4.2 From the Suitcase—Lights Out
5 Part 2—Stinky Overcoat
5.1 From the Suitcase—Lights On
5.2 From Kathryn
5.3 From the Suitcase—Lights On
5.4 From the Suitcase—Lights Out
6 Part 3—Mermaid Pencils and Sequined Headbands
6.1 From the Suitcase—Lights On
6.2 From the Suitcase—Lights Out
7 Part 4—The Final Run-Through
7.1 From the Suitcase—Lights On
References
Personal and Pedagogical Connections
A/r/tographic Inquiry: When Art Meets Text
1 A/r/t
1.1 A: Artist
1.2 R: Researcher
1.3 T: Teacher
2 On A/r/tography
3 Meeting of Art and Text
3.1 Option 1
3.2 Option 2
3.3 Option 3
4 A/r/tographic Understandings
5 A/r/t-Full Possibilities
References
Polyvocal Poetic Play Through Self-study Research: Challenging the Status Quo to Improve Professional Practice
1 Self-study as a Research Methodology and Body of Scholarship
2 Putting Ourselves in the Arts-Based Self-study Research Frame
3 An Exemplar of Our Co-creative Work: Poetic Self-study Research
4 Toward New Ways of Knowing
References
Using Arts-Based Educational Research to Interrogate Learning in Cohorts: Shifting Dynamics and Repairing Disrupted Relationships
1 Advantages of Using ABER
2 This Inquiry
2.1 Purpose
2.2 Program Context
2.3 Participants
2.4 Inquiry Process and Methods
2.5 Analysis
3 Findings
3.1 Shifts in Understanding LIC Dynamics
3.2 Increases in Trust
3.3 Engage in Critical Reflection
3.4 Repairing Relationships
3.5 Commitment to Effective Learning Interactions
3.6 Engaging More Fully with Community
4 Conclusion
4.1 ABER and LIC Debriefings
References
Synchronicities and Tensions in and Outside of Elementary Classrooms: Perspectives on Building Collaborative, Artful Experiences
1 Assembled Modes Through Artful Experiences
2 Engaged Collaboration
3 Lived Community Practices
4 Methods, Data, and Analysis
4.1 Vignette #1
4.2 Vignette #2
5 Discussion
5.1 Implications for Arts-Based Engagement and Instruction in Schools and Communities
6 Conclusions
References
The Power of Photo-Elicitation in Promoting Conversations About Unfamiliar Topics
1 Introduction
2 My Journey to Photo-Elicitation
3 Benefits of Introducing Photo-Elicitation in Physiotherapy
4 Ethical Complexities in Using Photo-Elicitation
5 Discussion and Conclusion
References

Citation preview

Studies in Arts-Based Educational Research 5

Hala Mreiwed Mindy R. Carter Sara Hashem Candace H. Blake-Amarante   Editors

Making Connections in and Through Arts-Based Educational Research

Studies in Arts-Based Educational Research Volume 5

Series Editor Mindy R. Carter, Department of Integrated Studies in Education, McGill University, Montréal, QC, Canada Editorial Board Kakali Bhattacharya, Kansas State University, Manhattan, KS, USA Barbara Bickel, Southern Illinois University Carbondale, Carbondale, IL, USA Pam Burnard, University of Cambridge, Cambridge, UK Walter S. Gershon, Kent State University, Kent, OH, USA Peter Gouzouasis, University of British Columbia, North Vancouver, BC, Canada Andrea Kantrowitz, State University of New York at New Paltz, New Paltz, NY, USA Kelly Clark-Keefe, University of Vermont, Burlington, VT, USA Morna McDermott McNulty, Towson University, Catonsville, MD, USA Richard Siegesmund, Northern Illinois University, Dekalb, IL, USA

Arts-Based Educational Research continues to garner increased interest and debate among artists, arts writers, researchers, scholars and educators internationally. Further, the methodologies and theoretical articulations associated with Arts-Based Educational Research are increasingly employed across the disciplines of social science, education, humanities, health, media, communications, the creative arts, design, and trans-disciplinary and interdisciplinary research. This book series offers edited collections and monographs that survey and exemplify Arts-Based Educational Research. The series will take up questions relevant to the diverse range of Arts-Based Educational Research. These questions might include: What can Arts-Based methodologies (such as Arts-Based Research, Arts-Informed Research, a/r/tography, Poetic Inquiry, Performative Inquiry, Arts Practice-Based Research etc.) do as a form of critical qualitative inquiry? How do the Arts (such as literary, visual and performing arts) enable research? What is the purpose of Arts-Based Educational Research? What counts as Arts-Based? What counts as Educational? What counts as Research? How can Arts-Based Educational Research be responsibly performed in communities and institutions, individually or collaboratively? Must Arts-Based Educational Research be public? What ways of knowing and being can be explored with Arts-Based Educational Research? How can Arts-Based Educational Research build upon diverse philosophical, theoretical, historical, political, aesthetic and spiritual approaches to living? What is not Arts-Based Educational Research? The hinge connecting the arts and research in this Arts-Based Educational Research book series is education. Education is understood in its broadest sense as learning/transformation/change that takes place in diverse formal and informal spaces, places and moments. As such, books in this series might take up questions such as: How do perspectives on education, curriculum and pedagogy (such as critical, participatory, liberatory, intercultural and historical) inform Arts-Based inquiries? How do teachers become artists, and how do artists become teachers? How can one be both? What does this look like, in and beyond school environments? Arts-Based Educational Research will be deeply and broadly explored, represented, questioned and developed in this vital and digitally augmented international publication series. The aesthetic reach of this series will be expanded by a digital online repository where all media pertaining to publications will be held. Queries can be sent via email to Mindy R. Carter [email protected].

Hala Mreiwed · Mindy R. Carter · Sara Hashem · Candace H. Blake-Amarante Editors

Making Connections in and Through Arts-Based Educational Research

Editors Hala Mreiwed King’s University College London, ON, Canada Sara Hashem Department of Integrated Studies in Education McGill University Montreal, QC, Canada Curriculum and Faculty Development Champlain College Saint-Lambert Saint-Lambert, QC, Canada

Mindy R. Carter Department of Integrated Studies in Education McGill University Montreal, QC, Canada Candace H. Blake-Amarante Equitas—Centre international d’éducation aux droits humains, International Centre for Human Rights Education Montreal, QC, Canada

ISSN 2364-8376 ISSN 2364-8384 (electronic) Studies in Arts-Based Educational Research ISBN 978-981-19-8027-5 ISBN 978-981-19-8028-2 (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-19-8028-2 © The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2023 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors, and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. Cover design: Sun Kyoung Kim This Springer imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. The registered company address is: 152 Beach Road, #21-01/04 Gateway East, Singapore 189721, Singapore

Series Editor Foreword

When I received the invitation to join the Springer Arts-Based Educational Research (SABER) series editorial board in June 2021, I – like many people around the globe – was in an emotional and mental state of uncertainty, while simultaneously understanding that the newness of COVID-19’s new normal would dissipate as we went about our days in the midst of wondering whether and when the COVID-19 pandemic would subside. I also was overwhelmed with the explicit intensity of the United States’ anti-Black racism, a simultaneous pandemic layered into the fabric of U.S. culture since its inception. I actively was trying to breathe through the dual pandemics and engage research and creativity acknowledging, as Pauline Sameshima wrote in the Forward, “We are living in multiple crises and cannot ignore how our environmental, global, local and immediate circumstances direct and affect our teaching and research.” We also cannot ignore how these crises and circumstances bind us. Thus, the invitation came at a time when life was heavy but also at a time when I needed to lean into creativity, art, and arts-based educational research (ABER) as they are, for me, the most normal aspects of life. I accepted the invitation and have been nurtured by the process and more specifically by the outpouring of healing and connectivity noted in Making Connections in and through Arts-based Educational Research. The Making Connections editors – Hala Mreiwed, Mindy R. Carter, Sara Hashem, and Candace H. Blake-Amarante – have curated a work that highlights the authors’ pivots and the potential of ABER to repair and respair through establishing and sustaining: CONNECTIONS. Whether through the pandemic(s), social engagement, stories, personal experiences, or pedagogical expansion, each of the 20 chapters celebrates and solidifies global connections with authors from/working in Australia, Canada, Czech Republic, New Zealand, Norway, South Africa, Spain, United Kingdom, United States, and Vietnam. Representation of such a diverse group of scholars practicing arts-based and arts-based educational inquiry suggests the COVID-19 popularized phrase, “We’re all in this together”, is more than a phrase signaling us to navigate the pandemic(s) with a sense of protection and care for one another. To be in this together, as noted by this text, is to understand our global connection as humans and as artists.

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Series Editor Foreword

Methodologically, the chapters in the book meet the aim of the American Educational Research Association ABER Special Interest Group in that they push methodological boundaries through use of narrative inquiry, performance-based arts, and arts-based educational inquiry to include trio-ethnography, ethnodrama, digital dialogue and visuals, socially engaged art, textile work, choreo-writing, a/r/tography, self-study, poetics and poetic inquiry, photo-elicitation, and others. The diverse representation of methodologies further substantiates the irrefutable importance and influence of creativity and art in research that binds, heals, and connects; and is a roadmap of sorts for established scholars and those new to and interested in the field. I encourage those interested in this text to not only read the text but also to experience each chapter as balm – a healing and mending – and as motivation to consistently embrace creativity and the arts. I also challenge readers to sit with the methodologies, the personalization, the visuals, the poetry, and the exasperated cries for world change. Read this text not only with an eye for critically engaged artsbased inquiry but also with a heart for improving our world and our connections and a recognition that the “elixir to living through all crises has always been the arts” (Sameshima). Qiana M. Cutts, Ph.D. Mississippi State University Starkville, MS, USA

Foreword

Creating New Normals: REPAIR (to go to) and RESPAIR (to hope again) It’s March 2022, two years from when life patterns in Canada started changing in response to COVID-19. Masks, prohibitions on gatherings, school closures, border restrictions, and working from home became new normals. In Canada, there were new words, like social distancing, and around the world, new things were created that we did not have before, like vaccines and COVID-19 passports; and my mother sewed and sewed and sewed various mask designs for friends and family. Creating new ways of being, doing things differently, and being alone were normal. The word “pivot” arose to a lexical mainstay of COVID-19 reporting. On 23 March 2022, a Google search of the words pivot and COVID produced 104 million hits in under a second. Turning away from anticipated trajectories and taking new paths were necessary. In my own work, using the Parallaxic Praxis research model, the juxtaposition of a collection when examined concurrently can surface a dynamic agency of intertextualities and aporias (Sameshima et al., 2020). Intentionally investigating aporia is an important means of creative birth and repositioning. For example, imagine an aporia is a boulder in the middle of the road that makes the path impassable. In the journey around the rock, one is forced off the road. On the detour, one might find a flower never seen before or see a vista not visible from the road. This embodied work-around practice, as a pivot, is evident through the projects and practices described in this book. Pivoting constructs have clearly reimagined not only the biannual Artful Inquiry Research Group (AIRG) symposium as a virtual forum of connection in higher education, sharing scholarship, practices, and researcher education amongst artists, educators, and researchers across disciplines and countries; but pivoting has also reimagined our collective relations. We are part of an alteration. There is no turning away from the 37,000+ COVID-19 deaths in Canada (Government of Canada, 2022) and over one million deaths in the USA (Worldometer, 2022). Concurrently, one month into Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, the world remains in shock at the magnitude vii

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Foreword

of aggression, scope, and scale of Russia’s military assault, incomparable to anything since World War II (Herb et al., 2022). Moreover, the Canadian Climate Action Network (2022) reports further anticipated storm events, coastal erosion, heat waves, smog episodes, retreating glaciers, increased aridity, and rising sea levels, all creating devastating consequences to the social, cultural, and economic fabric of our lives. We are living in multiple crises and cannot ignore how our environmental, global, local, and immediate circumstances direct and affect our teaching and research. And yet, I am bountifully revived and energized in recognizing how the authors and the participants and communities in the studies here have come together in support and acknowledgement of their shared loss; through a grieving process (of pain and birth), these research projects, in art and through art, have generated hope, inspiration, and compassionate positive movement. While a portion of the papers is directly related to COVID-19 research, all these works represent a courageous upstream movement, trusting in the arts as the means of bettering the world, against the current of discouraging crises. Drawing together an incredible generative energy, editors Hala Mreiwed, Mindy R. Carter, Sara Hashem, and Candace H. Blake-Amarante bring together a striking assemblage across four themes: Connections during COVID-19, Socially Engaged Connections, Storied Connections, and Personal and Pedagogical Connections. This book uses research in the forms of narrative inquiry, poetic inquiry, trio-ethnography, playwriting, autoethnodrama, deconstructionism, digital visual approaches, storytelling, self-reflection, choreo-writing, devised choreography, polyvocal poetic inquiry, a/r/tographic inquiry, ethnography, photo-elicitation, and more. If you are looking for a diverse collection of how arts can be used in and through research, look no further. Through its 20 beautiful chapters, this book is a powerful testament to the arts in education and healthcare considering online creative teaching pedagogies and connective research methodologies. The book also provides exemplars of the multifaceted tools of arts research practices including collaborative techniques, metaphoric practices, memory work, textiles as expression and documentation, and the artistry of creative response. Dissemination practices can include such items as policy posters and action briefs, while the technologies of digital tools, digital dialogues, and cellphilms can provide new avenues of thought. The arts can act as connectors between school-community-university partnerships, and community engagement can thrive through urban arts and transformative art practices. The arts can also mediate messages directly, as shown though visceral poetic assemblage, stories, and images. I was astonished by the scope of this collection, which not only spans work on marginalized voices, but also provides in-depth inquiries on Canadian immigrants, homework transgression, gender-based violence, child agency, and Asian hate crimes and discrimination. I am honoured and grateful to have been invited to write this foreword because in reading the chapters, I was deeply reminded that the elixir to living through all crises has always been the arts. The authors convincingly demonstrate that the arts can move us closer to one another—they rescue us from isolation. The arts in this book foster pride, community, and hope, create learning communities that allow

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for the co-creation of new knowledge, cultivate collective resilience, and develop cultural knowledge and learnings. These research projects showcase how the arts can redirect thinking and reimagine positionality and relationality. Authors note that the arts create expansive learning, inform pedagogic design, provide diverse epistemic options, stimulate conversation, change professional ways of knowing and being, engage in deep critical reflection, and even repair relationships. The word repair is most often used to refer to pairing again or restoring to a working condition. Repair can also be used to mean: “to go to another place” i.e. “After dinner, we repaired to the lounge for coffee” (Cambridge, 2022). As we consider our collective responses to COVID-19, the war, climate crises, and all our work, think of repair, not as going back to where we were, but as a path in and through art, to a better-not-yet. Last, consider the uncommon word respair, coined by a poet meaning the opposite of despair. Respair is “a renewed or reinvigorated hope, or a recovery from anguish or hopelessness” (Hawks in Friedman, 2020). As we repair, we are reminded well in these chapters that art provides respair. Pauline Sameshima, Ph.D Professor and Canada Research Chair in Arts Integrated Research (2012–2022) Lakehead University Thunder Bay, ON, Canada

References Cambridge. (2022). Repair to somewhere. In Cambridge dictionary. Cambridge University Press. https://dictionary.cambridge.org/dictionary/english/repair-to-somewhere Climate Action Network. (2022). Impacts in Canada. https://climateactionnetwork.ca/issues/imp acts-and-adaptation/learning-cente/impacts-in-canada/ Friedman, N. (2020, December 21). Word of the week: Respair. In Fritinancy. https://nancyfrie dman.typepad.com/away_with_words/2020/12/word-of-the-week-respair.html Government of Canada. (2022, March 24). COVID-19 daily epidemiology update. https://healthinfobase.canada.ca/covid-19/epidemiological-summary-covid-19-cases.html Herb, J., Starr, B., & Kaufman, E. (2022, February 24). US orders 7000 more troops to Europe following Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. CNN Politics. https://www.cnn.com/2022/02/24/pol itics/us-military-ukraine-russia/index.html Sameshima, P., Katz, R., Shariff, S., & Dietzel, C. (2020, October). Novel, educational and legal responses to technology-facilitated sexual violence. AoIR Selected Papers of Internet Research. https://doi.org/10.5210/spir.v2020i0.11146 Worldometer. (2022, March 25). United States coronavirus cases: Deaths. Worldometer. https:// www.worldometers.info/coronavirus/country/us/

Contents

Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Hala Mreiwed, Mindy R. Carter, Sara Hashem, and Candace H. Blake-Amarante

1

Connections During COVID-19 Re-storying Immigrant Seniors During COVID-19 Through a Lens of Narrative Inquiry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sarita Baker and Ching-Chiu Lin

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Shifting Work and Home Spatialities: Connecting in and Through Arts-Based Research During the COVID-19 Pandemic . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Adele Nye, Ruth Foulkes, Daisy Pillay, and Jennifer Charteris

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Connected Across Distance: Creating and Sustaining Collegial Collaboration Through Arts-Based Educational Research . . . . . . . . . . . . . Peaches Hash and Jason DeHart

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On Recruiting Aesthetic Experience: A Trio-Ethnography of the Affordances and Limitations of Teaching (with) the Arts and Literature in a Pandemic Year . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Boyd White, Amélie Lemieux, and Anne-Marie Émond [Performing] Connection in the Classroom During COVID-19: An Ethnodrama on Virtual Synchronous Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Brittany M. Brewer

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Socially Engaged Connections Connecting Community: Rural Girls Using an Arts-Based Digital Dialogue Tool to Address Gender-Based Violence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ntomboxolo Yamile and Naydene de Lange

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Hope Stories of the Arts and School-Wide Change . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bronwen Low, Michael Lipset, and Mindy R. Carter

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The #StopAsianHate Movement: Deconstructing Asian Hate Through Digital–Visual Approach and Letter Writing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109 Ha Bich Dong, Son Vo-Tuan, Long Vu-Hoang, and Ngoc Phuong Trinh Bui Re-imagine Connections with Natural Environment Through Socially Engaged Art . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 123 Leila Refahi Storied Connections Feminist Aesthetics, Intertwined Indigenous and Immigrant Life Narratives and Teaching Practices . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 139 Roula Kteily-Hawa and Carolyn Anderson Storytelling Through Textiles: The Re-birth of a Phoenix Called Damascus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153 Maisa Mreiwed Inhabiting/Living Practice: An Emergent Collaborative Arts-Based Exhibition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 167 Alison Shields, Genevieve Cloutier, Joanna Fursman, Rocío Lara-Osuna, Jessica Castillo Inostroza, Alicia Arias-Camisón, Lap-Xuan Do-Nguyen, Pavla Gajdošíková, Yoriko Gillard, Samira Jamouchi, Monica Klungland, Tiina Kukkonen, Nicole Lee, Kate Thomas, Jennifer Wicks, and Kate Wurtzel Inclusion as Folded Choreo-Writing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 183 Maryam Bagheri Nesami and Tone Pernille Østern Hold on to Your Hat! All Aboard for the Train Called Fiction no Fiction! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 199 Kathryn Ricketts Personal and Pedagogical Connections A/r/tographic Inquiry: When Art Meets Text . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 213 Sara Hashem Polyvocal Poetic Play Through Self-study Research: Challenging the Status Quo to Improve Professional Practice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 227 Kathleen Pithouse-Morgan and Anastasia P. Samaras Using Arts-Based Educational Research to Interrogate Learning in Cohorts: Shifting Dynamics and Repairing Disrupted Relationships . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 241 Rosemary C. Reilly

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Synchronicities and Tensions in and Outside of Elementary Classrooms: Perspectives on Building Collaborative, Artful Experiences . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 257 Kari-Lynn Winters, Shelley M. Griffin, and Linda Ismailos The Power of Photo-Elicitation in Promoting Conversations About Unfamiliar Topics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 271 Katherine Crook

Editors and Contributors

About the Editors Hala Mreiwed, Ph.D., is an Assistant Professor in Childhood and Youth Studies (CYS) at King’s University College at Western. Her research interests in children’s rights education, teacher education and training, community building within classrooms, children’s media, and creative drama come from her experiences in Canada and abroad. She is Recipient of several awards including the P. Lantz Fellowship for Excellence in Education and the Arts (2015), the Outstanding Leadership and Service Graduate Award (2019) from McGill University, and the FRQSC Doctoral research scholarship (2017–2020). Mreiwed is currently Vice-Chair of the Canadian Coalition for the Rights of Children (CCRC), Children’s Rights Advisor to the Centre for Research-Action on Race Relations (CRARR), and Co-President of the Canadian Association for Curriculum Studies (CACS). Her most recent co-edited book is Art as an Agent for Social Change (2021) by Brill | Sense. Mindy R. Carter, Ph.D., is an Associate Professor and Director of Teacher Education Programs in the Department of Integrated Studies in Education at McGill University (Faculty of Education). Carter’s SSHRC, MEES, and FRQSC funded research focuses on using drama and theatre education to explore critical societal issues, teacher agency, and curriculum through arts-based educational research. Carter is (2021) Recipient of the ARTS publication award through the Canadian Society for the Study of Education (CSSE) and the (2022) Mentorship award winner from CSSE. Carter’s latest book Smallest Circles First: Exploring Reconciliatory Praxis Through Drama Education was released during Spring 2022 by the University of Toronto Press. Sara Hashem, Ph.D., is the Co-founder of the Artful Inquiry Research Group (AIRG) at McGill University. She is an Educator and Museum Specialist with extensive international experience in educational programming and museum development. Hashem currently holds the position of Pedagogical Advisor for Curriculum

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and Faculty Development at Champlain College Saint-Lambert and lectures in the Department of Integrated Studies in Education at McGill University. Academically, her work is grounded in arts-based educational research methods, museum studies, teacher education, technology in education, curriculum studies, arts education, and arts leadership. Hashem is the recipient of several McGill University awards, including the P. Lantz Fellowship for Excellence in Education and the Arts (2014, 2015), the Outstanding Teaching Award (2017, 2018), and the Outstanding Leadership and Service Award (2017, 2018). She is also an award recipient from the American Alliance of Museums and the Association of Children’s Museums for her contributions to the field of museums. Candace H. Blake-Amarante, Ph.D., is the Knowledge Manager at Equitas— Centre international d’éducation aux droits humains, International Centre for Human Rights Education. She is an artist-researcher, who specializes in writing children’s stories and plays. In most of her stories, she pursues two main goals: bringing awareness of children’s rights through the arts, and incorporating, in children’s literature, the voice of children with chronic illnesses. Her most recent work includes: a dialogue, “Let’s not talk about it anymore” (Questions: Philosophy for Young People Fall 2022); a children’s book, The Dream Machine (in collaboration with Dr. Argerie Tsimicalis and Shriners Hospitals for Children-Canada; Tellwell Publishing, forthcoming); a children’s poem, “The Sky Smiles at Me” (LEARN Quebec, My Goodnight Bag 2021); a play on children’s rights, The Ugly Ones (with Chelsea Woolley; Staged Reading Geordie Theatre Fest 2020); and a play for young audiences, You, Me and Victor Hugo! on the concept of censorship (Artist Mentorship Program at the Black Theatre Workshop 2018–19). She has published a short children’s story, “The Blunder Family: Now Where’d I Put the Pork?” (East of the Web 2020), and a children’s book, The Pheasant’s Tale or … Was it its Tail? (Green Bamboo Publishing 2017). Amarante holds a Ph.D. in political science from Columbia University, New York. Currently, she is a member of the Board of Directors of the Canadian Coalition for the Rights of Children.

Contributors Carolyn Anderson District Coordinator of Aboriginal Education KamloopsThompson School District 245 Kitchener Crescent, Kamloops, BC, Canada Alicia Arias-Camisón University of Granada, Granada, Spain Maryam Bagheri Nesami Faculty of Creative Arts and Industries, Dance Studies Department, The University of Auckland, Auckland, New Zealand Sarita Baker Simon Fraser University, Burnaby, Canada

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Candace H. Blake-Amarante Equitas—Centre international d’éducation aux droits humains, International Centre for Human Rights Education, Montreal, Québec, Canada Brittany M. Brewer Department of Teacher Education, College of Education, Michigan State University, East Lansing, USA Ngoc Phuong Trinh Bui Faculty of Education and Social Work, Thompson Rivers University, Kamloops, Canada Mindy R. Carter Department of Integrated Studies in Education, McGill University, Montreal, Canada Jennifer Charteris School of Education, University of New England, Armidale, NSW, Australia Genevieve Cloutier University of Ottawa, Ottawa, Canada Katherine Crook Newcastle upon Tyne, UK Jason DeHart Department of Reading Education and Special Education, Appalachian State University, Boone, US Naydene de Lange Nelson Mandela University, Port Elizabeth, South Africa Ha Bich Dong Ph.D. Program in Peace and Conflict Studies, Faculty of Graduate Studies, University of Manitoba, Manitoba, Canada Lap-Xuan Do-Nguyen The University of New South Wales, Sydney, Australia Ruth Foulkes Institute of Professional Learning, University of Waikato, Hamilton, New Zealand Joanna Fursman Birmingham City University, Birmingham, UK Pavla Gajdošíková Charles University, Prague, Czech Republic Yoriko Gillard University of British Columbia, Vancouver, Canada Shelley M. Griffin Brock University, St. Catharines, ON, Canada Peaches Hash Department of English, Appalachian State University, Boone, US Sara Hashem Department of Integrated Studies in Education, McGill University, Montreal, Canada; Curriculum and Faculty Development, Champlain College Saint-Lambert, SaintLambert, QC, Canada Jessica Castillo Inostroza University of Granada, Granada, Spain Linda Ismailos Brock University, St. Catharines, ON, Canada Samira Jamouchi Østfold University College, Halden, Norway Monica Klungland University of Agder, Kristiansand, Norway

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Roula Kteily-Hawa Family Studies and Human Development, School of Behavioural and Social Sciences, Brescia University College at Western, London, ON, Canada Tiina Kukkonen Queens University, Kingston, Canada Rocío Lara-Osuna University of Granada, Granada, Spain Nicole Lee University of British Columbia, Vancouver, Canada Amélie Lemieux Départment de didactique, Faculté des sciences de l’éducation, Université de Montréal, Montreal, Québec, Canada Ching-Chiu Lin Simon Fraser University, Burnaby, Canada Michael Lipset Department of Integrated Studies in Education, McGill University, Montreal, Canada Bronwen Low Department of Integrated Studies in Education, McGill University, Montreal, Canada Hala Mreiwed King’s University College at Western University, London, ON, Canada Maisa Mreiwed MA Art Education, London, ON, Canada Adele Nye School of Education, University of New England, Armidale, NSW, Australia Daisy Pillay University of Kwazulu- Natal, Durban, South Africa Kathleen Pithouse-Morgan School of Education, University of Nottingham, Nottingham, UK Leila Refahi Instructor, Toronto School of Art, Toronto, Canada Rosemary C. Reilly Department of Applied Human Sciences, VE 325.03, Concordia University, Montréal, QC, Canada Kathryn Ricketts University of Regina, Regina, Canada Anastasia P. Samaras George Mason University, Fairfax, VA, USA Alison Shields University of Victoria, Victoria, Canada Kate Thomas University of British Columbia, Vancouver, Canada Son Vo-Tuan Digital Anthropology, UCL Anthropology Department, Faculty of Social & Historical Sciences, University College London, London, UK Long Vu-Hoang Communication and Media Studies, School of Journalism and Communication, Vietnam National University, Hanoi, Vietnam Boyd White Department of Integrated Studies in Education, Faculty of Education, McGill University, Montreal, Canada

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Jennifer Wicks Concordia University, Montreal, Canada Kari-Lynn Winters Brock University, St. Catharines, ON, Canada Kate Wurtzel Appalachian State University, Boone, USA Ntomboxolo Yamile Nelson Mandela University, Port Elizabeth, South Africa Anne-Marie Émond Départment de didactique, Faculté des sciences de l’éducation, Université de Montréal, Montreal, Québec, Canada Tone Pernille Østern NTNU Norwegian University of Science and Technology, Trondheim, Norway

Introduction Hala Mreiwed, Mindy R. Carter, Sara Hashem, and Candace H. Blake-Amarante

Abstract COVID-19 has limited daily in-person interactions around the world. Not seeing friends, family outside their immediate households, community members, and peers led many to feel alone and isolated. As educators, researchers, artists, and caregivers, who were used to making in-person connections and co-creating knowledge through arts-based educational research (ABER) practices, the authors also felt loss, isolation, and fear of the unknown. They wondered individually and collectively how to support their students, families, community members, colleagues, and each other without being physically together. The foundations of ABER framed their exchanges as they discussed and reimagined how to make new connections while maintaining old ones. They relied on ABER as a research approach that combines art-making, an artful ethos, and a focus on how connecting the arts to pedagogical outcomes can be used to represent, connect, reflect on, and nuance the ways we live as individuals and members of diverse communities, teach and become in community with students, colleagues, and selves. Keywords Arts-based educational research · Connections · Teaching and learning · Pedagogy · COVID H. Mreiwed (B) King’s University College at Western University, London, ON, Canada e-mail: [email protected] M. R. Carter · S. Hashem Department of Integrated Studies in Education, McGill University, Montreal, QC, Canada e-mail: [email protected] S. Hashem e-mail: [email protected] S. Hashem Curriculum and Faculty Development, Champlain College Saint-Lambert, Saint-Lambert, QC, Canada C. H. Blake-Amarante Equitas—Centre international d’éducation aux droits humains, International Centre for Human Rights Education, Montreal, QC, Canada e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2023 H. Mreiwed et al. (eds.), Making Connections in and Through Arts-Based Educational Research, Studies in Arts-Based Educational Research 5, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-19-8028-2_1

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Toward the end of 2019, with reports of an outbreak of a respiratory illness, the world as we knew it or thought that we did changed. As information began to spread about the impact of this (in the early stages) unknown disease, so did misinformation, panic, blame, hatred, and fear. The rising death toll, loss of loved ones, separation, and grief increased discourses of hate and the spread of wrong information, as well as the failure of different systems around the world to ensure that medical supplies were available and distributed equitably led to frustration, panic, and an atmosphere of local and global uncertainty. This uncertainty was further enhanced with the cyclical closure and reopening of borders, cities, and spaces such as schools, colleges, universities, stores, and centers for children and seniors along with curfews, increased policing, and policies or lack thereof. While every country dealt with and continues to deal with the pandemic differently, what is similar is that lives were and continue to be lost and that the world is not the same post-coronavirus. The coronavirus, also known as COVID-19, is “an infectious disease caused by the SARS [severe acute respiratory syndrome]-CoV-2 virus” (World Health Organization, n.d.). COVID-19 has limited daily in-person interactions around the world. Not seeing friends, family outside their immediate households, community members, and peers led many to feel alone and isolated. As educators, researchers, artists, and caregivers, who were used to making in-person connections and co-creating knowledge through arts-based educational research (ABER) practices (Barone, 2006a, 2006b; Bickel et al., 2010; Bresler, 2007; Cahnmann-Taylor & Siegesmund, 2007; Carter, 2022; Carter & Irwin, 2014; Leavy, 2009; Mreiwed et al., 2017), we too felt loss, isolation, and fear of the unknown. We wondered individually and collectively how to support our students, families, community members, colleagues, and each other without being physically together. The foundations of ABER framed our exchanges as we discussed and reimagined how to make new connections while maintaining old ones. We relied on ABER as a research approach that combines art-making, an artful ethos, and a focus on how connecting the arts to pedagogical outcomes can be used to represent, connect, reflect on, and nuance the ways we live, as well as teach and become in community with our students, colleagues, and selves (Barone, 2008; Bickel et al., 2010; Butler-Kisber, 2010; Cahnmann-Taylor & Siegesmund, 2007; Carter, 2014; Carter & Irwin, 2014; Carter et al., 2011; Leavy, 2009). During these discussions, a need to reflect more deeply on what in-person connections mean and the possibilities of maintaining these connections, while also beginning new virtual ones emerged. Luckily for the co-editors of this book (Mreiwed, Carter, Hashem, & Blake-Amarante), each with areas of expertise in children’s rights, education, drama and theater, visual arts, museums, and literature, the Artful Inquiry Research Group (AIRG) at McGill University (a community of artists, educators, partitioners, and researchers from diverse disciplines and countries) provided a community in which these reflections could take place. As a way to connect with arts-based educational researchers around the globe during the periods of lockdown that resulted from the COVID-19 pandemic, the Third International Artful Inquiry Symposium entitled “Connections” took place online in October 2020. Over two

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days, the organizers, presenters, and participants explored the connections, possibilities, and influences of the arts in educational research and virtually experienced the artful relations created by individuals and communities, both separately and together. Reimagining ways of transitioning an interactive artful symposium, which was for years held in-person, to an online platform was not an easy one (Mreiwed et al., 2021). The symposium organizers wanted to ensure that past connections were not lost and that new ones could be made. Every minute of the symposium showed us that the possibilities were endless, leading to new ideas, connections, and collaborations, including this co-edited book. Our understanding of arts-based educational research also deepened and shifted as a result of these virtual connections, compelling us to oftentimes reimagine our own interiorities and immediate environments. The connections made during the symposium make up the four themes of the book: (1) connections during COVID-19; (2) socially engaged connections; (3) storied connections; and (4) personal and pedagogical connections. Each theme delves into a different form of connection in and through ABER. While these connections differ in the employed arts-based methods, practices, and the issues addressed, they remain connected through the people and the arts. Below are brief descriptions of each of the four sections of “Connections”. We invite you, the reader, to connect with these themes, chapters, and ideas!

1 Connections During COVID-19 The first chapter in this section, “Re-storying Immigrant Seniors During COVID Through a Lens of Narrative Inquiry” by Sarita Baker and Ching-Chiu Lin, sets the stage for how connections can be made in and through arts-based educational research with individuals whose voices are not always heard. Using narrative inquiry, the authors examine what life has been like for a group of immigrant seniors living independently in Vancouver, Canada. They reflect on a series of issues that have impacted and continue to impact immigrant seniors, which include language barriers, and challenges to adjusting to a new culture, surroundings, and customs, along with COVID-19, which has led to increased vulnerability and isolation. By exploring the lived experiences of these senior immigrants, with particular emphasis on the experience of one senior (Don), the chapter brings to the fore the importance of connecting with, listening to, and supporting seniors living independently in our communities. The importance of connecting is further reflected in “Shifting Work and Home Spatialities: Connecting in and through Arts-Based Research During the COVID19 Pandemic”. In this chapter, the four researchers, authors, and educators, Adele Nye, Ruth Foulkes, Daisy Pillay, and Jennifer Charteris engage in collective memory work and draw on collaborative artful practices using Indra’s net as a thinking tool and a metaphor to guide their research process in exploring the connections and

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learning that can be made with regard to their home-work transgression experiences. The authors use stories and images to create pantoum poetry and use poetic inquiry to further explore their lived experiences working at home during lockdown. Their reflections, while personal, offer insights into the complex connection between home and work during COVID-19 as more individuals continued to work under a new set of circumstances. In “Connected Across Distance: Creating and Sustaining Collegial Collaboration through Arts-Based Educational Research”, Peaches Hash and Jason DeHart offer their insights as two higher education faculty members working within a public university on creating art as a form of connection during COVID-19. During a semester, due to their shared interest in arts-based pedagogy and inquiry, they engaged in arts-based research, which began with visual depictions of teaching during the pandemic and transitioned to artistic responses to each other’s work. In this chapter, they explore different art-making methods such as drawing, digital tools, and poetic inquiry. The process of creation and data analysis led the authors to new understandings of their experiences in trying to sustain creative teaching methods and making and sustaining collegial connections during the pandemic despite being physically apart. Connections in academia were also examined by Boyd White, Amélie Lemieux, and Anne-Marie Émond in “On Recruiting Aesthetic Experience: A TrioEthnography of the Affordances and Limitations of Teaching (with) the Arts and Literature in a Pandemic Year”. In this chapter, the authors individually reflect on their experiences teaching arts-oriented courses in their respective higher education classes during COVID-19. While the focus of their courses differed from art appreciation and aesthetics to literature, they all connected through their common belief in aesthetic experience as an educational and intellectual avenue. As they share their experiences with the activities that they used and the challenges they faced, what also becomes clear are the insights that emerged in the process about teaching and learning during a pandemic. The final chapter in the section uses playwriting to explore the challenges of cultivating connections in synchronous virtual education spaces during COVID-19. In “[Performing] Connection in the Classroom During COVID-19: An Ethnodrama on Virtual Synchronous Education”, Brittany M. Brewer, an artist-researcher-teacher, processes, reflects upon, and scripts her personal experiences as a doctoral student and teacher within what she refers to as Zoom University. As the author reflects on her personal journey, she also notes the impacts of global trauma on individuals and the need for nourishing safe connections and social support in education settings. Brewer concludes the chapter with a series of questions inviting the readers to continue engaging with the themes presented throughout the play, further emphasizing that connections can be made through constant reflection and inquiry.

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2 Socially Engaged Connections This section begins with “Connecting Community: Rural Girls Using an Arts-Based Digital Dialogue Tool to Address Gender-Based Violence” by Ntomboxolo Yamile and Naydene de Lange. The authors embark on an arts-based educational research journey with girls who were victims of gender-based violence (GVB) in rural South Africa and who are currently members of the group, Young Girls Leading Change. In their study, girl participants are encouraged to use cellphilms (participatory videos) to capture and share how they interpreted their stories as a means to engage the community. Turning these arts-based visual artifacts into arts-based digital dialogue tools, namely with policy posters and action briefs, the girls reveal their personal traumatic experiences of GVB and use it to identify problems as they see them and determine what changes are needed to address these problems. Using arts-based educational methods, the girls find a way to critically engage audiences in the community and showcase their transformation from victims to agents of change. This engagement resulted in numerous breakthrough “moments” among which were a new respect for girls; the community taking action by listening to the girls and questioning old, traditional patriarchal beliefs; the girls taking the lead and sharing their stories to educate, inform, and potentially change perceptions; and, finally, the girl participants finding new artistic and innovative ways to tell and deal with their lived experiences. In “Hope Stories of the Arts and School-wide Change”, Bronwen Low, Mike Lipset, and Mindy R. Carter explore how socially engaging an urban community through arts-based initiatives can transform a struggling urban high school into a successful “urban arts” high school. In this chapter, a community of educators, artists, and university researchers combine their talents to find ways to better engage students in a “demoralized” urban school through arts-based research methods. This approach, along with hope theory, which centers around improving the general morale of the school culture by being more inclusive of students’ identities and interests through the arts, challenges traditional pedagogical research methods and practices. By incorporating art in several dimensions of the curriculum, both teachers and students alike experience a new sense of agency. Teachers co-create and co-teach with artists in the community, experimenting with various art forms and teaching methods shaped by hip hop culture (i.e., rapping, DJing, breakdance, and graffiti muralism). With this innovative and contextualized approach, students were able to learn and create their own artworks in ways that were meaningful to them, which eventually reduced problems of truancy and improved enrollment. In keeping with the use of socially engaged connections to facilitate dialogue in and between communities, Ha Bich Dong, Son Vo-Tuan, Long Vu-Hoang, and Ngoc Phuong Trinh Bui creatively employ the epistolary form to forge new communities where participants seek to understand and deconstruct notions of racism. In the chapter, “The #StopAsianHate Movement: Deconstructing Asian Hate Through Digital-Visual Approach and Letter Writing”, the authors question the belief that racism is merely a problem of the West or white against the rest and demonstrate that

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it is, in fact, a global and multicultural problem. In tandem with letters, a digital– visual approach of collecting and analyzing online photographs of the #StopAsianHate movement amid COVID-19 are used to prompt discussions and gain insights into how Anti-Asian racism is perceived in three different continents, North America, Europe, and Asia, and at three different levels: West vs. rest, Asian vs. “the rest,” and Asians vs. Asians. The authors learn that with the creation of safe spaces to analyze and relate to the photos, they could share their thoughts and personal experiences to better understand how racism operates in all parts of the world among various people. It is their hope that making such connections through arts-based research will bring people together to address racism and hate. The section shifts gears from studies using a socially engaged connection approach to build communities to that of forming stronger personal connections to the environment. In an attempt to abate feelings of futility and doom concerning the environmental world and the consequences of climate change, Leila Refahi’s chapter, “Reimagine Connections with Natural Environment Through Socially Engaged Art”, explores the use of interactive tools of socially engaged art to facilitate learning and to build stronger connections to the environment. Using photography, journaling, analyzing other living species, video, collaging, and then holding discussions in small group workshops, participants felt and viewed the environment in ways that they had not seen before. By asking participants to think about animals and the environment’s past and consider whether they will have a future, Refahi’s study shows how enhanced awareness can lead participants to find a new appreciation of the environment as well as to fully perceive the discrepancies in climate justice between wealthy and poor countries. This arts-based research approach allowed participants to see the world in a new artistic dimension rather than through a “realistic” and fatalistic lens.

3 Storied Connections Storied connections begins with the chapter “Feminist Aesthetics, Intertwined Indigenous and Immigrant Life Narratives and Teaching Practices” by Roula KteilyHawa and Carolyn Anderson. This chapter engages with how feminist aesthetics and creative practices are theorized and practiced. As women educators, they acknowledge and value the connections between the feminist aesthetic and life narratives, using gender as a lens to interpret how artistic expression and beauty in life and nature can inform teaching and learning. Together, the authors reflect on their experiences to examine how decolonizing education (in the classroom) can be accomplished in many ways, including the gentle and beautiful infusion of Indigenous ways of knowing and anti-oppressive practices—using home economics and family studies as a lens (foods and textile artistry). The chapter reflects a melding of several narrative-related constructs: displaced narratives, processual narrations, and performative narratives of hybrid identities.

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In “Storytelling through Textiles: The Re-birth of a Phoenix Called Damascus”, Maisa Mreiwed magically weaves together a story and journey of her connection with textiles. The author explores the role of textiles as powerful artistic tools of expression and documentation that have been used for centuries to reflect the political, economic, environmental, religious/spiritual, educational, cultural, and societal changes within nations. Their power does not simply lie in the medium they are delivered in, but in the narratives and messages, they relay before and after being transformed into usable and artistic items. In part, as a reaction to the concern about the mass production of textiles in today’s global economy, where they are becoming more of a commodity, produced, and acquired for their aesthetic nature and price, Mreiwed considers through an arts-based educational research project, the role and impact of textiles. She follows this with a discussion and analysis of her experience as a Syrian Canadian artistpedagogue who uses textile art-making, storytelling, and self-reflection. The artwork (the traditional dress: The Re-birth of a Phoenix called Damascus) produced in the process tells stories of the past and present and offers hope for the future. The chapter “Inhabiting/Living Practice: An Emergent Collaborative Arts-Based Exhibition” by Allison Shields et al. presents a collaborative exhibition at the 2019 World Congress of the International Society for Education through Art (InSEA) at The University of British Columbia in Vancouver, Canada. “Inhabiting/Living Practice” presents the arts-based educational research of 18 doctoral students from around the world. These students came together in the Hatch Gallery throughout the InSEA congress to collaborate, discuss, and make together. This arts-based educational research emergent process evolved in relation to the students’ ongoing dialogues, artistic interventions, and provocations. Together, the gallery was imagined as a living body that was inhabited for the week with material, affect, and relationality. In this chapter, through photograph documentation and examination of their experiences, the presentation of the unfolding of this emergent exhibition is shared. In “Inclusion as Folded Choreo-Writing”, Maryam Bagheri Nesami and Tone Pernille Østern investigate how inclusion can happen through folded choreo-writing between the two authors. Together, the authors propose folded choreo-writing as a way of making connections through experiences, memories, spaces, relations, and politics. Coming from vastly different geopolitical backgrounds, they still found collective resonance through a feminist-queer point of view, acknowledging choreography, inclusion, and politics as transpositional nomadism (Braidotti, 2006) and the simultaneity of diverse and paradoxical spheres. From this shared theoretical topography and through experiences of how dance can be a place of exclusion that resonated across their differences, they started their folded choreo-writing together. In the final chapter of storied connections, Kathryn Ricketts shares a longitudinal study of her storied connection with a suitcase named LUG in “Hold onto your hat! All aboard for the train called fiction no fiction!” For LUG and Ricketts, this story considers how dance or embodied explorations of narrative become a catalyst for reimagining the self and the other within an ever-changing reference. Told from the perspective of LUG (the suitcase), LUG asks, “Am I tired of her yet?… sometimes, and then she does something that wakes me up, bristles me and disrupts my rusty latches!” This chapter pushes us to reconsider our relationships to objects, stories,

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and the self as we listen to the stories LUG wants us to hear, and not just the ones Ricketts imposes. This chapter is a shared relational engagement reminding us of the importance of remembering the lineage of former owners who have owned or used the taken-for-granted objects that we use for a time. “When we can actually hear all of those stories … it gets a little complicated….” as our connections in and across time shift, change, and deepen.

4 Personal and Pedagogical Connections The first chapter in this section, “A/r/tographic Inquiry: When Art Meets Text” by Sara Hashem, highlights how personal and pedagogical connections manifest themselves in and through arts-based educational research. The author takes the reader on a methodological inquiry into her lived experiences as an artist/researcher/teachereducator exploring the multimodality of practicing and disseminating academic research through art and text. She uses an image of rubber bands to illustrate how the familiarity of art complements the complicated nature of the academic text. She also provides insight into ABER through an extensive overview of the literature. Hashem delivers a tangible and easy-to-follow account of the theoretical, methodological, and contextual underpinnings that frame arts-based educational research, in the example of a/r/tography. She describes ABER as an approach that “expands the horizons of practicing research and generating meanings”. This chapter embodies practicing ABER to inquire and further understand the personal and pedagogical connections inherent in arts-based educational research. Delving deeper into the theme of personal and pedagogical connections in and through arts-based educational research, Kathleen Pithouse-Morgan and Anastasia P. Samaras employ co-creative poetic inquiry as an approach to self-study research. In their chapter titled “Polyvocal Poetic Play Through Self-Study Research: Challenging the Status Quo to Improve Professional Practice”, the authors explore how their polyvocal co-creativity helped challenge the status quo of method in researching professional knowledge and practice. Pithouse-Morgan and Samaras creatively use word clouds and poetry to examine their work in contrast to their colleagues’ work in the context of the poetic inquiry movement. They bridge the personal, represented in self-study, with the pedagogical, demonstrated through polyvocal poetic play to provide diverse epistemic options to new understandings of professional activity. This chapter illustrates how ABER is a means to generate “imaginative and emotive perspectives” in data collection and analysis and, accordingly, elicit new ways of knowing. In “Using Arts-Based Educational Research to Interrogate Learning in Cohorts: Shifting Dynamics and Repairing Disrupted Relationships”, Rosemary C. Reilly employs ABER methods to interrogate and document learning in cohorts (LIC). Considering the complexity of relationships in LIC, the author uses a multitude of textual (poetry), visual (collage, mask making, or playdough sculptures), and performative (clowning or puppetry) approaches to help uncover ways for learners and

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educators to foster an effective learning climate. Reilly showcases how ABER is most suited to navigate the overlapping nature of education’s personal and pedagogical aspects by showing how participants expressed themselves beyond the usual expression boundaries and engaged in critical self-reflection. This chapter demonstrates how ABER constitutes a “shift toward more generative processes” in understanding complex personal and interpersonal relationships in learning communities. Continuing the theme of personal and pedagogical connections in and through the arts, Kari-Lynn Winters, Shelley M. Griffin, and Linda Ismailos use ABER to explore relationships between institutional and community practices in “Shifting Dynamics and Repairing Synchronicities and Tensions In and Outside of Elementary Classrooms: Perspectives on Building Collaborative, Artful Experiences”. The authors employ ethnography to understand how elementary children interact with the arts (i.e., music, drama, and storytelling) in their daily lives. They also investigate the potential to reframe musical learning by examining how home and community musical experiences position themselves alongside schooled practices. Winters, Griffin, and Ismailos advocate for further understanding children’s lived experience in school contexts to “create opportunities to inquire into how institutional priorities may run counter to the values expressed by children”. This chapter underscores how ABER “hold[s] powerful potentials for children to express and represent ideas” that help them make connections for real-world situations. In the final chapter, “The Power of Photo-Elicitation in Promoting Conversations About Unfamiliar Topics”, Katherine Crook explores how photo-elicitation can be used within healthcare education research. As a physiotherapist, the author provides a fresh take on the transferability of ABER by examining the benefits arts-based methods bring to traditionally positivist and quantitative disciplines. Considering the human element intrinsic to the healthcare system, Crook presents photo-elicitation as a method to encourage people to discuss issues they would usually avoid or dismiss, especially topics that are not considered a priority in clinical practice. Using ABER “helped minimize the risk of a more superficial discussion” and encouraged deeper reflection among participants. This chapter captures the power of ABER in bringing “energy and excitement” to research, “challeng[ing] a priori assumptions”, generating new understandings, and fostering personal and pedagogical connections in research endeavors across disciplines.

References Barone, T. (2006a). (Ed.). Arts-based research in art education. Studies in Art Education, 48(1), 4–128. Barone, T. (2006b). Arts-based educational research then, now, and later. Studies in Art Education, 48(1), 4–8. Barone, T. (2008). How arts-based research can change minds. In M. Cahnmann-Taylor & R. Siegesmund (Eds.), Arts-based research in education: Foundations for practice (pp. 28–49). Routledge.

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Bickel, B., Springgay, S., Beer, R., Irwin, R. L., Grauer, K., & Xiong, G. (2010). A/r/tographic collaboration as radical relationality. International Journal of Qualitative Methods, 10(1), 86– 102. Braidotti, R. (2006). Transpositions: On nomadic ethics. Polity. Bresler, L. (Ed.). (2007). International handbook of research in arts education. Springer. Butler-Kisber, L. B. (2010). Qualitative inquiry: Thematic, narrative and arts- informed perspectives. Sage Publications Ltd. Cahnmann-Taylor, M., & Siegesmund, R. (Eds.). (2007). Arts-based research in education: Foundations for practice. Routledge. Carter, M. R. (2014). The teacher monologues: Exploring the identities and experiences of artistteachers. Sense Publishers. Carter, M. R., & Irwin, R. L. (2014). Between signification and illumination: Unfolding understandings of an A/r/tographical turn on practicum. International Journal of Education & the Arts, 15(3). Carter, M. R. (2022). Unsettling the settler: An arts-based exploration. Societies, 12, 46. https://doi. org/10.3390/soc12020046 Carter, M. R., Beare, D., Belliveau, G., & Irwin, R. L. (2011). A/r/tography as pedagogy: A promise without guarantee. Canadian Review of Art Education, 38, 17–32. Leavy, P. (2009). Method meets art: Arts-based research practice. Guilford Press. Mreiwed, H., Carter, M. R., & Shabtay, A. (2017). Building classroom community through drama education. NJ: Drama Australia Journal, 41(1), 44–57. https://doi.org/10.1080/14452294.2017. 1329680 Mreiwed, H., Carter, M. R., & Mitchell, C. (2021) Art as an Agent for Social Change. Brill|Sense. World Health Organization. (n.d.). Coronavirus disease (COVID-19). Retrieved from https://www. who.int/health-topics/coronavirus#tab=tab_1

Connections During COVID-19

Re-storying Immigrant Seniors During COVID-19 Through a Lens of Narrative Inquiry Sarita Baker and Ching-Chiu Lin

Abstract For many Canadian immigrants, language barriers and advanced age complicate the challenge of adjusting to a new culture, new surroundings, and new customs. Within the context of the COVID-19 Pandemic, and the emergence of the elderly as the most vulnerable to its effects, these issues have become even more complex. This chapter seeks to reveal what life has been like for a group of immigrant seniors living independently in Vancouver, Canada, by examining lived experiences– through a lens of arts-based educational research (ABER)—and to act as an amplifier for these marginalized voices in Canada. As researchers, we aim to be the connecting element within our study, linking stories of seniors revealed via the ABER method of narrative inquiry, with the public, educators, scholars, and public policy makers. Our research aims to harness understandings revealed through our study, in order to stimulate and demonstrate pathways for supporting seniors living independently in our communities. Keywords Seniors · COVID · Immigrants · Arts-based educational research · Narrative inquiry

1 Introduction As the title of this book suggests, Making Connections implies an action, a way of linking concepts, theories, and ideas. Like mycelium, the “…network of fungal threads…that act[s] as an interface between plant roots and nutrients” (Stamuts, 2005, p. iii), as researchers we look in the damp spongey forest floor of life to forge meaningful connections, acting as the connective tissue between intertwined relationships which dwell within our research. In our case, Making Connections is about S. Baker (B) · C.-C. Lin Simon Fraser University, Burnaby, Canada e-mail: [email protected] C.-C. Lin e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2023 H. Mreiwed et al. (eds.), Making Connections in and Through Arts-Based Educational Research, Studies in Arts-Based Educational Research 5, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-19-8028-2_2

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connecting the voices of an underrepresented group of Canadians (Picard, 2020) to the wider community through their stories, incorporating the lens of narrative inquiry, an arts-based educational research (ABER) method. Drawing on selected findings of Storied Lives, a research project funded by Social Science and Humanities Research Council of Canada (SSHRC), we engage in arts-based knowledge co-creation aimed at capturing seniors’ complex views and experiences during the Pandemic. In this study, we worked with immigrant seniors who were members of MOSAIC, a nonprofit organization in Vancouver, a group mandated to help immigrant seniors adjust and integrate into Canadian society.

2 A Roadmap The account that follows traces our steps as we engage with a cohort of sixteen immigrant seniors living independently in Vancouver, Canada. We follow the research collection process (interviews, transcripts, conversations, and observations) to focus on a single participant, Don (pseudonym) that was storied and re-storied into a firstperson narrative. Our re-storying process is described, as we add cycles of reflective thinking, co-creating the narrative with our participant. We recount how the re-storying approach adds layers of enriching information, bolstering our research efforts, rather than losing data due to obstacles encountered in the process of data collection. Utilizing the ABER method of narrative inquiry, we sift through intertwined layers of meaning within the context of human experiences (Mulvihill & Swaminathan, 2019). We examine the ways that “thinking narratively” (Clandinin & Connelly, 2000) allows pathways for organizing the storied data in meaningful ways. We define how and why our choices of literary devices are affecting meaning within the narrative, and we consider pitfalls of narrative writing in research, such as the seduction of plot, and why we needed to be alert to its allure. Finally, we examine various themes that emerged through the process of coding and analyzing the narrative and share how Don’s narrative offers us insights into the experiences of an immigrant senior living independently in Vancouver through COVID and what impact an arts practice has for him during this time of public health interventions and restrictions. While Don’s story illustrates an example of resilience in a time of crisis, it also demonstrates how seniors need help and support connecting in a world that does not make it easy for them.

2.1 The Challenge Over the past twenty-five years, international migration to Canada has increased substantially (Koehn et al, 2020). Due to this increased migration, issues unique to immigrants like language barriers, adjusting to a new culture, and isolation from

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friends and family have also increased. As of June 2020, Statistics Canada reports that 6.8 million Canadians are over the age of sixty-five (Statistics Canada, 2020). Of these, thirty-one percent are immigrants (Statistics Canada, 2022). Further, since “ninety-three percent of elders live in the community, most in their own residences” (Picard, 2020, p. 137), the implication is that there are approximately 2.1 million immigrant seniors in Canada, with 1.96 million (5.6% of Canada’s population) still living in the community. Thus, almost two million seniors are living through COVID and its isolating implications, dealing with the difficulties of language, cultural barriers, and isolation. It is this cohort that we seek to hear from: giving them a platform to tell their stories and amplifying their voices through our research. We understand that in trying to access a marginalized and isolated group within society, we may need to be receptive to new and compassionate ways of listening, understanding, and representing these voices (Mulvihill & Swaminathan, 2019).

2.2 Our Approach 2.2.1

Language Barriers

We interviewed sixteen participants who learned about the study through MOSAIC, a multicultural non-profit society operating in Vancouver. The interviewees came from various ethnic backgrounds: Korean (1), Persian (1), South Asian (2), Mexican (1), and Chinese (11). None of these participants spoke English as their first language, many did not speak English well, and some, not at all. Thus, the first challenge faced in this research, the language barrier, was one that encompasses the daily lived experience of many immigrants. In as much as language can provide an obstacle for an immigrant’s transition to their new home and culture, here it was providing an obstacle for our research process.

2.2.2

Interview Process

Many of our interviews were conducted in Chinese by Chinese-speaking members of the research team. The rest of the interviews were conducted in English, which for some participants was not an easy task, as English was not their mother tongue and may have imposed limits on their answers. The informal, discussion style of the interviews set a relaxed tone and allowed the prepared questions to evolve organically into follow-up questions. However, our data collection process was affected by public health restrictions, which required Zoom interviews as opposed to “in-person” interviews. While Zoom is an online video platform which does not require intrusive video equipment and an interview room, it also imposes limits: Zoom interviews restrict the in-person aspect of the interview: reducing recorded data to the single head-in-a-box, eliminating

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body language, eye contact, and other non-verbal communication. Thus, we fully recognized the limitations of the Zoom interviews in our data collection process.

2.2.3

Re-storying

Faced with the constraints of Zoom interviews, language barriers, Wi-Fi connection issues and/or interruptions, and the translation process, we turned to John Dewey’s interpretation of reflective thinking for guidance: Difficulty or obstruction in the way of reaching a belief brings us, however, to a pause. In the suspense of uncertainty, we metaphorically climb a tree; we try to find some standpoint from which we may survey additional facts and, getting a more commanding view of the situation, decide how the facts stand related to one another…Demand for the solution of a perplexity is the steadying and guiding factor in the entire process of reflection. (Dewey, 1933, p. 123).

We climbed Dewey’s metaphorical tree and took a different standpoint toward the perplexities in our study by introducing reflective cycles in the research, building into our process “the kind of thinking that consists in turning a subject over in the mind and giving it serious and consecutive consideration” (Dewey, 1933, p. 113). We paused to consider how a new vantage point allowed us to see new opportunities to our approach. Rather than stripping away layers of information due to Zoom interviews and information lost in the translation process, we turned to reflective cycles to help us understand the layers of information.

2.2.4

Cycling

We understood these cycles of our research as storying and re-storying, each phase adding layers of enriching information: providing a more fulsome expression of the experiences contained within the narratives and helping us tackle the complexity of the stories. The first cycle included asking the research team to co-generate the narratives (based on the data collected from interviews, observations, transcripts, and conversations) and then analyzing the content and coding to find emergent themes within the data. In the next cycle of the research process, we asked the participants to reflect on their narrative and add or change anything in their own story for greater accuracy. Reflective cycles within our process allowed us to consider how our plan of action changed (Bold, 2012) in order to manage the complexities of narrative co-construction between the members of the research team and the participants, particularly in COVID times. Revisiting information and using reflective thinking “…challenges previous ways of thinking and participating” (Savin-Baden & Howell Major, 2010, p. 95). The process of storying and re-storying, therefore, became a catalyst for provoking the research team and the participants to consider and reconsider information generated in the study and to listen deeply to underrepresented voices within the community.

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3 Narrative Inquiry Within the last century, researchers in the Humanities are at a “… turning point for scientific research: the qualitative paradigm begins to be accepted by many researchers in contrast with the positivist view of reality” (Pentassuglia, 2017, p. 3). We selected a qualitative research ABER method of narrative inquiry in order to investigate what life was like for seniors, through stories of their experiences. Narrative inquiry, an expanding field within ABER, encompasses the study of story. “Narrative is the best way of representing and understanding experience. Experience is what we study, and we study it narratively because narrative thinking is a key form of experience and a key way of writing and thinking about it” (Clandinin & Connelley, 2000, p. 18). If stories are experience, and experience is life, then narrative inquirers are studying the stuff of life: the damp spongey forest floor wriggling with life. Narrative inquiry is not a formula, nor is it a “one-size-fits-all” approach to qualitative research, as Bold (2012) explains that “there are no overall rules about narrative approaches to research” (p. 3). Thus, the method, which provides a pathway to understanding human experience through story (Pinnegar & Daynes, 2007), remains a malleable one, in that it contains some flexibility in terms of how it is incorporated within a research context. The directive to follow in establishing a narrative inquiry is that researchers construct and study narratives derived from participant’s experiences to extract substance from their stories, the type of substance that captures some essence of the human condition, not easily captured by statistical information (Chambers, 2003; Golsteijn & Wright, 2013). Thus, the “what” of narrative inquiry is clear, but the “how” is a variable determined by the research context. We explain how we incorporated narrative inquiry by exploring our narrative thinking, defining our terms, and analyzing the literary devices of narrative construction, and finally as we consider a vice of narrative inquiry: the seduction of plot.

3.1 Thinking Narratively 3.1.1

Terminology

The terms “story” and “narrative,” which though often used interchangeably, are indeed two separate and distinct terms: story, as we use the term, refers to structure and signifies a narrative that is complete—one that has “a beginning, middle, and end”—whereas “narrative” for our purposes describes any description of lived experience and generally has the “connotation of a ‘partial’, description of [that] lived experience” (Kim, 2016, p. 9). We do not seek to tell the full life stories of our participant(s), but rather, we attempt to structure a snapshot of what life was like for the participant(s) during a specific moment (of the Pandemic), by composing a narrative that describes that lived experience. By glimpsing at the lived experience of an individual, we embrace an interpretivist standpoint (Dwyer et al., 2016), in

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that we are constructing a narrative of a small slice of a particular interpretation of reality, which is then rendered through the process of storying and re-storying.

3.1.2

Literary Device of “Point of View” in Narrative Construction

We delve deeper into “thinking narratively” by considering how a literary device employed in the construction of a narrative may affect meaning. For example, while it is conceivable that a narrative could be written from any point of view, each would illicit a different meaning: A first-person narrative brings readers into the action, providing a close, intimate proximity to the participant, indeed the reader becomes the subject (I am happy); a second-person narrative empowers the writer to impose directives upon the subject and puts the reader in an accusatory relationship with the subject (you are happy), while the third-person narrative creates a sense of distance or objectivity between the reader and subject (He/She/They are happy). However, it is unlikely that any research intending to examine human experience would find success doing so were it framed in the second person, which screams researcher bias as a matter of form, or in the third person which separates and insulates us from the experience being researched. Thus, only the first-person provides the experiential immediacy suitable for use in our study—the essential intimate proximity required to bring a personal representation of the participant’s voice to the reader.

3.1.3

The Seduction of Plot

The inherent danger of thinking narratively is that the researcher can be seduced by the form of storytelling and lose sight of their role as narrative inquirer. Plot is seductive, so seductive that it is the dominating underlying structural component of fiction and creative non-fiction genres. By “plot,” we mean looking at things like character description, initiating action, complicating action, climax, and resolution (Daiute, 2014; Jager, 2016). In biographical or autobiographical writing, for instance, one might choose to tell important aspects of a person’s life rather than crawling through all the minutia of that life which might not be relevant or of interest to a reader. For this chapter, we consider that when writing a narrative from an interview, as this study has done, one must be respectful eye to the truth of the subject, who is not, in fact, a “character,” but rather a person, not a fabricated “story,” but a continuing lived experience. Ultimately, the narrative is about a person’s lived experience, and its focus is that experience, not as a function of plot, but of life. Having set the stage for our narrative, we now invite readers to experience Don’s story.

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4 Introducing Don My name is Don and I am eighty-eight years old. I come from the world’s largest city, Shanghai, where I was in the Chinese military for my entire career. I moved to Seattle in 1995, and to Canada in 2016 to move in with my daughter and her husband. My daughter is now taking meticulous care of me and my wife: she does all the house chores for us; we just need to sit back and relax. Now that COVID is here in Canada, we are all vigilant in my household to follow public health guidelines: washing hands often, wearing face masks and sanitizing surfaces. We firmly believe that as long as we follow the COVID prevention guidelines, then our chance of getting COVID will be low. My daughter is always very careful to wear a face mask when she goes out. When she comes back home, she sanitizes and takes a bath. She always maintains a safe physical distance from my wife and I, even at home, to prevent any slim possibility that she might transmit COVID to us. For myself, I try to remain home as much as possible. Normally, I would just go to a family doctor and get a prescription, but right now we can’t go outside, so I endure the pain at home, or I speak with a doctor over the phone to get my prescriptions. We used to have many reasons to go outdoors for social activities and performances…with the Vancouver Senior Association…and the multicultural association, MOSAIC. But now the Senior’s centres have switched to on-line video platforms, modifying their programming during COVID, and allowing seniors to safely participate from their homes. I like to participate in Zoom meetings to stay in touch with friends and family during the Pandemic. We developed the term: “Talking Mountains,” to describe Zoom sessions where we can speak freely about anything and everything just like when we go hiking in the mountains. Some people like to talk about planting flowers, some like growing vegetables, some are foodies who like to talk about cooking. Some people sing Peking opera and some perform recitals; it’s really interesting. As seniors we are afraid of loneliness the most, but I don’t feel lonely at all. Even though I’m at home a lot, I don’t feel lonely. In contrast, I feel very happy. I get most of my information about COVID in Mandarin through the internet and a Mandarin newspaper. My child living in Seattle informs me of the situation in the US. Normally I would visit my family in Seattle, but due to COVID we stay in touch, through WeChat every day to make sure that we’re all safe. Besides all the Zoom meetings, much of my days are devoted to writing poetry and inscribing the poems onto paper using ink and a calligraphy brush. Since I was about four or five, my grandfather started teaching me calligraphy. He told me that calligraphy has a noble and honourable tradition, and knowing this art form shows that you are a knowledgeable and intellectual person. So, I felt that if I can become an expert in calligraphy, then I might gain respect from people no matter where I go. So, I have developed a lifelong obsession with it. After I retired, I put all of my focus into it. Recently I’ve been in contact with publishers in China who are inviting me

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to publish in different books, and in an international newspaper called, “The World Times.” I see my artistic expression as a responsibility, and a way that I can share positive energy in the world, even during a dark time. Mostly, I write about current social issues, such as the fifth moon landing by China’s spacecraft named after the Chinese Moon Goddess: “Chang’e.” I like to write about the healthcare heroes of the pandemic, and the Chinese “BeiDou satellite system,” an alternative to the North American GPS navigational system. My interest in choosing current issues as topics for poems, reflects my belief that art should serve humanity. Before I do something artistic, I consider, why am I doing this? Who is this for? Is this for myself or for others? Who am I serving with my art? In my lifetime I have never experienced anything as distressing as this Pandemic. So, humans must work together to fight COVID. Simply relying on a certain country or department is useless. The entire human population, the entire world must work together. Thinking negatively about the pandemic will not help humanity overcome it. COVID is a virus, it is a disaster, and a challenge for humankind; but in the long run, humans will definitely win, it’s only a matter of time. I am an elderly Canadian immigrant from China living at home, and staying home as much as possible to remain safe during the pandemic. My daughter takes diligent care of me and my wife, keeping all the household concerns in order. The Vancouver Senior Association and the multicultural association, MOSAIC, helped me to bridge the gap between information and misinformation about COVID and vaccines, and facilitate opportunities for me to connect with other seniors on-line. Even the isolation I have endured during the pandemic does not cause me to feel lonely, as I occupy my time writing poetry, practicing calligraphy, and spending time in Zoom meetings with other seniors.

4.1 Narrative Analysis We look to narrative inquiry as a method within ABER for understanding how to support seniors’ well-being during the Pandemic. What follows is an analysis of Don’s narrative, taking his art practice of calligraphy into consideration, and how this contributed to his well-being by positively impacting three main facets, or themes which emerged from his living situation, namely resilience, connectivity, and care.

4.1.1

Resilience

Firstly, to put Don’s narrative in a context, we review how Don’s daily engagement with calligraphy (see Fig. 1) contributed to his well-being by improving his resilience. The art of calligraphy is an ancient form of writing with pen and ink on paper which “is also a form of spiritual cultivation, a practice that has the potential to instill positive character traits in the practitioner” (Ying, 2012, p. 33). Calligraphy requires

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Fig. 1 Image of Don’s calligraphy. Note Translation of Chinese: Eliminate the virus (COVID). Mankind will win together. Photo by Mik Vorontsov, 2021 © Ching-Chiu Lin

an ardent focus in that one must be highly attuned to the way the brush is held, the amount of ink loaded on the brush, and the way the brush attacks the paper in a swift yet precise motion. To accomplish the intuitive and gestural marks, one must also let go of control and be in a relaxed Zen-like state. The illogical combination of control and lack of control puts the calligrapher in a state of flow, or “what you feel when you’re doing things that are so enjoyable that you want to pursue them for their own sake” (Csikszentmihalyi, 2014, p. 148). Thus, time spent in this attentive state of flow, one encouraged by the process of writing calligraphy, not only distracted Don from his loneliness, but also created a pathway for Don’s resilience through a time of crisis, linking the practice of art-making to his well-being.

4.1.2

Connection

For Don—a member of a generation not born to the wonders of the Internet— our second theme of connection emerges as one relating to proximity. He used to be connected to the people with whom he interacted with in person. However, in a COVID-restricted world, one that discouraged proximity, Don had to learn a new way to connect. Don did not resist the challenge of learning how to use new technologies, rather he embraced it, and took the time to learn how to use it. MOSAIC facilitated this process, by providing instruction for how to use Zoom, use computers, and in some cases distributing computers and I-Pads to seniors who needed them, was essential to Don’s connectivity during COVID.

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Care

Finally, care is a factor in Don’s well-being, as he uses his calligraphy to express caring about others. Nel Noddings (2010) speaks about the difference between caring for and caring about, stating: “Caring for requires direct interaction with the caredfor…in contrast, caring about is characterized by concern, perhaps about people at a distance or about groups of people at some risk” (p. 32). When Don declares his motivation for: “I see my artistic expression as a responsibility,” we see how he looks beyond his own self-satisfaction, to a need for caring about others with encouragement and positive messages. He is thus looking at his art-making with a lens of “care” with an aim to lift people’s spirits or offer encouragement through poetry and the beauty of calligraphy.

5 The Butterfly Effects of Re-storying The re-storying process was key to our research efforts, and the way that the reflective process created a condition where seemingly insignificant revisions within the entanglement of human experience rendered in narrative form resulted in creating considerable effects on future circumstances as well as unfurling understandings. For instance, when Don revisited the narrative that had been constructed from interviews and transcripts, he chose to add a segment about his grandfather’s connection to his calligraphy. The short statement: “Since I was about four or five, my grandfather started teaching me calligraphy,” suddenly reveals a picture of the length of time that calligraphy has been in his life. It connects with the lengthy tradition of calligraphy and gives us an insight into how this knowledge was passed down through the generations. We recognized that “the researcher and the researched in a particular study are in relationship with each other and that both parties will learn and change in the encounter” (Pinnegar & Daynes, 2007, p. 7). Hence, we witnessed that our project encouraged seniors to think deeply about their experience: reflecting on the positive effects of their art practices, and for Don, this involved expanding and pursuing the art practice with greater vigor. A month or so after the interview process, the researchers discovered (through conversations with the coordinator of MOSAIC) that Don had increased his daily art practice, to include conducting Zoom sessions once per week, teaching others the art of calligraphy. That his art-making process was enriched through the teaching of it demonstrates how he continued to learn through teaching. What lay underneath this activity was a requirement to connect with others: Teaching requires contact with students. Before the Pandemic, Don was merely practicing calligraphy for himself, but now Don is assuming the role of “grandfather” to all his students, acting as his own grandfather once did for him and thus fulfilling a role of being the connector to the next generation of calligraphers by teaching others. Thus, we understand the butterfly effect that our research had on Don and how he expanded connections

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created through new technologies and his art-making, the result of which is that he does not feel lonely, rather “in contrast, [he] feel[s] happy”. The second item that Don added to his narrative shows the level of emotional trauma that he experienced as a result of the Pandemic: “In my lifetime I have never experienced anything as distressing as this Pandemic”. The narrative, as it existed before this statement, was added and illustrated some less serious effects of the Pandemic. For instance, he had to phone the doctor instead of going to the doctor’s office in person. With the addition of an emotionally charged comment, we can see how the Pandemic had a truly profound effect on Don—upsetting his regular routine and causing discomfort in his life. To find via narrative inquiry, a story of an elderly man’s experience of engaging in an art practice, and how he was able to maintain his resilience, connectivity, and care through a difficult and the most “distressing” period of his life, is a valuable insight.

6 Conclusion As researchers, our aim was to act as conduits within our research project, connecting human experience during the Pandemic like a network of invisible fibers running through the forest floor—not as case counts on a graph—but as a narrative account of lived experience. At its core, “narrative inquiry is people in relation studying people in relation” (Clandinin, 2013, p. 3). It is narrative that connects the subjects to the issue, the researcher to the subject, the study to the greater community, and it is because of these connecting elements that we chose the ABER method of narrative inquiry as the process for our research. The potential of narrative inquiry is that it can provide personal accounts of an issue—to connect a social problem (or a perceived social problem) to individual experience and give the researcher and others not only greater understanding of the issue, but also provide the possibility to bring forth new meanings. It is imperative that researchers build connections between the statistical representation of a social context, the macro-side of the issue, and the individual lived experience of the people impacted by that social context, the micro-side. While this chapter focuses upon narrative inquiry—the generative process for providing human experience in relation to an issue—we acknowledge both elements are required for successful policy development. However, from even just one narrative, the beginnings of themes emerge. Through the lens of Don’s experience, we obtain insights into his lived experience through the Pandemic, and ultimately, this chapter intends to harness that understanding to foster a meaningful and appropriate connection to researchers who will bring that experience into dialogue with the wider academic community, and policy makers with the hope that resulting policy be informed by, and respond to, an element of human experience and need.

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References Bold, C. (2012). Using narrative in research. SAGE Publications Ltd https://doi.org/10.4135/978 1446288160 Chambers, P. (2003). Narrative and reflective practice: Recording and understanding experience. Educational Action Research, 11(3), 403–414. https://doi.org/10.1080/09650790300200229 Clandinin, D. J., & Connelly, F. M. (2000). Narrative inquiry: Experience and story in qualitative research. Jossey-Bass. Clandinin, D. J. (2013). Engaging in narrative inquiry/D. Left Coast Press Inc. Csikszentmihalyi, M. (2014). Applications of flow in human development and education (2014th ed.). Springer Netherlands. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-94-017-9094-9 Daiute, C. (2014). Narrative inquiry (First Edition ed.). SAGE Publications, Inc. https://doi.org/10. 4135/9781544365442 Dewey, J. (1933). How we think: a restatement of the relation of the reflective thinking to the educative process. Heath. Dwyer, R., Davis, I., & Emerald, E. (Eds). (2016). Narrative research in practice. Springer Singapore Pte. Limited. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-10-1579-3 Golsteijn, C., & Wright, S. (2013, Sept). Using narrative research and portraiture to inform design research. In 14th International conference on human-computer interaction (INTERACT) (pp. 298–315), Cape Town, South Africa. https://hal.inria.fr/hal-01504891 Jager, E. (2016). The inscrutable past: Writing narrative non-fiction. Postmedieval a Journal of Medieval Cultural Studies, 7(2), 193–203. https://doi.org/10.1057/pmed.2016.17 Kim, J. K. (2016). Locating narrative inquiry in the interdisciplinary context. In: Understanding narrative inquiry: the crafting and analysis of stories as research. Thousand Oaks: Sage Publishing. https://doi.org/10.4135/9781071802861 Koehn, S., Ferrer, I., & Brotman, S. (2020). Between loneliness and belonging: Narratives of social isolation among immigrant older adults in Canada. Ageing & Society, online, 1–21. https://doi. org/10.1017/S0144686X20001348 Mulvihill, T. M., & Swaminathan, R. (2019). Arts-based educational research and qualitative inquiry: Walking the path (1st ed.). Routledge. https://doi.org/10.4324/9781315143361 Noddings, N. (2010). The maternal factor: Two paths to morality. University of California Press, ProQuest Ebook Central. http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/sfu-ebooks/detail.action?docID= 837304 Pentassuglia, M. (2017). “The art(ist) is present”: Arts-based research perspective in educational research. Cogent Education, 4(1), 1301011. https://doi.org/10.1080/2331186X.2017.1301011 Picard, A. (2020). Neglected no more. Penguin Random House. Pinnegar, S., & Daynes, J. G. (2007). Locating Narrative Inquiry Historically: Thematics in the Turn to Narrative. In D. J. Clandinin (Ed.), Handbook of narrative inquiry: Mapping a methodology (pp. 3–34). Sage Publications, Inc. https://doi.org/10.4135/9781452226552.n1 Savin-Baden, M., & Howell Major, C. (Eds). (2010). New approaches to qualitative research: Wisdom and uncertainty. Routledge. Stamets, P. (2005). Mycelium running: How mushrooms can help save the world. Ten Speed Press. Statistics Canada. (2020). Older adults and aging population statistics. Retrieved September 6, 2020, from https://www.statcan.gc.ca/eng/subjects-start/seniors_and_aging Statistics Canada. (2022). Immigrants make up the largest share of the population in over 150 years and continue to shape who we are as Canadians. https://www150.statcan.gc.ca/n1/daily-quotid ien/221026/dq221026a-eng.htm Ying, L. (2012). Negotiating with the past: The art of calligraphy in Post-Mao China. ASIANetwork Exchange, 19(2), 32–41. https://doi.org/10.16995/ane.27

Shifting Work and Home Spatialities: Connecting in and Through Arts-Based Research During the COVID-19 Pandemic Adele Nye, Ruth Foulkes, Daisy Pillay, and Jennifer Charteris

Abstract The COVID-19 pandemic resulted in many countries adopting containment measures. This transcontinental, transdisciplinary study draws on arts-based research to explore the value of connecting through ‘disease’ at the moment of disease during the COVID-19 epoch. The four researcher-author-educators engaged in collective memory work and drew on collaborative artful practices to create connections and deepen their learning of their home-work transgression experiences. As makers and creators, they participated in and produced a poetic assemblage which involved a netting and knotting process of “becoming”. Leveraging the stories and images, pantoum poetry were then created in a poetic inquiry process that enabled further exploration of the lived experiences of working in home locked down. The picture-like pantoum poems tripped their tongues with phrases, concepts, words and ideas, reflecting and refracting from each gem—glints of gift offerings. Each poetic iteration, strangely unique, but unsurprisingly magical as they held in a web of sameness, concepts connected to their lived experiences. While the poetry enabled lines of flight, the photographs which juxtaposed the pantoums territorialised the imagery, with their iterations of home and a retreat to the ‘iso garden’. Thus, home was placed under erasure. Keywords Boundaries · Intersubjective space · Memory work · Solidarity · Collective ethnography A. Nye (B) · J. Charteris School of Education, University of New England, Armidale, NSW, Australia e-mail: [email protected] J. Charteris e-mail: [email protected] R. Foulkes Institute of Professional Learning, University of Waikato, Hamilton, New Zealand e-mail: [email protected] D. Pillay University of Kwazulu- Natal, Durban, South Africa e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2023 H. Mreiwed et al. (eds.), Making Connections in and Through Arts-Based Educational Research, Studies in Arts-Based Educational Research 5, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-19-8028-2_3

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1 Introduction COVID turned us inside out. It sent us hurtling headlong into a space so familiar and yet viewed in a new context. Home, work space. Work, home space. This was a space where boundaries were torn up and borders broken down, where flow blurred the previously clearly defined spaces, colours merged in the osmotic interior as home became a work space, its walls now permeable to the multiplicities of home-work-home.

The COVID-19 global pandemic brought with it “slow dance of shelter-in-place and stay-at-home curfews” (Nicolaides & Lim, 2020, p. 844). For us, there were no more face to face engagements with colleagues, university students, or leaders and teachers in schools. We hovered in a between space, where time stands still, and the earth moves on. With waves of the pandemic taking hold, we seemed to have taken off but not yet landed. No longer binary concepts, there were merges—normal and the new normal. The spaces we call home and the space we call work merged in this time–space COVID bubble, the tendrils of one reaching out and penetrating the other. Our collective arts-based inquiry focuses on the question “How do we as academics encounter the transitions and transgressions of home and work during the COVID-19 pandemic?”. The incursion of viruses into humans with the COVID-19 disruption of “life as usual” affords us an opportunity to consider the gradual acceptance of shifting boundaries, from a bimodal system of home and work to fluid spaces of working and learning and specifically embodied bimodality. As Rousell (2020) argues, “the combined material force and intensity of global climate change, mass extinction, and the computational reconfiguration of planetary life are reshaping the ontological conditions for thought and inquiry in the twenty-first century” (p. 2). With incursions of COVID-19 impacting the globe through 2020 and 2021, the destination—“back to normal” had lost its meaning. A “new normal” had emerged and the future was as yet unknown. We had taken off with nowhere to land and the route was uncertain. Just like that childhood game, when you think you can defy science, if you jump high enough and stay airborne for long enough, the world will have rotated without you, and you will touch down in a different place, having travelled nowhere but ending up somewhere different. In this chapter, we address this spatial liminality through memory work, slow reading, poetry creation, and photography. We are four culturally and racially diverse researchers and teacher educators who work in three universities across Aotearoa, New Zealand, Australia, and South Africa. In March/April 2020, we came together at the invitation from the University of Maynooth, Ireland, when the first COVID-19 lockdowns were underway in our respective countries. Our emergent grouping was part of a larger collective who engaged collaborative research which has its origins in Frigga Haug’s memory work (1987). The collaborative reflective approach that was originally “designed as a practical intervention in the women’s movement and socialist politics” (Hamm, 2021, p. 2). Utilised by researchers in education and other disciplines in the ensuing years, collective memory work has provided a tool for thinking and talking about theoretical and ontological debates. As Davies (1994) suggested Haug’s strategy allows

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researchers to “spin the web of themselves and find themselves in the act of spinning” (p. 83). We did not all know each other; however, we discovered our shared interest in artful memory work and poetic inquiry as literary arts-based modes of our self-reflexive research. The relationship has become an enduring one; as we have witnessed the geo-political divides of a global pandemic as well as political upheaval, we have found refuge, solace, and inspiration in our weekly writing collective. In this chapter, we generate an understanding of the importance of unsettling and disrupting conventional boundaries and the value of rejecting easy placations (Hooks, 1994; Said, 1994) for navigating transitions between home and work. Indra’s net is used a heuristic device to open us up to extend the imaginative potential to see nuances and textures of our collaboration. The nature of this writing reflects the disruption and openings that arts-based research can inject and infect into traditional “methodolatry” in conventional qualitative research (St. Pierre, 2017, p. 164). We juxtapose our artful transgression with the carnivalesque disruptions in the conventional boundaries of home and work. An account of home under erasure is produced through art—to describe, explore, and discover social, emotional, and metacognitive experiences (Chilton & Leavy, 2020; McNiff, 1998) in the COVID-19 moment.

2 Knotting, Weaving, and Entangling the Threads Through our transdisciplinary, transnational engagement and learning, arts-based research and memory work offers us more than a research methodology. For us, it is an ongoing process of inquiry and personally meaningful and responsive ways of rupturing and disrupting, opening and assembling, and connecting and embodying new ways of experiencing and becoming. We are connected through artful inquiry to explore the experience of our shifting professional practice from university and schooling contexts to home and lockdown arrangements. A polyvocal assemblage was created across virtual and geographic spaces. Working in assemblage involves, “the art of putting things together to form a new expression—beginning with an object … [we] discover our experience and its meaning” (Allen, 1995, p. 33). We connected in and through memory work (Pillay & Pithouse-Morgan, 2016; Pillay, Cullinan & Moodley, 2019), collective poetic inquiry (Pillay et al., 2017) and photographs, to participate in and produce a poetic assemblage. Through poetry we are able to engage in “an aesthetic way of knowing” (Greenwood, 2012, p. 2). Arts-based research enables us to work through the arts to create, collaborate, contextualise, and conceptualise our work–home experiences as a rich and evocative research process. Through the artistry of poetry, we are able to engage in “an aesthetic way of knowing” (Greenwood, 2012, p. 2) to evoke affect and association through poetic practices. These performances enable us to explore the “figures of writers and readers [that] emerge” and give consideration to the “other materialities, bodies and forms [that] coalesce” (McKnight et al., 2017, p. 315). Poetry is a powerful process of collaborative inquiry (McKnight et al., 2017; Pillay et al., 2017). Through the poetic knotting and unfolding process, we weaved and entangled the threads of

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our remembrances of our lived experiences. Our memories were of “virtual rather than actual events” which are “re-made in their virtual intensities” when they are surfaced and shared (Wyatt et al., 2011, pp. 7–8). The process engendered respect for those liminal intersubjective spaces which lie between ourselves and our construct of the other, between us and our art, our memories, our multiplicitous selves and imagined others. As Patricia Leavy (2015) observes, arts-based research can enable researchers to “learn new ways to give form to ideas, intuitions and feelings” in ways that penetrate “to the heart of the matter and [provide] insights not possible through rational thought alone” (p. 264).

3 Our Process We commenced by sharing stories of everyday home–work experience through COVID. We emailed our stories to each other. We then met online through Zoom, a cloud-based peer-to-peer platform made popular during the pandemic. We commenced to use arts-based practices to enable us to reflect and study our experiences. After sharing the first story that oriented us together as a group, we each wrote reflective accounts as vignettes to deepen and convey the sense of time and space that reflected our experiences of the transgression of home and work during the COVID-19 pandemic. These were shared as performance pieces—a process of slow reading. These performances made the “reading together visible” where we were “summoning the gaze of the other” (Foucault, 1997, p. 234) as a way to “slow down in what we see, hear, feel, touch in this making” (Thompson & Harney, 2018, p. 124). While the scholarship was slow, the discussion was rich because the “help of others was necessary” (Foucault, 1997, p. 236). This chapter centres on one vignette authored by Adele, “The Iso Garden” which proliferated into a net of jewels (poetic threads). The Buddhist imagery of Indra’s net enables us to consider the interrelationship of everything and the shifting nature of realities. [I]t stretches out infinitely in all directions… [T]he artificer has hung a single glittering jewel in each "eye" of the net, and since the net itself is infinite in dimension, the jewels are infinite in number. There hang the jewels, glittering “like” stars in the first magnitude, a wonderful sight to behold. If we now arbitrarily select one of these jewels for inspection and look closely at it, we will discover that in its polished surface there are reflected all the other jewels in the net, infinite in number. Not only that, but each of the jewels reflected in this one jewel is also reflecting all the other jewels, so that there is an infinite reflecting process occurring. (Cook, 1977, p. 2)

Indra’s net permits a non-duality, where researchers and researched move and shift fluidly and freely as a network of threads, growing, accumulating, and altering with capacity to hold and suspend ideas nestled in a liminal space. As a space of disorientation, we can purposely disrupt and challenge that which stills and nestles in that place. Through the threads that vibrate with springy tensions as a web might

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when it has entrapped its prey, the fly, the idea, stuck in the glue that holds it together, as sustenance for the spider, the onlooker. A tangle of threads emerged, and each time we sat collectively, joined together by COVID, separated by the world, little gems of nonconforming transgressive data kept appearing. The act of reading aloud offered both refuge and delight. It also helped us to push back against the market logics that measure our time in the neoliberal university. As Thompson and Harney (2018) note, there is value in travelling together using artsbased practices as a refuge and a means to navigate the carnivalesque experience, where we have seen time and space turned upside down. For reading together offers us the chance to take a different position towards the art we curate, the art we make and the art we organise with others…. Reading is a condition of making, and reading together is a condition of making together. Like the work and the concepts we produce in the official university, the art-[work] we make, curate, and organise is vulnerable to breaking loose from its groundings in reading,… from its groundings in study, …for our thing, not for their machine. (Thompson & Harney, 2018, p. 124)

We resonated and responded deeply to Adele’s vignette as she read it aloud, immersing ourselves in the silences of our thoughts after she spoke. Words and images that came to us as we listened were later recorded. Adele then penned a pantoum poem, which she shared at a further Zoom meeting. In a lateral line of flight, we each penned a pantoum poem, responding to Adele’s vignette and poem. These were shared in slow readings over a series of Zoom meetings. Through merging the various lines of our respective poems, a further poem was generated which delved into the experience of the transgressive lockdown moment. We used photographs of Basil, Adele’s iso-companion, in conjunction with the storying experience, as images draw on emotions, prompt creativity, foster imagination, initiate intuition, and resonate with experience. Triggering multiple meanings, the photographs recall memories, tell stories, and share secrets (Brigham et al., 2018). The photographs, Basil, in Figs. 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5, were taken during the data generation period of the COVID lockdown and informed our dialogue and analysis as we mapped them into the poetic assemblage. The use of photographs sharpen the resolution created through the written and poetic imagery. The use of poetry enabled us as inquirers to enter deeply into the felt sense of a shared experience, each from our own visceral response—acting together with the curiosity and solidarity. Poetry as a process brought the felt sense into a place of interactive solidarity and hearts could talk to the data.

3.1 The Iso Garden An elderly dog lies in the iso garden, spread out in the sun on the straw mulch. Soaking in the winter sun. From a distance his eyes look closed but he keeps an eye open in case Adele heads out of the garden. He stays close only settling into this spot if he can see they will be there both stay for a while. Uncertainty is always with him. Basil is an elderly dog

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Fig. 1 Coaxing him back to his sunny spot

Fig. 2 The dog–human interspecies connection

adjusting to changed circumstances, climate, and companionship. Adele and he are the new team, since Adele’s partner left many weeks ago to care for his mother. COVID isolation has led Basil and Adele to this garden space, bringing comfort in the quiet sunny space for him and a place for contemplation for her. A break for the intensity of her work and the ever-luminous computer screen. But is also a place for putting her hands in the dirt, pulling out the vigorous agapanthus that inhabited the garden. Making room for vegetables, flowers, and herbs. A retreat for watching and creating growth in a time of crisis.

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Fig. 3 Spread out in a doggy sprawl on the straw Fig. 4 Garden space comfort

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Fig. 5 He is Adele’s partner now

From the morning with the first rays of dawn until the last light of the day, the garden has grown vigorously, not always as designed. Moths proliferated and the subsequent caterpillars gorged on the seedlings turning tiny cauliflowers to mush. Yet others flourished; the snow peas outgrew their climbing frames and apple cucumbers swelled. Adele moves to the seedling pots to examine their growth, Basil jumps up to follow and Adele shushes him, coaxing him back to his sunny spot, ‘stay there’ she insists. But he will not be convinced he wants to stay close.

Adele’s Pantoum (Response to The Iso Garden) The dog–human interspecies Connection In the iso garden Relaxed sleepy watching Uncertainty—a need for contact, comfort, familiarity Connection In the iso garden Animal human friendship Uncertainty—a need for contact, comfort, familiarity Contemplation growth and life sustaining sustenance Animal human friendship Relaxed sleepy watching Contemplation growth and life sustaining sustenance The dog—human interspecies connection Ruth’s Pantoum (Response to The Iso Garden) Walking in an old garden space Lifelong relations grounded in the fertile earth Freedom of movement; comfort calm Species mingle in the wild and domestic Lifelong relations grounded in the fertile earth New growth sustains uncertainty

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Species mingle in the wild and domestic Watching the sleepy familiar New growth sustains uncertainty Freedom of movement; comfort calm Watching the sleepy familiar Walking in an old garden space Jennifer’s Pantoum (Response to The Iso Garden) Basil blinks in the winter sun Spread out in a doggy sprawl on the straw He is Adele’s partner now Trotting after her every step Spread out in a doggy sprawl on the straw He eyes the snow peas on their climbing frames Trotting after her every step He is convinced to stay close He eyes the snow peas on their climbing frames Moths proliferate and caterpillars gorge He is convinced to stay close As Adele moves to the seedling pots Moths proliferate and caterpillars gorge They are a new team now As Adele moves to the seedling pots Basil blinks in the winter sun Daisy’s pantoum (Response to The Iso Garden) Growth rays dawn light Uncertainty adjusting… Changed circumstances? Garden space-comfort Quiet space-place for contemplation Changed circumstances? A retreat for watching and creating Quiet space-place for contemplation Growth rays dawn light A retreat for watching and creating Garden space-comfort

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Growth rays dawn light Uncertainty adjusting… Like the jewels of Indra’s net, this last collective poem reflects the light of other poems. It was developed by drawing lines from the authors’ pantoums. Our Collective Response to The Iso Garden Walking in an old garden space Spread out in a doggy sprawl on the straw Garden space-comfort Uncertainty—a need for contact, comfort, familiarity Spread out in a doggy sprawl on the straw Lifelong relations grounded in the fertile earth Uncertainty—a need for contact, comfort, familiarity He is Adele’s partner now Lifelong relations grounded in the fertile earth Garden space-comfort He is Adele’s partner now Walking in an old garden space

3.2 Home Under Erasure The experience of this collective poetic inquiry emphasised the experience of becoming border intellectuals (Hooks, 1994). We view the transgressive process of working during the pandemic as travail in border spaces. This journeying called for a collective, creative, and playful negotiation and border crossing (Giroux, 1992). Hooks (1994) stresses the significance of shared dialogue, critical reflections, and reflexive thought and debate, as fertile participatory spaces for mobilising agency. During the collective poetic inquiry process, the initial vignette was placed under erasure. We cast the net, responding in a diffractive (Taylor & Gannon, 2018) poetic process which provides points of departure. The phrases and the context of the text were the threads of Indra’s net, the mesh, and the network. The gems were the glistening moments of embodied learning together. They connected us viscerally through our responses to the slow reading. This netted entanglement, created through technology and art making, permitted our slow dance that connected us across the world. This momentary glimpse of beauty emerged through our shared rhythm of dialogue, shared meaning making, and poetry. Arts-based research opens up opportunities to work with ambiguity. As a wholly imaginative process, meanings are opened, and we become different in our respective home spaces. We each respond in our unique way to the slow reading with the unique exposure of the others’ experience. Each of us are entangled by our curiosity—at once encapsulated in an embodied moment in our homes, and at once transported across the world. In creating the pantoums and slow reading them, we act and are acted upon,

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working across space and time. We slow down—experiencing feelings, emotion, and bodily affect together in rhythmic flows. We encounter affect through sharing our interspecies art which explored the blurring of boundaries between home and work, the navigation and narration of the COVID-19 virus, the experience of political lockdowns, and the enactment of solidarity forged through the arts. Like Thompson and Harney (2018): Our reading is slow because we read together not to master the reading but to unlearn each time what we know. We…go into debt with each other. We read slow to let things fall apart, to help each other fall apart, to hold each as we fall apart. (p. 124)

Phrases, concepts, and words jump from one pantoum to another, reflecting and refracting from each gem as a gift. Each iteration strangely unique and unsurprisingly held in a web of sameness, generated from those concepts that struck a chord that sang out of connection and contradiction. There were so many similarities and yet the whole essence was full of multifaceted dissonance. As the boundaries are transgressed, the jewels of Indra’s net reflect the infinite relationships between. The inside outness, the opened up closedness, snare and entangle into new way of being. The slow reading permitted a reimagining of the COVID moment and a new sense of leisurely togetherness and uncertainty adjusting. The creation of individual pantoum poems provoked a discussion around solidarity in time and space. The intention was of sharing these as performance pieces and trusting the process. We undertook a journey of sense making around the increasingly blurred boundaries in which we were working in the first half of 2020, and the intersubjective space that sits between where affect played, and solidarity grew. Shifts in our epistemological orientations helped us to think differently about what counts as data, and how different kinds of data may produce different kinds of knowledge of work–home fluidities and eruptions—slippages in the knotting and weaving. The poetry “data” in this article are transgressive, in that we draw on “emotional data, dream data, sensual data, and response data” (St. Pierre, 1997, p. 175). Through the memory work, we are opening up to data by bringing in other kinds of emotional data. This is an eruption of response data where affect is folded and refolded (St. Pierre, 1997) into our lived experience of writing, sharing and co-flexing through poetry. The vulnerability of ontological uncertainty, intentional interruption, and the openness to possibilities, through metaphor, personal narrative, cognitive and somatic awareness, creates knowing, and languaging in liminal intersubjective spaces. In addressing our question on “the transitions and transgressions of home and work during the COVID-19 pandemic”, our poetic assemblage made visible the fluid relations between human and non-human beings (companion species). A materialist ontology underpins the notion of this assemblage with the recognition that reality comprises an interrelationship between discursive statements, material entities, digital technologies (Zoom), and the ever-present dystopia of COVID19. Crossing borders for collective, meditative critique of self with/through others, can build political consciousness and disrupt traditional ways of knowing and doing research and teaching. With physical borders shutting in nation states, working in/ through the arts-based methods created openings for doing memory work, writing

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and sharing poetry, and the making of reimagining creative assemblages of transnational connections. Artful connections enable us to transgress and blur the physical, social, and human-made borders that perpetuate and maintain anaesthetising ways of intellectual, ethical and professional isolation.

4 Conclusion In March 2020, we were teetering on the edge of a COVID-19 precipice, a void, a darkness where no one knew the answers or the route to follow. The threads of Indra’s net acted as lines connecting us around the world, offering ways to communicate and share our COVID-19 experiences. These threads spring and bounce lifting us up and out of academic routines (in front of a computer even during lockdown). They offered connection, friendship, and solace. The gems were an organic manifestation of COVID moments, reflection and refractions of our voices, ideas, and thoughts over time. They enhanced, distorted, and redirected our burgeoning curiosity. As we, researchers–authors–educators, pull and twitch at the threads and the tight ropes of utter fragility, the jewels swing and dance and play. They frolic endlessly within the light as well as within darkness amid the space which holds it all. Such is Indra’s net; an infinite puzzle of unfixed boundaries and uncertain direction. No longer home or work, but home–work, garden, family, colleagues, friends, all merging and meshing together in an increasingly complex net of artful connectivity. Roadblocks which had been previously created to separate work and home crumbled, private became communal, colleagues who had never before seen us at home, saw into our private spaces, and this changed everything. The spaces of home-work-home, became places of personal poiesis, which were led by the living visceral response to the uncertainty of COVID-19, and the invasive welcome of work into home. We all experienced this differently, different home–work boundaries, different visceral responses, different fears and uncertainties, and a different growth of something new—a joyous solidarity. One tug on a thread has a connection with all of the jewels. Each of the jewels reflects each other back and becomes changed.

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Connected Across Distance: Creating and Sustaining Collegial Collaboration Through Arts-Based Educational Research Peaches Hash and Jason DeHart

Abstract Two higher education faculty within a public university come together during the global pandemic to create art as a way to make connections. Their shared interest in arts-based pedagogy and inquiry led to engaging in arts-based research throughout a semester, beginning with visual depictions of teaching during the pandemic and transitioning to artistic responses of each other’s work. The authors both explore multiple methods of art making, including drawing, using digital tools, and poetic inquiry. Their methods of artistically creating and responding to data led them to understandings of their experiences trying to sustain creative teaching methods during the pandemic as well as ways to make and sustain collegial connections despite physical distance. Keywords Arts-based research · Higher education · Arts-based inquiry · Multimodality · Pandemic

1 Introduction By the spring of 2021, Appalachian State University (ASU), a public university situated in North Carolina, had been offering most of its courses online for an entire year due to the pandemic. Peaches Hash, a lecturer of Rhetoric and Writing Studies, taught hybrid courses with some face-to-face meetings, but most activities occurred online. Jason DeHart, an Assistant Professor of Reading Education, taught courses in synchronous and asynchronous online formats. The two educators originally were connected through their shared emphasis on arts-based educational research (ABER), but the pandemic sparked their first collaboration. Both experienced disconnection P. Hash (B) Department of English, Appalachian State University, Boone, US e-mail: [email protected] J. DeHart Department of Reading Education and Special Education, Appalachian State University, Boone, US e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2023 H. Mreiwed et al. (eds.), Making Connections in and Through Arts-Based Educational Research, Studies in Arts-Based Educational Research 5, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-19-8028-2_4

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from their professional communities and pedagogies during the pandemic, causing them to turn to their interests in ABER. How could ABER, they wondered, disrupt the disconnection they experienced teaching online? Could artistically crafting (Eisner, 2008b) serve as a method to illuminate and process their experiences during the pandemic? Would artistic expression serve “not only as a method of knowing and making meaning but also [as] a form of communication when words do not convey the totality of human experience” (Malchiodi, 2018, p. 69) during times of crisis? This chapter will explore how ABER became a way of knowing (Allen, 1995) the self and colleagues during times of crisis in higher education.

2 Approaches to Pedagogy and Research 2.1 Arts-Based Inquiry and Pedagogy Peaches and Jason use arts-based inquiry and pedagogy within their postsecondary courses. Sorin (2020) states that arts-based pedagogy is when the arts are used as “teaching and learning tools” (p. 52) in educational settings for groups or individual students. Arts-based pedagogy spans all types of art-making such as music and digital technologies. While studio art courses focus on skill, arts-based pedagogy invites all students to participate, emphasizing the meanings made during processes of art-making. Arts-based pedagogy can prompt students to construct and display knowledge through diverse literacy practices (Hash, 2020a). This pedagogy facilitates learning by encouraging students to take risks and be open to experiences, but it also provides opportunities for students to express their thoughts and feelings (Burton et al., 1999). Arts-based inquiry occurs when educators and students use art-making as a way to investigate and display knowledge. As Sullivan (2005) notes, methods of perception such as viewing and listening play active roles in conceptualization. Arts-based methods of inquiry provide multiple opportunities for perception, but also physical interactions that allow students to think in a language and context accessible to them. By creating art, students will be empowered “to notice deeply, think critically, and connect the ideas they see expressed in the arts and their lived experiences” as well as “question their assumptions and their reality, which allows them to imagine other possible ways of being in the world” (Gulla & Sherman, 2020, p. 67). Gulla and Sherman (2020) explain that the process of arts-based inquiry is transformative for students as well as teachers because it provides opportunities “to look and respond to the world in new ways” (p. 68). In Peaches’s work with students during the pandemic, she found that arts-based pedagogy provided methods of inquiry for students to explore their emotions, but also found that their data made her consider the goals of her writing courses and her role as an educator (Hash, 2020c, 2021). Jason’s experiences had similar results, with students exploring their identities and emotions based on course readings through digital and paper-based art projects.

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It was this shared approach to arts-based pedagogy and inquiry that brought Peaches and Jason together for a collaboration. Although their arts-based methods were effective during traditional semesters, they considered what might have changed, improved, or disrupted based on the pandemic. Additionally, they were interested to see what similarities and differences of experiences a colleague using arts-based approaches at the same university would have; hence, they designed a study of arts-based inquiry to examine their pedagogy. Peaches and Jason agreed to make visual art products that would reflect their experiences teaching during the pandemic. Then, they would make artistic responses to each other’s initial data that would focus on major themes they noticed from viewing and listening to the responses.

2.2 Arts-Based Educational Research Both Peaches and Jason utilize ABER methodologies and methods in their individual and shared research practices. Eisner (2008a) defines arts-based research as “[t]he systematic use of the artistic process, the actual making of artistic expressions in all of the different forms of the arts, as a primary way of understanding and examining experience by both researchers and the people that they involve in their studies” (p. 3). Arts-based research also “uses the arts as a foundation for creating expressive forms that enlighten” (Barone & Eisner, 2011, p. 9). In arts-based educational research, researchers utilize art to shed light on educational settings, focusing on students’, educators’, or other educational stakeholders’ experiences in places of learning. The term “art” is inclusive of visual arts as well as other modalities such as music, movement, the written word, and other multimodal forms. Creating metaphors calls attention to relationships and connections that researchers and educators may not notice otherwise (Eisner, 2008b). ABER is used when researchers seek to “deepen and make more complex [the] understanding of some aspect of the world” (Barone & Eisner, 2011, p. 3) through “imaginative and expressive crafting of a form in ways that enlarge […] understanding” (Eisner, 2008a, 2008b, p. 18b). Unlike other qualitative approaches to research, data is constructed rather than found or discovered (Cahnmann-Taylor & Siegesmund, 2008) and different ways of knowing can build on one another, leading to new insights (Dunnigan, 2019). The arts can evoke different responses than logical thinking, but may also expand logical thought (Malchiodi, 2018); however, although knowledge is constructed in ABER, it can also be disrupted, making knowing a process rather than a conclusion in research (Eisner, 2008b). In her personal arts-based educational research, Peaches found that arts-based pedagogy can increase student engagement (Hash, 2020b) and offer therapeutic experiences in undergraduate writing courses (Hash, 2020d). Jason found connections between comics and personal experiences (DeHart, 2020), as well as potential for arts-based approaches in analytic work (DeHart, 2021). For their shared collaboration, Peaches and Jason desired to use arts-based research because they were interested in a process of learning from each other rather

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than coming to a conclusion. By creating an initial visual representation of their experiences, then composing artistic responses to each other’s data, they hoped to generate previously undiscovered themes and understandings of their experiences. As noted earlier, Peaches and Jason had few opportunities to reflect on their teaching experiences during the pandemic with colleagues; therefore, they looked to art-making to shed light on their and each other’s experiences. In order to provide depth in their work, they completed their first cycle of art-making in March 2021, then came together the following month to share their artistic responses.

2.3 Multimodal Displays of Knowledge In addition to arts-based inquiry, Peaches and Jason’s work together was informed by multimodal displays of knowledge. Images have many benefits in research that alphabetic text can limit. For instance, Weber (2008) explains that images can assist researchers in capturing what may be difficult to put into words, assist researchers into paying attention to things in new ways, and make learning more memorable. Furthermore, images can be, according to Weber (2008), a more accessible form of academic discourse because they display nuances and depth that connect with readers holistically and invite empathetic understanding. Peaches and Jason also draw from the work of Kress (2005), as well as the theoretical framing in literacy of Rowsell et al. (2013). This framework allowed them to think about the ways in which their experiences, including their pedagogy and range of emotions, could be captured in both verbal and visual representations. From this foundation, the authors responded artistically first, as a means of unpacking our response to the pandemic; only then did they return in analysis and examine the individual modes, or meaning-making spaces, within the created works for the ways that feelings were communicated. In his work with preservice teachers, Jason explores multimodality as it functions as a literacy framework within the pages of graphic novels and in other visual texts, including film. McCloud (1994) and Monnin and Bowman (2013) have both examined the grammatical affordances of graphic novels in works that were completed in comics-like ways; the pages include both words and images, and they were arranged within paneled narrative boxes. This previous experience with visual texts, as well as the methods for composing work with images and words, informed the creating process. As Leavy (2015) expresses, “visual art and imagery can inspire both social and self-reflection, quite actually prompting us to see differently” (p. 226). By working with multimodal (visual and alphabetic text), Peaches and Jason anticipated that their work could assist them in seeing their experiences and each other’s in new ways.

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3 Artistic Products and Analysis Following the creating process, which took from one to four weeks, the authors scheduled an analytic discussion online. The Zoom platform generated automatic transcriptions, which only then needed minor editing as appropriate when accurate words/voices could not be captured. These meeting sessions, using the share screen feature in Zoom, allowed the authors to experience one another’s art, ask questions, and hear the other person’s experiences as they reflected on the pandemic. Peaches and Jason met initially to discuss the project, met once we had completed the first round of creative responses, and then met two more times to discuss our responses to the other author/artist’s work.

3.1 Initial Art Products Both authors/artists drew on a variety of materials for their compositions, including representations depicted on pages, poetic reflections, and digital creations. Peaches’s art was based on an activity she used with her writing courses. During the narrative unit, Peaches asked students to transform a story into a metaphor; therefore, she decided to transform her experience of teaching during the pandemic into a metaphor of a gardener who was forced to move her flowers inside. For materials, she elected to use similar materials to what her students use in class: She depicted her metaphor with watercolor markers that are more forgiving of artistic skill and provide a range of color options. Figure 1 depicts Peaches’s initial art product. She chose to display her metaphor as a children’s book with images as the central focus, but words to assist in telling the story. The first page of her metaphor involves bright colors and a flourishing garden, representing how Peaches felt teaching her arts-based writing courses before the pandemic: comfortable, expressive, and vibrant. The flowers were metaphors for her students, so she drew several varieties. The second page depicts the pandemic approaching like a storm. A dark cloud covers the sun, preventing her flowers from growing. Additionally, she darkened the mountains and made the ground seem barren, indicating her feelings of hopelessness for herself and her students. The third image of her flowers under artificial light inside represents the shift to teaching what would be face-to-face courses through an online platform, where Peaches wondered if her students would still learn and find value in her arts-based pedagogy. Her hair is pulled up in this image to symbolize her feelings of restriction. The last two pages of the metaphor story are more hopeful. The flowers begin to bloom in their artificial setting, and the window in the last image reveals that the climate is returning to conditions where the flowers could bloom again, a reference to Peaches’s university’s plans to offer face-to-face courses in the future. Creating this initial art surprised Peaches. She did not realize how restrictive and desolate teaching during the pandemic made her feel until she reviewed the images

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Fig. 1 Peaches’s initial art. Note Five photos transitioning from a figure starting at a flower garden outside to moving indoors, then seeing the growth indoors

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she created. Although she composed the images after almost a year of teaching during the pandemic and had success with student engagement and expression due to her arts-based pedagogy (Hash, 2020c, 2021), viewing the images made her reflect on how teaching during the pandemic still involved a great deal of isolation, fear that her pedagogy would not serve her students, and challenges; however, Peaches also noticed while sharing with Jason that her overall feelings about herself as an educator, her pedagogy, and her students’ learning were positive. She was proud that she could find ways to still offer arts-based pedagogy online and proud of her students’ successes. As illustrated in Fig. 2, Jason’s work was informed by his interest in and utilization of multimodal texts in the classroom at all levels. The initial creations were comics-inspired, although they were not composed in a traditional comics grammar (McCloud, 1994; Monnin & Bowman, 2013). The works were experientially focused, from the outset of the pandemic to Fall 2020; Jason was less concerned with a traditional composition. Such composing would have failed to capture the chaotic nature of the pandemic. The sense of dislocation/fragmentation inspired a web-panel arrangement, with jagged lines separating the pre-pandemic in-person reflections from the move to online practice. Composing these images helped Jason to revisit emotions and events from this transition, including the stress of concern for family members and students and the sense of disconnection from students and normalcy. The two pages composed in the first round of our process were completed prior to any conversation about the intricacies of our experiences. The computer cord in the

Fig. 2 Jason’s initial art. Note Comics-based representations created with print and digital tools

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image is the marker that delineates the page into panel-like sections, with the upper left corner depiction representing pre-pandemic, with a screen behind the outline of the teacher, and silhouettes of students. The bottom right frame of this image depicts Jason’s last meal in a restaurant in which conjecture about the future became a realized pivot to fully virtual instruction. This image represents the sudden shift that occurred which, in some ways, felt mechanical, and yet involved a range of feelings. Moving left to right, the next image is that of former-President Trump, touting cures for COVID, adding to Jason’s experience of anger, confusion, and frustration in the midst of uncertainty. In the bottom left corner, the “hardest part” of the pandemic proved to be the concerns for family, friends, and students. While Jason has a research interest in digital literacy, the move to online learning in the pandemic context colored this experience. The eye, with red hinting at the sense of being emotionally overwhelmed, stems from the memory of attempting to negotiate many personal and professional needs. The final figure is a computer screen, which would be the primary method of communicating with most people for the year to come. Jason presented this image as a contrast to the first one in which the professor is in front of a screen to create the effect of moving into the screen-based experience. Poetic expression weaves in and through the page. Color was done digitally, but also one that felt ontologically interwoven with the virtual nature of the time. Jason’s initial use of color held some impact for him, but it was only in conversation with Peaches that a more expansive reflection on the ways in which colors were used in the compositions came into view. The central figure on the second page was the first that came to mind when thinking about the continued pandemic experience in Fall 2020. The emphasis of the figure is on flexibility, along with a sense of uncertainty. From the beginning of his career in education, Jason fore fronted adapting as a key element for effective pedagogy. The images that surround that central figure contribute elements of what the pandemic experience has been. These elements, reading left to right and top to bottom, speak to the intention of sight/seeing others newly found in online interactions; the importance of traditional paper responses; and the political implications of the time. Once more, poetic work weaves throughout the image. There is a shift in determination between the two images as the first one relays experiences that took place during the outset of the pandemic, with panels depicting many factors which were outside of Jason’s control. Through this process, Jason realized the shift that had occurred not just in his pedagogy but in his approach to supporting students first in response and later with more intentionality. The centrality of text and sharing stories is an important feature in his work and is reified particularly in the images chosen for the second piece.

3.2 Artistic Responses After Peaches and Jason shared their initial images with each other, they thought it would be both useful to create artistic responses based on what they saw thematically

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in each other’s art as well as what resonated with them as colleagues experiencing similar conditions. Artistic responses may have an obvious meaning, responding to something through the arts, but they offer many benefits in education and research. Gulla and Sherman (2020) explain that artistic responses can facilitate recognizing one’s own experiences and emotions, creating a sense of community that can transcend immediate surroundings. According to the U.S. Department of Arts and Culture (2017), most artistic responses pursue one or more objectives: care, comfort, and connection. In times of crisis, the U.S. Department of Arts and Culture (2017) notes that artistic responses are especially useful in facilitating these objectives. The imagistic and poetic spaces for representation that began in the first round of creation were central to Jason’s response to Peaches’s work. First, Jason used a transcript from an analytic conversation to construct a found poem (See Fig. 3), which then led to central images, including a ship, a check-in bell, a light bulb, and a puzzle piece. Peaches discussed the metaphor of a ship captain in terms of steering the semester experience, the need to check in with students throughout the course to make sure they were in good health emotionally and physically, the natural and artificial light that is part of teaching online and in person, and the experience of piecing together a personal storyline of the pandemic experience. The puzzle piece image represents the final lines of the found poem. Jason also constructed a written response to Peaches’s initial creation, highlighting the importance of the picture book design and storytelling features. By examining the data artistically, Jason was able to think in multimodal ways about the salient aspects of what Peaches shared. Like Jason, Peaches used words within her artistic response. Using the transcript of Jason sharing his initial art, she was able to return to his explanation of his images easily. Peaches chose to put the transcription of Jason’s initial art explanation into a word art program. Word art programs can be a useful tool for identifying themes

Fig. 3 Jason’s artistic response. Note Sketch/notes and printed poetry collage from transcript data

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in verbal data because they log the number of times words are used and enlarge words based on their frequency. As a research tool, word art assists in coding, but also in illuminating themes that researchers may not hear or see when reviewing data (Gulla & Sherman, 2020; Hash, 2020c, 2020d). When looking at the word art created from Jason’s data, Peaches noticed that the words “kind,” “know,” “love,” “think,” and “feel” were far larger than words such as “Zoom,” “digital,” and “screen.” Although online teaching involved a great deal of navigating on digital platforms, Jason’s data revealed that his experiences were far more about expression, learning, and positive feelings toward his pedagogy and students. Peaches shaped his word art data in the form of a hand (see Fig. 4), connecting to the image he included in Fig. 2 of the fist emerging from the keyboard to reach out and make connections. She also chose to use similar colors to the ones Jason used in Fig. 2. The hand is an illustrative metaphor of Jason’s journey to maintain connections with others during the pandemic. The hand also reflects Peaches’s connection to Jason’s data. Hearing about and viewing his experiences during the pandemic reached out and connected to her even though they had yet to physically meet in person. After sharing their artistic responses, Peaches and Jason noted that the activity provided care and comfort by facilitating connections with a colleague during a time of isolation; consequently, they felt a sense of community despite teaching in different departments and conducting meetings over Zoom. Their work together also provided ways for them to process and understand their own experiences and each other’s. Arts-based research allowed them to compose and communicate in more expressive ways that alphabetic text would permit, illuminating images and emotions that they had not identified previously. Fig. 4 Peaches’s artistic response. Note Word art creating the shape of a hand

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4 Conclusion While writing this chapter, Peaches and Jason were able to reflect on how arts-based educational research facilitated connections between their external experiences and thoughts, each other, and their pedagogy. Although Peaches belonged to a community of practice, the Creativity Collaborative, that offered ways to express her experiences during the pandemic, she still had less opportunities to connect with a colleague who was also trying to implement arts-based pedagogy online. Jason entered as a willing and grateful co-researcher/co-artist who was already in the process of attempting to unpack the pandemic experience personally and as a teacher who had seen the value in inviting others to create alongside and in response to the events the community was facing together. As Peaches and Jason began making their artistic products, sharing them with each other, and responding to each other’s work, they recognized that simply discussing their experiences with one another would have limited their expressions and ways they connected to each other. It is important to note, however, that the connections to the self and each other were made possible through Peaches and Jason’s openness to the experiences arts-based research methods could offer. Pairing images with words provided more options for expression and ways of viewing data, resulting in a rich, colorful journey of their individual experiences, collaboration, and teaching experiences. Although Peaches and Jason knew of each other’s individual arts-based work for a year, they did not connect until their shared academic isolation prompted them to search for something new, something disruptive, allowing for an artistic, responsive connection that could unite research and practice. They were comfortable in their routines teaching during the pandemic, but their work together reminded them of how important community and collaboration are for research and teaching. As this chapter concludes, the authors/artists invite readers to consider who they may know that they could create art with. As evidenced in this article, a critical friend, the addition of a voice, and insightful audience can be sustaining and generative and might even be taken up as a transformative classroom practice for teachers and students. If care and community are possible between two isolated colleagues within different departments during the pandemic who had never met in person, the authors consider what could be possible using similar methods with groups of educators, teacher candidates, or undergraduate students learning online. While the future is hard to predict, the possibilities for creation and connection continue to exist, regardless of platform, place, medium, or mode.

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On Recruiting Aesthetic Experience: A Trio-Ethnography of the Affordances and Limitations of Teaching (with) the Arts and Literature in a Pandemic Year Boyd White, Amélie Lemieux, and Anne-Marie Émond Abstract In 2020–2021, most of us in academia experienced abrupt changes in teaching and learning—higher workloads and new working conditions bound by remote and spatial settings that affected learning in complex ways. In particular, this disposition viscerally impacted how teachers conveyed content knowledge and attended to students’ perceived needs. This chapter exemplifies instances of this phenomenon as experienced by three colleagues in their respective higher education classes that were arts oriented, albeit with quite different foci from one another’s (art appreciation, aesthetics, and literature). Their common ground was a belief in aesthetic experience as an educational and intellectual avenue. The chapter consists of each of the authors’ descriptions of activities with attendant personal challenges and emerging insights for instructors and students alike. Keywords Aesthetic experience · Arts education · Literature teaching · Pandemic In 2020–2021, most of us in academia experienced abrupt changes in teaching and learning—higher workloads and new working conditions bound by remote and spatial settings that viscerally affected how professors and instructors conveyed content knowledge while attending to students’ “embodied expressions of vitality” (Boldt, 2021, p. 1). This chapter exemplifies instances of this phenomenon as experienced in our respective higher education courses. Our common ground was our belief in aesthetic experience as an educational aspiration. B. White (B) Department of Integrated Studies in Education, Faculty of Education, McGill University, 3700 McTavish Street, Montreal, Canada e-mail: [email protected] A. Lemieux · A.-M. Émond Départment de didactique, Faculté des sciences de l’éducation, Université de Montréal, 90, avenue Vincent d’Indy, Montreal, Québec H2V2S9, Canada e-mail: [email protected] A.-M. Émond e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2023 H. Mreiwed et al. (eds.), Making Connections in and Through Arts-Based Educational Research, Studies in Arts-Based Educational Research 5, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-19-8028-2_5

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Changes in setting, modalities, and timing triggered a reliance on online dialogue, along with presentations of our images, theories, and ideas. This was both a novel and, at the same time, familiar practice. For example, we regularly use reproductions instead of original artworks for teaching purposes in either arts or literature education courses. However, the simultaneous “Zoom” format introduced a rather new range of challenges and opportunities for personal engagement and class interactions, especially as it relates to aesthetic experiences (or lack thereof). These changes necessarily raised questions regarding the possibilities for aesthetic experience in the digital age. Has the concept changed from more traditional notions of such experiences, such as Dewey’s (1934/1958) “an experience”? For example, with his inclusion of the italicized an, Dewey differentiated between every day, routine experiences and ones that were, one way or another, unique to the individual and endowed with personal significance. Do we need a new definition? Johnson (2007), for example, insists: “…Aesthetics becomes the study of everything that goes into the human capacity to make and experience meaning” (p. x). We then wondered: is it even possible to have an aesthetic experience over Zoom? With these theoretical and practical challenges in mind, Anne-Marie describes the virtual mediation strategies she elaborated for art appreciation encounters with students enrolled in art education courses for pre-service teachers. The objective was to develop personally meaningful exchanges around the artworks presented online, allowing time for observation, making silences an integral part of the experience, and giving students the opportunity to verbalize their thoughts and feelings in a virtual environment. Amélie discusses the relation between literature education, her key teaching area, and her reasons for use of visual imagery in her classes, more specifically in her unit on ekphrastic poetry and aesthetic appreciation. Boyd focuses on one graduate class in which the topic was specifically aesthetics and education. The class consisted of students from a range of disciplines, and the students were encouraged to see how an aesthetic emphasis might influence their teaching. Boyd provides examples of some initial puzzlement, especially in terms of cross-cultural perspectives, points of agreement and contention, and finally, some consensus about the place of aesthetics in education.

1 Designing Art Classes for a New Reality (Anne-Marie) One of the courses that has been developed at the Faculty of Education of the University of Montreal in the programme for pre-service teachers focuses on the teaching of visual arts, centred on the processes of creation and appreciation of art, as well as on the principles related to the integration of a cultural dimension in relation with educational resources such as museums. During the 2020 fall semester, due to global health restrictions making face-to-face teaching impossible, it was necessary to design an online art course that would follow a framework similar to the one from the regular course and that could be offered to five groups averaging twenty-five students per class.

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Without the opportunity to be in the presence of students, and the impossibility of visiting a museum to experience direct encounters with artworks, I wondered what would happen to the aesthetic experience component of my art course in the ecological context of distance online education. This situation was concerning because the art appreciation learning experience in our courses is usually twofold, namely inclass work with reproductions and slide shows, followed by a visit to an art museum to reinforce contextual learning. The pandemic required reliance on a videoconference platform, as our courses moved from a physical presence mode to a virtual one with all the constraints imposed by the platform’s functionality. This new learning space brought its own set of challenges; understanding this virtual space is crucial to the quality of the course being offered. Faced with this new reality, I wondered how I could ensure that my students would experience authentic engagement with artworks in a context where they would be viewing digital images on a screen. In structuring and designing art appreciation activities, I questioned the possibilities of truly stimulating the senses through a screen because I approach the event of the encounter with artworks as an embodied experience. To reach this type of engagement, it is necessary to take time—to look, feel, and value the encounter with the work—and this in multiple ways by soliciting the whole of what constitutes us as human beings. To create a favourable context for an aesthetic experience to develop, I had to consider that students might not operate from a level field in terms of computer literacy, adequate equipment, and reliable Internet connection, all primary elements necessary to even begin a virtual experience. In addition, students were at times reluctant to turn on their webcams because some perceive it as a threat to their privacy. Therefore, I had to recognize that during our synchronous online activities, only a few faces might be visible on the screen, the rest, just names on a black screen. I expected communication to be compromised. I could see distance learning impacting not only the content of the course, but also the social aspect of learning, and this needed to be considered as I developed strategies for the art appreciation component of the course.

1.1 By Means of a Journey Despite the difficulties associated with distance learning, I thought it would be possible to generate moments where interactivity through discussion would be privileged, allowing students to become aware of their own engagement and that of the other members of the group, in an atmosphere of openness and curiosity. To structure such an encounter, I relied on an approach called Journey inspired by the writings of Horner (2000) who conceived that “meaning does not pre-exist in an artwork: nor does it exist in a viewer. Rather it emerges in the journey along a road-underconstruction […]” (p. 74). The activity mainly consists of accompanying people to imagine their own journey through the selected artworks.

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Using Horner’s Journey as my inspiration, I wanted students to experience their first virtual connection to an artwork in a safe environment by focusing on the content shown on their computer screen. To do this, I asked all students to turn off their webcams and leave their microphones on for the duration of the event. What was then visible on the screen was only the artwork. I then asked students to focus on the image silently, giving them the time that they needed to immerse themselves in the artwork. This initiative seemed to allow them to find the words to express their aesthetic appreciation. In this process, it is noteworthy that being invisible to each other seemed to favour a flow of comments nourishing the exchange, affectively and cognitively. Shared words, interspersed with moments of silence, were seen as beneficial because they allowed students to feel before they spoke. Over time, I continued by asking questions to help students pursue their journey through the work, such as: Where are you? How can you move around in this environment? As a group, we were united by our voices. Students’ bodies were engaged in the act of appreciation, as they were asked to refer to their own bodily memories as well as related sensations and emotions, with the questions focusing on both. In turn, instinctively, students responded to my questions by expressing their own points of view. The diversity of their responses to the artwork and my questions often generated group discussion.

1.2 Attending to Multiple Realities Students first discovered the visual artwork from their own perspective, without fear of being judged. As a result, this process created a need for them to learn more about the historical, cultural, and social aspects of the work, and these components were addressed throughout the journey. Creating the experience of the journey and leveraging the videoconference platform to focus solely on the image and making moments of silence an integral part of the experience seemed to generate a positive impact on the students’ ability to communicate their emotions, thoughts, and memories. They mentioned feeling energized and wanted to repeat the experience, despite the difficult moments lived during the confinement. In the context of COVID-19, students used the art appreciation exercise as a springboard to share their different ideas about life. From my perspective, I have never been able to create a face-to-face classroom environment that encourages students to focus on an artwork in such an intimate way. That is, an aesthetic experience will take different forms depending on the context and certainly needs to be investigated further. Although it is too early to reach significant conclusions following such an experience, the key to investigate art appreciation at a distance begins with the imposed reality of confinement during the pandemic. In the context of confinement and to understand students’ virtual aesthetic experiences, I had to remove components that helped shape their pre-pandemic experiences, namely social interactions in specific learning habitats such as museums and classrooms. Thus, the quality of their undertaking in a virtual context was fashioned by a sort of double isolation. They

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were far removed from the art object and isolated in their private setting, mimicking as it were, the moment in aesthetic appreciation where one withdraws within oneself for what might be called, introspection. Despite that introspective act, Dewey (1934) proposes that art is a practice imbedded in the social fabric: Works of art that are not remote from common life, that are widely enjoyed in a community, are signs of a unified collective life. […] The remaking of the material of experience in the act of expression is not an isolated event confined to the artist and to a person here and there who happens to enjoy the work. In the degree in which art exercises its office, it is also a remaking of the experience of the community […]. (p. 84)

This perspective highlights how this fall session of 2020 unfolded in unchartered spaces. In consequence, we might say that the aesthetic experience is contextdependent, and we need to design our learning activities with the specifics that each context offers. Activating an aesthetic experience on a videoconference platform made me more aware of the impact of the interaction between personal, physical, and social contexts on students’ aesthetic responses. I can only hope that after this year’s course, my students will be confident enough to provide their own students with a variety of aesthetic experiences, whether in-person or at distance. I believe that they have come to understand, through their own experience, that art is an essential part of people’s lives.

2 The World’s an Oyster: Transmediality, Ekphrasis, Aesthetic Experiences in the Virtual Literature Education Classroom (Amélie) The academic and pedagogical nature of my area of expertise values an integrated approach to teaching literature at the secondary level, with a marked emphasis towards recognizing and acknowledging students’ digital lives. As part of this transdisciplinary approach to literature education (Lacelle et al., 2015), I have been explicitly teaching education-oriented methods to pre-service teachers, such as transmedial storytelling (Jenkins, 2006; Rowsell et al., 2018) and ekphrastic poetry as it applies to the literature classroom (Moorman, 2006). Like most people working in higher education institutions, I adapted quickly to COVID-19 requirements, including rethinking the design of how I would normally engage pre-service teachers in these activities. How would I recreate opportunities for aesthetic experiences online, when the very core of these activities depended not only on the existing dynamisms between the artwork’s vitality and human contemplation, but also, and more importantly, on peer interactions and felt or embodied response? When teaching in-person, time spent on learning about transmediality would mean metacognitively prompting students to think, feel, see, apprehend, and confront each other’s perceptions of how art and literature navigate across media. Transmediality— as a situated action by which language learners mobilize the principal elements of a narrative universe in one modality and interprets and adapts these elements to

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another type of modality or combination of modalities (Rowsell et al., 2018)—would become alive through these human, peer-to-peer interactions. Silence would even speak volumes when discoveries about plot twists or character duplicity were made. Both the verve and the stillness of my literature education classroom resembled that of a movie theatre—with its exclamations, moments of surprise, and hints of bewilderment and wonderment. These occasions focused on the connections between media, people, artworks, events, and story worlds—and, in turn, emphasized the pervasive vitality of transmediality and its significance for aesthetic experiences. That is, aesthetic experiences were nurtured by a dynamic va-et-vient between viewers ↔ artworks. The ephemeral, transient nature of aesthetic experiences rendered them affectively nurtured and cognitively attuned to diverse, felt moments of experience. One way to delve into the multiple layers and dimensions that transmediality proposes is through ekphrastic poetry, i.e. the literary and arts-oriented process by which a participant responds to a visual artwork through evocative, sensed, and embodied poetry (White, 2009). While elsewhere we gave practical and philosophical suggestions for using ekphrastic poetry in art and literature education classrooms (Lemieux, 2020; White, 2009; White & Lemieux, 2017), there is much depth found in teaching through literature—one useful way to do this is by having students engage in creative, poetic writing in response to an artwork. As part of this (ad)venture, I struggled to move or recreate these experiences, and like my two colleagues, in an online environment. In the virtual platforms that were attributed for online teaching during the pandemic, at least in university settings, two main modes of delivery were adopted: asynchronous (where students could engage with materials in their own time, often following a timetable) and synchronous (where online classes would follow that of the in-person class schedules). For these specific units, I mostly used asynchronous teaching, prompting students to share their poetry in the comments section of Microsoft Stream. The asynchronous model allowed for extended time to: (1) process the information shared in the lesson; (2) click pause to reflect on explanations or take notes; (3) create poetry in response to an artwork (or a series thereof); and (4) respond to the ekphrastic poetry of their classmates.

2.1 From Johannes Vermeer to Tracy Chevalier, Peter Webber, and Mehmet Geren: Transmediality and Ekphrasis at Play One example I consistently refer to when teaching transmediality and ekphrasis is the story world surrounding the Girl with a Pearl Earring. Using this artwork as a point of departure, I took the bet that aesthetic experiences would metastasize across screens, people, and artworks, asynchronously. The transmedial dimension of this work is felt and reproduced across media. Indeed, Johannes Vermeer’s (1665) Girl with a Pearl Earring has inspired Tracy Chevalier to publish, in 1999, her

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book based on the relationship between Greet (the girl with the pearl earring) and Vermeer. In 2004, Peter Webber adapted this story into a Hollywood movie. Then too, multiple iterations of Vermeer’s original painting were reinvested in digital art, for example with Geren’s (2022) “When Art Meets Real Life II” (a series of digitalized photographs in which Geren has superimposed images from famous paintings on to contemporary settings)”. In his reflections on art as a catalyst for freedom and liberty, French philosopher Blanchot (1959) posits that “art offers us enigmas, and thankfully no heroes” (p. 42; our translation). Blanchot, famous for his attribution of power to artworks instead of artists, points to important considerations for transmediality and ekphrasis. In other words, while fictional heroes, such as Greet, might exist across platforms and media, aesthetic experiences nurture and fuel what story worlds produce in readers’ views. These productions might be expressed through both non-representational means, for example, affect, and representational, such as ekphrastic poetry, among others. Experiencing transmedial story worlds in an online classroom comes with its challenges. Transmediality affords new considerations for aesthetic experiences insofar as online learning environments make learners more isolated with the artworks with which they engage. Solitude, a disposition exacerbated by the pandemic and online environments, can both lead to contemplation and, alternatively, boredom if not supported by peer interaction. However, solitude might also allow students to take the space they need to respond to, and generate, poems in response to artworks across a myriad of platforms and media. I conclude that virtual learning might be promising for prompting aesthetic experiences, conditional on allowing time and space to respond accordingly.

3 Interrogating Aesthetic Experience (Boyd) In the winter session of 2021, I taught an elective graduate-level course titled Aesthetics & Education. It was a small class, with only eleven students, and they were quite a mixed group. That is, while they were all enrolled in an M.A. in Education, their individual areas of study varied widely across the curriculum. As it was a Zoom class, students ranged across the globe, from local, to the middle and far east. Given their varied pedagogical foci, my expectation was that my students’ grasp of the notion of aesthetic engagement would be tentative; so, my main objective in the course was oriented to an understanding of such engagement, its relevance to our daily lives and to education in particular. I do not address theories of art or the history of aesthetics, except as those topics come up in our conversations about current educational practice. In part because it was a virtual synchronous class, but also to encourage close reading and engagement with peers, I made the use of Perusall software an integral part of the course. Perusall enables the instructor to upload PDFs of articles on which students can highlight chosen sections of text, comment on them, ask questions, and respond to fellow student-generated questions and comments. The resulting

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commentary provides the instructor with a good sense of the students’ grasp of the material and their level of engagement. As such, my reading of their commentary prior to the next class enabled me to study the group’s understanding of the topic, what specifically caught their attention, and what needed further clarification. Over the course of the term, we addressed several themes through the lens of aesthetics—ethics, eros, ecology, science, pragmatism, beauty, and related topics. For the purposes of this chapter, however, I limit my observations based on two readings that addressed everyday aesthetics. I introduced these readings early in the course, to assure the class that, whatever their educational focus, there was some connection to aesthetics available to them. The readings were Stroud’s (2014) commentary on John Dewey’s pragmatic aesthetics and Ratiu’s (2012) commentary on the aesthetics of everyday life (AEL). In what follows, I will paraphrase some of that commentary to illustrate those points. I will quote one comment from an abridged verbatim. Briefly, the areas of discussion centred on: (1) art versus aesthetics; (2) the range of aesthetic experience; (3) cross-cultural values; (4) possibilities for aesthetic experiences within general school practice; and (5) cultural codes and the social nature of everyday life. During our first class, I mentioned my background in studio art production and art education. I emphasized that, despite my background, I would not be putting art at the forefront of my presentations; I would be trying to be as inclusive as possible in terms of disciplinary orientations. Despite that, questions of connections between aesthetics and art emerged almost immediately, and we all made significant use of imagery—art and otherwise. Is there a difference between aesthetics and art?

The question prompted energetic discussions that captured the essence of Dewey’s insistence that aesthetic experience can be achieved in any number of circumstances. It also brought to the fore some non-Western perspectives that appear to support Dewey’s and Ratiu’s positions. I think that confining aesthetics to appreciation of art is a particularly western problem…Victorian aesthetes viewed nature as a part of God’s creation, and extending this gaze of appreciation of everything in this world as the artwork of God seemed natural as an outcome of their religious worldview…BUT this isn’t the whole story …. Japanese aesthetics… was always concerned with the entirety of life, but from a different premise: that of the Buddhist notion of evanescence of life… So, for a Japanese aesthete it would be a really strange notion to try and confine aesthetic experience to appreciation of art alone.

This prompt led to discussing the possibility of experiences common across cultures. Perhaps inevitably, the question of common values emerged. Nussbaum’s (1999) exegesis on universal values became a point of discussion—rights to life, health, shelter, and so forth—all of which can be expressed within the framework of particular cultures, but the commonalities are apparent. The commonality in our class, of course, was our interest in education, and how some practices within the discipline seem so at odds with an aesthetic emphasis. Would adoption of a Deweyan notion of aesthetic experience make schooling more personally meaningful; and is such an orientation even feasible in the era of standardization?

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A common thread throughout the class conversations was the perception that schools are product-oriented, the product being approved information as captured on standardized testing. This is no doubt an over-simplification of what takes place in many classrooms where teachers strive to make lessons meaningful. Still, there is no denying the general reliance on standardization. However, when the students began to use the terms “product” and “goal” interchangeably, we began to see possibilities for inclusion of aesthetic sensibilities into classroom activities. That is, a goal does not have to be the acquisition of a fact. Dewey’s idea of a goal was consummation. That is, as McClelland (2005) has noted, “[Aesthetic experience] represents a culmination or a consummatory phase in which the organism finds a new posture toward the world, helping to fortify the aesthetic against the anaesthetic” (p. 46). That “new posture” is the result of a capacity to connect and unify otherwise disparate perceptions into a gestalt. The event is individually experienced, although possibly shared. The posture represents one’s personal meaning-making stance and, as such, cannot be standardized. If education is synonymous with standardization, the students also acknowledged that, whereas much of schooling is based on routine, a disruption of routine is essential—a surprise, even a shock—is a necessary component of new insights into our individual understandings of the world. So, if an aesthetic component is to be introduced into classrooms, room must be made for possible surprises and shocks. This requirement presents challenges. To what extent do societal norms hinder a tolerance for surprise?

What is implied in the above question is the social nature of everyday life. While meaning-making is individually experienced, it is also socially directed. When the students arrived at this point in our discussions, they confirmed Dewey’s (1897) commitment to attention to community: “I believe that all education proceeds by the participation of the individual in the social consciousness of the race” (77–80). In summary, while the class determined that aesthetic engagement does not necessarily involve art, still, they saw art as a predominating force, even while acknowledging the more inclusive aesthetic sensibilities, for example. That discussion led to some debate on cross-cultural values and whether there are some universal values. There was considerable discussion about schooling, as commonly practised, not being conducive to aesthetic engagement. This rather pessimistic note was tempered by the realization that teachers can, despite tendencies to teach to the test, also introduce activities that foster tolerance of ambiguity and uncertainty, and that can be oriented towards more personalized meaning-making. Finally, the focus on individual experience was tempered by the realization that we are members of our everyday communities and that our meaning-making capacities depend on social interactions within those communities. Our community of educators was spread across the globe, and Zoom made our interactions possible.

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4 Conclusion We engage with Arts Based Educational Research (ABER) with our respective disciplinary emphases. What unites our work, however, is captured in Cahnmann-Taylor’s (2018) ABER-based question: “what and whom are the subjects of this work and to what extent does this project further some aspect of the public good?” (p. 248). Our discipline is, broadly speaking, education, and our subjects are not only our students, but the community of educators represented by readers of this text. We argue that the “good” to which Cahnmann-Taylor refers can be found in the insights provided by our respective portraits of teaching situations within constrained (COVID-19) conditions. In all three vignettes, we offered avenues to consider when teaching the arts and literature using an online platform. For Anne-Marie, one of her most significant findings was the advantages of cameras being turned off while students looked at an artwork on their screens. There were no distractions from the looking. In a similar vein, Amélie found that solitary looking and reading, reinforced by the constraints of online learning, was a positive force that prompted creative writing in literature education. Finally, Boyd’s class benefited from Zoom’s capacity to easily share multicultural perspectives that provided first-person accounts of their respective aesthetic experiences.

References Blanchot, M. (1959). Le livre à venir. Gallimard. Boldt, G. (2021). Theorizing vitality in the literacy classroom. Reading Research Quarterly, 56(2), 207–221. Cahnmann-Taylor, M., & Siegesmund, R. (Eds.). (2018). Arts-based research in education: Foundations for practice (2nd ed.). Routledge. Dewey, J. (1897). Article 1, my pedagogical creed. School Journal, 54, 77–80. Dewey, J. (1934). Art as experience. The Berkley Publishing Group. Geren, M. (2022). When art meets real life II (a series of digitalized photographs…). Digital art. https://www.inprnt.com/gallery/mehmetgeren/when-art-meets-real-life-ii/ Horner, S. (2000). The subject of art in process: Undressing the emperor’s nude close-Toward a metamodern art and art education. Trafford Publishing. Jenkins, H. (2006). Convergence culture: Where old and new media collide. New York University Press. Johnson, M. (2007). The meaning of the body: Aesthetics of human understanding. University of Chicago Press. Lacelle, N., Lebrun, M., Boutin, J.-F., Richard, M., & Martel, V. (2015). Les compétences en littératie médiatique multimodale au primaire et au secondaire: une grille d’analyse transdisciplinaire. In L. Lafontaine & J. Pharand (Eds.), Littératie: Vers une maitrise des compétences dans divers environnements (pp. 168–184). PUQ. Lemieux, A. (2020). De/constructing literacies: Considerations for engagement. Peter Lang. McClelland, K. A. (2005). Aesthetic experience and artful conduct. Education and Culture, 21(2), 44–62. Moorman, H. (2006). Backing into ekphrasis: Reading and writing poetry about visual art. English Journal, 96(1), 46–53.

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Nussbaum, M. (1999). Lecture one: In defence of universal values. The fifth annual Hesburgh lectures on ethics and public policy. University of Notre Dame. Ratiu, D. E. (2013). Remapping the realm of aesthetics: On recent controversies about the aesthetic and aesthetic experience in everyday life. Estetika: The Central European Journal of Aesthetics, L/VI(1), 3–26. Rowsell, J., Lemieux, A., Swartz, L., Burkitt, J., & Turcotte, M. (2018). The stuff that heroes are made of: Elastic, sticky, messy literacies in children’s transmedial cultures. Language Arts, 96(1), 7–20. Stroud, S. R. (2014). The art of experience: Dewey on the aesthetic. In W. Malecki (Ed.), Practicing pragmatist aesthetics: Critical perspectives on the arts (pp. 33–46). Rodopi. White, B. (2009). Aesthetics primer. Peter Lang. White, B., & Lemieux, A. (2017). Mapping holistic learning: An introductory guide to aesthetigrams. Peter Lang.

[Performing] Connection in the Classroom During COVID-19: An Ethnodrama on Virtual Synchronous Education Brittany M. Brewer

Abstract This chapter utilizes ethnodrama to explore the challenges of cultivating connection in synchronous virtual education spaces, referred to as Zoom University, during the COVID-19 pandemic. In this piece, the author pulls upon her expertise as an artist-researcher-teacher to process, reflect upon, and script her personal experiences of Zoom University, stylistically mirroring the performative and curated realities of synchronous, virtual education. As both a doctoral student and teacher within Zoom University, the author observes the impacts of the global trauma of the pandemic on individuals’ needs and recognizes a growing need to nourish safe connections and social supports in education settings. Keywords Arts-based research · Playwriting · Ethnodrama · Trauma-informed Pedagogy · Connection Being a Zoom student has become the ultimate performance. Students cannot hear if their classroom community laughs at their jokes or shares a sigh with them in camaraderie. They cannot hear if their teacher offers an “Mmm” in understanding. The stakes are higher. If students choose to unmute, it is an intentional choice, a declaration of what they have to say. Is it worth unmuting? Sometimes, salient moments are missed because someone is on mute but does not want to repeat themself; the vulnerability in attempting to share once feels like more than enough. Additionally, as the classroom space itself has shifted, so has the nature of making connections with peers. Opportunity for organic connection has been lost, or, at least, has drastically shifted. Carter Andrews et al. (2021) affirm that “there is a connection gap that has been caused by virtual schooling…Teacher educators’ ability to foster a pedagogy of connection with teacher candidates and practicing teachers is necessary to help them understand the full scope of students’ academic, social, and emotional needs and how to effectively respond” (p. 267). B. M. Brewer (B) Department of Teacher Education, College of Education, Michigan State University, East Lansing, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2023 H. Mreiwed et al. (eds.), Making Connections in and Through Arts-Based Educational Research, Studies in Arts-Based Educational Research 5, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-19-8028-2_6

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In his book, The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma, Van Der Kolk (2014) writes: Being able to feel safe with other people is probably the single most important aspect of mental health; safe connections are fundamental to meaningful and satisfying lives. Numerous studies of disaster response around the globe have shown that social support is the most powerful protection against becoming overwhelmed by stress and trauma. Social support is not the same as merely being in the presence of others. The critical issue is reciprocity: being truly heard and seen by the people around us, feeling that we are held in someone else’s mind and heart. For our physiology to calm down, heal, and grow we need a visceral feeling of safety. (p. 81)

If we are unable to cultivate connection through virtual platforms, students’ human needs may be further interrupted. In my ethnodrama to follow, I pull upon my expertise as an artist–researcher–teacher (Springgay et al., 2005) to process, reflect upon, and script my personal experiences of Zoom University, stylistically mirroring the performative and curated realities of synchronous, virtual education. Throughout the process of writing this play, I found myself reflecting on the importance of trauma-informed pedagogy. I remembered the extreme sense of disconnection and of loneliness I experienced and how I felt forced to search for connection outside of our synchronous Zoom class sessions. I recalled that the few times I chose to be vulnerable, my peers shared similar feelings of fear, sadness, and disconnect. As a doctoral student, I observed the impact of the global trauma of the pandemic on individuals’ needs and as a teacher, I recognized a growing need to nourish safe connections and social supports in education spaces.

1 Towards Trauma-Informed Pedagogy McCann et al. (1988) articulate five primary psychological needs each individual has, which include the need to feel safe, to know trust, to have agency, to experience esteem for self and others, and to experience connection with others. These psychological needs inform individuals’ perspectives on their own identity and the world, and when they are fulfilled, there can be stability. However, when an individual’s fundamental psychological needs are disrupted, trauma and stress can be initiated or compounded (McCann & Pearlman, 1990, p. 137). As we begin our third school year impacted by the COVID-19 global pandemic, we are only beginning to understand the impact that this widespread trauma will have on the global community and the young people of the world. When our students were transitioning to virtual schooling, Di Pietro et al. (2020) anticipated that students’ learning would be negatively impacted by spending less time on learning, which would interrupt students’ social development, decrease students’ motivation to learn, and cause significant stress symptoms. In their brief description of the potential stress symptoms students’ may experience, Di Pietro et al. (2020) detailed symptoms consistent with those experienced by individuals impacted by trauma, writing, “It may be possible to compare these stress symptoms to those developed in the

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aftermath of hurricanes or earthquakes…many students are likely to have developed post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) symptoms that include poor concentration, depression, anxiety, and insomnia” (p. 9). Beyond these symptoms, the COVID19 pandemic has also been connected to increased loneliness (“Coping with the COVID-19 Pandemic as a College Student,” n.d.) particularly in teens and young adults (Walsh, 2021). Asking our students to show up in body and mind amidst the global trauma of the COVID-19 pandemic is asking them to be vulnerable. As teachers, we must offer our students our vulnerable selves, as well. Dutro (2019) writes: The joy amidst trauma arrives in connections with others, in [teachers] risking [their own] vulnerability, in opportunities to see and absorb children’s capacities for empathy and compassion, in experiencing how a child’s investment ignites when bringing the depths of life to school literacies, in resisting messages of broken and damaged children, and in attuning to the moment-to-moment and year-to-year pursuit of our most heartfelt commitments. (p. 108)

In selecting playwriting, or a combination of autoethnodrama and ethnodrama, as my arts-based research methodology, I share with you—my fellow teachers, readers, writers, students, learners, and makers—a part of my vulnerable self as both a pedagogical offering and an invitation for reflection.

2 Why Playwriting?, or Ethnodrama as Methodology Saldaña (2011) describes ethnodrama as, “a word joining ethnography and drama, [it] is a written play script consisting of dramatized, significant selections of narrative…Simply put, [ethnodrama] is dramatizing the data” (p. 13). Autoethnodrama, more specifically, is born from, “the playwright’s personal memories, experiences, and perceptions as sources for the dramatic text” (Saldaña, 2011, p. 24). In this chapter, I employ both ethnodrama and autoethnodrama intentionally as a way in which to invite you, the reader, into dialogue. Theatre necessitates the interpretation of characters’ perspectives, and our individual interpretations are influenced by our own experiences, primary and secondary discourses (Gee, 2015), and lifeworlds (Gee, 2015). Playwriting and theatre are mediums that foster, if not require, a dialogic experience, inviting readers and players to bring their whole selves to the experience. I have imbibed my play, [Performing] Connection during COVID-19, with my evolving understanding of, inquiry into, and reflections on the experience of being a student experiencing loneliness and searching for connection within virtual schooling during the COVID-19 pandemic, pulling upon personal journal entries, personal memories and experiences, and WhatsApp text conversation transcripts to do so. In the ethnodrama below, all names but my own are pseudonyms. It is not for me to argue how you might be affected, or not, by this short play, but like Weltsek and Hammoor (2019) note, a moment for me to step back and allow you to immerse yourself in theatrical story, if you choose. On that note, I invite you to engage with my short play and to consider connection critically both as it exists here and as it could exist in our classrooms.

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3 [Performing] Connection During COVID-19 Scene One (Lights up on BRITTANY, a white American woman in her late 20’s. She is in a small office space in a small town in the Midwest. She just moved from a major city on the east coast to start a doctoral program in curriculum, instruction, and teacher education. For now, the program is completely virtual due to the COVID-19 pandemic. This year’s cohort of doctoral students at Zoom University, 21 students to be exact, are currently scattered across six countries and time zones, and various states. So, they are all together, apart, and most of them aren’t in the same city. BRITTANY’s office space has good vibes, but it’s empty except for her, some unpacked moving boxes, a black desk, and almost two dozen squares on her larger square, i.e. just around 20 folks present on a Zoom meeting streaming on her computer. This Zoom meeting is a two-day orientation for an incoming cohort of Ph.D. Students in Curriculum, Instruction, and Teacher Education. The small floating faces are almost overwhelmed by a larger box, a shared screen Google Slides presentation. She attempts to find some semblance of coziness, but it’s hard to navigate the angular constraints of the plastic seat while staying in frame and attempting to seem normal, or approachable, or maybe even likable. It’s complicated. The slideshow moves forward, and a new slide appears that features BRITTANY)

Brittany Hi! Hi, my name is--Oh, is it not on? (quietly) shoot…okay, okay. (She adjusts her new headset. She wasn’t familiar with her computer’s audio-jack preCOVID-19. Actually, she had to get headphones just for her computer’s output, because her other headphones didn’t fit into her computer’s output. Go figure. She hits the unmute button.)

Am I on? Can you hear me now? Sorry, ah, I never thought I’d be the one! I swear, I was trying so hard not to slip up, and because of that, of course… Anyway, um, hi! My name is Brittany Brewer, I use she/her pronouns, and my research interests are at the intersections of young adult narratives, literacy, collaborative learning, and arts-based research. Oh, and my fun fact is--(The shared screen Google Slide presentation suddenly jumps forward several slides. Then, back too many. Finally, the presentation settles back on BRITTANY’s slide. There are gestures of apology, nodding and smiling, and a hand signal to go-ahead from one of the facilitators present on screen, their face tiny as all get out.)

Oh, no worries. Really, it’s not a big deal. I was about done anyway. Oh, okay, um--I’m also a theatre artist! Mostly, a writer, though I enjoy performing. If you want to see a show---any kind of show, really!---I’m your person! I’ll gladly go with! After---all of this--I mean…

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(Brittany’s voice trails off. Silence. She smiles. Over a dozen applause emojis appear in the corners of the tiny boxes with tiny faces. She had not yet updated to Zoom 5.2.0, the most recent update from early August 2020, which included additional reactions. Maybe then someone would have sent party popper or heart reactions? The facilitator intentionally moves the slideshow forward, and the next student begins to introduce themself.)

Scene Two (The first day of Graduate School Orientation is complete. BRITTANY is unpacking one of the boxes and beginning to set up her space. This space is physically an office space, now also a class-going space and a meeting space and a virtual space, though the latter three are all restricted by the confines of her computer’s camera. By the end of this short movement-based scene, BRITTANY will be surrounded by an assortment of sentimental accouterments. (Fig. 2))

Brittany That… was awkward. Was that awkward? All I heard was silence. I couldn’t completely tell. I hope my slide wasn’t too much. I know I crammed it full--Crammed it with graphic symbols of the bits and pieces that make up me. Why, why on earth would I overflow my slide, flood it even? I don’t know. I just. (Beat.)

I’m trying. I’m trying to be vulnerable. To seem open, interested. To share enough to be considered connection potential. (Beat.)

That sounded super date-y. I just, I just want to make friends. Super cool, smart, nerdy student friends, while I’m in this new place, so far from where I came. That shared screen, though. I couldn’t see anyone’s face--forget the fact that I had never seen any of them before. Someone is talking, and they are highlighted, and then they stop talking, and poof, they rotate off to the second page, which you can’t see unless you rotate through. (Beat.)

I never expected to begin a Ph.D. program virtually, the opportunity to connect put on hold pause because: pandemic. Would I have done this if I knew? I bet my students are wondering the same thing. And yet, what choice do we have? The country is moving forward, schools are moving forward, we must move forward. (Laughs in disbelief.)

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We are educators searching for innovative education processes during a pandemic while simultaneously trying to put these new processes into practice as teachers and researchers in record time. And, since we are Ph.D. students, we’re also the experiment. We are the results firsthand. (Beat.)

Yeah. Okay. The show must go on. (BRITTANY has finished decorating her desk space for now. She has everything she needs to set her stage: candles for lighting, incense for smells, plants and pens and notes for bits of joy. Behind her, a single folding screen. Lights out.)

Scene Three (We return to BRITTANY. She has recently finished the second day of graduate school orientation, all while barely moving from her office chair. Zoom was recently closed. Her computer hums exhaustedly and a new window pops up on her screen: a request for feedback from Zoom regarding call quality. BRITTANY is in the middle of mustering. Mustering courage. Mustering vulnerability. She pulls out her phone. She opens Whatsapp. She takes her shot. The following scene features a text conversation between BRITTANY and PRIYA. PRIYA is also an incoming Ph.D. in the same program as BRITTANY. PRIYA is a woman in her late 20s who is starting the program while in Kolkata, India. Technology should be implemented as part of the storytelling of this scene. Both young women are working hard towards connection, though there is a lot in their way.)

Brittany (8/19/20; 12:29 PM EST) Hi Priya! It feels silly to reach out this way (text) but I felt generally drawn to your energy during orientation days—if we were in person I would have definitely approached you and been like would you like to grab a coffee or tea or drink or do a thing?? I’m not sure what the equivalent is virtually but I’m happy for books recs/talks, or whatever, if you were interested sometime! Priya (8/19/20; 11:03 PM IST) Hi Brittany!!! Ok so I have to tell you this. My mum just asked me if there was anyone in the cohort that I kinda vibed with, and I told her your name, And out of nowhere actually since we haven’t even really spoken. And literally 10 min after I saw your text. Isn’t this incredible? Brittany That. Makes. Me. So. Happy. Thanks for sharing! Ugh, feelings. That is so incredible! Priya Yep yep I would totally love to virtually hang with you some time, and just catch up? Just lemme know whatever day and time works for you and I’m game.

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Brittany I wish I could like heart your earlier message. That sounds awesome! Is there a range of time that’s usually best for you? Are we about 9.5 h different or so? Priya Yeah it’s quite a difference lol Anytime during the day for you is pretty doable for me. So say 10-2 in the morning? Feels weird making social plans in the first half though right? Brittany That sounds good! Definitely different, but I will come bearing tea or coffee or something what’s your Monday/Tuesday next week like? A little farish, I know. Priya I’m actually open all of Tuesday. Brittany Also I know I’m messaging really late! Feel free to ignore or mute or whatever feels right as you need Cool! Let’s say Tuesday! Whatever time in that range is best for youu Priya Don’t worry about it! Noon good for you? Brittany Noon is great! Priya Yay!!! So excited! It’s a date then:) Brittany Me toooo! It’s a date Scene Four (We return to BRITTANY. It is officially the first week of classes, and she has just finished her first class, Reading Comprehension: Research and Theory. She tries to consider the upsides… Three students from her cohort are in this Reading Comp class. On the bright side, her commute time: zero. However, her screen time: maxed out, and more still to go. BRITTANY stands up and tries to get some brief movement into her hips. It’s hard. Her piriformis muscle sharply shares its discontent while her opposite hip pops. And pops. And pops. She sits back down, pulls out her phone, and opens Whatsapp. The following scene takes place primarily through Whatsapp. Technology should be implemented as part of the storytelling of this scene.

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B. M. Brewer BRITTANY creates a new group with her three cohort classmates in Reading Comp and titles the group after the class. This sends them a notification. One of these classmates includes Chloe, a Black American woman in her early 40s. Brittany types a new message. This sends them a second notification.)

Brittany (9/10/20; 8:45 PM EST) Hey y’all! Hope your Thursday night is cozyyy. It’s nice to have your company in class! Made this group message in case anyone wants or needs to reach out about anything Chloe (9/10/20; 9:04 PM EST) Thanks, Brittany! This is such a good idea! Brittany thanks! How are you all doing with reading (if you started!)? This simple view of reading article is hard for me. Chloe It’s a bit tough, right? I think these readings are the hardest of all my classes, so far at least. Brittany I’m glad I’m not alone! Same.. I hope some of these readings feel less overwhelming [in the future], or maybe I’ll start to get more grounded in the quantitative, or both? Brittany My brain is spacing -- did [our professor] share her preferences with name? [First] versus Dr. [Last]? Chloe I think she referred to herself [by her first name], although I can’t remember whether she was specific in preference. Brittany Okay! Thanks, Chloe (Of the four, BRITTANY and CHLOE are the only members of this WhatsApp group who engage in dialogue for about a month. Between messaging, BRITTANY frequently worries. She worries she is bothering the group too much. She worries that she may be looking for connection where others aren’t. Generally speaking, BRITTANY is really good at worrying. BRITTANY and CHLOE move their conversation off of the group message and onto a private Whatsapp thread. Their friendship begins. Lights down.)

Scene Five (We return to BRITTANY. We are now about six weeks into classes, and it is Friday. What does Friday mean? Zoom meetings and research readings groups! BRITTANY is doing some

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work for class before her next meeting when she opens a shared class Google Sheet, and lo and behold, spots CHLOE “on” the sheet at the same time. BRITTANY snaps a picture of CHLOE, pulls out her phone, opens Whatsapp, and sends a message. The following scene features a text conversation between BRITTANY and CHLOE and takes place primarily through Whatsapp. Technology should be implemented as part of the storytelling of this scene.)

Brittany (10/6/20; 12:49 PM EST) Just us, hanging out. Chloe (10/6/20; 12:51 PM EST) It’s my turn on Tuesday and I’m scared. Brittany I feel you..I was really stressed about it last week Chloe Y’all are goals, though. I should not have signed up for the week with [our Professor] and all her friends, though! Brittany Ugh I also feel that - I had massive regrets for signing up [to present on our readings] with the draft of that paper due… I’ll be cheering you on from my little box! Chloe Thanks, I’ll be looking at you, lol! Also, I don’t know if I sufficiently expressed how much I appreciate you checking on me on Tuesday. It made me feel seen in a way I didn’t quite know I was missing. I’m very grateful. Brittany I’m glad I was a little worried that I have accidentally outed or pushed your feels far in the wrong directions, and felt a little worried about it = / Stuff can really suck right now for a lot of reasons I’m tuning into/listening to y’all though Chloe Not at all! My feels, like my face, are irrepressible! They go in their own direction at their own will. Scene Six (We return to BRITTANY. She is in an oversized Zoom University sweatshirt. It is approaching 12PM EST on a Wednesday. BRITTANY scrambles to clear her working desk

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B. M. Brewer space, which is also her class space, and settles into the same sturdy chair. She plugs her headphones into her computer, secures them onto her head, and logs into Zoom. PRIYA’s face appears. BRITTANY and PRIYA have a standing Zoom date every Wednesday at 12PM EST, and either 9:30 PM or 10:30 PM IST, depending on the time in the semester (and Daylight Savings Time). It was a date made after their first Zoom conversation and has continued since. PRIYA is in her bedroom at her family home, which is her working space for this semester. BRITTANY wraps her hands around a warm mug of tea.)

Priya Helloooo! Brittany Hi! How are you doing? Priya I can’t hear you. Brittany Oh, I’m on mute! (BRITTANY takes herself off mute.)

Brittany How about now? Priya Yes! Brittany Yes, good! Hiiiii, How are you? Priya I have news.. Brittany Yeah? Priya I don’t think I’ll be coming for next semester. I’m not sure if it’s worth it.

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I haven’t been able to find an apartment that’s furnished. It looks like I will have to rent furniture, which is fine, but it’s more month to month. I’m saving so much money living at home right now. Brittany That makes sense. Priya I’m not sure if it would make sense for me to come out mid year… to live alone, and to not see many people. Brittany I hear you. You have to do what feels good for you. Priya Yeah, it’s a bummer, but my plan for now is to come out this summer, a month or so before the fall semester, to get settled. Also, thank you for writing that letter for my visa application. I really appreciated it. Brittany Of course. Anything I can do to be helpful. I feel like you already have enough on your plate navigating school in a completely different time zone on top of it being virtual. Priya Hopefully, things will be improved by the summer! Brittany I really hope so. So, about the summer… Priya Yeah?? Brittany I’m not sure if it would be possible for you, or who even knows what the world will be like, but Steve and I had pushed our big wedding celebration to this coming June… once it is decided, I was thinking of sending an invitation your way… Priya Ahhh!

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Brittany If you wanted to come, or if you could even come out early.. Priya I would love that! Brittany Me too. Priya I can’t believe that would be the first time we would meet, in person. Brittany At my wedding. Wow. That is really weird. It’s a whole other world. Priya I’m always looking for the silver linings. Like right now, I keep telling myself, I have a really unique opportunity. This is the last time I’ll live with my parents, and get to spend this much time with them. It’s an unexpected gift. Brittany It is, and we will see each other soon. Either way, I’ll be so excited when you do get here! Steve and I are pretty much just with ourselves most of the time. You could definitely be in our pod, if you wanted. Priya I also just wanna say I appreciate you. Brittany That means a lot. I’m really thankful for our orientation vibes and friendship we have now. And it sucks that COVID exists, and is interrupting everything, but I’m really glad I get to share this journey with you. Priya In the meantime, we still have our calls! And then, we’ll have four more years together. Brittany Yeah, exactly.

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It’s fine. Everything’s going to be fine. (BRITTANY takes a long sip of tea. Lights slowly fade to black as BRITTANY and PRIYA continue chatting. End of play.)

4 Reflecting on Ethnodrama as Methodology In creating arts-based research, it is important to cultivate an experience that readers and/or audience members can recognize offers truth (Leavy, 2015). Ethnodrama is well-positioned to do this because the nature of theatre as an art form asks that playwright-researchers attempt to articulate, “the dimensionality, tonality, and multisensory experiences that occur within the field in ways not enabled by traditional text representation” (Leavy, 2015, p. 183). My background and experience as a playwright made me aware of theatre’s ability, “to heighten the representation and presentation of social life” (Saldaña, 2011, p. 15), and drew me to ethnodrama as an ideal lens to explore relational connection. By curating a believable art-making, researchers might transport their audience into what Barone and Eisner (2012) describe as an “aesthetic remove”. Barone and Eisner (2012) write, “because this world is indeed plausible, as opposed to conventionally ‘real,’ that a healthy distance may form between the viewer and her stale images of a taken-for-granted reality…the viewer may be coaxed into viewing her own mundane realities from an unfamiliar—and perhaps disturbing—angle” (p. 21). While the experiences of the COVID-19 pandemic are far from mundane, it has been necessary for many of us to continue with the motions of our day-to-day lives, numbing our ability to perspective-take or think beyond our current moment and experience. Arts-based research like ethnodrama, “can redirect conversations about social phenomena by enabling others to vicariously reexperience the world” (Barone & Eisner, 2012, p. 20); this made arts-based research the ideal method with which to approach this work.

5 Talkback with the Playwright Often, a theatre talkback provides an opportunity for audience members to engage in discussion with the production’s artists after the show, which could potentially include the director, actors, and/or playwright. If the playwright was present, they might begin by sharing bits of author intention, important context, or a reflection on their experience with the process of producing the play. The scenes I shared in my short play highlight several moments of connection with two classmates among many but were selected because these moments each had an enduring impact on me and my relationship with loneliness during my first year as a doctoral student. Though each of these moments occurred outside of virtual classroom spaces, the intentional connections and vulnerability shared with these two individuals vastly improved my

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experience as a student and human during the global trauma of COVID-19. The pandemic is ongoing, and it is not the only trauma we are reckoning with as a global community. In our future work as educators, it is necessary to address our students’ human needs, including their need for connection. As this talkback comes to a close, I invite you to continue engaging with the themes presented by this play, as well as these essential questions: 1. How might we structure strong virtual spaces for student connection in education? 2. How much of a role, and what kind of role, might teacher vulnerability play in trauma-informed education spaces? 3. How might the goals of education be blended with students’ human needs?

References Barone, T., & Eisner, E. W. (2012). Arts based research. SAGE Publications, Inc. Carter Andrews, D. J., Richmond, G., & Marciano, J. E. (2021). The teacher support imperative: Teacher education and the pedagogy of connection. Journal of Teacher Education, 72(3), 267– 270. https://doi.org/10.1177/00224871211005950 Coping with the COVID-19 Pandemic as a College Student. (n.d.). Michigan Medicine: Department of Psychiatry. Retrieved September 13, 2021, from https://medicine.umich.edu/dept/psychiatry/ michigan-psychiatry-resources-covid-19/adults-specific-resources/coping-covid-19-pandemiccollege-student Di Pietro, G., Biagi, F., Costa, P., Karpi´nski, Z., & Mazza, J. (2020). The likely impact of COVID-19 on education: Reflections based on the existing literature and recent International datasets (Vol. 30275). Publications Office of the European Union. Dutro, E. (2019). The vulnerable heart of literacy: Centering trauma as powerful pedagogy. Teachers College Press. Gee, J. P. (2015). Social linguistics and literacies: Ideology in discourses. Routledge. Leavy, P. (2015). Method meets arts: Arts-based research practice (2nd edition). The Guilford Press. McCann, I. L., & Pearlman, L. A. (1990). Vicarious traumatization: A framework for understanding the psychological effects of working with victims. Springer. https://doi.org/10.1007/BF00975140 McCann, L., Sakheim, D. K., & Abrahamson, D. J. (1988). Trauma and victimization: A model of psychological adaptation. The Counseling Psychologist, 16(4), 531–594. Saldaña, J. (2011). Ethnotheatre: Research from page to stage. Routledge. Springgay, S., Irwin, R. L., & Kind, S. W. (2005). A/r/tography as living inquiry through art and text. Qualitative Inquiry, 11(6), 897–912. https://doi.org/10.1177/1077800405280696 Van der Kolk, B. A. (2014). The body keeps the score: Brain, mind, and body in the healing of trauma. Penguin Books. Walsh, C. (2021, February 17). Young adults hardest hit by loneliness during pandemic. The Harvard Gazette. https://news.harvard.edu/gazette/story/2021/02/young-adults-teens-lonelinessmental-health-coronavirus-covid-pandemic/ Weltsek, G., & Hammoor, C. (2019). Leaping into the disassociated space: Unknowing activism, agency and youth identity in “Notes from nowhere.” ArtsPraxis, 5(2), 2–35.

Socially Engaged Connections

Connecting Community: Rural Girls Using an Arts-Based Digital Dialogue Tool to Address Gender-Based Violence Ntomboxolo Yamile and Naydene de Lange

Abstract In a rural community under siege of gender-based violence (GBV), it is necessary to work together and to learn from each other to address a complex problem like GBV. Despite the growing body of literature dedicated to community engagement, girls leading the community in relation to addressing GBV remain an understudied area. In this chapter, we explore rural schoolgirls’ use of a digital dialogue tool they developed—consisting of arts-based visual artefacts such as cellphilms, policy posters and action briefs about GBV—to lead a dialogue in the school community. We respond to the question: What are the rural school community members’ responses to the schoolgirls’ using a digital dialogue tool in engaging in dialogue with them to address gender-based violence? The girl-led dialogues were thematically analysed using a critical audience engagement framework. We offer four moments in response to the question; one, a new respect for girls, two, girls in dialogue, three, encouraging leadership and four, we are listening. The space the girls created for the community members to engage in a dialogue around an arts-based digital dialogue tool was something new in the community and demonstrated how girls could take the lead in their community. Keywords Community engagement · Digital dialogue tool · Gender-based violence · Girl-led dialogue In South Africa, rural areas have been characterized by high rates of unemployment, gender-based violence (GBV), poverty and HIV-related issues (Leburu & PhetlhoThekisho, 2015). Dlamini (2021) posits that “GBV and femicide remain very high in South Africa” (p. 588), while WHO (2013) argues that South Africa has one of the Ethics approval number: H15-EDU-ERE-031. N. Yamile (B) · N. de Lange Nelson Mandela University, Port Elizabeth, South Africa e-mail: [email protected] N. de Lange e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2023 H. Mreiwed et al. (eds.), Making Connections in and Through Arts-Based Educational Research, Studies in Arts-Based Educational Research 5, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-19-8028-2_7

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highest rates of violence against girls and women in the world. In the current time of COVID-19, about 243 million girls and women worldwide have been subjected to sexual and/or physical violence perpetrated by an intimate partner (UN WOMEN, 2020), and in South Africa, the extent of such violence is indicated to be a second pandemic. In the South African society, across all cultures, girls and women also have to deal with low social status and often find themselves under the authority of boys and men. The South African society is largely patriarchal, with girls and women being taught to become homemakers and child-bearers, placing less value on their educational achievement (CSVR, 2016). Patriarchal beliefs and traditional values sustain community acceptance of violence (Jewkes et al., 2015) against girls and women reducing the chances of positive social change. Additionally, some societal beliefs and traditions relating to masculinity work in a way to maintain men’s brutality instead of strengthening women’s position. This inequality therefore has many consequences; financially, emotionally, socially and physically. Hence, Jewkes et al. (2011) conclude that GBV is gendered and can be physical, sexual, emotional, financial or structural in nature. The authors are members of a larger project, “Networks for Change and Wellbeing: Girl-led ‘From the Ground Up’ Policy Making to Address Sexual Violence in Canada and South Africa”, focusing on addressing sexual violence in a rural community. The first author is an Indigenous isiXhosa-speaking postgraduate student and the other a non-Indigenous academic at a university. We worked with a group of seven Indigenous isiXhosa-speaking girls to understand their lives in a rural community and to explore—using arts-based research—what GBV might look like in their life worlds (See Yamile, 2021). In this chapter, however, we write about them using an arts-based digital dialogue tool to engage their rural school community in a dialogue to address GBV. We respond to the following research question: “What are the rural school community members’ responses to the schoolgirls’ using a digital dialogue tool in engaging in dialogue with them to address gender-based violence?”.

1 The Rural School Community and the Participants The rural school community where the study was conducted is located in a small town in the Eastern Cape, one of the poorest of the nine provinces of South Africa. The level of education is low, many school children do not complete their schooling, and if they do, they seldom continue to colleges or universities. There is a high rate of unemployment and alcohol abuse, and teenage pregnancy is rife in the community. It is mostly girls and women who experience GBV in the schools and in the community. The secondary school was purposively selected (Ames et al., 2019), as it was an underserved school in a rural area but was also easily accessible to us and hence also conveniently chosen (Robinson & Kengatharan, 2020). The seven participants joined the project when they were in Grade 9 (between the ages of 15 and 16), and have been working with us to learn more about GBV and how they could address the issue in their rural school community (see Adam & De Lange, 2018). These

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seven girls referred to themselves as Young Girls Leading Change (YGLC), which highlights how they viewed their role in bringing about social change in their rural school community. The rural school community, for the purpose of this research, refers to peers, teachers, school governing body members, the girls’ parents and other interested members of the community. In this rural community, a dedicated and trained police officer for reporting GBV has been appointed. Yet, women and girls remain afraid of going to the police station fearing that the perpetrator will not be arrested due to incompetent police work, or due to bribery or due to police being complicit in the ill-treatment of women. The danger for the women and girls, if they do report GBV, is that the perpetrator might come back to harass the victim without any consequences. Most community members believe that they are safer if they keep quiet, so that the community does not know about the incident and victimize them further, according to Mutanana and Gasva (2015). As a result, girls continue to find it difficult to report cases of GBV. Additionally, customary laws do not seem to be protecting girls and women adequately in rural areas, as Indigenous women and girls are subjected to traditional courts which do not have procedures for addressing cases of GBV, and if they do, the traditional legal system and the community tend to blame the girls and women by saying they invited the perpetrators to commit sexual deeds (Msuya, 2019). It seems that past experiences prevent people from reporting to the police, hence the reluctance of going to the police station remains.

2 Arts-Based Methodology Arts-based research, according to Butler-Kisber (2018), draws on various art forms to engage participants to reflect on their own contexts and lives, to interpret their lived experiences and to communicate it to others. In this study, we used arts-based methods, such as making cellphilms (or participatory videos) (see Mitchell & De Lange, 2014) to look back and excavate their experiences of GBV, and then to use those to develop related policy posters and action briefs (see De Lange et al., 2015) to represent and communicate what they thought the problem was and to look forward to what needed to be done. The participatory nature of the methodology and the artsbased methods in themselves enabled the schoolgirls to talk about their experiences. While the sensitive topic like GBV is difficult to work with, the arts-based methods introduced some lightness to it, also enabling the schoolgirls to choose what they wanted to share and how they wanted to represent it. We, however, remained vigilant of ethical issues and had a psychologist in the project on hand to assist should we become aware of trauma arising. In a workshop retreat, the schoolgirls turned their arts-based visual artefacts into an arts-based digital dialogue tool, which is “a short digital making with sound and image that draws together and organises visual data for the purposes of engaging participants and various audiences” (Mitchell et al., 2016, p. 655). The digital dialogue tool the schoolgirls made is entitled “We are unsafe out on the streets, at

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Fig. 1 Title of the arts-based digital dialogue tool

home, we are not safe at all”: Young rural schoolgirls taking action against gender violence. (See Fig. 1). The digital dialogue tool consisted of 14 slides, made up of a slide introducing the group of YGLC, the title of the arts-based digital dialogue tool, the purpose of using the tool, what they envisaged their rural community to look like, a slide with all 9 cellphilm titles, one with the cellphilm “My stuff, my privacy” embedded in it (a storyline of two girls in a classroom taking a pack of sanitary pads out of their friend’s bag and playing with it as if it was a ball), and another cellphilm “After being raped” (a storyline of a girl who was raped and then assisted by her mother and aunt to ensure that the right processes were followed) (Fig. 2). Each cellphilm was complemented by a slide which showed the related policy poster and the action brief which explained what action the girls thought could be taken. Another slide showed how their work moved from their experiences, to their “seeing” and to taking action. The final slide had three questions (in English translated into isiXhosa) to the audience, to stimulate dialogue: What do you think of our work to address GBV?

(Nicinga ntoni ngomsebenzi wethu esiwenzileyo wokuphatheka kakubi kwamantombazana ngokwesini?) “What else can WE do?” (Yintoni engenye esinokuyenza?) and “What can YOU do?” (Ungenza ntoni wena?). Each dialogue started out with the schoolgirls introducing themselves to the audiences, and then screened the digital dialogue tool and explained their work in addressing GBV. In the last part of the digital dialogue tool, the schoolgirls posed the three questions to the audience. This opened up space for robust dialogue with the audience commending the girls, asking questions and offering advice on the way forward. Fig. 2 Titles of two cellphilms included in the arts-based digital dialogue tool

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The arts-based research clearly opened up a space for the schoolgirls to explore and understand the social injustices of GBV in a visceral way, beyond a mere cognitive grasp. Importantly, they could communicate their arts-based work with the wider community audience, enabling them, too, to feel the social injustice and to feel psyched up and prepared to do something to address it.

3 Critical Audience Engagement We drew on a Critical Audience Engagement (CAE) framework developed by Mitchell et al. (2017) to make meaning of how the participants and the audiences engage each other in community dialogue. This theoretical framework was useful as a critical approach to using arts-based artefacts and how they contribute to a deeper understanding of the issues of community dialogue. Mitchell et al. (2017) present the framework as a basic Venn diagram with three elements, namely Audience Engagement, Political Listening and Reflexivity, where the three elements interact community dialogue is enabled, opening up potential for social change. (See Fig. 3). The CAE framework enabled us to make meaning of the complexity of the rural school community dialogues around addressing GBV. The latter was positioned as vital to the learners’ safety at school, as schools worldwide are recognized as sites where sexual violence and gender inequalities occur (Altinyelken & Le Mat, 2018). In view of that, the YGLC used the arts-based digital dialogue tool to engage the audience and to enable political listening to move towards the possibility of transforming gender regimes and gender relations within the school community. Fig. 3 Framework for Critical Audience Engagement (Mitchell et al., 2017, p. 7)

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This required reflexivity on the part of the girls and the audiences, to understand how to collectively address GBV in the rural school community and to take action. Using the CAE framework enabled the studying of audience engagement and listening to the rural school community’s responses to the girls’ lived experiences.

4 Connecting Rural School Community Members Using an Arts-Based Digital Dialogue Tool The use of the arts-based digital dialogue tool enabled the school community members to see these schoolgirls in their rural community in a different light. We identify four positive moments in the dialogue; one, new respect for girls, two, rural girls in dialogue, three, encouraging girls’ leadership and four, we, the community, are listening.

5 A Moment: New Respect for Girls In most rural communities, in this case an Indigenous community, girls are less respected than boys. This has to do with culture and the value afforded to boys who can continue the family name through their legitimate offspring and who can take the role of head of the household. In this moment, it is demonstrated how the girls in sharing their knowledge drawn from their experiences and using their arts-based digital dialogue tool in public seem to gain new respect in the eyes of the audience, who consisted of the school community members. They were seen to be speaking up which encouraged the school community to step up into their role.

5.1 Girls Speak up In most rural communities, girls are often invisible and seldom heard, especially in public settings. The girls spoke up about their lived experiences of GBV refusing to be silenced or to feel judged in their rural community. In turn, the community responses emphasized that having the girls voicing their opinions encouraged the community to speak openly about gender-based violence too. I really like this group, especially the slogan of speaking up and breaking the silence (Male Parent, March18, p. 3, line 5). Girls, continue speaking. That is motivating to us as older generation, hence we are talking and giving you advices (Teacher 1, CD17, p. 8, line 7).

Speaking up is a strength that the community members recognized in the girls, who were facilitating the dialogue. The community members noticed, seemingly

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for the first time, the confidence the girls had to speak up, which encouraged the community to gain new respect for the girls.

5.2 Community to Step up When community members in dialogue with the participating girls rethought their positioning on GBV in the community and spoke about how to address the community challenges, enabling positive change, they—both male and female—were stepping up to the girls’ challenge to do something about it. It is not [only] women’s responsibility to talk to their children, men should talk to their children as well so that the children hear the same message from both parents (Female parent, March18, p. 2, Line 3 & 4).

The community looked and listened and engaged thoughtfully with the participants which resulted in finding ways that might reduce GBV in their community.

6 A Moment: Rural Girls in Dialogue It is difficult for girls to have a dialogue in a context where there are underlying power discrepancies related to, for example, age and gender. If the difficult context could be carefully negotiated, the audience, in this instance the school community, could be enticed to engage in the dialogue and share their thoughts on the topic presented. The community responses revealed that the participants owned the knowledge, drew on technology and used visuals as a communication tool to enhance the message.

6.1 Owning the Knowledge One can only speak with authority if you own the knowledge. The girls owned the sensitive knowledge of GBV which they presented, as it emerged from their own lived experiences, through experiencing it, witnessing it or learning about it. The owning of the knowledge enabled a confidence and a sensitivity which was visible to the community members in the audience, and which elicited positive feedback. I also like the fact that the girls know what they are presenting. As the audience, we can see that they have not been told what to say, but it is something from their hearts (Female parent, March18, p. 5, line 19, 20 & 21).

It is clear that the arts-based work of the participants was meaningful and memorable, and that it resonated with the audience. In the study context, it was the rural girls from the community, rather than outsiders, who acted in the cellphilms, adding authenticity to their stories.

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6.2 Communicating Through the Visual Visual arts-based work is seen as a powerful means to communicate ideas and can range from a film clip to an image to demonstrate a story or a message. The girls used the arts-based digital dialogue tool to help the audience understand their experiences and encourage engagement. As the rural community does not often engage with English-speaking people, English language skills were limited; therefore, the use of the visual arts-based artefacts was of importance in conveying the meaning of the work. The visual artefacts thus assisted the audience to understand, pay attention to and link what they had seen to their own realities. The videos you have shown today are educational (Ward councillor, March 18, p. 4, line 3). The tool the girls are using to show their work is very powerful (Male parent, March 18, p. 5, line 26, 27, & 28).

The community valued the use of the visual arts-based artefacts shared through new technologies, as it held their interest, but also lingered in their minds, helping them remember what they saw, and piquing their interest and wanting to see more.

6.3 Drawing on Technology The dialogue was enabled using technology—a laptop, data projector, screen and speakers, and a memory stick with the presentation on it and a clicker to advance the PowerPoint slides. It seemed that the technology influenced the way the audience thought about the girls and their community. The computers they are using to show their work means that they have learnt something new. We do not have computers in our houses, therefore they learnt how to use a computer from this project (Elderly woman, p. 6, line 2, 3 & 4).

The community acknowledged the presence of the technology and the skills the participants gained from using the technology.

7 A Moment: Encouraging Girls’ Leadership Girls’ leadership opportunities have for too long been denied, particularly so in rural communities. The schoolgirls have, however, managed to use the opportunities to show that they can push the boundaries and lead in a patriarchal context where men and boys usually lead. However, girls taking leading roles are often frowned upon in rural communities. While gender inequality continues to hold girls back, the community responses supported the participants, wanting them to succeed as leaders, by taking the lead and with the community valuing their own need to lead.

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7.1 Girls Taking the Lead The schoolgirls took the lead in facilitating the dialogue within their rural school community; a difficult thing to do, but which garnered them the praise and encouragement of the school community members in the audience: I like the name of the group. It is showing that the girls did the work themselves and are ready to go out to the community (Male Pastor, March 18, p. 1, line 15 & 16). I applaud you young girls for being so brave to come forward and address gender-based violence to the community (Male parent, March 18, p. 5, line 24 & 25).

The name of the girls’ group—Young Girls Leading Change—corresponds with their leading action in addressing GBV. The community recognized how difficult the work was, especially for girls from their rural community, as no girls had ever presented work to the community.

7.2 Community Valuing Own Need to Lead As young activists, the girl participants focused on the needs of their community which is intertwined with their own. It is important to have people from within the community, who know the community and its context, to address their own problems in ways that work for them; hence, it was important to lead in this regard. I am glad that this kind of work is done by girls that are from our own community. It wouldn’t have been nice to see people from other places doing the work on your behalf, as if there are no people that can do it locally (Male parent, March 18, p. 1, line 18 & 19).

The community responses appreciated and accepted that the girls leading were from their own community.

8 A Moment: We, the Community, Are Listening In the dialogue, the intention of the girls was to communicate their message about GBV, so that the audience could hear and listen, and change could be brought about in relation to GBV. The community members’ listening highlighted the importance of learning from each other, reflecting on selves and thinking of action.

8.1 Learning from Each Other In a community under siege of GBV, it is necessary to work together and to learn from each other to address GBV. A complex problem like GBV requires that all learn

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from each other, as there is no one grouping that knows everything or who could address GBV on their own. I am taking home to listen to my children and will practice after this event. I am so grateful that I came to this event (Female parent, CD17, p. 3, line 21 & 22).

Girls’ voices are seldom heard, but, in this moment, the community members present finally seemed to listen to the girls and supported them in thinking of how they could all learn together to address GBV.

8.2 Reflecting on Selves It seemed that the community dug deep in themselves to reflect on and gain insights into their own lives. Reflecting on self, allowing a look into thoughts, emotions and actions, could enable change. As, in this instance, the parents looked back and forth, they realized that they themselves needed to change some behaviour and lead their children by example. We might say children do not listen, but we as parents are doing all the wrong things in front of the children and expect the children to do right (Female parent, CD17, p. 2, line 15 & 16).

It is clear then that the schoolgirls’ arts-based digital dialogue tool and their facilitation of the dialogue triggered some parents to reflect on their own parenting and behaviour.

8.3 Thinking of Action To get the community involved in a campaign was important for the participants to make the community aware that GBV is real and affects mostly girls and women. The community responses demonstrated that they listened and were motivated by the participants’ work around GBV. For that reason, it seemed that the community wanted to become involved by sharing their ideas, experiences and giving guidance. We as parents need to have an open a discussion with our children about what they can do and where they can go if they experience any kind of gender-based violence in case they not approaching us (Participant Nel, March 18, p. 3, line 18, 19 & 20). We as the community need to outgrow the fear of going to a police station and visit police station whenever there is a case to be reported (Female parent, March 18, p. 3, Line,16 & 17).

On the Women’s Day march and dialogue, men and boys were calling the community to come and join the march. For example, two male police officers accompanied the girls on the march showing that they did not support violence towards girls and women. Also, during the dialogue, three of the speakers were men, the pastor,

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the ward councillor and the police officer who responded to how girls and women are treated in the community and what they as men can do to minimize GBV. The responses and questions from the men and boys demonstrated that they were willing to address GBV by being involved in dialogues and sharing their ideas. The community responses show that the community was cognizant of the challenges of taking action in the community, realizing that they all have a critical role to play in changing their lived experiences of GBV.

9 Arts-Based Research and Community Engagement Using arts-based research to engage audiences can broaden the engagement with social issues effecting change (Parsons et al., 2017). Some scholars have used artsbased research to “explore experiential insights into how violent conflict impacts individuals and communities in specific sociocultural contexts and shapes their views of development and peace” (Bliesemann de Guevara et al., 2021, p. 1). The scholars used drawings as a method in the context of peacebuilding and development. In this case, their participants reflected on their lives including illegal activities and shared how the use of drawing enabled them to voice their opinions and be listened to when discussing a sensitive topic that is usually difficult to verbalize or seldom discussed among them. This example demonstrates that arts-based research can offer a safe space where participants are able to talk openly and foster dialogue (Cohenmiller, 2018). In our study with the schoolgirls, we were particularly drawn to using an artsbased digital dialogue tool to stimulate community dialogues and inspire community members to engage with the participants in working towards the solution of minimizing GBV in their community. The arts-based methods allowed participants to take ownership of the research and be able to define their own experiences and strategies for positive change. In choosing to use an arts-based digital dialogue tool, we wanted a method that would enable the participants to increase their confidence when addressing gender-based violence when engaging with the community. As a result, this method facilitated richer reflection on past experiences and helped participants to acknowledge their past and understand who they are (McKay & Sappa, 2020). The community members’ responses were explored by studying their interaction with and feedback concerning girls using an arts-based digital dialogue tool in addressing GBV. This was done to share the produced knowledge and to disrupt prevailing hierarchical power relations that silence girls from making visible issues that require community action. Throughout the dialogue, girls and women were visible and their visibility, also through the arts-based artefacts, affirmed their realities and who they were which was prevented in the past. It seemed that the community listened and responded positively during the dialogues, identifying key factors which might contribute to the success of the community collectively addressing GBV.

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The arts-based digital dialogue tool was pivotal in creating spaces for the girls and the community to connect and participate equally, focusing on minimizing gender inequality and GBV.

References Adam, M., & De Lange, N. (2018). Seeing things: Schoolgirls in a rural setting using visual artefacts to initiate dialogue in resisting sexual violence. In C. Mitchell, & R. Moletsane (Eds.) Disrupting shameful legacies: Girls and young women speak back through the arts to address sexual violence (pp. 139–154). Brill Sense. Altinyelken, H.K., & Le Mat, M. (2018). Sexual violence, schooling and silence: Teacher narratives from a secondary school in Ethiopia. Compare: A Journal of Comparative and International Education, 48(4), 648–664. https://doi.org/10.1080/03057925.2017.1332517 Ames, H., Glenton, C., & Lewin, R. (2019). Purposive sampling in a qualitative evidence synthesis: A worked example from a synthesis on parental perceptions of vaccination communication. BMC Med Res Methodology, 19(26), 1–9. https://doi.org/10.1186/s12874-019-0665-4 Bliesemann de Guevara, B., Refaie, E., Furnai, E., Gameiro, S., Julian, R., & Payson, A. (2021). Drawing out experiential conflict knowledge in Myanmar: Arts-based methods in qualitative research with conflict-affected communities. Journal of Peacebuilding and Development, 1–20. https://doi.org/10.1177/15423166211015971 Butler-Kisber, L. (2018). Qualitative inquiry: Thematic, narrative and arts-based perspectives. (Second Edition). Sage. Centre for the Study of Violence and Reconciliation (CSVR) (2016). Gender-Based Violence (GBV) in South Africa: A Brief Review. CSVR. CohenMiller, A.S. (2018). Visual arts as a tool for phenomenology. Forum Qualitative Sozialforschung/Forum: Qualitative Social Research, 19(1), 1–22. https://doi.org/10.17169/fqs-19.1. 2912 De Lange, N., & Mitchell, C. (2014). Building a future without gender violence: Rural teachers and youth in rural KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa, leading community dialogue. Gender and Education, 26(5), 584–599. https://doi.org/10.1080/09540253.2014.942257 De Lange, N., Mitchell, C., & Moletsane, R. (2015). Girl-led strategies to address campus safety: Creating action briefs for dialogue with policy makers. Agenda, 29(3), 118–127. https://doi.org/ 10.1080/10130950.2015.1072300 Dlamini, N. J. (2021). Gender-based violence, twin pandemic to COVID-19. Critical Sociology, 47(4–5), 583–590. https://doi.org/10.1177/0896920520975465 Jewkes, R., Sikweyiya, Y., Morrell R., & Dunkle, K. (2011). The relationship between intimate partner violence, rape and HIV amongst South African men: A cross-sectional study. Plos one, 6(9), 1–6. https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0024256 Jewkes, R., Flood, M., & Lang, J. (2015). From work with men and boys to changes of social norms and reduction of inequities in gender relations: A conceptual shift in prevention of violence against women and girls. The Lancet, 385(1), 1580–1589. https://doi.org/10.1016/S0140-6736(14)616 83-4 Leburu, G., & Phetlho-Thekisho, N. (2015). Reviewing gender-based violence against women and HIV/AIDS as intersecting issues. Social Work, 51(3), 399–420. https://socialwork.journals.ac.za/ pub/article/view/455 McKay, L., & Sappa, V. (2020). Harnessing creativity through arts-based research to support teachers’ identity development. Journal of Adult and Continuing Education, 26(1), 25–42. https:// doi.org/10.1177/1477971419841068 Mitchell, C., Chege, F., Maina, L., & Rothman, M. (2016). Beyond engagement in working with children in eight Nairobi slums to address safety, security, and housing: Digital tools for policy

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Hope Stories of the Arts and School-Wide Change Bronwen Low, Michael Lipset, and Mindy R. Carter

Without hope there is no way we can even start thinking about education.—(Freire, 2007, p. 87). Art is the highest form of hope.—(Richter, 1982).

Abstract This chapter focuses on a school–community–university partnership that explores how integrating the urban arts across the curriculum can transform a school culture. Hope is a central theme that emerged from the research data, as researchers explored how the arts offered teachers, community artists, and students alternate ways of engaging in teaching and learning. Arts-based research offered a methodological underpinning for the collection of arts-based artefacts and stories as examples of how the arts fostered pride, community, and hope. Keywords Hope theory · Hope stories · ABR · School transformation · Hip-Hop · School–university–community partnership In 2015, teachers, street artists, and students at a high-school in a Canadian city collaborated to produce a 60-foot wheat paste mural showcasing notable community members past and present (Fig. 1). Commuters nearby might have been surprised by the spectacular transformation of the otherwise unremarkable building, or to learn the mural was a product of paper, flour, and water. Combined into a wheat paste, heated, then applied to surfaces such as wood and concrete, the flour and water become stronger than glue. This street art form is ephemeral, gradually dissolving in response to sun, rain, snow, and time, and does not damage the initial surface. For the university researchers, this mural is a reminder of the importance of recognizing the past and B. Low (B) · M. Lipset · M. R. Carter Department of Integrated Studies in Education, McGill University, Montreal, Canada e-mail: [email protected] M. Lipset e-mail: [email protected] M. R. Carter e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2023 H. Mreiwed et al. (eds.), Making Connections in and Through Arts-Based Educational Research, Studies in Arts-Based Educational Research 5, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-19-8028-2_8

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Fig. 1 Local heroes. Note Picture taken by M. Proietti

looking towards the future, being aware that initiatives will inevitably evolve based on the needs of the school community. The ephemeral nature of the wheat mural, which disappears and needs to be re-created, also illustrates our understanding of the active nature of hope, as in the verb esperar in Spanish. Esperar reminds us that hope is an action, something that we must continually “do” or “work” on.

1 Background The school’s arts focus was initiated by the then principal of what we are calling Urban Arts High School (UAHS), inspired by significant student interest in extracurricular activities grounded in Hip-Hop culture, which positively correlated with improved daily attendance in school and reduced lateness to class. UAHS struggled with low graduation, absenteeism, and lateness rates that at the time of the project were the highest in the school board. The school also faced dramatically decreasing enrolment due to a complex set of factors and a negative reputation in the neighbourhood. These factors helped produce what Payne (2008) describes as a “demoralized” school culture, “governed by an overarching sense of futility and pessimism” (p. 23), narrow curriculum, lack of trust between colleagues and administration, and high-staff and student turnover. Seeking to fight this demoralization by building on student interests

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and success, the school leadership invited university researchers and arts community members involved in the life of the school to help support the school’s transformation into an “urban arts” high school (the project was supported by a SSHRC Partnership Development Grant, PI, Bronwen Low; Co-investigators Mindy R. Carter, Elizabeth Wood, and Claudia Mitchell) (Low et al., 2016). Bronwen and Mindy are faculty, and Michael was a doctoral research assistant; all were members of the research team. We envisioned the urban arts as shaped by Hip-Hop’s artistic elements (rapping, DJing, breakdancing and graffiti/muralism) and grassroots community values and critical politics, but also encompassing street and other art forms in which students were engaged. The school–university–community partnership took an assets-based approach (Schorr, 1997) to school reform, building on student success and interest in integrating the urban arts across the curriculum through teacher-artist collaborations, supported by art spaces such as a gallery and a recording studio.

2 Arts-Based Research and Hope We take up a broad definition of arts-based research (ABR) in this chapter, where: ABR practices have emerged out of the natural affinity between research practice and artistic practice... Drawing on the capabilities of the creative arts, ABR practices offer qualitative researchers alternatives to traditional research methods and methodologies. ABR practices are a set of methodological tools used by qualitative researchers across disciplines during all phases of social research, including data collection, analysis, interpretation, and representation. These emerging tools adapt the tenets of the creative arts in order to address social research questions in holistic and engaged ways in which theory and practice are intertwined (Leavy, 2009, p. iv).

Research funding allowed the partners to engage in a formal arts-based “researchpractice” partnership focused on “problems of practice” (Penuel & Gallagher, 2017). This meant that the research team was actively supporting arts integration in the school through workshops and other modes of teaching while also studying the impact of the process on the school’s culture, including student engagement and teacher feelings of efficacy and satisfaction. Researchers were both doing and researching arts in education, allowing us as qualitative researchers to address social research questions in engaged and holistic ways (Butler-Kisber, 2018; Carter, 2022; Leavy, 2009; Rolling, 2013). Although the research framing of this study was ethnographic at the outset, the ways that the urban arts and artful considerations for holistic learning were weaved into every aspect of the initial creation, collaboration, integration and outcomes of this project, compelled us to turn to the ABR literature to understand the power of the arts in educational and school change contexts, including the way(s) that “the arts are able to access that which is out of reach” (Leavy, 2017, p. 14). Hope also emerged as a conceptual framework for exploring student and teacher experiences because research has shown that motivation, or hope for change in education, is a prerequisite for change. Hope is an important antidote to a demoralized school culture. Since hope for change involves being able to imagine otherwise, a

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strength of the arts (Greene, 2001), we were interested in how the arts initiatives might be nurturing hope in the school. To consider the significance of hope and its connection to artmaking in pedagogical contexts, this chapter begins by overviewing theories of hope and hope through the arts. We then describe the research partnership, and share “hope stories’” (Snyder et al., 1997) derived from analysis of our data through the lens of hope that offer insight into the elements of our urban arts partnership that seemed to support and nurture hope. We argue that arts-based research and the hope literature can complement and extend each other.

3 What is Hope? Among features necessary for an effective school change culture, Fullan (2006) singles out motivation for change among staff as crucial (p. 8). We interpret this to mean “hope for the future,” which is arguably “a foundational motivation for education” (Birmingham, 2009, p. 27). Across conceptions of hope, articulated in cognitive, ontological, affective, social, and other terms (Edgoose, 2010; te Riele, 2010; Webb, 2013), is an understanding of hope as a future-minded orientation tied to aspiration and a sense of possibility; hope allows us to look beyond the existing state of things, imagining otherwise. As Edgoose (2010) describes, “hope is a belief in the possibility of a better future” (p. 387), which seems both integral to school transformation as well as education more generally. Maxine Greene reminds us that the arts play a key role in helping us to envision that future “as we move from the ‘is’ to the ‘might be,’ to the ‘should be’” (Greene, 2007, p. 4). The arts do this by “releasing the imagination” (Greene, 1995), offering “the capacity to break with the ordinary, the given, the taken-for-granted and open doors to possibility” (Greene, 2007, p. 1). Elsewhere, Greene describes both “the kindling of hope” and “engagement with the arts” as “chords, themes that remind us of the need to acknowledge the darkness and, working against that darkness, to conjecture… to imagine, to transform” (Greene, 2001, p. 120). James Baldwin (1998) echoes Greene’s emphasis on the arts as a space wherein the creator will “illuminate that darkness … to make the world a more human dwelling place,” which hints at a foreword-thinking, hopeful disposition found within the arts (p. 1). The arts and hope, quite simply, often walk hand in hand. We wondered how to identify hope in oneself and others? In Snyder et al.’s (2000) psychological “hope theory”, the key components of hope are the ability to set goals, envision pathways towards these, and achieve them: “Hope is a positive motivational state that is based on an interactively derived sense of successful (a) agency (goaldirected energy), and (b) pathways (planning to meet goals)” (p. 287). While this way of thinking about hope might seem distant from theories of the imagination, we speculate that the ability to imagine is integral to setting goals for yourself, seeing yourself as able to attain them, and revising those goals when facing difficulty. Snyder’s (2002) conception of the uses of hope is positive, with high-hope individuals seen as faring better generally than low-hope ones across domains (e.g.,

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academic success, athletics, health, and psychological adjustment). However, theorists such as Webb (2013) claim that hope is not necessarily transformative, arguing that it can “reproduce social relations” (p. 397). Similarly, art itself is not intrinsically liberating, as Barone (2008) reminds us: “Artists, and arts-based researchers, however high-minded their emancipatory intentions, may produce works as exclusionary, monologic, and hegemonic as other sorts of projects” (p. 38). Both require a critical framing. Duncan-Andrade (2009) argues that in schools serving marginalized youth, the term hope is often thrown around excessively, leading to false hopes including hokey hope (“up-by-your bootstraps hyperbole”), mythical hope (celebrating individual accomplishment as proof of meritocracy), and hope deferred, which plagues teachers working with urban youth who understand the challenges the youth face but feel overwhelmed and ill-equipped to deal with these concerns. Although there is awareness of the issues, such teachers cannot affect transformative pedagogy. In response, Duncan-Andrade (2009) argues for critical hope as a means and mode for rejecting the despair of hopelessness: “Critical hope demands a committed and active struggle against the evidence in order to change the deadly tides of wealth inequality, group xenophobia, and personal despair” (p. 186). Critical hope must include a material element, such as high-quality teaching, resources and networks that students can be connected to. Critical hope must also be Socratic, calling for teachers and students to look at their lives and actions in relation to an unjust society, for “the unexamined life is not worth living” (in Duncan-Andrade, 2009, p. 187). Finally, it must be audacious, requiring that teachers and students must persevere in the face of obstacles together. In our arts-based research collaboration, we sought to foster and identify such kinds of critical hope amongst teachers, students, and teaching artists as they relate to schoolwide change.

4 The Urban Arts Research Partnership Our partnership was ambitious, seeking to integrate the arts across the school and curriculum. Seeking sustainability post-grant funding, we built an arts infrastructure in the school composed of a recording studio, an art gallery to be curated by students, and a screen-printing press. Grant funds also helped purchase new school uniform Tshirts with a logo designed in collaboration with a local street artist. The partnership helped fund expanded extracurricular activities such as Hip-Hop music, dance, and street art creation. It also paired teachers with artists to co-create and co-teach, with support from university content area specialists. From 2014 to 2018, there were 27 collaborative, interdisciplinary projects across subjects and grades. These included an annual student-produced mixtape, the mural project described in the opening, and an in-house bike repair shop supporting science and technology curricula. As is typical of research-practice partnerships (Penuel & Gallagher, 2017), the researchers were actively involved in both developing and studying the initiatives at the school, including offering professional development sessions for teachers,

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leading visual art, dance and rapping workshops, building the art gallery with students, seeking additional funding, and scheduling and scaffolding the collaborations between teachers and artists. Research in the project was overseen by a steering committee with representation from teaching staff, administration, artist partners and researchers, and the findings shared in this paper have therefore been member checked by key figures among the school staff. Reflection on what we were learning was ongoing among members of the research team, school and community partners. In order to understand the process and impact of these arts interventions, we used ethnographic inquiry given its appropriateness as a method for exploring the complexity of multi-dimensional change processes, lived over time, within school culture. The project was documented via often daily participation of research assistants (from two to four) taking fieldnotes of classroom observations, project meetings, and professional development sessions. Data sources also include multiple interviews with teachers, artists, and students over the course of each academic year, as well as copies of student artwork, ensuring triangulation. Drawing upon Snyder’s indicators of hope, we coded our transcripts and fieldnotes for expressions of goals, pathways, and agency thinking, and, following Duncan-Andrade, expressions of critical hope, encompassing attempts to imagine otherwise as informed by critiques of existing practices and of an unjust society. Data analysis was ongoing (Leavy, 2009), allowing us to understand the data throughout its process of coming into being, in which the whole, the parts, and the relationships between the parts are held as equally significant (Carter, 2015). The concept of “hope stories” emerged in the work of Snyder as a strategy for counteracting the negative stories of hopelessness that can emerge in schools, including classrooms and staff rooms and faculty meetings (Snyder et al., 1997, p. 398). They are to be shared in schools as part of the cultivation of what Halpin (2003) calls cultures of learning that accentuate the positive rather than the negative, which is particularly important work given how negatively education is often experienced by both students and teachers. We borrow the concept to identify hopeful moments in our data, convinced that “hope stories” are also important to be shared in educational research and partnerships, particularly in the challenging context of school change initiatives.

5 Hope Stories and the Urban Arts Given that one of our initial findings was that many teachers were resistant to the urban arts change initiative, seeing it as having been imposed upon them by the previous administration, we viewed teacher engagement in art-based projects as distinct signs of hope. In turn, the teachers most committed to the partnership seemed to see the arts themselves as a source of hope. One teacher of French, for instance, immediately agreed to collaborate with two local rap artists in a project where the students all had to create one lyrical bar in French using the verbs être or avoir. She describes the artists as “cool” and able to fight a “wall” of resistance to French

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from students, having them “think about French in a positive way”. A math teacher described the artists as bringing in “light” and energy to the school, including a “passion … that carries a lot when you are dealing with kids”, and how they fostered participation as “a way to bring [students] back”. Their arts-based perspectives helped another teacher “think outside the box”. Some teachers seem to see the arts as a pathway for ambitious change school wide. One engaged in five collaborations with different artists, including units in math on the “business of music” with two professional rappers, a unit on scale with a muralist, and one on the principles of the circle with a break dancer (Figs. 2 and 3). This teacher seemed to want to transform the curriculum through the arts rather than seeing these as the domain of the music and visual arts teachers alone. This teacher also seemed committed to “critical hope” in a unit titled “What is democracy?” taught in collaboration with a visual artist. He and his students explored democracy across time and place, from ancient Greece to the present, and critically interrogated recent legislation limiting the civic participation of those wearing visible religious symbols. With the support of the artist, they sought to represent democracy in a single image, many choosing to depict ink-stained thumbs. A music teacher in his second year of teaching identified that many of his students lacked experiences of success, and so specifically sought to provide students with pathways towards it. He demonstrated agency by constantly adapting his music curriculum and pedagogy to provide these experiences of accomplishment (including, for instance, developing beat-making and digital music mashup units which allowed students to produce sounds they enjoy relatively quickly) (Gage et al., 2019) (see Fig. 3 for an image of the reconfigured music room). The teacher also expressed critical hope by working with his students to curate several shows in the school’s art gallery. Art projects on topics such as the “struggle for Black equality” celebrated contemporary Black artists and athletes and issues such as #Blacklivesmatter (see Fig. 4) rather than the usual Civil Rights icons previously celebrated at the school during Black History Month. This same teacher and his students created a multimedia oral history project including video interviews about the lives of neighbourhood residents, a number of whom described their struggles with issues such as poverty and alcoholism as well as the strengths of their community. The exhibit included an interactive neighbourhood map, created with support from a web developer. This teacher also produced an annual mixtape featuring original student creations and recordings of rock bands from each grade, shared online on a Website he created with the students. The school’s art teacher described how she had specifically chosen to work at UAHS because she “didn’t want to be the art teacher at another school that would have to teach convention and create art that students don’t necessarily connect with”. She took full advantage of the opportunity to collaborate with artists, including in a HipHop/street art informed project displayed in the gallery in which students designed and painted blank white sneakers. A show entitled “Skateboard Matters” featured skateboard decks painted by students. These pieces were accompanied by a video PSA in which students made the case for a skateboard park in the neighbourhood.

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Fig. 2 Spinning the circumference of a circle. Note Pictures taken by D. Friedmann

Projects such as these fostered critical consciousness, and a greater awareness of the socio-political complexities of the lives of community members in both students and gallery attendees (Fig. 5). Exhibits in the student-curated gallery as well as the annual mixtape, shared and promoted online, gave a visibility to the arts initiatives, and acted as tangible evidence that the school was changing to become more inclusive of student identities and interests through the arts. The look of the school was also transformed through

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Fig. 3 Sustainable sound: a new music room. Note Picture taken by D. Friedmann Fig. 4 I can’t breathe. Note Picture taken by M. Proietti

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Fig. 5 Skateboards matter. Note Picture taken by M. Proietti

multiple murals created through collaborations between local artists and students (see Low & Proietti, 2020, for analysis of how changing the look and feel of the school also fostered teacher resistance). Local media also helped showcase this work through many stories in print, on television, and the radio featuring specific exhibits; this helped to change the reputation of the school, attracting new students. Another “hope story” emerged during a teacher-led professional development workshop, in which teachers who had been most active to date in the partnership shared with their colleagues their urban arts projects and student work. This workshop saw teachers usually uninterested in the partnership express some interest in participating and sharing obstacles they saw as impediments (for example, standardised testing). Such an exchange removed the influence of the university researchers, sometimes seen as outsiders with an agenda; a follow-up professional development session might have taken seriously these seeds of interest along with the reservations and sought to collectively develop strategies that were realistic but still in the spirit of the urban arts vision.

6 Transforming School Culture for Students While the benefits of arts education to the individual are well-documented (Carter, 2015, 2016; Eisner, 2002), less is known about the impact of arts integration, and particularly Hip-Hop, at a schoolwide level. As the work at UAHS unfolded, students

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shared with researchers that their experiences were improving, indicative of hopeful dispositions about school at large. Of the arts in the school, Malaika, a student, said, “It’s good that they’re putting [the arts] into normal classes because it makes it more alive”. Through her mention of “classes” plural, she indicates the change was not limited to a single classroom. Another student, Marisa, recognized that the arts component of the UAP “puts people in a better mood” because it allowed them to “do something that they like”. Doing something they liked seemed to encourage some students to persevere in service of their goals. For instance, one said how “participation inspired me to do more, because sometimes for me I don’t finish what I want to do, and so (engaging in the arts) inspired me to finish what I should have done, do what I love to do”. Inspiration here seems integral to achieving goals set for oneself and overcoming obstacles to accomplishing those goals. Opportunities for artmaking prompted a sense of pride and satisfaction in students. As one student described: “Excitement and skill…excitement, about creating a big piece that is hanging on the wall…I can walk by it and say, ‘Wow, I did that, it wasn’t someone else. I did that,’ and I can show my family and my friends that I did that, and no one else did. I have the satisfaction that I did it.” These opportunities to showcase work seemed to help shift what was initially described by students and teachers as a widespread culture of bullying and judgement at the school; students spoke of the value of being able to witness and celebrate each other’s talents through their creativity, improving student relationships to school and each other. The mentions of excitement also suggested that the arts brought new life and energy to the school.

7 Conclusion Our study revealed that the arts helped to foster hope at UAHS in a number of ways. Teachers’ hopefulness, expressed in a willingness to try new things and perseverance in the face of difficulty, was strengthened by collaborating with artists they admired and who seemed to motivate the students. These artists were also described as expanding teachers’ ways of thinking “outside the box”. The open-ended possibilities of arts integration, not confined by any one genre or set curriculum, established conditions for teachers to experiment and adapt across the curriculum in relation to different student needs. The arts provided a curricular context for students and teachers to try new things, to fail (and then learn from their failures), and to know that there is a safety net for experimentation. Being able to try something out, and not be immediately judged or penalized for a first attempt at learning, shifted the learning community at UAHS from one in which failure (i.e., low test scores, as well as poor attendance and graduation rates) was the metric and narrative, to one in which there was a commitment over time to imagine something other than what is, so that new spaces and identities were created and experienced. Such shifts are key to transforming a demoralized school culture (Payne, 2008). The arts offered possibilities for students to enjoy themselves more and experience success, growing their confidence and pride. This success was witnessed by others,

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including family, peers, and the outside community. Just as the wheat paste mural changed the look of the school by publicly celebrating local heroes, the many art works and collaborations throughout the curriculum and extracurricular activities showcased the accomplishments of students, starting to change the culture of the school internally. The arts also helped generate experiences and expressions of critical hope; since the arts are so closely tied to liberation and resistances, they were well-suited to student engagement with social movements, local and other politics, and advocacy. Critical to the project successes were that the arts interventions were driven by student interests. While the partnership did not continue after the grant funding ended, in part due to a leadership change at the school, it left a strong legacy. Today, UAHS exists as a high school with a strong music and visual arts curriculum, including a state-ofthe-art recording studio, its own screen-printing press for student-led entrepreneurial fashion projects, a vernissage room, and a newly renovated music room. The music room’s renovation was funded by a grant written by a teaching artist hired during this research project who went on to take a permanent, part-time role as liaison between the school and surrounding community. In these ways, the project left a lasting, sustainable legacy of hopeful arts engagement at UAHS. Given the ways that the arts helped foster a more hopeful culture in the school, understood in terms of teacher and student agency, interest and ability in setting goals and developing pathways towards these, we argue that hope studies in education should pay particular attention to the capacities of the arts for supporting wholeschool change. Our study also demonstrates some of the ways the arts can be an excellent medium for fostering and expressing critical hope. We also propose that hope theory’s notion of “goals” might be complemented by theories of the imagination and their emphasis on the value of expanding one’s sense of possibility, breaking with the “business as usual” of everyday life, and identifying opportunities for change (Greene, 2007). In turn, ABR might attend more closely to the ways that arts in education can foster hope, given how integral hope is to individual and school transformation, and how well-suited the arts are as its medium.

References Baldwin, J. (1998). The creative process. In J. Baldwin, Collected essays (pp. 669–673). Library of America. Barone, T. S. (2008). How arts-based research can change minds. In M. Cahnmann-Taylor & R. Siegesmund (Eds.), Arts-based research in education: Foundations for practice (pp. 28–49). Routledge. Birmingham, C. (2009). The disposition of hope in teaching. Teacher Education Quarterly, 36(4), 27–39. https://files.eric.ed.gov/fulltext/EJ870213.pdf. Butler-Kisber, Lynn. (2018). Qualitative inquiry: Thematic, narrative, and arts-based perspectives. Sage.

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Carter, M. (2015). A critical, a/r/tographical enquiry into the meaning and purpose of performing “Gallop Apace”. Journal of Educational Enquiry, 14(1), 52–63. https://ojs.unisa.edu.au/index. php/EDEQ/article/view/1024. Carter, M. (2016). Postcards from prison: An autophenomenological inquiry. Journal of Curriculum Theorizing, 31(1), 72–87. Carter, M. R. (2022). Unsettling the settler: An arts-based exploration. Societies, 12(2), 46. Duncan-Andrade, J. (2009). Note to educators: Hope required when growing roses in concrete. Harvard Educational Review, 79(2), 181–194. https://doi.org/10.17763/haer.79.2.nu3436017730 384w. Edgoose, J. (2010). Hope in the unexpected: Can teachers still make a difference in the world? Teachers College Record, 112(2), 386–406. https://doi.org/10.1177/016146811011200206 Eisner, E. (2002). The educational imagination. Merrill Prentice Hall. Freire, P. (2007). Daring to dream. Paradigm. Fullan, M. (2006). Change theory: A force for school improvement. Center for Strategic Education: Seminar Series Paper, 157th ser. Michael Fullan: Motion Leadership http://michaelfullan.ca/wpcontent/uploads/2016/06/13396072630.pdf. Gage, N., Low, B., & Reyes, F. L. (2019). Listen to the tastemakers: Building an urban arts high school music curriculum. Research Studies in Music Education, 42(1), 1–18. Greene, M. (2001). Thinking of things as if they could be otherwise: The arts and intimations of a better social order. In Variations on a blue guitar: The Lincoln Center lectures on aesthetic education (pp. 116–121). Teachers College Press. Greene, M. (2007). Imagination and the healing arts. Maxine Greene Institute. https://maxinegre ene.org/uploads/library/imagination_ha.pdf. Greene, M. (1995). Releasing the imagination: Essays on education, the arts, and social change. Jossey-Bass. Halpin, D. (2003). Hope and education: The role of the utopian imagination. Routledge Falmer. Leavy, P. (2009). Method meets art: Arts-based research practice. Guilford Press. Leavy, P. (2017). Research design: Quantitative, qualitative, and mixed methods, arts-based, and community-based participatory research approaches. Gilford Press. Low, B., & Proietti, M. (2020). Dissensus, street art, and school change. International Journal of Art and Design Education, pp. 1–13. https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/https://doi.org/10.1111/ jade.12319. Low, B., Carter, M. R., Wood, E., Mitchell, C., Proietti, M., & Friedmann, D. (2016). Building an urban arts partnership between school, community-based artists, and university. Learning Landscapes, 10(1), 153–172. Payne, C.M. (2008). So much reform, so little change: The persistence of failure in urban schools. Harvard Education Press. Penuel, W., & Gallagher, D. (2017). Creating research-practice partnerships in education. Harvard Education Press. Richter, G. (1982). https://www.gerhard-richter.com/en/quotes/art-1. Rolling, J. (2013). Arts-based research primer. Peter Lang. Schorr, L.B. (1997). Common purpose. Anchor Books. Snyder, C.R., McDermott, D., Cook, W., & Rapoff, M.A. (1997). Hope for the journey: Helping children through good times and Bad. Westview Press. Snyder, C. R. (2000). Handbook of hope: Theory, measures and applications. Academic Press. Snyder, C. R. (2002). Hope theory: Rainbows in the mind. Psychological Inquiry, 13(4), 249–275. https://doi.org/10.1207/S15327965PLI1304_01 Te Riele, K. (2010). Philosophy of hope: Concepts and applications for working with marginalized youth. Journal of Youth Studies, 13(1), 35–46. https://doi.org/10.1080/13676260903173496 Webb, D. (2013). Pedagogies of hope. Studies in Philosophy and Education: An International Journal, 32(4), 397–414. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11217-012-9336-1

The #StopAsianHate Movement: Deconstructing Asian Hate Through Digital–Visual Approach and Letter Writing Ha Bich Dong, Son Vo-Tuan, Long Vu-Hoang, and Ngoc Phuong Trinh Bui

Abstract The COVID-19 pandemic has contributed to rising hate crimes and discrimination against Asian peoples worldwide. We, four Vietnamese graduate students from different disciplines and educational systems, come together to discuss the #StopAsianHate movement during the global pandemic, which lead us to investigate the larger issue of identity and systemic racism. This study is grounded by deconstructionism to de-essentialize the concreted dichotomy of the original white identity and the deficient Asian identity; thus, we reveal the diversity in a company called “Asian.” Our study begins with a digital visual approach to analyze online photographs regarding the #StopAsianHate movement, which broadens our understanding of the complexity of racism in different contexts. We then write letters to one another to share our reflections, personal stories, and/or strategies to strengthen us to counter the discrimination we saw online or experienced in real life. These insights are synthesized into a unifying letter to promote actions to develop collaborative learning and connections in a time of turbulence. This research demonstrates that art-based methods have the potential to set up a creative space, even virtually, where diverse individuals co-create new knowledge and cultivate collective resilience to address racism. Keywords Asian hate · Racism · COVID-19 · Digital–visual approach · Letter writing H. B. Dong (B) Ph.D. Program in Peace and Conflict Studies, Faculty of Graduate Studies, University of Manitoba, Manitoba, Canada e-mail: [email protected] S. Vo-Tuan Digital Anthropology, UCL Anthropology Department, Faculty of Social & Historical Sciences, University College London, London, UK L. Vu-Hoang Communication and Media Studies, School of Journalism and Communication, Vietnam National University, Hanoi, Vietnam N. P. T. Bui Faculty of Education and Social Work, Thompson Rivers University, Kamloops, Canada © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2023 H. Mreiwed et al. (eds.), Making Connections in and Through Arts-Based Educational Research, Studies in Arts-Based Educational Research 5, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-19-8028-2_9

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1 Introduction Who are the “Asians” in the #StopAsianHate movement? What creative processes would allow people to exchange dialogue and build connections? How can we, as human beings, create educational spaces where individuals learn together and cultivate resilience in times of turbulence? The COVID-19 pandemic has contributed to rising hate crimes and discrimination against Asian peoples, notably the Asian-Pacific communities, across the world (Human Rights Watch, 2020). Various studies explore the connections between the pandemic and the perpetuating stigmatization against Asian peoples in EuroAmerican contexts, raising questions regarding the broader issue of systemic racism (Gover et al., 2020; Roberto et al., 2020). During the pandemic, social media became the primary conduit in revealing hatred toward Asians, while also drawing transnational attention to abhorrent racism. The circulated hashtag #StopAsianHate has become commonly utilized to surface online movements to end hate crimes against Asian communities (Lyu et al., 2021). In this chapter, we draw from deconstructionism as a way to posit that our research must problematize “the West and the rest” binary opposition to expose the mechanism of racism as a structure positioning the white identity at the center and other identities at the periphery (Gabriel, 2013). Deconstruction is a kind of reading that problematizes the meaning of the powerful as an inherent virtue of quality that exists in their presence, while the meaning of the powerless is seen as a periphery being defined by the meaning of the powerful (Gabriel, 2013). Deconstruction helps us see the concreteness and diversity of identities, i.e., Asian, which is often reduced and essentialized into a few key traits. We, four Vietnamese graduate students from different higher education systems and disciplines, come together to converse about racism, our Asian identities, and the #StopAsianHate movement. We attempt to capture our understanding and experiences of Asian hate through an engaging art-based educational research process to deconstruct and co-construct a learning community and create collective resilience.

2 Method We begin with a digital–visual approach to collect and analyze online photographs of the #StopAsianHate movement amid COVID-19. Inspired by digital ethnography and visual ethnography, we utilize images across digital platforms to explore “the representing real-life cultures” through digital media (Zorn & Underberge, 2013, p. 10). We purposefully choose images that we feel personally connected to in order to examine how they can be “interwoven with our personal identities, narratives, lifestyles, cultures, and societies, as well as definition of history, space and truth” (Pink, 2013, p. 17). All three images are found on the Google search engine, while looking at #StopAsianHate. The initial analysis of these online photographs enhances

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our understanding of the complexity of racism against the Asian communities and inspires us to engage in further conversations. We do not stop at simply exploring the racial violence against Asian communities. We each write a letter to share our insights, compassion, and personal strategies to counter the racism we see online or in real life. As a type of narrative life writing and art inquiry, letter writing has been used in art-based research to construct a space where people converse, tell stories, and build upon one another’s knowledge (Chilton & Scotti, 2014). We then engage in many conversations via Zoom, Google Docs, and Facebook Messenger to discuss our insights and provide immediate responses to build on one another’s knowledge. In the last part of this chapter, we synthesize all insights from our individual letters to create a unifying letter that promotes critical reflections and actions to make connections and build a learning community to address racism and hate.

3 The First Letter: #HateIsAVirus Dear friends, I found this photograph on the Google search engine while looking for images of #StopAsianHate rallies. The image shows multiple protestors wearing facemasks making their identity unknown and holding signs such as “We are not a virus. Hate is”, “Stop Asian Hate” and “Protect Asian Women”. The anonymity of the protestors represents a characteristic of the digital space of the internet—where people can use their voices to raise awareness without compromising their physical identity. Since the start of the #StopAsianHate movement, similar images to Fig. 1 have been used in multiple blogs and other online platforms discussing the topic. Although we may never know the stories of these masked protestors, I thought of them as the face of the movement. They have told a collective story and educated me that anyone can advocate anti-racial discrimination and social change. The pandemic first hit the west coast of Canada in March 2020. Not long later, reports of incidents where East Asian Americans are victims of verbal harassment, physical assault, civil rights violations, and online harassment appeared across social media platforms. However, the notion that Asian Americans are foreigners and disease carriers existed long before the pandemic, and the rise of Asian hate crimes came from a belief in the differences of race, in which one race is superior to others (Tessler et al., 2020). The news and social media platforms focused on the foreign origin of the virus and the virus carrier, which have also led to individual feelings of xenophobia and prejudice perception (Chiu, 2020).

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Fig. 1 Masked protestors hold signs at a #StopAsianHate rally in front of the Vancouver Art Gallery, Canada, on March 28, 2021. © GoToVan (2021a). CC BY 2.0

Unlike COVID-19, hate can have an effect without physical contact from the patient to a healthy individual. Asian hate can spread just as fast in the human psyche as COVID-19 does to the human lungs during times of unconscious fear. The message in the photograph was clear: hate is a virus! How can one use their stories to promote healing and understanding instead of dwelling on hatred and fear? I recalled the teaching of Master Thich Nhat Hanh (1998): rather than allowing hatred to influence our behaviors, we “sit with a friend and speak openly, determined to discover the roots of [our] suffering”; having a deep understanding of our struggle enables us to “have more peace and joy” and start walking “on the path to liberation” (pp. 38–39). The #StopAsianHate movement across social media engaged people from different backgrounds, ethnicities, and cultures to rally and tell their stories. A collective community was born where people stood by one another to challenge social inequalities and racial discrimination. The accessibility and virality of social media platforms became a powerful tool in facilitating conversations towards building connections and resilience for the diverse Asian communities. When I am writing this letter, #StopAsianHate is no longer the number one trending on Twitter, but the people’s resilience remains and keeps the movement alive.

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4 The Second Letter: The Complexity of Asian Hate and How to Cultivate Solidarity See Fig. 2. Dear friends, The photograph that inspired this letter was taken at a #StopAsianHate rally in front of the Vancouver Art Gallery in Canada on March 28, 2021 (GoToVan, 2021b). There was a crowd holding signs with different messages that confront racism and injustices. The rally in this photograph directly responded to rising hate crimes against Asians in Canada (Kretzel, 2021) and the Atlanta spa shootings that killed six Asian American women on March 16, 2021 (Vinopal, 2021). Protest signs show hashtags such as #BlackLivesMatter, #NotYourModelMinority, #NotYourAsianFetish, and #NoWhiteSupremacy, illustrating how racism is an issue of intersectional identities (Crenshaw, 1991). Looking at these diverse messages made me think deeply about the complexity of Asian hate. Racism against Asian people in North America is not a new phenomenon that emerged during the pandemic (Roberto et al.). In Canada, the Chinese Immigration Act of 1923 banned almost all forms of Chinese immigration to Canada. In the United States, the Japanese internment camps during World War II violated the human rights of Japanese Americans. Clearly, the global pandemic is another excuse to attack Asian-Pacific individuals.

Fig. 2 A crowd holding protest signs at a #StopAsianHate rally in front of the Vancouver Art Gallery, Canada, on March 28, 2021. © GoToVan (2021b). CC BY 2.0

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In North America, the focus of discussion about racial tensions is often between Black and white; the Asian community are largely invisibilized (Olou, 2019). This diverse community has been compiled into one large homogenous racial group represented by the stereotypical image of successful East Asian individuals with college degrees and high-paying jobs. Nonetheless, Asian communities are diverse, and so do the expressions of Asian hate. This model minority myth erases religious minorities, ethnic identities, queerness, and diasporic experiences to “hide” racism against Asian individuals “while separating them from other people of color who suffer from the same white supremacist system” (Olou, 2019, p. 192). During COVID-19, I saw some Asian individuals criticize the Black Lives Matter movement for favoring one community; they did not realize the intersectional framework of this moment looks at how white supremacy impacts various communities (Horse et al., 2021). Meanwhile, some Black individuals were committing hate crimes against Asian individuals. Racial capitalism sparks racial tensions between different minority groups who compete against one another for inequitable access to limited resources (Melamed, 2015). Why are we fighting against one another while we need to be in solidarity? How can we cultivate solidarity across diverse communities, locally and globally? In March 2021, with another peace scholar from Congo, I started a podcast where we exchange dialogue with religious leaders, educators, and activists around the world to hear their stories on various topics—from wars and genocides in Africa to artbased peacebuilding among the Hmong-American community. Storytelling becomes a tool to build a global yet profoundly personal connection between individuals from diverse backgrounds, giving birth to a collective learning community. Sharing these life stories becomes powerful collective performances of community identity and relationship-building (Senehi, 2019). I witnessed the same power and energy that existed throughout our research. Our dialogue and sharing of stories enabled us to dive into the deep questions of intersectional identities and our personal connections to global injustices. I saw uncertainty and vulnerability as well as resilience and compassion. This research provided a creative and safe space where we co-constructed knowledge and stood alongside one another.

5 The Third Letter: Asian Versus Black—Deconstruct Identities from “the Rest” (Cat 70) Dear friends, I posted a photograph on Instagram in March 2020. The screenshot stems from a 29-s footage, highlighting a scenario in New York City’s subway train in which a Black man sprayed an Asian with an air freshener and told him to move away (Avalos, 2020). The Black man exclaimed: “Tell him to move!” I captured the image

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at the moment of incessant algorithmic exposures of Asian hate crimes from EuroAmerican countries. The picture served as an object of contemplation for my intricate encounters with conflicts between Asian and Black communities. I have never been to the US. I pondered why issues from a different country triggered me so much. I have been living in Vietnam for my whole life before going to the UK for my Master’s, where I only know that all Vietnamese, regardless of ethnicities, are united in the name of “Asians”. I remember my family often organized gatherings to reinforce the extended family bond. We usually tell jokes in such settings, where everyone laughs and has a good time together. One time, after dinner, I was in a taxi with my relatives to go home. One of us told a joke about marriage for their eldest child: “Grandfather told my son to marry anyone except the daughters of [U.S. President] Obama”. The statement implied skin color. I was a teenager and could not articulate clear thoughts on racism. I still replied in Vietnamese, “What you said is racist. When a table full of white people says so to “yellow-skin” people like us, how would you feel?” Some attempted to mediate the situation by laughing it off. My face was burning red from standing up to my relative. Many Kinh-Vietnamese women, the majority ethnicity of our country, aspire for “white skin” through cosmetics (Lee et al., 2019). Such a desire can be traced back to the aftermath of the U.S.–Vietnam war, which considered lighter skin a symbol of the higher class (ibid). This mindset of colorism has a hidden racial ideology; therefore, blackness sits at the bottom of the skin color hierarchy. The white skin bias at home paralleled my quotidian experience in London, where I met more Black communities than in Vietnam. One time, I was hanging out with a group of Vietnamese friends near the Thames River. Two Black people riding on e-scooters approached us, asking one of my friends for her phone number. She did not want to give it and turned the man down. Later, a group of e-scooters rode in our direction. My friend turned away, asking me: “Sorry, not to mean anything racist, but are they all Black?” Some follow-up comments referred to the skin, saying white bodies look “brighter” ("sáng sua") than Black bodies which implied an idea of safety: bright skin is safer than dark skin. My contacts with #StopAsianHate and autoethnographic accounts on Vietnamese anti-Blackness move away from the idea that racism only occurs in the West. NonEuro-American contexts, orientalized as “the rest”, are not monolithic and absent from incidences of cultural hierarchies. Applying deconstruction, I problematize the homogeneity of “the rest”, revealing how racism occurred transcontinentally even for a small country known for having only one race. ij

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6 The Fourth Letter: How COVID-19 Exposed the “Racial” Struggle in Vietnam See Fig. 3. Dear friends, When I thought about Asian hate and racism during COVID-19, especially from the perspective of the only scholar in this group who studies and works in Vietnam, I recalled Ayoub’s (2021) inspiring article which implies that there is a common binary opposition of power between the Global North (i.e., the West) and the Global South (i.e., countries that oppose Western ideologies). There are two results of this thinking: first, we see “the West” and “the rest” as two concreted entities without diversity; second, we see racism as the problem of Western countries, and anti-West regimes become “anti-racist” governments. This oversimplification conceals that the non-West powers are also the antagonists of the marginalized (i.e., the minorities and the Indigenous). I sympathized with the Asian diasporas that fight for racial equality, especially during the COVID-19 outbreak. Nonetheless, in thinking with Ayoub (2021), I Fig. 3 Two Hmong women trading goods in Bac Ha market, Lao Cai province, Vietnam. © Linda De Volder. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

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believed that in Vietnam, discrimination does not occur because of the distinction between skin colors but the hierarchical order between different cultures in one nation. The ethnocentrism of the majority—Kinh people like the four of us— opts other minorities out of the political process (Nguyen, 2010); thus, causing a hostile connection among a diverse company called “Vietnamese”. The COVID-19 pandemic revealed the ugliest face of the "Asian hates Asian" in Vietnam, where many articles from the state’s newspaper implied that the Indigenous people who did illegal border crossing between China and Vietnam in the North, and between Cambodia and Vietnam in the South, were responsible for the pandemic wave (Vu, 2020). While writing this letter, I was inspired by one of the images of De Volder (2012) that captured the hustle and bustle of Bac Ha market before the pandemic. In this place, trading and cultural exchange activities happened among many Indigenous communities living across the Vietnam-China border, such as the Hmong, Dao, Tay, Nung, Phu La, Hoa, etc. As her father was a settler who moved from the delta area of North Vietnam to the Vietnam-China border, my grandmother spent her childhood with the Indigenous communities near Bac Ha. She said, it was like the capital of the whole region of the Flower Hmong, where merchants from everywhere were welcomed, even those who traveled from China. As a member of the Unrepresented Nations and Peoples Organization (UNPO), the Hmong community’s sense of nationality is ambiguous; they often move back and forth among Vietnam, Laos, and China’s territories (Nguyen, 2010). While maintaining the belief that solidarity between communities can exist in a multicultural nation, it was heartbreaking to hear news from the state media that in the name of “fighting COVID-19 as fighting invaders” (Vu & Dang, 2021), members of ethnic minorities had been criminalized and labeled as a threat to the medical system (Duong & Lo, 2021). The pandemic allowed nations to take care of people in a lockdown situation, and to exclude those who moved (James, 2020). Yes, racism in Vietnam exists, but it does not occur in the name of “race purity”, but in the name of ethnocentrism. Ethnocentrism sees the cultural practice of the major ethnic group in one country (i.e., the Kinh community in Vietnam) as central and archetypal, and rating other communities with reference from this ideal (Baylor, 2019). We always think of racial struggle as something that occurs among citizens from Western countries in times of crisis without deconstructing its concreteness and revealing its complexity. Nonetheless, in a specific context like Vietnam, the yellowskin Kinh people are the oppressor of other yellow-skin ethnic minorities and the COVID-19 surge exposed this truth. In the proper context, the oppressed becomes the oppressor, and the narratives of the real oppressed are yet to be told.

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7 The Final Letter: Cultivating Solidarity Dear friends, We hope you read our letters and begin to think deeper about the complexity of racism against Asian people. Examining the Asian hate during COVID-19 prompted us to think deeper about the various ways systemic oppression manifests in our lives. As researchers with different situated bodies and positionalities (Haraway, 1988), our Asian identities emerge not as an essentialist category but heterogeneous groups and individuals residing in separate yet entangled time and spaces. As we reflected upon the question of “Who are the Asians?” amid this rising wave of hate crimes during COVID-19, we saw the limitations in attempts to concretize the concept of the Asian identities. For instance, the description of “yellow skin” mostly fits the East Asian region and excludes the brown bodies or some Euroasian populations. Moreover, some chosen photographs display the entanglement of intersectional aspects of identities within an Asian body, including but not limited to ethnicity and culture. With such an indeterminate imagination of “Asian” (Sneath et al., 2009), we recognize the complexity of racism against Asian communities. On a global scale, the dominant news sources on #StopAsianHate places Asian people in the EuroAmerican contexts, transpiring webs of dynamics, such as Asian versus white or Asian versus Black. At a local level, some issues revolve around ethnic tensions, such as the troubled history and complex relationships between the Kinh and Hmong people in Vietnam. We recognized racism is not simply dichotomies between the West and the East, the Black and Asian communities, nor the majority and minority ethnic groups, but a matter of systemic and global injustices in relation to power and power asymmetry. We also recognized the importance of digital spaces in educating the global communities and harboring resiliency during COVID-19. Despite the geographical distances between us, we gathered virtually to showcase different perspectives on racism and learn about the collective stories. We experimented with a new way of being and learning by creating a community that shared critical reflections, insights, and stories in solidarity. In other words, we have fostered conditions to form a global connection between different Asian lived experiences, linking the Global North-situated movement with the context of the Global South. Our process provided us opportunities to grow together. We did not do this project simply to do research (that is only to gain knowledge about the #StopAsianHate movement), but we desired to explore a new way of making connections in and through art-based educational research, to “give birth to new modes of existence” (Deleuze & Guattari, 1994, p. 74). In one conversation, a member shared that although they read various online stories of racial discrimination in North America, hearing personal insights from friends brought in a new level of awareness and compassion. We, four Vietnamese individuals from different walks of life, became friends and colleagues in this search for knowledge and solidarity.

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We hope more communities can create and experiment with different creative practices to address racism and hate. As Freire taught (2017), “Peace is experienced in solidarity and loving acts” (p. 119).

8 Conclusion This collaborative art-based educational research contextualizes Asian hate, racism, and racism-alike problems worldwide in three distinctive socio-cultural spheres, from North America and Europe to Asia. The process of using a digital–visual approach to gain a general understanding of the #StopAsianHate movement to prompt further exchanges of dialogue helps us create meaningful connections in both scholarly and personal lives. The first letter expands racism’s scope of influence from North America to the whole world due to the infective environment of the internet while also suggesting social media platforms as places to inspire activism. The second letter reveals how COVID-19 is just another excuse to discriminate against the Asian community, a diverse community whose identities have been simplified in the Western world, while also proposing storytelling and dialogues as instruments to cultivate solidarity. The third letter focuses on the experience of racism in non-Western contexts, i.e., Vietnam, problematizing the assumed cultural homogeneity from “the rest”. The fourth letter deconstructs the false dichotomy of the hostile West and the compassionate non-West and describes how identity discrimination works in an Asian country, troubling the multi-positionality of identity—at some points, we are both the oppressor and the oppressed. Starting with a conversation around anti-Asian racism during COVID-19, we soon realize that Asian hate is not solely a “COVID problem,” that this challenging time made visible the systemic racism and oppression that have existed for years in various shapes and forms. Insights from the individual letters are compiled into the final letter to showcase practices that set up creative spaces to embrace learning, compassion, and collective solidarity. Our work emphasizes the never-independent but inter-relational nature of racism with profound aspects of bigotry. This research re-affirms the potential of artbased methods to co-create new knowledge and build connections to address racism and injustices. Our process proposes a way for people from different backgrounds to share subjective experiences to learn together. This approach surpasses the strict boundaries of formal academic disciplines, allowing everyday people to produce knowledge through establishing learning communities. Acknowledgements We thank Dr. Jessica Senehi (University of Manitoba) for offering us generous and constructive feedback. We also appreciate Giang Nguyen Hoang Le (Brock University) and Dr. Hoa Pham (University of Auckland) for their guidance throughout the abstract proposal stage.

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Re-imagine Connections with Natural Environment Through Socially Engaged Art Leila Refahi

Abstract By examining the interactive tools of Socially Engaged Art (SEA) and art making in dialogue, this chapter explores how environmental knowledge can be developed in a learning environment. Using art-based educational research, with the participation of six adults from different backgrounds, I designed and carried out four sessions of educational workshops on the following themes: environmental indifference, climate change, animals, and environmental justice. I designed the workshops to provide a shared space for participants to create, learn, converse, and engage freely in the research process. This research illuminates how an integrated curriculum for art education, using SEA methods and an environmental approach, can provide opportunities to re-direct our thinking and learning and help us to re-imagine our connections with the environment. Keywords Transformative learning · Socially engaged art · Climate justice · Environmental awareness · Conversation In October 2017, I traveled to Malax, Finland, to join the Malakta art factory’s art residency program as an artist focused on endangered animals. During my residence, I was invited to the Merenkurkku School in Vaasa to give art workshops for students. I designed a participatory project where students learned about fur farms, the leather industry, and how this industry violates animal rights. Students were then provided with materials to create artworks on this theme. These sessions were a time for creating, playing, conversing and learning. Students made birds with origami papers on which the animal’s fur patterns were printed, and they installed them in the school. I implemented the same projects in Germany and Iran with children from different age groups. Each session came with something new; how the children perform, engage, and interact in the process of art activity, their eagerness to create artwork, and their conversations about animals all amazed me. I can consider this project a turning point in my career as a teacher and artist, as these workshops raised new ideas and L. Refahi (B) Instructor, Toronto School of Art, Toronto, Canada e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2023 H. Mreiwed et al. (eds.), Making Connections in and Through Arts-Based Educational Research, Studies in Arts-Based Educational Research 5, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-19-8028-2_10

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many questions, and inspired me to study more about the educational features of participatory projects and Socially Engaged Art. In this critical time, when we face environmental disasters worldwide, I wondered: How creative responses to environmental issues could provide spaces to create ecological knowledge through art making in dialogue? Inspired by the experience of my workshops in Finland, Germany and Iran, I conducted a study using artbased educational research (ABER) methods to develop my research to answer this question. This research emphasized not only the final artistic object, but also the process, and the impact of participation in the art activity and dialogue making in the emergence of my intellectual transformation.

1 The Importance of Creative Approaches in Environmental Education We are at a critical historical juncture amid an environmental crisis that threatens life on earth (Clarke, 2012; Hansen, 2009; Orr, 2004). Climate justice is an essential and fundamental matter. The destructive impact of human activity (Archer, 2009) on environmental pollution, climate change, and species extinction is now evident all over the earth. In recent years, we were facing the echoes of several alarm signals linked to the environmental crisis that appeared worldwide. The devastation caused by forest fires in multiple countries, the uninhabitable parts of the earth due to drought, and the global health crisis caused COVID-19, reveal the need for profound change in the interpretation of the human role on earth in relation to other species. It is essential that human activities and presence on earth be redefined so that living conditions continue (Berry, 1999). The urgent need to raise environmental awareness has long been one of the most critical concerns discussed by environmental researchers and educators, who emphasized the necessity for a deeper connection with nature to address the ecological crisis and promote learning (Gruenewald & Smith, 2008; Orr, 2004; Palmer, 1997, 1998). To change the ecological direction and connect to what earth researcher and cultural historian Thomas Berry called the “Earth community,” (Berry, 1988, 1999) we need a cosmological shift and a new perspective for education (Clarke, 2012; O’Sullivan, 1999; Orr, 2004). Education is a potent tool in shaping people’s attitudes and worldviews. As environmentalist and writer, David W. Orr (2004) describes: Much of what has gone wrong with the world is the result of education that alienates us from life in the name of human domination, fragments instead of unifies, overemphasizes success and careers, separates feeling from intellect and the practical from the theoretical and unleashes on the world minds ignorant of their own ignorance. (p. 17)

When society’s dominant culture is influenced by consumer culture (Orr, 2004), engaging learners with environmental knowledge is challenging for educators. Despite the pervasiveness of environmental education in the curriculum, it has failed to provide a way to perpetuate the sustainability culture and fill the emotional vacuum

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created by the separation of people from nature (Berry, 1988; Orr, 2004; Sauve, 2009). In this situation, art and art education can be centered as an advantageous and productive method for engaging learners in an interactive dialogue, challenging stereotypes and norms, and changing world perception. Maxine Greene (1995), the art theorist who supported aesthetic pedagogy, defines the experience of artistic practice and understanding the meaning of these experiences to connect learners with/to the world. Greene (1995) posits that the arts provide a context to engage in a cocreative dialogue with nature and culture. Artistic activities enhance environmental sensitivity, inquiry, creativity, and imagination. This process can transform thinking and learning and help rebuild connections with biotic communities of which we are a constituent part. Aiming to develop ecological knowledge, I applied the interactive tools of Socially Engaged Art (SEA) to enhance the connection between participants and the natural environment in my study. Through the artistic activities, I aimed to engage and activate the participants’ intellect, emotions, imagination, and body to provide more valuable and comprehensive learning that raises awareness about ecology and the environment. In the next section, I will explore the points and suggestions that SEA procedure provides to further my study.

2 Socially Engaged Art as a Research Method Creative responses require active engagement. As a participatory approach, SEA is an attitude or approach that seeks to add diverse forms of art and storytelling to develop research activities in action (Cornwall & Jewkes, 1995). This method’s characteristic “is its dependence on social intercourse as a factor of its existence” (Helguera, 2011, p. 2), and the facilitation of dialogue between communities. This method requires a high degree of reflexivity and is not without obstacles and pitfalls (Pain & Francis, 2003). From a pedagogical viewpoint, such approaches are enacted to evoke thought and discover something different in the process; and represent potentialities for creating artistic responses as symbolic and genuine social actions (Helguera, 2011). By describing their SEA projects, Rachel Clarke et al. (2016) propose that this approach can be recognized as a set of meta-approaches that emphasize interpersonal and relational connections on a human scale. This approach potentially makes changes in deep-seated relational aspects and creates lasting benefits for those involved. They argue that SEA is a continual questioning process through improvisation, expediency, and adaptation, which does not rely on pre-formed and easy ways that give optimal results for the inquiry (Clarke et al., 2016). According to Clarke et al., (2016), SEA can support studies on cultural issues and social structures and raise awareness and knowledge. In 2014, professor of art education, B. Stephen Carpenter, conducted a participatory performance at Edinboro University to draw attention to the global water crisis. This activity expanded beyond the production of art objects and created a dialogue to integrate artistic

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practices, pedagogical processes, and creative potentialities following a more just world (Schlemmer et al., 2017). The conversations during Carpenter’s performance were notable and varied from technical issues and skills to the water crisis and continued back into the classroom, throughout social media, and at following meetings (Schlemmer et al., 2017). This project provided a participatory space for students and other participants to experience problem-solving techniques, the power of collaboration, and the constant influence of creative action. By coordinating creative production, social concepts, and educational methods, SEA can redefine art education spaces and enable students to respond to social issues experientially, kinaesthetically, and intellectually and support their rights (Schlemmer et al., 2017). Carpenter’s art project inspired me; I took from what he did to strengthen the interaction and participation of the participants in my study. In particular, SEA can expose audiences to other ways of thinking about local issues, leading to considerable awareness of and motivation to act on behalf of the community (Song, 2012). In 2017, environmental researchers Emma L. Johansson and Ellinor Isgren (2017) researched land-use change in Kilombero Valley, Tanzania. To better understand the effects of the changes on local people’s lives and establish a more participatory methodological approach, they used participatory art combined with qualitative methods. Local participants attended group conversations in this project, created paintings based on these talks, and interpreted these paintings in subsequent sessions. Thus, participants contributed to data collecting and analyzing it (Johansson & Isgren, 2017). As a collaboration medium, the paintings made it possible to stimulate the local people’s creative thinking and visualize their perceptions about social environment changes. After this study, the paintings were used as documents and resources to announce local concerns in the exhibition and events. Researcher Meghan Robidoux and professor in urban administration studies Jason F. Kovacs (2018) discuss applying one of the SEA forms, public art, in an environmental-focused educational capacity. They based their study on the findings from in-depth interviews with members of three not-for-profit art organizations active in this field. According to Robidoux and Kovacs (2018), this approach has excellent potential to educate and increase awareness within communities and maximize environmentally focused messaging effectiveness. With a different method than strictly educating about sustainable issues, SEA can connect participants in the research process to the concept of their activity, their feelings, and their motivations. They also added that although academics and artists acknowledge the benefits of SEA and its different forms in provoking public thoughts, more research is needed to better implement this method and evaluate its effectiveness as an educational tool in the public realm. These experiences and discussions directed me to conduct my study based on the procedures that SEA suggests.

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3 Project Design and Implementation Due to the COVID-19 pandemic limitations and the impossibility of holding the workshops physically, I ran the workshops virtually on the Zoom platform. No specific prerequisites on the level of experience in art making and environmental knowledge were required to participate in this study. I sent out a letter of invitation to participate via my Instagram and Facebook profiles. Five women and one man joined this study from Canada, Germany, and Oman. They agreed to be known by their real name. They were between 23 and 40 years old and held various occupations such as elementary school teacher, ceramist, student, housewife, customer service representative and interior designer. I conducted my study in four sessions and designed artistic activities considering SEA methods focused on ecology and environmental issues. The objective was to create a space for participants to engage with the subject, to think critically and creatively express their environmental concerns. The activities were designed so that anyone with basic knowledge of art and access to limited tools could do them. I also collected data with the pre-and post-one-on-one interviews, which helped uncover some evidence of enhancing participants’ awareness of environmental and ecological issues following their participation in the workshop. For the pre-project interview, I used pre-determined but open-ended questions (Table 1). These questions provided me with rich and relevant data for my study. Participants freely shared their personal experiences with the environment and natural world, then questioned their assumptions about the environment and social justice. In the post-project interview, I asked questions (Table 2) based on a list of areas that needed to be covered but, at the same time, let the participants determine the direction of the discussion. They talked about the process they went through in this workshop in a friendly conversation. They expressed their thoughts and opinions about the workshop’s effects on their views of nature and their relationship with the environment. According to Johansson and Isgren (2017), as there are no outlines for conducting the SEA research method, and fieldwork steps are unpredictable due to multiplicity variables, many methodological decisions had to be made and remade during the time Table 1 Pre-interview questions 1. Where in world history do you think we are? What kind of world is our modern way of life producing in terms of our relationship with the natural world? 2. What do you feel about the natural world? We rarely let ourselves feel our genuine emotions about what is happening in the world. But now, I ask you to pay attention to your heart rather than your mind and tell what you are feeling—the emotions that are present for you right now. 3. Can you identify some of your assumptions that are impacting the environment, social justice, and our human fulfillment? What about ones that impact your own life? 4. What does sustainable mean to you? 5. What came to you when you envisioned an environmentally sustainable and socially just human presence on this planet? 6. To what extent do you think this definition can come true? 7. How much power do you feel to make a change to create a sustainable future?

128 Table 2 Post-interview questions

L. Refahi 1. How does participation in this workshop affect the way you look at nature? 2 Has your relationship with nature and the environment changed after participating in this workshop? 3. Has this workshop made you more aware of environmental issues than before, and do you feel you can make a difference? 4. If your answer to the previous question is yes, please explain how you think these changes and actions could be? 5. What was the impact of artistic activity on your learning process and your perspective on the environment and climate justice?

in the field. As new needs and concerns arose at each session and the research’s focus developed gradually, I adjusted the action plan. For each session, I sent participants an art activity plus some informative content every other week. I also provided educational information that introduced them to various viewpoints about each session’s topic. Participants had one week to explore the articles, videos, and artworks about environmental issues and to create their artworks. During each session, participants presented their artworks, explained the creation process and their perceptions and experiences during the art activity. These meetings were a time for discussion and engagement that had an important educational function in this study. Talks took place around the session’s topic and then extended to the causes and consequences of ecological issues. Participants conversed about their experiences, observations, concerns, and suggestions. My role during the sessions was limited to the facilitator, meaning I did not interfere in the discussions. I only observed, took field notes, and collected data. In this way, I prevented my assumptions, judgments, and biases from interfering in the workshops’ process. It also gave participants the space to share their thoughts and talk about their experiences without the feeling of being judged. Workshop 1: Environmental Indifference The workshop’s first session was designed based on the idea that separation from nature leads to decreasing ecological indifference. Unfortunately, few people today are experiencing nature directly; according to Orr (2002) and Pyle (2002), moments for ‘awe’ and ‘wonder’ are diminishing as urban centers grow and the use of virtual world increases. The experience of nature through the lens of art can help individuals explore different contexts for learning about and in the natural environment. Artistic exploration can help us explore new ways to observe and live in the world. For this session, I asked participants to go for a short walk in their neighborhood and watch the environment, nature, streets, people, trees, sky, and anything familiar, and to think about them and their presence in the environment. On the way back home, they were invited to look deeper and observe the part of nature that they usually are unaware of and may unconsciously ignore; and take five photos or short videos (up to one minute) from these hidden scenes (see Fig. 1).

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Fig. 1 Workshop 1. Faeze.(2021). Germany

Workshop 1. Faeze. (2021). Germany We barely look at the dead trees as a source for a new beginning. Their death was not the end but a start for others (Faeze, 2021) Workshop 2: Climate Change The central theme of the second session was climate change and its effects on life on earth. During the one-on-one interviews, participants stated that they feel powerless regarding climate change, and thinking about it causes increasing anxiety and stress. According to Panu Pihkala (2020), anxiety and distress regarding the ecological crisis are increasing. He added that since positive emotions such as empowerment and hope are significant goals of environmental education, positive emotions received much more attention than negative emotions in environmental education literature; however, they also relate to everyday life. The importance of “critical emotional awareness” for both educators and students (Ojala, 2015) is notable here. By accepting and confirming the distresses related to climate issues, we can transform them into a change drive. Here, art can act as a transformation force, as it is increasingly noticed as a means of promoting a significant connection with climate change. Considering art’s potential to transform society and its potential to stimulate feelings of hope, responsibility, and care, I designed the workshop’s second session. Since participants’ performance in the first session was notable, I designed a nature

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writing activity with the intent to keep them more connected to the natural environment. I asked participants to spend a short time in their home’s natural surroundings in order to make a deep connection with their environment, as well as incorporate their observations and philosophical reflections on nature. I then asked them to use this information to write a short text or poem that captured their feelings. They were also instructed to accompany their texts with one symbolic picture that not only represented their deep feelings about the environment, but also inspired them to write. The purpose of this practice was to invite participants to pause, think, notice, and attune their senses. Nature writing encouraged them to see things with fresh and focused eyes and provided a context for reflection, guided thoughts, and expression, without restrictive thoughts (see Fig. 2). Fig. 2 Workshop 2. Farima.(2021). Toronto

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Workshop 2. Farima. (2021). Toronto While walking through the woods, I saw a twig as a pointer to a lesson in nature. Even something as rigid as a tree known for being straight will bend itself to get to its paramour, to the light that seemed unreachable in a crowd (Farima, 2021) Workshop 3: Animals This session had a look on urbanization and animals’ lives. Urbanization and biodiversity interact in multifaceted and complex ways (McKinney, 2002). Rapid urbanization is changing wildlife profiles in cities and influencing biodiversity and ecosystem settings both directly and indirectly. According to Elmpqvist et al. (2016), direct impacts primarily consist of habitat loss and degradation, altered disturbance regimes, modified soils and other physical transformations caused by the expansion of urban areas. Indirect impacts include changes in water and nutrient availability, increases in a\biotic stressors such as air pollution, increases in competition from non-native species, and changes in herbivory and predation rates. In this session, I asked participants to look for the animals living in their urban environment, imagine their past, current, and future conditions, and depict their observations through photography. This practice aimed to raise participants’ awareness about the fauna in the urban area; and, as Stephen Jay Gould (1991) proposed, to build an emotional connection with the other species, which is crucial if we are to protect them, since “we will not fight to save what we do not love” (p14). Art making and aesthetic practices have their particular way of developing emotional connections. Thus, art can be a powerful context to produce the emotional bond Gould spoke about (Vasko, 2016) (see Fig. 3). Workshop 3. Alborz. (2021). Montreal I saw a small hole in a green field near his home once he was walking. “After waiting for some days, I saw its owner, a cute groundhog, was escaping very quickly from people passing his territory. I wondered how hard it could be to be encircled by humans and always run away. Workshop 4: Climate Justice Climate change is a justice issue, and it is caused by inequalities (Harlan et al., 2015). Wealthier nations have the most significant responsibility for environmental and climate change, while the consequences are most felt by politically, culturally, and economically marginalized communities (Harlan et al., 2015). Climate justice is not just an issue of our time but an intergenerational one. I designed this session considering the argument that education plays a crucial role in addressing the dimensions of climate justice within and between generations. According to Kanbur (2015), educating the present generation about their actions’ consequences and costs for themselves and the future can significantly reduce the destructive effects we face today. He added that education is needed at least in two senses: (1) educating vulnerable people and, (2) global education to raise knowledge of ethical concerns in climate change, particularly in wealthy countries, which can provide a basis for protecting the vulnerable population.

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Fig. 3 Workshop 3. Alborz.(2021). Montreal

For the last session, I asked participants to go through the attached materials, explore the meaning of climate justice and create their artworks based on their observations of different aspects of climate justice/ injustice in their surroundings. I encouraged participants to freely create their artworks in the art forms of their choice like photography, video, collage, or nature writing. Continuing the previous practices, I introduced participants to one of the most challenging environmental issues of our period, namely climate change, and created a context for them to creatively visualize their observations, perceptions, and concerns and translate them into the visual language (see Fig. 4). Workshop 4. Faeze (2021). Germany For the last session, I decided to criticize excess paper consumption at my workplace. I used the discarded papers in my workplace, moved them to nature, and took conceptual photographs. This photo reminds me of trees cut down for our paper consumption every day.

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Fig. 4 Workshop 4. Faeze (2021). Germany

4 Summary of Findings Conducting my study using arts-based educational research and having SEA theories in mind helped me provide participants with a potential setting to get involved with environmental issues. In this context, they creatively looked for meaning in their observations, and learned to make these experiences a part of their daily lives. More precisely, the learning process of this research developed by interweaving into the participants’ daily living experiences. My learning process developed in four steps: initial acquaintance with the subject; artistic activity and creative response to the problem; participating in the meetings and exchanging concerns, experiences, and ideas; interpreting experiences and generating awareness and knowledge. The participants’ interaction sequence with the topic,

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artistic activity, and conversation created a new ecological understanding and helped them post-critical questions about the human footprint in nature. Reviewing and comparing the data collected through pre- and post-one-on-one interviews demonstrated the enhancement of participants’ environmental awareness, which began by questioning previous assumptions and perspectives. Artistic activities allowed participants to be more curious, to look at nature, and to experience new ways of interacting with their environment. New experiences increased their focus on their surroundings and enabled them to gain a novel understanding and form closer connections with nature, the environment, and animals. In this study, the main stage of the learning process depended on the participants interaction with each other. The purpose of the discussion sessions was to create a context in which participants could freely express their opinions, contemplate, and converse with each other. Participants had a compelling discussion about their assumptions and viewpoints about nature, the environment, crises, uncertainties, and social and environmental justice in each session. These conversations effectively raised questions in the participants’ minds and led to the opening and accepting of new ideas, evoking thoughts, and generating knowledge. This collaborative activity provided space to develop peer transfer of significant insights and an opportunity for participants to share experiences, observations, and information. Through the discussions, participants learned about environmental issues in other geographic locations than where they lived and became aware of the consequences on the ecosystem. Sharing experiences introduced participants to each other’s worldviews. Interaction and conversation, which are features of SEA practice, redefined the educational space in a more collaborative environment. These features, along with the artistic activities, helped participants recognize and accept new ideas and perceptions.

5 Future Direction As news of the climate crisis is heard every day worldwide, adopting an earth-centered educational model for learning has never been more critical. My research aimed to explore methods for art education to raise learners’ environmental awareness and bring them closer to nature. The findings confirm that SEA practices are valuable activities to deepen our awareness of and reconnect us to the biophysical environment. I found that these workshops effectively increased my participants’ awareness of environmental and ecological justice through the discussions and post-interviews. As an art teacher and visual artist, conducting this research raised new questions and ideas in my mind. The importance and effectiveness of collaboration in the learning process inspired me to further my study on the potential of SEA to support educational workshops. My objective is to examine and develop creative educational procedures that give learners more space to interact with others and actively engage in the learning setting.

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References Gould. S.J. (1991). Exaptation: A crucial tool for an evolutionary psychology. https://doi.org/10. 1111/j.1540-4560.1991.tb01822.x. Archer, D. (2009). The long thaw: How humans are changing the next 100,000 years of earth’s climate. Princeton University Press. Berry, T. (1988). The dream of the earth. Sierra Club Books. Berry, T. (1999). The great work: Our way into the future. Random House. Clarke, R., Briggs, J., Light, A., & Wright, P. (2016). Situated encounters with socially engaged art in community-based design. https://doi.org/10.1145/2901790.2901882 Clarke, P. (2012). Education for sustainability. Routledge. Cornwall, A., & Jewkes, R. (1995). What is participatory research? Social Science and Medicine, 41, 1667–1676. https://doi.org/10.1016/0277-9536(95)00127-S Greene, M. (1995). Imagination, community, and the school. In Releasing the imagination: Essays on education, the arts, and social change. Jossey-Bass. Gruenewald, D.A., & Smith, G.A. (2008). Making room for the local. In D. Gruenewald & G. Smith (Eds.), Place based education in the global age (pp. xiiii-1). Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Hansen, J. (2009). Storms of my grandchildren: The truth about the coming climate catastrophe and our last chance to save humanity. Bloomsbury. Harlan, S.L., Pellow, D.N. Roberts, J.T. Bell, S.E., Holt, W.G., & Nagel, J. (2015). Climate Justice and Inequality. In R.E. Dunlap, & R.J. Brulle (Eds.) Climate change and society: Sociological perspectives. Oxford University Press. Helguera, P. (2011). Education for socially engaged art: A materials and techniques handbook. Jorge Pinto Books. Johansson, E. L., & Isgren, E. (2017). Local perceptions of land-use change: Using participatory art to reveal direct and indirect socioenvironmental effects of land acquisitions in Kilombero Valley Tanzania. Ecology and Society, 22(1), 3. Kanbur, R. (2015). Education for Climate Justice. https://www.mrfcj.org/pdf/faces-of-climate-jus tice/Education-for-Climate-Justice.pdf. Mckinney, M.L. (2002). Urbanization, Biodiversity,and Conservation. https://www.researchgate. net/publication/232687253_Urbanization_Biodiversity_and_Conservation. O’Sullivan, E. (1999). Transformative learning: Educational Vision for the 21st Century St. Martin’s Press. Ojala, M. (2015). Hope in the face of climate change: Associations with environmental engagement and student perceptions of teachers’ emotion communication style and future orientation. The Journal of Environmental Education, 46(3), 133–148. Orr, D. W. (2004). Earth in mind: On education, environment, and the human prospect. Island Press. Pain, R., & Francis, P. (2003). Reflections on Participatory Research. https://doi.org/10.1111/14754762.00109 Palmer, J. A. (1997). Beyond science: Global imperatives for environmental education in the 21st Century. In P. J. Thompson (Ed.), Environmental education for the 21st century: International and interdisciplinary perspectives (pp. 3–12). Peter Lang Publishing Inc. Palmer, J. A. (1998). Environmental education in the 21st century: Theory, practice, progress, and promise. Routledge. Pihkala, P. (2020). Eco-Anxiety and Environmental Education. Robidoux, M., & Kovacs, J. F. (2018). Public art as a tool for environmental outreach: Insights on the challenges of implementation. The Journal of Arts Management Law and Society, 48(3), 159–169. Sauve, L. (2009). Being here together. In M. McKenzie, P. Hart, H. Bai, & B. Jickling (Eds.), Fields of green: Restorying culture, environment, and education (pp. 325–336). Hampton Press Inc. Schlemmer, R. Carpenter, B.S., & Hitchcock, E. (2017). Socially engaged art education practices, process and possibilities. https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/https://doi.org/10.1080/000 43125.2017.1317564.

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Song, Y.K. (2012). Community participatory ecological art and education. International Journal of Art and Design Education, 28(1), 4–13. Vasko, Z. (2016). Connections between artistic practice and experiences in nature: Considerations for how Art Education can engender ecological awareness. Canadian Review of Art Education, 42(2), 69–79.

Storied Connections

Feminist Aesthetics, Intertwined Indigenous and Immigrant Life Narratives and Teaching Practices Roula Kteily-Hawa and Carolyn Anderson

Abstract As contributors to this book, we engage with how feminist aesthetics and creative practices are theorized and practised. This chapter was authored by two Canadian women educators who approach their teaching from lived traumas (an Arab Canadian refugee and a First Nations Sixties Scoop survivor). As women educators, we acknowledge and value the connections between the feminist aesthetic and our life narratives, as we use gender as a lens to interpret how artistic expression and beauty in life and nature can inform teaching and learning. We reflect on our experiences to examine how decolonizing education (in the classroom) can be accomplished in many ways, including the gentle and beautiful infusion of Indigenous ways of knowing and anti-oppressive practices—using home economics and family studies as a lens (foods and textile artistry). The chapter reflects a melding of several narrative-related constructs: displaced narratives, processual narrations, and performative narratives of hybrid identities. For each of these perspectives, we share our respective context and culminate in how we validated our narratives that arose from trauma in our lives, how we processed the stories emergent from our life journeys and then how we used them to inform our art-respectful connections with learners. Keywords Feminist aesthetics · Life narratives · Decolonizing education · Anti-oppressive teaching practices · Home economics/family studies education

R. Kteily-Hawa (B) Family Studies and Human Development, School of Behavioural and Social Sciences, Brescia University College at Western, 1285 Western Road, London, ON N6G 1H2, Canada e-mail: [email protected] C. Anderson District Coordinator of Aboriginal Education Kamloops-Thompson School District 245 Kitchener Crescent, Kamloops, BC, Canada e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2023 H. Mreiwed et al. (eds.), Making Connections in and Through Arts-Based Educational Research, Studies in Arts-Based Educational Research 5, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-19-8028-2_11

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1 Introduction An Arab Canadian, the first author is an immigrant woman who grew up in a war-torn country, struggled with loss and came to Canada as a refugee. The second author is a First Nations woman and survivor of Canada’s Sixties Scoop (a policy of the removal of First Nations children by Provincial healthcare workers from First Nations families to be adopted out to white families). This chapter contains our narratives that arose from and helped interpret our traumas and inform our teaching through a feminist aesthetic approach. Deutsch et al. (2014) affirm that narratives help women create an “internal map” (p. 175) of the trauma making it more visible thereby helping them eternalize it and find new meaning in past events. To this end, we discuss how, through our teaching, we developed an appreciation for feminist aesthetics as an approach that draws judgements about beauty in art, artistic expression, and nature (Korsmeyer, 2017). As women educators, we acknowledge and value the connections between the feminist aesthetic and our own life narratives. How and what we teach is shaped by our gendered traumatic experiences and the narrational process. Reflecting on our educational work, feminist aesthetic practice “bring(s) about radical change and gender justice in [our] contexts” (Etmanski, 2020, p. 252). We are motivated to guide students to “tap into their creative potential to address today’s complex challenges” that look different through a feminist lens (Etmanski, 2020, p. 255). This will help open new ways of knowing and doing things to learn (Etmanski, 2020). We reflect on our teaching practices through a feminist aesthetic lens that allows us to see our artistic expressions in the classroom, as an extension of our own identities. Shaped by our histories, contexts, and how we position ourselves in society, we have developed hybrid identities (Korsmeyer, 2017). We show that this hybridity played a prominent role in our life narratives and led us to appreciate its power to inform our teaching in a women-dominated profession. Korsmeyer’s (2017) interpretation of feminist aesthetics gave us permission to assume that engaging students with creative art forms and nature would legitimize our reliance on our gendered hybridity as we teach. Resisting our own location in the world, we share our experiences in effecting change by decolonizing education (Tuhiwai Smith, 2012). We reflect on our experiences as teacher educators to examine how decolonizing education (in the classroom) can be accomplished in many ways including the gentle and beautiful infusion of Indigenous ways of knowing and antiracist practices—using home economics as a lens (textile artistry and cooking). Aside from the feminist aesthetics approach, this chapter about trauma and life narratives also reflects a melding of several narrative-related constructs: displaced narratives, processual narrations, and performative narratives of hybrid identities. For each of these perspectives, we share our respective context and culminate in how we each use feminist aesthetics in our teaching practices to further our own narratives and help women learners appreciate that engaging with creative art forms or with nature is a beautiful way to learn and unlearn.

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2 Displaced Life Narratives Contextually, our life experiences are embedded in issues of colonialism, hegemonic power, oppressive structures, and lack of agency. These series of life-altering stories are beautiful in that they shaped our life narratives whose sharing helps move beyond our traumatic experiences to a place of self-acceptance and self-power. Drawing on our trauma-informed narratives and exploring alternative ways of interpreting our reality became its own form of creative gendered expression, which can provide a sense of hope, belonging, and purpose for those subjected to traumatic experiences (Kteily-Hawa, 2018). We both experienced traumatic displacements that triggered a crisis of identity—Roula by forced choice and Carolyn with no choice. Displaced life narratives represent the intersection between personal experiences and the creative expression involved in narrating these experiences. The “mode of production in displaced [life narratives] remains that of journey-like…because it emerges from the forceful geographical, cultural, and physical shuffling of people and their identity from one place to another, displaced [life narration] is not just a life described in print; rather, it is a written journey that takes the reader from one place to another” (Al-Saleh, 2011, p. 88). Spaces and places are gendered and are formulated in feminist geography, especially the understanding that space is not stationary (Massey, 1995). As per the tenets of Edward Saïd, the founder of postcolonial theory and discourse (1978), considering a single place as an evident component of a national identity can be problematic; “exile”, “diaspora”, and “hybridity” of identity formations have been signified to embody experiences of displacement through subjective perception (Sorvari, 2021). The concept of “home” in the construction of the displaced experience is central and is not just a geographical, physical place with fixed boundaries, but also a dynamic space where social and power relations intersect (Sorvari, 2021).

2.1 Roula’s Context I am a woman artist, dreamer, mother, life-long learner, listener, and storyteller. I am attracted to spaces where stories are told and heard and where being the other does not really matter anymore when stories are exchanged. My background as an Arab of Lebanese and Palestinian descent shapes my identity and makes me who I am. I was born and raised in Beirut, the capital of Lebanon, a conflict-ridden country that was formerly colonized by the French. Growing up during the Lebanese civil war, my childhood was filled with loss, suffering, and turmoil. My parents who are Palestinian refugees, the largest refugee population in the world, had a similar childhood—one that is characterized by tragic loss, suffering, and displacement for the past seven decades. I come from a religious Eastern-rite Catholic family in which my mother was the spiritual matriarch. I regularly attended church when I was young, and I

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grew up with Eastern traditions that taught me to accept things that happen in my life as fate. Fleeing the war, I left my family of origin and travelled to Canada on my own as a refugee, looking for safety and a better life. My religious upbringing provided me with a strong spiritual foundation and an acceptance of what God gave me, including my life in Canada. My narrative emerged from displacement and departures. I characterize my journey in Canada by a lack of rootedness stemming from insecurity about where to go and stay—a restless pursuit for a sense of place and belonging. I entered Canada as a refugee through the Montreal border crossing. During my short stay in Montreal, I heard that my father had suddenly passed away at age 59, just days after my arrival in Canada. Disoriented, from Montreal, I took the train to Halifax, which became the first place in Canada that I called home. After less than two years in Halifax, I travelled to Edmonton (Alberta), then Toronto (Ontario), Kamloops (B.C.), back to Toronto, and I am now in London (Ontario). My longest stop was Toronto, where I earned certification as an Ontario family studies teacher (known as home economics in other provinces) and then later a doctorate in Education. These displacements over my life span have indelibly shaped my life narrative, and I continue to strive to see the gendered beauty of this journey and how it is shaping my practice.

2.2 Carolyn’s Context I am a First Nations woman (Nuxalk) born and raised in British Columbia (B.C.), Canada. My biological mother was nineteen years old when she gave birth to me in the late 1960s. Before getting the chance to even hold me in her arms in the Nanaimo Regional General Hospital on Vancouver Island, the nurses took me away from her, and I became part of the now infamous Canada’s Sixties Scoop. Landing on the heels of the Indian Residential Schools, the Sixties Scoop was an extension of existing paternalistic policies in Canada that sought the assimilation of Indigenous cultures and communities. It was a large-scale removal or scooping of Indigenous babies and children from their Indigenous families and communities to be adopted out to predominantly non-Indigenous middle-class families both inside and outside of Canada. This practice occurred from 1951 to the mid-1980s. More than 20,000 Indigenous children were removed from their families and communities with the largest number removed during the 1960s (Sinclair & Dainard, 2020). I was raised in a small northern pulp-and-paper mill town. My adoptive father was of English descent. My adoptive mother was half English and half Cree. I believe the Cree part of her helped me cope during my childhood as my mother was authentically Indigenous in many ways. She understood Indigenous ways of knowing and being and helped me feel connected, safe, loved, and understood, which was very important as most Sixties Scoop survivors feel disconnected from their lives. Indigenous ways of knowing and being significantly contrast European ways of knowing and being. When you remove an Indigenous child from their Indigenous family and community,

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they are still Indigenous in ways that cannot be erased. Two of the more significant differences that strongly differentiated me from the world around me came in how I physically looked different than my peers (in hindsight, a thing of beauty) and how I learned differently than my peers.

3 Processual Narration of Individual and Collective Identities The act of narration helps produce individual identity on a collective, cultural plane (Berns, 2009). Like Peacock and Holland (1993), we managed narration using a processual approach that is culturally mediated, reflecting the change processes that emerged over time while we experienced life including trauma. Our processual narration is sensitive to how we make sense of and give meaning to our life and how this meaning is influenced by the context within which the changes take place. The resultant narrative both describes and shapes the processes being explained (Buchanan & Dawson, 2007). The telling of our life narratives was “a gripping formulation of beliefs, values and ideas basic to a cultural tradition” (Peacock & Holland, 1993, p. 373). In this section, we share processual narratives of our identities as Indigenous and racialized women priming readers for how we used these gendered insights to shape the use of creative arts and connections to nature when teaching.

3.1 Roula’s Context I have always characterized my Canadian experience as one of “being out of place”— much like the experiences of Saïd’s (2000), articulated in his memoir. I acknowledged the confusion of identity that I experienced throughout my life in Canada as I came to terms with the dissonance of being a Canadian citizen, an Arab woman, and, in due course, an outsider. Throughout my journey, I quickly learned that the playing field is not, and will not be, level for years to come. There were lots of opportunities in Canada, but not many were accessible. Rooted in my own cultural belief system, I attached meaning to contextual resources that were available and accessible to me. My journey of finding my place and unique history, coupled with the absence of my narrative in Canadian society, has shaped my sense of separateness that laid the grounds for my communal identity. To achieve this, I reached out to diverse communities and built relationships that were helpful for restoring, renewing, regenerating, and, ultimately, helping me move from surviving to thriving.

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3.2 Carolyn’s Context Being brown in a white school and community created barriers to my academic success. During the 1970s and 1980s, First Nations people were often viewed as “lazy, drunk Indians” and considered inferior to mainstream white society. Such bias caused many First Nations youth, when going to a white school and living in a white community, to try to look and act white to try to fit in better with their peers. At one point as a young person, I learned Spanish to distract people from thinking I was First Nations—anything to separate myself from the stereotypes. The white community held erroneous assumptions about me due to my darker skin tone, assumptions that are reflected in dialogue with other First Nations from this era. They talk about how they were often overlooked, dismissed, and sometimes treated abusively, all of which I experienced. My history as a Sixties Scoop survivor has impacted my struggle with identity issues and not feeling like I truly belong anywhere. It is called “being lost between two worlds” and refers to how First Nations do not fit well into white society or Indigenous society. Many Sixties Scoop survivors are not welcomed back into their Indigenous communities when they try to reconnect as they are considered outsiders, and in most cases, they are. For example, I know very little about the Nuxalk people of Bella Coola, B.C. (my home nation), their language, customs, protocols, and cultural structures. The policy of the Sixties Scoop has impacted and continues to impact Indigenous peoples and by extension, all Canadians as we collectively engage with the process of reconciliation.

4 Performative Narratives of Hybrid Identities In a postcolonial context, including hybrid identities and embracing cultural authenticity can create tension as individuals challenge modes of belonging, thus unsettling the binarism (Salam & Abualadas, 2020). Bhabha (1994) sees identity as hybrid. Based on Bhabha’s (1994) “third space” and “in-between-ness” of identity formations, Naber (2012) explains hyphenated identities as contested and negotiated in multiple localities and positionalities. Hybrid identities are produced performatively in contexts that can either oppose or facilitate the performance of narrating (articulating) one’s identity and life in writing. Performativity refers to “a [rather] complex, on-going negotiation that seeks to authorize cultural hybridities that emerge in moments of historical transformation” (Bhabha, 1994, p. 23). Put simply, something changes with the utterance of the narrative—with the performance. And people reading the narrative about someone’s hybrid identity change as they try to imagine that narrative as it is performed (articulated) (Berns, 2009). This art-respectful approach to our hybridity informs our teaching.

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4.1 Roula’s Context I became a teaching professional in my early thirties. As a family studies/home economics teacher in Ontario, I taught a wide range of high school courses in diverse neighbourhoods in Toronto. I once taught in an inner-city school with varied access to economic opportunities and social supports. Growing up in a similar workingclass environment and neighbourhood, I already had first-hand experience with the challenges these students faced on daily basis. I could relate. With more than 70% of the student body racialized and new immigrants, the student culture and history were part of the null curriculum—real but not taught. The lack of basic school resources like water fountains, a gym, a library, and a punctual bus service was all part of the hidden curriculum that reinforced a lack of support and disrespected their communities. The overt enacted curriculum cannot be properly delivered without an awareness and understanding of the null and hidden curricula that students learn outside the classroom. Reconfiguring, contesting, and negotiating my hybrid identity as a teacher, mother, working-class immigrant woman, and Arab Canadian, I soon realized that there are consequences not only by virtue of what and how we teach, but also what we neglect to teach. To honour this realization, I turn to creative art forms when teaching.

4.2 Carolyn’s Context Our stories help shape who we are. My narrative informs my practice as a home economics teacher; I bring it with me when I teach. Like Roula, I became a teaching professional in B.C. in my thirties. During my university years, I fortunately studied patterns of learning where you look at ways in which different societies learn best. At a societal level, and over several generations, patterns of learning are taught– experienced–practised, then passed on genetically, which can make adaptation to other styles of learning quite challenging. I encountered this as a First Nation child attending white schools. First Nations’ worldviews and perspectives are holistic with a focus on the connectedness of everything. Learning is connected to the beauty of and reverence for nature often interpreted through women elders (Pewewardy, 2002). This approach is in direct contrast to English patterns of learning that the Canadian education system was modelled on, where learning is individual, written, analytical, and often taught in the abstract. Despite attending white schools, my personal learning style fits First Nations patterns of learning and how they learn best. Not surprisingly, due to no accommodations made to meet my specific learning needs, I performed poorly academically in school. I felt disconnected from the curriculum and struggled to keep up in most subjects, always believing “I wasn’t very smart”.

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Understanding societal patterns of learning has since allowed me to see that the problem was system related and not a reflection of my learning capabilities. This insight was important, because I had always bought into the “Indigenous peoples are inferior” narrative that I had been fed my whole life, and I believed being unsuccessful in school was proof of that inferiority. Understanding patterns of learning gave me more self-confidence and allowed space for a different version of my hybrid life narrative to emerge—to be performed. It shaped how I began to engage with and teach from the Indigenous feminine perspective of connecting to the beauty of nature.

5 Feminist Aesthetics in Our Educational Practice We suggest that postcolonial trauma and the work of creative art performance assume an important task of interrupting received ways of thinking about the world, learning, and articulating the hybridity that lies within us. Performative narration is facilitated by artistic and nature connections. Both of us draw on the feminist aesthetic that respects how gender (and, for us, gendered trauma) can be used to judge the value of art, artistic performance, and connections with nature both in our teaching (Korsmeyer, 2017), and when interpreting our own narratives.

5.1 Carolyn’s Context After the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada’s (2015) final report, and its 94 Calls to Action, the B.C. Ministry of Education re-designed the K-12 curriculum to incorporate First Peoples’ content, worldviews, and perspectives. The B.C. Teacher’s Council added a new Professional Standard of Practice that has educators critically examining personal biases, attitudes, values, and practices to facilitate change. We are all to recognize and value the contributions and history of First Nations, Métis, and Inuit. This was a welcomed innovation for me, especially since our stories help reform us. As an Indigenous educator, I remain convinced that disrupting white colonial educational structures by infusing Indigenous ways of knowing and being changes students’ understanding of the world. Alternate perspectives allow learners to reflect upon their own identities and see how they fit into the world around them or, better yet, how the world fits around them. Holistic and nature-based teaching, interpreted and presented through the eyes of women Indigenous teachers, smooths the way forward. When focusing on connecting to First Nations ways of knowing and patterns of learning, my food classes incorporate First Nations stories. The Dog Salmon Story is traditionally from the Tlingit and Haida First Nations that tells of a boy who disrespects dog salmon and is then turned into a dog salmon by the Spirit Fish. One of the story’s key messages is to gain a broader understanding of the spiritual relationship

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Fig. 1 a Trudi Nielsen gutting and scoring salmon © Trudi Nielsen. b Rack-drying and smoking salmon © Trudi Nielsen. c Trudi Nielsen holding finished product—smoked salmon © Trudi Nielsen

that First Nations have with food and place and the respect that accompanies that connection. There is beauty in story that influences learning. As a woman Indigenous educator, I use this First Nations story to introduce my unit on food preservation methods. Using salmon, Trudi Nielsen, a guest Aboriginal Resource Teacher, demonstrates the First Nations technique of scoring the salmon flesh before rack-drying and smoking it over a smouldering fire for a few days. The gutting and scoring occur with the students (see Fig. 1a), and the rack-drying and smoking take place on the land in tarped, A-frame structures with continuous firewatchers (see Fig. 1b, c). All local First Nations protocols are explained, observed, and taught to the students. Beyond this salmon demonstration, students get the opportunity to try out various other methods of food preservation. First Nations patterns of learning that are incorporated into this unit include a holistic lens, oral, experiential, land-based, collaborative, and collective. The students love it! Per the feminist aesthetic, local Indigenous plants and their various uses also form part of my teachings where classes venture out onto the land to explore and harvest locally. To accompany us on the fieldtrips, I invite local First Nations teachers or Traditional Knowledge-Keepers. We collect a variety of local Indigenous plants for learning and/or salve-making. In Fig. 2, I am collecting cottonwood buds in early winter and then scouting for sage in the springtime. Once the plants are collected, students learn how to make their own medicinal salves by soaking the chopped-up plants/buds in oil for six weeks creating a menstruum (holds solid in suspension) before straining the medicine out of the jars and then adding beeswax to form a salve (see Fig. 3).

5.2 Roula’s Context Like Carolyn, I value drawing on my life narrative and gendered perspective to show students the beauty of learning through creative arts—feminist aesthetics in action. Throughout my career as an educator, I have always been drawn to arts and artistic

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Fig. 2 Carolyn collecting cottonwood buds in early winter © Carolyn Anderson

Fig. 3 Making medicinal salves via menstruum, straining, and mixing with beeswax © Carolyn Anderson

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endeavours. I have led fashion shows, developed Family Studies programming, and taught fashion arts courses. In my Grade 12 fashion class, students focused their attention on causes that mattered for their school and wider communities—consciousness raising, as an act of gendered activism. As part of the course culminating project, they designed fashion artefacts that interrupted hegemonic ways of knowing. In the Coca-Cola mannequin project, for example, students collected aluminium pop can tabs to help purchase wheelchairs and other adaptive equipment for children with physical disabilities for Easter Seals Ontario (Kteily-Hawa, 2015). The Coke mannequin was publicly displayed during the campaign (see Fig. 4) to show people that gender can be used to shape and interpret the messages conveyed in art forms, in this case, the power of white, male authority over daily life, and the realization that this power can be thwarted using gendered artistic expression. Using the Dove Real Beauty campaign, students used fashion creation to foster an awareness that male-dominated social messaging can be turned on its head by gendered art. This art-based assignment messaged that women can feel comfortable in the skin they are in, thus contributing to creating a world where beauty is a source of confidence and not anxiety (see Fig. 5). I also arranged for students to use fashion arts as a medium to promote the importance of education as a tool to critically analyse current, dominant paradigms— concepts borrowed from George Orwell’s 1949 novel, Nineteen Eighty-Four (1984). History is always written by the winners (inordinately male) and those who have power to shape political systems and educational policies. Through their artistic creation, women can be the author (creator) of their own narrative and life stories Fig. 4 Students’ CocaCola mannequin project (Source Author) © Roula Kteily-Hawa

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Fig. 5 Fashion design depicting Dove Real Beauty campaign (Source Author) © Roula Kteily-Hawa

if they step back and critique their world through lenses other than the dominant paradigms (see Fig. 6). Fig. 6 Fashion art promoting authorship on one’s own narrative (Source Author) © Roula Kteily-Hawa

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6 Conclusions Thomas King, an Indigenous American Canadian writer and broadcaster, is well known for stating that “the truth about stories is, that’s all we are”. Originally from his 2003 Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC) Massey Lecture entitled The Truth About Stories: A Native Narrative, King (2003) talks about how human beings are defined by their stories, their lived experiences that have the power to transform them, reform them, and offer up unique perspectives from which to engage with the world. He adds “we are our stories; we bring them with us”. As women, we have brought our stories with us to this stage of our life, and those stories have informed our life’s narrative and our teaching practice. We pulled away from the contexts that shaped our experiences and viewed them from alternative viewpoints. We shared our displaced life narratives, often reflective of complex social and power relations and movements between different spaces, which became visible from our perspective and its consequences on our lives. We focused on the commonalities of our traumatic experiences and subsequent lives and framed our performative narratives of hybrid identities, whereby we emphasized the power of language and narration to effect change in the world. In this sharing, we also conveyed how we integrated our narratives with feminist aesthetics. We thus gained even deeper appreciation of the power of feminist aesthetics as a form of inquiry (self and intellectual) that can shape our educational practice. Feminist aesthetic teaching practices validated our narratives that arose from trauma in our lives, how we processed the stories emergent from our life journeys, and then how we used them to inform our art-respectful connections with learners.

References Al-Saleh, A. (2011). Displaced autobiography in Edward Saïd’s “Out of Place” and Fawaz Turki’s “The disinherited”. Arab Studies Quarterly, 33(2), 79–95. https://www.jstor.org/stable/41858652 Bhabha, H. K. (1994). The location of culture. Routledge. Berns, U. (2009). The concept of performativity in narratology. European Journal of English Studies, 13(1), 93–108. https://doi.org/10.1080/13825570802708204 Buchanan, D., & Dawson, P. (2007). Discourse and audience: Organizational change as multi-story process. Journal of Management Studies, 44(5), 669–686. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1467-6486. 2006.00669.x Deutsch, R., Woolner, L., & Byington, C. L. (2014). Storytelling and trauma: Reflections on ‘Now I see it’, a digital storytelling project and exhibition in collaboration with the Native Women’s Shelter of Montreal. McGill Journal of Education, 49(3), 707–716. https://doi.org/10.7202/103 3555 Etmanski, C. (2020). Six reflections on feminist aesthetic practice. In D. E. Clover, S. Dzulkifli, H. Gelderman, & K. Sanford (Eds.), Feminist adult educators’ guide (pp. 252–260). Creative Pedagogies and Arts-Based Research Group. https://onlineacademiccommunity.uvic.ca/comarts/ King, T. (2003, November 7). The 2003 CBC Massey Lectures, “the truth about stories: A native narrative”. CBC Radio-Canada https://www.cbc.ca/radio/ideas/the-2003-cbc-massey-lecturesthe-truth-about-stories-a-native-narrative-1.2946870

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Korsmeyer, C. (2017). Feminist aesthetics. In E. N. Zalta (Ed.), Stanford encyclopaedia of philosophy. Stanford University. https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/feminism-aesthetics Kteily-Hawa, R. N. (2018). Women’s illness narratives: Storytelling as arts-informed inquiry. Finding voice and listening: The potential of community and arts-based adult education and research. Canadian Journal for the Study of Adult Education, 30(2), 91–100. Massey, D. B., & Jess, P. M. (1995). A place in the world? Places, cultures and globalization. Naber, N. (2012). Arab America. New York University Press. Peacock, J., & Holland, D. (1993). The narrated self: Life stories in process. Ethos, 21(4), 367–383. https://doi.org/10.1525/eth.1993.21.4.02a00010 Pewewardy, C. (2002). Learning styles of American Indian/Alaska native students: A review of the literature and implications for practice. Journal of American Indian Education, 41(3), 22–56. http://www.jstor.org/stable/24398583 Saïd, E. W. (1978). Orientalism. Pantheon Books. Saïd, E. W. (2000). Out of place: A memoir. Vintage Books. Salam, W., & Abualadas, O. (2020). Cultural authenticity versus hyphenated identities: Transnational modes of belonging and citizenship in the inheritance of Exile: Stories from South Philly. CEA Critic, 82(1), 52–68. https://doi.org/10.1353/cea.2020.0002 Sinclair, N., & Dainard, S. (2020, November 13). Sixties scoop. The Canadian Encyclopaedia. https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/sixties-scoop Sorvari, M. (2020). Narratives of displacement: On embodied experience of migration in Ulitskaya, Lindén, and Palei. Contemporary Women’s Writing, 14(2–3), 350–366. Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada. (2015). Final report of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada. National Centre for Truth and Reconciliation. http://nctr.ca/report s2.php Tuhiwai Smith, L. (2012). Decolonizing methodologies: Research and Indigenous peoples. Zed Books.

Storytelling Through Textiles: The Re-birth of a Phoenix Called Damascus Maisa Mreiwed

Abstract Textiles are extremely powerful tools; for centuries, they have been utilized to reflect the political, economic, environmental, religious/spiritual, educational, cultural, and societal changes within nations. Their power does not simply lie in the medium they are delivered in but in the narratives and messages they relay before and after being transformed into useable and artistic items. However, findings indicate that due to the mass production of textiles in today’s global economy, they are becoming more of a commodity produced and acquired for their esthetic nature and price. Through an arts-based educational research project, which began in 2007 in preparation for the launch of a fashion design department at a private Syrian University and continued in 2019 as part of a graduate course for a master’s in Art Education at a Canadian University, the author examines the evidence on the role and impact of textiles as powerful artistic tools of expression and documentation and discusses and analyzes her experience as a Syrian Canadian artist-pedagogue using textile art-making, storytelling, and self-reflection. Keywords Textiles · Textile art · Pedagogy · Storytelling · Self-reflection · Traditional Syrian costumes

1 Introduction Textiles are known to have semiotic properties and are powerful artistic tools of expression and documentation (Agosin, 1984); they are also instigators for change through the stories they tell and the messages they relay. However, with the mass production of textiles today, some of the narratives have changed and textiles have become seen as commodities that are utilized and discarded. It is within the past and present narratives of textiles that I began my research journey. As I explored the stories of some of the textiles from around the world and the artists that use them, I realized how these materials tell stories of power, wealth, politics, religion, M. Mreiwed (B) MA Art Education, London, ON, Canada e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2023 H. Mreiwed et al. (eds.), Making Connections in and Through Arts-Based Educational Research, Studies in Arts-Based Educational Research 5, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-19-8028-2_12

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colonialism, post-colonialism, struggles, hope, strength, resilience, and change to name a few. I, thus, wondered if textiles can be used as educational tools through the stories that are embedded within them to examine the past, reflect on the present, and think about the future. This led me to the research questions explored in this chapter: How have textiles been used as modes of storytelling? What role can textiles play in teaching and learning? How has my personal experience as an artist-pedagogue using textile art impacted my approach to education and the process of making and sharing?

1.1 Rationale and Background As a fashion designer and an artist, I have always been intrigued by textiles; every time I wore something or used fabric to make products, I wondered where the fabric came from and what stories it holds. While working in the fashion industry designing and making embroidered leather clothing and handmade accessories, I realized that my love for fashion went beyond just creating products. I questioned what being a designer meant to me. After a few years of traveling and teaching, I realized that my passion also lay in education. Equipped with that knowledge and hands on experience, I began researching the history of textiles and experimenting with different techniques through natural dyes and prints. I also majored in Religion to get further insights into religious iconography and symbolism found in textiles and traditional costumes and how they relate to the cultural, sociopolitical, historical, and religious/spiritual narratives of their times. My work at a private Syrian University as the head of the fashion design department and course lecturer, as well as my experiences in the Master of Art Education program at a Canadian university, enabled me to delve further into the integral role that textiles can play as pedagogical tools through the stories that they tell—past and present. Considering that they “are not always taken seriously…. [and] are [seen as] the invisible sister of the art world” (Prain, 2014, p. 24), I believe that it is time for the invisible to become visible. Textiles are embedded with narratives and messages before and after being transformed into useable and artistic items, and the individuals who transform them are storytellers.

1.2 Methodology The Arts Based Educational Research (ABER) project, which began in 2007 in preparation for the launch of a fashion design department at a private Syrian University and continued in 2019 as part of a course for a master’s in Art Education at a Canadian University, is the foundation for this journey of textile inquiry and the process of making. The project consisted of one dress that is a part of 14 dresses (the collection hereinafter), which signify the 14 governorates of Syria. The re-birth of a Phoenix called Damascus (2019) is the dress that will be examined in this chapter

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Fig. 1 The re-birth of a Phoenix called Damascus (2019): front and back. Note. The re-birth of a Phoenix called Damascus (2019) ©Maisa Mreiwed, ink and acrylics on muslin fabric

(see Fig. 1). A recurrent theme in the collection is the importance of identity, empowerment, and connectivity. I believe that through the sharing of narratives, individuals can be empowered, learning can take place, and respect can be fostered. The theme of identity, empowerment, and interconnectedness resonates with me on a variety of levels, predominantly on a social, cultural, and psychological level. In the process of creating the collection (which is still ongoing), I thought back to my journey as an immigrant while living in Montréal, along with the competing feelings that accompany it, which include but are not limited to: uncertainty, security, fear, joy, loss, and the desire to be seen without really being seen. The textile art, which is hand-painted on the different pieces, depicts various living species that have mimelike qualities but are ready to walk, run, fly, and move at any moment. At the same time, they remain rooted/connected to the land, culture, values, spiritual/religious beliefs, and home country that form a part of or all their identities. The memories, emotions, struggles, challenges, hopes for new beginnings, the desire to succeed and be socially and culturally accepted as well as the social demands and “norms” of two or more different countries are expressed through the symbolism, geometric figures, and intricate details that surround them. The mime that is within all the depicted species wants to be seen for the work that it does and the rich history, culture, language, ideas, and experiences that it brings but does not want to be seen as the other—a stranger. The message that the mime aims to send is that although we are different, we are also the same. This is done with and through the fabric that I use and the textile art on each piece. The collection weaves together the personal, historical, and current reality as well as hopes for each governorate.

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1.3 Data Analysis, Findings, and Limitations My primary data consists of journal entries and self-reflection on my journey as a Syrian Canadian artist-pedagogue using textiles and textile art-making in conjunction with memories from stories my grandmother told me about her experiences. My secondary data is made of literature review on the history and the use of cotton (as it is the fabric that I use) as well as research on the work of artists who use and reimagine textiles to tell stories and share narratives. The common theme that emerged from the findings is that textiles are powerful tools for storytelling. When doing the data analysis, I kept in mind the limitations of the research in terms of scope (not all the textiles and artists were examined), and I was working from memory as well as personal experiences. There are limitations in terms of lack of research on textiles and textile art in Syria; even traditional Syrian dresses found in different exhibits are not sufficiently documented. Hence, acknowledging that further qualitative research is needed along with a comprehensive literature review that examines all textiles. Since the focus of the research is on examining the narratives that textiles tell, and how they can be used as pedagogical tools, it was important to examine the history of one of the most known and used fabrics. Thus, I began my research with an exploration of cotton.

2 Cotton: Narratives from the Past with Impact on the Present Cotton is a material that I constantly use as a canvas for both my artworks and design process. Understanding where it comes from is essential to what I choose to do with it, how I use it, and where I purchase it from. All these factors contribute to the stories the fabric can tell before and after being altered. The history of cotton is one of success, dominance, colonialism, fear, power, and mass production. It was once viewed as a powerful commodity bringing wealth to countries that had a plethora of cotton lands with innovative farmers and laborers such as India (Bean, 1989; Uzramma, 2006). Prior to being colonized by the British, India’s economy flourished, and their cotton was desired worldwide because of its cheap price and quality. According to Ghosh and Ghosh (2011), Indian cotton was sold in London up until 1883 AD and was recognized for its high quality and durability. As interest rose in Indian textiles, so did interest in the country and its natural resources. Hence, to stop their rise, take control over their industry, and protect the British textile industry, the East India Company, which initially entered the Indian market under the guise of a trader, eventually destroyed the Indian textile industry (Ghosh & Ghosh, 2011, p. 36). The destruction and abusive practices of the cotton industry have continued into the present as seen in the documentary A Killer Bargain (2006), which examines how farmers and factory workers are working under atrocious and dangerous conditions

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to produce cotton for European and Western mass consumption at a cheap price. The filmmakers chose to demonstrate the rise and fall of cotton in India through past and present narratives. They also show that the textile industry weaves a tale of suffering and death to both the environment and human beings. India is not only losing its natural resources but also its workforce to disease (as banned poisonous substances are still being used) and poverty (little or no pay with atrocious conditions). Educators should utilize every opportunity to engage learners; the fabrics that they use are perfect gateways to discussions into colonialism, abuse, mass consumerism, the impact of the past on the present, and what we as human beings can do in the future to ensure that these violations do not continue. Sharing these stories, as I have done with the cotton that I use for the collection, is the first step.

3 Reimagining Textiles and Storytelling Opening one’s eyes to multiple narratives and an array of lenses to view the world and our connection to it is also essential to my work. Hence, when I combined my passions—textiles, art, design, making, and education—I embarked on a journey of self-discovery and research. During my research, I found this interconnectedness of art and textiles to identity, culture, and empowerment in the works of several researchers and artists in different parts of the world including contemporary artist, Yinka Shonibare MBE. Shonibare MBE uses the Dutch wax fabric (also known as the Veritable Java Hollandais) in his artworks to reimagine the stories it holds—past and present. The Veritable Java Hollandais is one of the four textile brands of the Vlisco group and is a part of their Wax Hollandais label. The fabric’s name refers to Holland, its country of origin and the wax that is used to make it unique. Indigo ink is used to make the bright colors that the fabric is famous for. This Dutch wax fabric with its vibrant and colorful prints became to be associated with African dress and culture both abroad and in African countries. This is a result of decades of use from around 1846 up to this date without mass knowledge of its history and origins. According to the company’s official website: “For over 170 years, Vlisco has created more than 350,000 original textile designs. Many of these designs have become cultural treasures, bestowed with special names and meanings by the merchants of Central and West Africa” (Vlisco, n.d.). Although this fabric may be viewed by some as a “cultural treasure”, it is not African. It is designed and produced in the Netherlands and then shipped to markets across West and Central Africa. The fabric and its designs are originally developed and based on batik prints from Indonesia. Initially, the Java prints were sold on the Indonesian island of Java and were popular in Indonesia and Southeast Asia. The Dutch noticed their popularity and economic potential; thus, they copied the style and prints (Kent, 2013). While they failed to enter the Asian market, they were able to dominate the market in Africa, particularly in West African countries such as Nigeria and Ghana.

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This brings to the fore the role of storytelling. In this narrative, authenticity is not attributed to the actual object (the fabric itself), but how one sees it and the stories that it tells. Even imitations of the Dutch wax fabric exist and are passed as authentic in their own way. As Nina Sylvanus notes, “[w]hat defines authenticity in this case lies in the observer’s gaze and not in the object itself” (Sylvanus, 2007, p. 205). This is similar to the point made by Falls and Smith (2011) in explaining the reasons behind the “authenticity” concept of contemporary silk weaving in Cambodia as Transnational Aritsan Partnership (TAP) attempt to fill a more Western desire for objects that are more natural and aligned with the romantic/exotic image of the country and region that they have envisioned without really factoring in the real culture. Within this narrative, we see how textiles can be altered and passed on as “authentic’ and real, unique, and exotic to meet the needs, desires, and fantasies of both local and Western customers. Shonibare MBE addresses this notion of “authenticity” of the Dutch wax fabric against the backdrop of history and identity and reimagines this narrative through his multimedia artworks. In much of his work, Shonibare uses the “African” print fabrics to examine a range of social, political, and cultural elements including identity, history, colonialism, post-colonialism, and legacy (Shonibare et al., 2008) and tell a different story. He asserts that it is ironic that “in the wake of 1960s decolonization and the rise of Pan-African nationalism” (Kent, 2013, p. 7), this foreign textile became “a signifier of authentic African identity” (Kent, 2013, p. 7). He further notes that this is a great example showing that clothing is not an identifier for what “African” is as nothing is what it appears to be. It is thus integral to understand, research, and critically reflect on the history, symbolism, and the source of the object before using and/or transforming it.

4 Connecting My Art: Looking Back to Look Forward When I work with textiles, I always reflect on the people, stories, and connections they hold; each fabric has its own narrative and place in history, and often these connections lead back to women who were rarely or never mentioned/credited, but their stories are embedded in the threads. Unfortunately, storytelling in the past was always from a man’s perspective; this is not because women did not tell stories, but the men were the ones who were commissioned to record and share them (Buckham, 1890; Freese, 1869; Neale, 1854; Wortabet, 1856). By weaving through history and teaching myself how to look for stories in every design and fabric I come across, I have become a better storyteller and researcher. Textiles have been around for centuries and have been used by girls and women to share their work and stories. Although in many parts of the world their accomplishments may not have been adequately researched, traced, and shared leading many like myself to rely on the memories of individuals like my grandmother, they managed to be innovative and leave their mark on history and the economy. One way of sharing their stories and passing on their traditions and culture to their children

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and grandchildren was through weaving, making clothing, and textile art, specifically embroidery (Beitler & Martinez, 2010). Women spun and wove fabrics (Addison, 1838) and made clothing and decorative items for their own households (Burton, 1876); some did it to show off their skills and pass on knowledge, while others did it to survive (Mackintosh, 1883). While many women, for example, in Homs and Damascus in Syria, did not move around the cities by themselves, as my grandmother told me based on stories her mother and grandmother shared with her, they were able to attend some public speeches, visit each other’s homes, participate in religious festivals, and attend weddings and funerals (which were done separately from men). At these gatherings, they would share, exchange, or sell their creations. In Syria, the clothing worn by women not only reflected their social status and where they came from but also documented the innovative materials, tools, and methods they used and mastered such as the spinning of wool, as well as the different aspects of their daily lives. Moreover, the embroidery, colors, and different motifs that were on their garments told additional stories; they were indicators of the “different villages within a region and different regions within the same country, or the characteristics of particular ethnic groups such as those living in the Qalamoun, Horan, Tel Mnin, es Suchne, Saraqeb, Khan Sheikhun, or other regions within Syria” (Palestinian Heritage Foundation, 2016, para. 2). Countries such as Syria that are rich in history and culture have so much to teach us about storytelling and innovation. Through my research and ongoing conversations with women across various age groups and cities in Syria from 2010 to the present, three narratives kept emerging that connected the past to the present and the future— a beautiful country with great resources, a country ravaged by war, and a strong country with resilient people capable of rebuilding it. The hope is that the war will come to an end and people will be able to share their narratives of this period using different creative mediums as they have always done to heal as individuals and as a community. Sharing these memories is essential in any form as Peter Greenaway notes: We cannot possibly exist without memory. Memory makes us. Memory gives us context. Memory gives us both a notion, of course of the past, but also of the present and certainly of the future. History is no more than collected memory, so we have to put all of our memories together in order to create the phenomenon of continuity. (Peter Greenaway as cited in Kaminska & Marchessault, 2015, p. 181)

Memory as described by Greenaway is what amplified my desire to create art pieces that would bring back memories and connect them with the present through storytelling using textiles and textile art. The impact of the past is forever present around every corner and in every home across the country as it is imbedded in the fabric of society and persevered through culture, religion, architecture, art, and costumes to name a few. Personally, I find that countless stories of power and struggle can be told through costumes, textiles, and designs emerging from the different periods that have given Syria its unique identity. This is especially evident in the costumes of the 14 governorates: Damascus, Aleppo, Raqqa, Idlib, Al-Hasakah, Latakia, Tartus, Hama, Homs, Deir ez-Zor, Quneitra, Daraa, As-Suwayda, and Rif

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Fig. 2 Love Letter (2020). Note ©Maisa Mreiwed, Love Letter, 2020, ink, acrylics & fabrics on paper, 30.83'' × 21.93''

Dimashq (see Syria’s map of the 14 Governorates as depicted in Fig. 2, Love Letter, 2020). Since each location has different costumes and stories to tell, I chose to focus on Damascus for the first dress in the collection because it is the capital of Syria. It is also one of the oldest cities in the world with rich history and a very special place for me growing up. The dress, The Re-birth of a Phoenix called Damascus (2019), which I created as part my ongoing collection of 14 dresses representing the 14 governates of Syria, brings together the intersecting narratives through multiple layers that include the chosen fabric, the design, and textile art. It also connects my ongoing research on Syrian folkloric costumes with my research on textiles and textile art and memories. The artwork is in the shape of a Syrian traditional dress; as Gillow and Sentence (1999) note: “Within a community, rural or urban, a sense of identity and belonging is marked by the clothes that people wear and the textiles they make. Tradition does not exert a stranglehold but provides a foundation on which a fertile imagination may build” (p. 14). With these records in mind, my memories, and imagination, I wanted to create a piece that interweaves the past, present, and future culminating in a narrative that may lead to more narratives and research on textiles in Syria and on the women whose names were never recorded who contributed to society through their work with textiles.

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4.1 The Dress: The Re-birth of a Phoenix Called Damascus 4.1.1

Background

The Damascene, who were known for their warfare and farming skills, had a different vision and use for their costumes compared to their neighbors in the region. Therefore, they used different fabrics, techniques, and motifs. Damascus, Aleppo, and Homs were three cities in Syria that “became famous for specialized textiles…for the quality of brocaded silk” (Wearden, 2016, p. 17). Children in general were also taught at an early age how to embroider. According to Beaufort (1874), this was particularly the case for Damascene children from the upper classes whom she described as “well advanced in French and embroidered beautifully” (p. 207). From what I was informed by my grandmother, embroidery techniques were passed on from one generation to the next and were not limited to class/status; thus, children from different socioeconomic statuses were also taught by their mothers, grandmothers, sisters, and aunts. Syrian costumes were also known to use simple and standard techniques, relying mostly on embroidery of unique and detailed designs and motifs to enhance the garments. By weaving together works of art that were not simply ornamental but highly symbolic, they created costumes that have had a profound historical impact on both the East and West. Not only did these costumes tell stories of people throughout different periods, but they also helped build a society rich with culture. These enduring works of art are historical documentations of lives lived and the creativity and artistry of Syrians (see Textile Museum of Canada, 2015). In describing Syrian traditional dresses, Vogelsang-Eastwood (2010) states that there are different forms of Syrian dresses most “notably the classic style…. based on the central panel. Sometimes they have triangular or wing-shaped sleeves (irdan). More recent examples often have relatively narrow, straight sleeves” (p. 50).

4.1.2

Description and Textile Art-Making Process

Although as an artist and designer, I am used to creating art; what I found different about this process was that I was not creating pieces just for myself, but ones that are intended to share stories about the past (as I heard them from those who trusted me with their stories and lived experiences), reflect on the present, and address hopes for the future. While this layer added more responsibility on my shoulders because I wanted to do the work justice, it also motivated me in a way that went beyond anything that I felt before. This dress became an integral part of my journey and my road map. The dress is a human life-sized garment (see Fig. 1), which is inspired by Syria’s rich history, folklore, and mythology. Golden circles, the Phoenix, and different motifs and symbols drawn on it with different colors represent the capital of Syria, Damascus, and its districts, to tell the story of re-birth. Through nature, culture,

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Fig. 3 Front and back winged (Al-Mardan). Note. Front & Back Winged (Al-Mardan) Dress Diagram ©Maisa Mreiwed

and history, the past, present, and future intersect denoting strength, resilience, and re-birth. I designed 17 pattern pieces to make the Syrian traditional dress. It took me a month of pattern preparation, which is based on research, images that I collected, my memory through stories I was told by women from different generations while traveling around the country and my grandmother. The traditional Syrian 56'' long dress falls to the ankles, 18.5'' wide from shoulder to shoulder, with a front slit held with two tassels, two tapered cuffed sleeves with two long pointed flaps attached to each sleeve, four side panels, two on each side, two underarm gussets, two slit pockets on both sides, and a narrow stand-up collar; this type of dress is similar to practical dresses that Damascene women wore in their everyday life (see Fig. 3). It is inspired by “[o]ne of the earliest styles recorded[.] [It] is a long A-shaped dress worn by both men and women and known to modern archeologists as the ‘Syrian tunic’” (Munayyer, 2011, p. 11). This tunic or Al-Thob in Arabic (also known as Al-Mardan or winged dress) is a basic shape of Syrian traditional costumes. As Hamm¯am¯ı (1971) notes, it “is old in the life of the Syrians and dates back to the time when ancient artists made female statues with wings flanked like birds or angels of heaven or the heroes of Ancient Greece” (p. 309). To Gillow (2013), “[t]he sleeves, [are] reminiscent of those on early medieval European dresses, may be the result of Crusader influence, or possibly the influence travelled in the opposite direction” (p. 104). Paine (2008) asserts that findings indicate that “[a]round Damascus white or red cotton dresses are embroidered on long sleeves with added wings for dancing and on risers from the hem” (p. 11). The intention behind the sleeves is described differently in different places; this may be the result of the fact that there are several reasons for it, and they may vary from one location and artist to another. The meaning behind the sleeves also varies based on context. In an Arabic Dictionary, Mu’jam al-ma’¯an¯ı (2010), Al-Mardan (winged dress) is translated as a manual spindle, which spins the fibers into threads (para. 2). Also, Mukht¯ar al-S.ih.a¯ h. (2012)

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mentioned that Irdan or Al-Rudnu, which is drawn from the word Al-Mardan, means the wide shirt or the whole sleeve (para. 1). Adding to this, there is a spear known as Al-Roudynie (singular), which is said to be associated with a woman from Samhar who was skilled in using spears and known as Roudynah (Mukht¯ar al-S.ih.a¯ h., 2012, para. 1). In ancient Rome, a spear was deemed to be a bridal element “used to dress the bride’s hair in the seni crines style” (Sebesta & Bonfante, 2001, p. 60). “[A]ccording to Pliny the Elder, a spear that had killed became a talisman for new life and specifically guarded against difficult labor…spear also served as talisman, as a porte bonheur, guarding against a difficult or sterile marriage” (Sebesta & Bonfante, 2001, p. 60). Thus, this winged traditional Syrian dress has an array of connotations associated with it, making it a rich piece of garment for further research, and an amazing record of history, which intertwines different periods, civilizations, and cultures. I decided to use the traditional style for the front with four circles intended to be signs of continuity and togetherness. As Walker (2013) states, the “modern world needs a sense of wholeness, of the essential unity of all peoples, creatures, and nature on this earth” (p. 2). As for the back of the dress, the image of the Phoenix, which signifies eternity (Conway, 2001), is the most dominant (see Fig. 1). There are several stories about the Phoenix and its connection to Syria. Burton (1876) writes: Damascus’s “history should be divided into six periods, for six times she has changed masters, six times she has been sacked, looted, and burnt, and six times she has risen Phoenix-like out of her own ashes. She is the only real Eternal City” (p. 47). The Phoenix is also “a symbol of human hope” (p. 66) as Conway (2001) asserts: Throughout each lifetime, we encounter distressing and painful events which beat us down emotionally, physically, and/or mentally. When we gather our energies and rise from the ‘ashes’ of these events, we become like the Phoenix. We also become Phoenix-like when we rebuild our spiritual lives after devastating and emotionally draining situations. (p. 66)

Just like the Phoenix, the colors are also associated with the city of Damascus and have mythical connotations. However, instead of using traditional bright colors, I predominantly used black ink but maintained the traditional use of certain motifs with gold, silver, and copper. Traditionally, they would be embroidered, but I handpainted them. This was my own way of re-imagining the narrative, learning through the process of making, and using the dress as my own form of storytelling—one that is both personal and public. I used three metallic colors: gold, copper, and silver. Gold because “…the metal gold or the color yellow means virtue, intellect, esteem, and majesty” (Fact on File, 1992, p. 74), and “[f]or the alchemist, it represented the perfection of all matter on any level, including that of the mind, spirit, and soul” (Ludden, 2010, p. 43). Also, “[g]old on white embroidery is…found in Damascus…. This form of ‘Damascus embroidery’ has intricate cross-stitched patterns, and is often found on cuffs, collars, bookmarks and similar small items” (Gostelow, 1975, p. 176). Although I chose to hand-paint the designs instead of using embroidery, I wanted to keep the same color palette and spirit of the design. As for copper, it “is a comprehensive symbol of light, life, and active agents, such as speech or sperm” (Becker, 2000, p. 67). Silver

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is also an integral color; Nozedar (2010) notes that: “As gold is to the Sun, silver is to the Moon. It is the archetypal female metal, imbued with connections to the Goddess in all her forms” (p. 364). Moreover, “[a]ccording to Shelagh Weir, the silver and gold thread (qasab) needed for the metallic cord used in Bethlehem couched embroidery was originally produced in Aleppo and Homs in Syria” (VogelsangEastwood, 2010, p. 95). Thus, the silver and gold ink that I use is intended to denote the production of silver and gold threads in Syria. I also incorporated red throughout the designs, which is “[f]avoured in Syria for its protective properties, [as] red embroidery is believed to increase fertility and protect against the ‘evil eye’” (Shellenberger, personal communication, March 29, 2019). I chose muslin, a strong but lightweight plain-woven cotton fabric because it has its own narrative and history that has somewhat been lost similar to that of Syria. The name muslin comes from its place of origin in Mosul, Iraq (Hornborg, 2007, p. 110). Although the origins of the fabric are known, there is not much research on its history in Iraq. Most of the documentation focuses on its production in India where it was mostly imported by Europeans due to its popularity and durability (Bean, 1989; Ghosh & Ghosh, 2011; Uzramma, 2006). Through this dress and its unique threads, I am telling the story of untold history the way I perceive it through the use of color and textile art. The front of the dress is inspired by traditional designs based on stories that I heard from my grandmother and my collective research on traditional costumes. The back of the dress is my mode of storytelling—the narrative that I want to share.

5 Conclusion “Traditional textiles are a statement of identity that say, ‘This is where I am from. This is what I do. This is who I am!’” (Gillow & Sentance, 1999, p. 15). It is, therefore, essential to look at traditional garments to get more insights into a society within a given time and place and the different aspects (social, cultural, religious, political, economic, environmental, and geographic) that impacted it and its people. My grandmother always said that when she created a piece of clothing, she would tap into the past and draw on what she learnt and experienced; her mother’s voice guiding her every step of the way. As I was traveling around Syria before the war conducting my research, the women in different cities would show me their traditional dresses from regular wear to wedding dresses inherited from their mothers and grandmothers; they would speak about them with pride and joy sharing every piece of information that they know about the garment. It is those memories and the diverse narratives that make textiles amazing forms of storytelling. As Prain (2014) posits: For as long as people have been making things by hand, they have been telling stories through their handmade artwork. Tales told in cloth have been collected throughout history. Textile-based stories can be found throughout the world…. There, amid the warp and weft, are societal commentary, personal confessions, humor, fictional dalliances, the secret lives of oppressed people, and snapshots of the world as an individual experiences it in his or her

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lifetime. ‘Weaving a tale’ or ‘dropping a thread’ takes on a new meaning when textiles are viewed as more than functional objects. (pp. 21–22)

Just as people have a biography—their own history—so does fabric. It is, hence, crucial to teach about the history of textiles and their role in shaping societies and cultures. For artists, researchers, and educators, it is essential to keep in mind that by understanding the narratives from the past, one can understand the stories these textiles represent in the present and the impact they have on one’s identity and nation. The findings of this research, which emerged from the textile art-making process and the unlocking of narratives found in textiles, can potentially help enhance learning by changing the way individuals see, understand, and consume textiles. Further research is integral in the connection between consumption habits, what is known as “fast fashion”, and the detrimental impact on the environment and the people that make them as in the case of cotton in India. Moreover, through my ongoing research, textile art-making, and reimagined artworks, I want to make sure that traditional Syrian costumes are seen as legitimate forms of storytelling that can provide insights into Syria’s rich and diverse history as well as its present. I aim to continue to research, write, and teach about textiles and their impact as there are many textiles waiting to be explored with stories waiting to be told and heard.

References Addison, C. G. (1838). Damascus and Palmyra: A journey to the East: with a sketch of the state and prospects of Syria, under Ibrahim Pasha (Vol. 1). Richard Bentley. Agosin, M. (1984). Needles that talk: The Arpilleras of Chile. International Journal of Women’s Studies, 7(2), 173–178. Beaufort, A. E. (1874). Egyptian Sepulchres and Syrian Shrines, including a visit to Palmyra. Macmillan and Co. Bean, S. S. (1989). Gandhi and Khadi, the fabric of Indian independence. In A. Weiner & J. Schneider (Eds.), Cloth and the human experience (pp. 355–376). Smithsonian Books. Becker, U. (2000). The continuum encyclopedia of symbols. A & C Black. Beitler, R. M., & Martinez, A. R. (2010). Women’s roles in the middle East and North Africa. ABC-CLIO, LLC. Buckham, G. (1890). Notes from The Journal of a Tourist: Egypt, the Holy Land, Syria, Turkey, Austria, Switzerland, (Vol. 1). Gavin Houston. Burton, I. (1876). The inner life of Syria, Palestine, and the Holy Land: From my private journal (Vol. 1). H.S. King and Co. Conway, D. J. (2001). Magickal, mystical creatures: Invite their powers into your life. Llewellyn Worldwide. Falls, S., & Smith, J. (2011). Branding authenticity: Cambodian Ikat in transnational artisan partnerships (TAPs). Journal of Design History, 24(3), 255–271. Freese, J. R. (1869). The old world: Palestine, Syria and Asia Minor. J. B. Lippincott and Co. Ghosh, G. K., & Ghosh, S. (2011). Indian textiles: Past and present. APH Publishing Corporation. Gillow, J. (2013). Textiles of the Islamic world. Thames and Hudson Ltd. Gillow J., & Sentance, B. (1999). World textiles: A visual guide to traditional techniques. Thames and Hudson Ltd. Gostelow, M. (1975). A world of embroidery. Mills and Boon.

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H.amm¯am¯ı, H. (1971). al-Azy¯a’ al-sha‘b¯ıyah wa-taq¯al¯ıduh¯a f¯ı S¯uriyah. Mansh¯ur¯at Wiz¯arat al-Thaq¯afah. Hornborg, A., McNeill, J. R., & Martínez-Alier, J. (2007). Rethinking environmental history: Worldsystem history and global environmental change. AltaMira Press. Kaminska, A., & Marchessault, J. (2015). Real and virtual histories of past and future in the heritage village. Public Books. Kent, R. (2013). Yinka Shonibare MBE. Prestel. Ludden, K. (2010). Mystic apprentice volume 3: Meditative skills with symbols and glyphs supplemental. Lulu. Lund, F., (Producer) & Heinemann, T., (Director). (2006). A killer bargain (Motion Picture). California Newsreel. Mackintosh, Mrs. (1883). Damascus and its people: Sketches of modern life in Syria. Seeley, Jackson, and Halliday. Mu’jam al-ma’¯an¯ı. (2010). Al-Mardan. Almaany. https://www.almaany.com/ar/dict/ar-ar/‫ﻥﺩﺭﻡﻝﺍ‬/ Mukht¯ar al-S.ih.a¯ h.. (2012). Al-Mardan. Maajim: Dictionary. https://www.maajim.com/dictionary/‫ﺍﻟﺼﺤﺎﺡ‬20%‫ﻣﺨﺘﺎﺭ‬/2/‫ﺍﻟﻤﺮﺩﻥ‬ Munayyer, H. K. (2011). Traditional Palestinian costume: Origins and evolution. Interlink Publishing Group. Neale, F. A. (1854). Evening at Antioch: With sketches of Syrian life. Eyre and Williams. Nozedar, A. (2010). The illustrated signs and symbols sourcebook. HarperCollins. Paine, S. (2008). Embroidered textiles: A world guide to traditional patterns. Thames and Hudson. Palestinian Heritage Foundation. (2016). Syrian costumes. https://palestineheritage.org/syrian_cos tumes/ Prain, L. (2014). Strange material: Storytelling through textiles. Arsenal Pulp Press. Sebesta, J. L., & Bonfante, L. (2001). The world of Roman costume. University of Wisconsin Press. Shonibare, Y., Kent, R., Hobbs, R. C., & Downey, A. (2008). Yinka Shonibare, MBE. Prestel. Sylvanus, N. (2007). The fabric of Africanity: Tracing the global threads of authenticity. Anthropological Theory, 7(2), 201–216. Textile Museum of Canada. (2015). Dress. Textile museum of Canada: Permanent collection. Uzramma. (2006). Cotton to cloth: An Indian epic. In Textile Society of America Symposium Proceedings. Paper 330. http://digitalcommons.unl.edu/tsaconf/330 Vogelsang-Eastwood, G. (2010). Embroidery from the Arab world. Primavera Press, Leiden in Cooperation with Textile Research Center Leiden. Vlisco Since 1846. (n.d.). http://about.vlisco.com/10-facts-about-vlisco/ Walker, B. G. (2013). The woman’s dictionary of symbols and sacred objects. Harper Collins. Wearden, J. (2016). Decorative textiles from Arab and Islamic cultures. Paul Holberton Publishing. Wortabet, G. M. (1856). Syria, and the Syrians: Or, Turkey in dependencies (Vol. 1). James Madden.

Inhabiting/Living Practice: An Emergent Collaborative Arts-Based Exhibition Alison Shields, Genevieve Cloutier, Joanna Fursman, Rocío Lara-Osuna, Jessica Castillo Inostroza, Alicia Arias-Camisón, Lap-Xuan Do-Nguyen, Pavla Gajdošíková, Yoriko Gillard, Samira Jamouchi, Monica Klungland, Tiina Kukkonen, Nicole Lee, Kate Thomas, Jennifer Wicks, and Kate Wurtzel Abstract This chapter presents a collaborative exhibition at the 2019 World Congress of the International Society for Education through Art (InSEA) at The University of British Columbia in Vancouver, Canada. Inhabiting/Living Practice presented the arts-based educational research of 18 doctoral students from around the world. We came together in the Hatch Gallery throughout the InSEA congress A. Shields (B) University of Victoria, Victoria, Canada e-mail: [email protected] G. Cloutier University of Ottawa, Ottawa, Canada J. Fursman Birmingham City University, Birmingham, UK R. Lara-Osuna · J. C. Inostroza · A. Arias-Camisón University of Granada, Granada, Spain L.-X. Do-Nguyen The University of New South Wales, Sydney, Australia P. Gajdošíková Charles University, Prague, Czech Republic Y. Gillard · N. Lee · K. Thomas University of British Columbia, Vancouver, Canada S. Jamouchi Østfold University College, Halden, Norway M. Klungland University of Agder, Kristiansand, Norway T. Kukkonen Queens University, Kingston, Canada J. Wicks Concordia University, Montreal, Canada K. Wurtzel Appalachian State University, Boone, USA © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2023 H. Mreiwed et al. (eds.), Making Connections in and Through Arts-Based Educational Research, Studies in Arts-Based Educational Research 5, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-19-8028-2_13

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to collaborate, discuss, and make together. We shared our arts-based educational research through this emergent process while allowing it to evolve in relation to our ongoing dialogs, artistic interventions, and provocations. We imagined the gallery as a living body: an emerging embodied space that we inhabited for the week with material, affect, and relationality. In this chapter, through photograph documentation and examination of our experiences, we present the unfolding of this emergent exhibition. Through follow-up reflections, participants discuss how the exhibition allowed for a re-viewing of their doctoral research, a re-imagining of the possibilities of arts-based educational research, and the ways connections developed through making together over the course of the week. Through this work, we propose that more time spent making together is needed within the context of academic art education conferences. Keyword Arts-based educational research · Doctoral research · Exhibition · Collaboration · Emergence

1 The Development of an Emergent Arts-Based Exhibition This chapter presents a collaborative exhibition at the 2019 World Congress of the International Society for Education through Art (InSEA) at The University of British Columbia in Vancouver, Canada. Inhabiting/Living Practice presented the arts-based educational research of 18 doctoral students from around the world at the Hatch Gallery. As the facilitators (Shields and Cloutier), we sought to disrupt our accustomed conference experience in which research is presented as complete and separate from other participants and bring “making” into the core of our conference experience. The exhibition was developed on the following premise: Bringing people together within a space to make art together prompts dialog and emergent learning. We put out an open call to art education doctoral students who engage with arts-based educational research and received submissions from artists worldwide. Eighteen artists were invited to participate in the project with works ranging from painting, drawing, sculpture, performance, textiles, photography, mixed media, and social practice. Participants were asked to consider how they might bring their ongoing arts-based educational research into the space while being open to how it may change and develop through collaboration with others. In this chapter, written through the lens of the facilitators (Shields and Cloutier), we discuss how this exhibition unfolded through exploring the work created, collaborations that emerged, and new understandings that developed. The participating artists and (at the time) doctoral students included: Joanna Fursman, Rocío LaraOsuna, Jessica Castillo Inostroza, Alicia Arias-Camisón, Lap-Xuan Do-Nguyen, Pavla Gajdošíková, Yoriko Gillard, Kira Hegeman, Samira Jamouchi, Monica Klungland, Tiina Kukkonen, Nicole Lee, Sam Peck, Francisco Schwember, Kate Thomas, Jennifer Wicks, Ellen Wright, and Kate Wurtzel. The following participants offered insights toward this chapter through answering questions related to their arts-based educational research and experiences throughout the exhibition: Joanna, Jessica,

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Nicole, Monica, Samira, Jennifer, and Kate Wurtzel. Photo collages were created by Rocio, Jessica, Joanna, Alicia, and Genevieve. The exhibition was developed around the concept of emergence. As the facilitators of this project, we sought to create conditions for relationships to emerge between artists, artworks, and conference attendees. I (Shields) was inspired for this exhibition by my own experience as a doctoral student working on a multi-year collaborative project, “The pedagogical turn to art as research: A comparative international study of art education” led by Art Educator Anita Sinner (Sinner et al., 2019). Through this research, Sinner et al. (2019) aimed to “open a conversazione” (p. 3) with and about doctoral research in art education situating this research within the complexities and tensions of creative research within academia. As the facilitators (Shields and Cloutier), we brought that experience to the project as we drew from our respective areas of research to develop our concept of emergence. I, Alison Shields, conceptualize emergence within this project through the lens of my research about artists’ studios. I view art studios as spaces that are active, in-process, and where the materiality of the space, objects, images, ideas, and materials creatively interact (Shields, 2018a, 2018b). Wainwright (2010), a professor at the Art Institute of Chicago, celebrates the importance of the studio for the creative process: “The studio is a space and a condition wherein creative play and progressive thinking yield propositions for reflecting on who we are—individually and collectively—and where we might go next” (p. ix). This principle was brought into the Hatch exhibition, as I simultaneously imagined the gallery as studio and exhibition and strove to foster this condition for creative play, material exploration, and reflective action. Through embracing a studio-like quality within the exhibition, the intention was to capture the in-process quality of arts-based educational research. Through this lens, I view art-making as a performative process (Bolt, 2004, 2007) in its capacity to provoke or generate experiences rather than merely represent them. Through this lens, artistic research and arts-based educational research are embodied, affective, experiential, and emergent (Barrett & Bolt, 2013). Barad (2007) challenges representationalist views of the world and instead focuses on “practices, doings and actions” (p. 28). Through this performative lens, she proposes that entities are in a constant state of becoming in relation to encounters with other entities in a process she refers to as intra-action. Barad challenges us to consider how individuals exist because of intra-actions with others, through the “materialization of relationships” (Kleinman, 2012, p. 76). Thus, we view the emergence within this exhibition as a materialization of relationships between art, between participants, and between arts-based educational research. Co-facilitator Genevieve Cloutier draws from her/their extensive knowledge and experience with facilitation and ethical artistic research practices. She/they employ social practices to trouble authorship through relational and emergent practices that blur the boundaries of researcher/participant, curator/artist, and facilitator/learner. The relational ethics of entanglement offer new understandings of working with others via intra-actions (Barad, 2007) that are always unfolding. Here, uncertain pathways, encounters, and outcomes are enveloped with a need to be accountable to the shared art space. For this reason, many questions arose as we developed the

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exhibition: How will art change in response to the intra-actions and the entanglements within a given space? How will initial proposals shift, change, and emerge? How will the collaborative artistic and facilitation process create conditions for art that which was unthought of before? Ethical facilitation practices often require us to reside in the tensions of accountability. In this way, Cloutier investigates how the exhibition “is one that entangles in relations of debt in ways for which we can never fully account, despite always being willing to be (emergently) accountable” (Loveless, 2019, p. 71). Ethical and accountable facilitation practices in art spaces require an embrace of tensions, difficult conversations, and a willingness to let go of initial expectations. We came together in the Hatch Gallery throughout the InSEA congress to collaborate, discuss, and make together (see Fig. 1). We imagined the gallery as a living body: an emerging embodied space that we inhabited for the week with material, affect, and relationality. We propose that inquiry occurs with and through ongoing encounters, and we invited visitors and congress attendees to participate and collaborate in this emergent exhibition. The theme of the conference was “Making.” Thus, we sought to bring “making” to the core of the conference experience. Throughout the week, we asked: What connections might emerge between arts-based educational researchers through making together? Rather than view the conference as a space to present about “making” or discuss “making,” we wanted to “make” together and see what would emerge.

2 Encountering Multiple Perspectives Within Arts-Based Research As the facilitators, we came together based on our own experiences with Artistic and Arts-based research (Shields, 2018a, 2019); however, each person brought their own reference points and experiences with artistic research, arts-based research (ABR), and arts-based educational research (ABER). Whereas some doctoral students approached ABR from a position more rooted in research creation (Loveless, 2019; Manning, 2016), others understood ABER through the lens of their work in A/r/tography (Irwin, 2013; Irwin & de Cosson, 2004), and/or a more general understanding of arts-based research in education as presented by Siegesmund and Cahmann-Taylor (2008). Monica Klungland references Haseman (2006), A Manifesto for Performative Research, as she explains that her practice-led research constructs “experiential starting points from which practice follows” (p. 100). Joanna Fursman references writings about practice-based research through Macloed and Holdridge (2006), and the work of Estelle Barrett and Barbara Bolt (2007) as she examines the performativity of practice-based research. Jennifer Wicks draws from Barone and Eisner (2012) and Siegesmund and Cahmann-Taylor (2008) to examine how ABR and ABER create spaces that bring value and importance to reasoning and interpretation through multiple modalities and visual language. She also draws

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Fig. 1 Gallery view of the exhibition. Note Photographs by Lap-Xuan Do-Nguyen

from Marín-Viadel (2005) to explore how arts-based educational researchers address educational issues from an artistic perspective, and how artistic research may disrupt the contexts of a given situation. Several participants situate their arts-based educational research within new materialist theories that draw from Barad’s (2007) theories of intra-action as they embrace the emergence of working with materials, space, and artists within the gallery. While bringing our varied understandings of artistic research, ABR and ABER to the gallery might appear at first to be problematic; in practice, it invoked deep conversations around approaches to knowledge production, the role of making, and the thinking-doing involved in research. This diversity in our collective understanding of what ABER might or could be, allowed us to navigate the emergent nature of the experience with fluidity and openness to what continued to present itself. Further,

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through this work, we drew connections between our varied understandings and applications of arts-based research, artistic research, and arts-based educational research as well as how they inform each other. Through the multiple lenses and approaches to ABER, tensions emerged, specifically in relation to how we inhabited space, opened up space between our works, and shared that space with others. Making space for others means entering a space of uncertainty and openness. This openness required that participants allowed conversations to emerge between artworks and participants that made us re-view our own work through a new perspective. These tensions led to emergent questions related to power relationships between participants, how collaboration may re-produce particular relationships and how to allow for a social practice that is inclusive and open. These emergent tensions were significant to this experience as it provoked us to consider our arts-based educational research in relation to others. Participant Tiina Kukkonen described the importance of the emergent tensions: This experience shifted my understanding of collaboration within arts-based research and the outcomes of those collaborations. Prior to the exhibition, I understood that artist-researchers either collect data from study participants and then use the arts/artistic processes to make sense of and disseminate the data; or they co-create artworks alongside study participants to explore/answer a set of pre-established research questions. In the case of this exhibition, we were all artist-researchers from around the world coming into the space with different questions we hoped to answer through diverse artistic/research methods. Hence, there was a lot of confusion and unease on the first day as we all struggled to see how our various practices and ideas could merge into one show. As with any art-making endeavor, the process of collaboration was just as, if not more, valuable than any pre-conceived outcomes or products.

3 Unfolding Exhibition In the months leading up to the exhibition, we met online to discuss the project. It was decided that rather than bring a complete, finished work, collaborators were invited to bring an object, an artistic work, or a relic from their doctoral arts-based research. Among the objects, materials and artworks that were brought were as follows: wool, clay, rubbings, textiles, tiles, photographs, drawings, oracle cards, prints, etc. We spent our first day together sharing the work, finding connections, and allowing new creations to emerge. We gathered in a circle and artworks were laid out on the floor. Each participant shared their arts-based research and the artistic materials they had brought. We responded to each other’s objects/images and found connections between works (see Fig. 2). Pavla Gajdošíková described her experience working with the group for those two days:

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Fig. 2 First encounters. Note Left: Kate Wurtzel, Blurring Boundaries. Top right: Jessica Castilla; Bottom right: Francisco Schwember, Tiina Kukkonen and Kate Wurtzel. Photographs by Genevieve Cloutier

For the first two days, we imagined each other’s work, then discussed, and then our artifacts connected. It was not easy, many different cultures and identities met here. We found different topics and thanks to that we defined one on which we would finally agree and on which the form of the exhibition could derive. After this two-day process, these sub-themes finally crystallized, from which the real installation of artifacts could unfold: place, identity, experiment, creation, originality.

Regarding the process of working together Kate Wurtzel said: After a while, and a few hiccups, the installation of our collaborative work started to flow. We found our rhythm, getting to know one another through our conversations, our words, our hands, and our energies. We sat-with, worked-with, experienced-with each other’s materials, our photos, fibers, markers, paper, etc. There was a simultaneous letting go and expansion of self through intra-actions that were not only verbal, between human to human, or even through our body movement like when we danced on the raw wool, but with the sharing, the shaping, and the co-joining of materials. The ‘stuff’ of our lives became shared space for co-creation.

Following our second day of working together and installing the exhibition, we invited congress attendees to an opening reception that involved several performances and provided time for attendees to interact with artworks within the space (see Fig. 3). Lap-Xuan Do-Nguyen from Vietnam wandered the gallery, her voice repeating “I” as she walked around a collaborative felting. Genevieve put her trust into artistresearcher Yoriko Gillard to cut her hair without any instructions; her strands of hair

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gradually made a pile in the gallery. For the artist-teacher and researcher Samira Jamouchi, “the performance was generated by each entity present in the room: all the participants’ bodies and actions; the water; the wool fibres; the pine tree soap; the duration; the gestures; the flux of the movements; the space; the voices; the rhythms; and the echoes”. This opening performance set a tone for a collaborative and interactive exhibition throughout the week. Throughout the week, visitors came to the gallery as the doctoral arts-based educational researchers further engaged with each other and their work. Traces from the opening performance and from the gallery visitors were seen throughout the gallery as the artistic creations continued to evolve and morph in relation to our ongoing conversations and interactions with art-making. Pavla Gajdošíková from Czech Republic drew from her doctoral work that examined memory of place (Fig. 4, left). Drawing from an a/r/tography methodology, she asked visitors to draw or reflect on a memory of their home. Throughout the week, this wall unfolded with a collection of drawings, written notes, and textiles to reveal a rich story of conference attendees’ visions of home. Next to this work, Sam Peck installed his participatory research about sketchbooks. Nicole Lee brought a set of oracle cards. She asked visitors to reflect on someone special to them as they created an oracle card to add to her collection. These works invited the participating artists and gallery visitors to share their personal experiences as they contributed to the unfolding exhibition.

Fig. 3 Opening performance. Left: Lap-Xuan Do-Nguyen, Samira Jamouchi, Yoriko Gillard. Note Photographs by Alicia Arias-Camisón and Lap-Xuan Do-Nguyen

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Fig. 4 (Left) Sam Peck, Draw & Play Here; Pavla Gajdošíková, The Place of Memory, installation, mixed media, 2019. (Right) Alicia Arias-Camisón. Note Photographs by Pavla Gajdošíková, Alicia Arias-Camisón, and Lap-Xuan Do-Nguyen

In another area of the gallery, Alicia Arias-Camisón invited visitors to move stickers, allowing a single image to open outward throughout the gallery wall, a map of visitor interactions with space (see Fig. 4, right). The “Valdeloviewfinder” (viewfinder), created by Rocío Lara-Osuna, from Spain, played an active role in the interactive process. This tool was designed to observe the world through a crystal ball and created a unique lens through which to view the exhibition (see Fig. 5). And in another area, visitors were provided with two microscopic digital cameras also created by Rocío and were invited to see different textures projected over sculptural paper surfaces (see Fig. 6, top left). And visitors were invited to listen to electroacoustic compositions in an unfired ceramic piece by Jennifer Wicks (see Fig. 6, top right). Joanna Fursman brought a selection of soft props and materials. While she was in the gallery window space, a visitor to the UBC thrift store was intrigued and came by the gallery. They posed with the props, and this key moment determined how she would work in the gallery, producing over 30 portrait images with visitors (Fig. 6, bottom). “The exhibition meant I had an opportunity to develop a new approach to making work with other people and was titled Looking for a New School Portrait. These images produced new directions for me to critically explore in my thesis and concerned the relations produced between people when making collaborative work.”

4 Emergent Connections This exhibition prompted us to consider how we foster active, material conversations between arts-based, artistic, and arts-based educational researchers. Through this work, we continually ask: What happens when we discuss arts-based educational research as we engage in the making process together? Drawing from Barad (2007), we see arts-based educational research as changing, responsive, and in need of constant interruptions and provocations to move it forward. We believe these generative interactions and provocative disruptions are particularly important within

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Fig. 5 Rocío Lara-Osuna. Sandra observes the pieces through “Valdeloviewfinder.” Note Photographs by Rocío Lara-Osuna (bottom) and Sandra Filipelli (top)

the context of a conference where arts-based educational researchers from diverse backgrounds are brought together. This exhibition provided the time and space we so craved within this context of an academic Art Education conference. We believe these types of experiences may push back against an outcome-driven academia and instead foster complicated conversations and the messiness of art-making and learning. Monica Klungland explains that within her art and teaching practice there is pleasure in the emergence that occurs through the chaos with the loom. “I experienced myself during this exhibition and how it felt to go into an unknown situation, encounter the indefinable and unforeseen and feel the tangled connection to other participants.” This week set in a motion a process of ongoing interruption and provocation as materials encountered materials. Drawing from her desire to challenge an individualistic education policy, Monica asks the following question through the work that emerged and followed the exhibition experience: “What can happen if attention is shifted away from the acquisition of skills and production of objects, and

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Fig. 6 Microscopic view over rubbing arms by Rocío Lara-Osuna, Alicia Arias-Camisón Coello, and Ellen Wright (top left). Note In this piece, visitors were provided with two microscopic digital cameras and were able to see different surfaces projected over onion skin paper arms. Hear Me. Jennifer Wicks, Hear Me (top right). Joanna Fursman, Looking for a new school portrait (bottom). Photographs by (Top left) Rocío Lara-Osuna, (Bottom right) Alicia Arias-Camisón & Joanna Fursman (bottom)

onto the event itself and students’ encounters with each other and with materials and surroundings?” Several participating doctoral students considered similar questions through this process. Jessica Castillo Inostroza similarly stated: This experience has shown me that the collaboration between various artists and the dialogue that emerges from each proposal enhances and improves individual and collective artistic practices. In general, we artists think that when we create, we conceive a single, closed, immovable idea, unwilling to make concessions, and in the gallery this belief was shattered. In the show, the focus changed from the individual to the collective and that enriched not only the artistic products, but also the reflections around them. Arts-based educational research does not prescribe a single way of researching, and in that sense, the open process carried out fits, because in an intuitive and instinctive way it was shaping a result based on collaboration, learning and sharing that lasted beyond the exhibition time. This can be perfectly extrapolated to the learning process within a classroom or with social collectives, for example, as an excellent creative exercise of self-knowledge and knowledge of others.

These connections were generative for Nicole Lee as she explained: Though I have had wonderful experiences in my home institution, this experience revealed how the field of ABER can be an alienating and marginalizing space for individuals who may not fit a particular positive, performance-based, and production-based model of being and doing. It invites explorations on the ontological and epistemological assumptions of what

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is of value in the field. This experience summons work on the ethics of relationality and the holding of space for difference; difficult knowledges; equity, diversity, and inclusion; and critical theory, and this seems to be of particular importance in collaborative practices. Relationships take time to build and more time is needed for our human complexity to be acknowledged and witnessed in the process of making and becoming.

And Kate Wurtzel learned to be more vulnerable through this project as she said: I was headed in the general direction of arts-based research and more rhizomatic ways of knowing, but I did not realize how the degree of letting go of control and opening up of the self to collaboration would really guide the pivots made in my own research. Being part of this collaborative experience was the start of me opening up to spaces of vulnerability and uncertainty, which ultimately became the central focus of my current work. This experience expanded my sense of self and provided the confidence to keep pushing on questions related to how we produce knowledge and understanding. Before this experience I questioned how to engage in post-qualitative work, and what it really meant to identify as an artist-researchereducator, but my involvement in this experience truly served as a jumping off point for me. It demonstrated how doing this kind of work in a very embodied, real-time, way is possible.

5 Developing a Creative Ecosystem Dan Harris (2021), Australian Art Educator, describes the importance of recognizing creative practices as being part of ever-changing communities. This interconnectedness they describe as a creative ecosystem: Every ecology is creative. And every creative ecology is an event, forever changing all of its elements as it co-creates the next moment. This is how I define creative agency. This too is why I find it no longer reasonable or useful to measure creativity in any human-centred, or individual, exceptionalist way. It ignores the truth of this always-creative interconnectedness. (p. 5)

Through this emergent and collaborative project, we lived and performed this creative ecosystem as we created the conditions to connect with arts-based educational researchers from around the world, each of whom used a different approach. Further, as each doctoral student returned to their home university, they brought with them their new understandings, thus expanding this creative ecosystem outward in all directions. In my artistic and educational experience, I have often witnessed dichotomies formed between individual art-making and collaborative art practices. This exhibition brought together arts-based educational research, which began within each individual’s own educational context, but became collaborative for the week in the gallery. Through this process, doctoral students’ arts-based educational research was re-activated within a space of tension, creation, and dialog. This project allowed for a deeper engagement with each other’s research through our ongoing negotiations between space, materials, and artists. We left the week considering the following questions as we looked back on our experience and looked forward to future collaborations within the context of academic art education conferences: How do we foster a meaningful collaborative environment where each artist and artwork inhabits

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and shares space through emergence, interruptions, and provocations? How can the tensions and liminality between artists and artworks be a source of conversation and connection? While these questions will likely never be fully answered, we draw from each of our experiences to reflect on how we were shaped through this experience and may shape future collaborations. Kate Wurtzel affirms the significance of coming together and being open within arts-based educational research. I understand arts-based educational research to be very much an embodied practice that one must travel through in order to understand it, but not necessarily be able to define it. The movements, the intentions, the anxieties, the release, the relief, the muddiness, the confusion, all of it is important to the research process itself. As I witnessed a linen that I began unravelling in Texas take on new forms as clumps of pixelated threads hanging from baskets made from Canadian Birch trees, I realized connections were happening on varying levels of materiality. From fibers and fingerprints to affect and sensations, we were giving it, the research, the lived experience, our all. We committed. We took the leap, and for me that leap was as internal as it was external. I grew tremendously from this experience; it has shaped my view on arts-based educational research as a form of research that requires a sort of willingness to not knowing, to drawing porous and sometimes flexible boundaries, to being diffractive in your thinking, and to ‘feeling’ one’s research in a very embodied, lived, and material-experienced way.

This experience affirmed our longing for spaces of making, particularly within the context of national and international conferences that bring together diverse voices of Art Educators whose countries and university institutions foster different approaches to arts-based educational research. While each individual collaborator extends ABER research through their own work, we propose that this exhibition extends the literature on ABER through highlighting how creative ecosystems (Harris, 2021) may be developed within the context of “making together” at an academic conference. This exhibition provides an example of the importance of finding ways for sharing ABER that reflects the diverse, in-process, and emergent quality of ABER. Further, as was shown through conversation with participants, many (if not most) still struggle to have their arts-based work accepted and understood within a rigid academic structure. Through coming together, doctoral students may learn from the struggles and successes of their peers working within different contexts and perhaps return to their own universities with new strength and perspective. Lastly, this exhibition showcases the need for unstructured time within conference settings to allow for these conversations to emerge. This exhibition affirmed the significance of time spent making with others within arts-based educational research. Within a paradigm of highly scheduled and carefully timed conference schedules, we sought to bring time and space for making, talking, and reflecting so that authentic connections might emerge. Thus, through this project, we call for more time and space to develop connections within ABER through making. Indigenous scholar, Shahjahan (2015) argues for a “reformulating the notion of “time” and temporalities of academic life” (p. 488). Drawing from Indigenous ways of learning and knowing, he suggests that we disrupt our notions of time, “in order to reconnect our minds to our bodies and center embodied pedagogy in the classroom” (p. 488). Through this exhibition, we address this necessity as we call for more unstructured time and space within academic conferences to dwell within

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Fig. 7 Monica Klungland, Weaving through open doorways. Note Photographs by Monica Klungland, Alicia Arias-Camisón, and Lap-Xuan Do-Nguyen

the process of making together. Through these dialogs, we are hopeful that we may strengthen international partnerships and complicate each of our understandings of arts-based educational research as we continue to develop these creative ecosystems (Harris, 2021) that deepen our individual practices while expanding outward in all directions. We conclude by returning to Monica Klungland who explained how the yarn that she brought to the space was a metaphor for what might unravel in the gallery that week: One could say that it starts with balls of yarn. Different kinds of yarn balls inspire me and invite me to do something. Different threads are crossed and bound, making different patterns. Just like in the life itself (see Fig. 7).

References Barad, K. (2007). Meeting the universe halfway: Quantum physics and the entanglement of matter and meaning. Duke University Press. Barone, T., & Eisner, E. W. (2012). Arts-based research. Sage. Barrett, E., & Bolt, B. (Eds.). (2013). Carnal knowledge: Towards a ‘new materialism’ through the arts. I.B. Tauris & Co Ltd.

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Bolt, B. (2007). The magic is in the handling. In E. Barrett & B. Bolt (Eds.), Practice as research: Approaches to creative arts enquiry (pp. 27–34). I.B. Tauris & Co Ltd. Bolt, B. (2004). Art beyond representation: The performative Power of the image. I.B. Tauris and Co. Harris, D. (2021). Creative agency. Palgrave Macmillan. Haseman, B. (2006). A manifesto for performative research. Media International Australia incorporating Culture and Policy, theme issue “Practice-led Research,” 118, 98–106. Irwin, R., & de Cosson, A. (Eds.). (2004). A/r/tography: Rendering self through arts based living inquiry. Pacific Educational Press. Irwin, R. (2013). Becoming A/r/tography. Sudies in Art Education, 54(3), 198–215. Kleinman, A. (2012). Intra-actions: Interview with Karen Barad. Mousse Magazine, 34, 76–81. Loveless, N. S. (2019). How to make art at the end of the world: A manifesto for research-creation. Duke University Press. Macloed, K., & Holdridge, L. (Eds.). (2006). Thinking through art. Routledge. Manning, E. (2016). Ten propositions for research-creation. In N. Colin & S. Sachsenmaier (Eds.), Collaboration in performance practice (pp. 133–141). Palgrave Macmillan. Marín-Viadel, R. (Ed.). (2005). Investigacion en educacion artistica: Temas, metodos y tecnicas de indagacion, sobre el aprendizaje y la enseñanza de las artes y culturas visuales. Universidad de Granada y Universidad de Sevilla. Shahjahan, R. A. (2015). Being ‘lazy’ and slowing down: Toward decolonizing time, our body, and pedagogy. Educational Philosophy and Theory, 47(5), 488–501. Shields, A. (2018a). Painting as thinking, painting as conversation: An examination of learning through studio visits with Canadian artists. [Unpublished doctoral dissertation]. University of British Columbia. Shields, A. (2018b). Studio conversations. International Journal of Education through Art, 14(3), 379–385. Shields, A. (2019). The generosity of time spent making and learning with others through artistic research. International Journal of Art and Design Education, 45(1), 659–669. Siegesmund, R., & Cahnmann-Taylor, M. (2008). The tensions of arts-based research in education reconsidered: the promise for practice. In M. Cahnmann-Taylor & R. Siegesmund (Eds.), Artsbased research in education: Foundations for practice. Routledge. Sinner, A., Irwin, R., & Adams, J. (Eds.). (2019). Introduction. In International perspectives on Visual Arts PhD’s in education: Provoking the field. Intellect. Wainwright, L. (2010). Foreward. In M.J. Jacob & M. Grabner (Eds.), The studio reader (p. ix). The University of Chicago Press.

Inclusion as Folded Choreo-Writing Maryam Bagheri Nesami and Tone Pernille Østern

Abstract This chapter investigates how inclusion can happen through folded choreo-writing, a way of thinking about inclusion, choreography, and folding that arose in the meeting between the two authors. We propose folded choreo-writing as a way of making connections through experiences, memories, spaces, relations, and politics. Coming from vastly different geopolitical backgrounds, we (the authors) still found collective resonance through a feminist-queer point of view, acknowledging choreography, inclusion, and politics as transpositional nomadism (Braidotti in Transpositions: On nomadic ethics. Polity (2006)) and the simultaneity of diverse and paradoxical spheres. From this shared theoretical topography and through experiences of how dance can be a place of exclusion that resonated across their differences, we started our folded choreo-writing together. How could choreography counteract exclusive border-making and thinking embedded in dance traditions and instead offer spaces of freedom and inclusion? Keywords Fold · Chora · Inclusion · Choreography

1 Context: About Choreography, Dance, and the Authors As authors, we look at dance and performance through a critical standpoint. We acknowledge the potentials that dance and choreography as embodied practices offer to connect and bind humans to humans and beyond. However, we also are aware that dance as a disciplinary field of knowledge is reflective of power relations, and how bodies and their locations in time and space are segregated and bordered. In this chapter, our point of departure is a countermove against the system of representation, M. Bagheri Nesami (B) Faculty of Creative Arts and Industries, Dance Studies Department, The University of Auckland, Auckland, New Zealand e-mail: [email protected] T. P. Østern NTNU Norwegian University of Science and Technology, Trondheim, Norway e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2023 H. Mreiwed et al. (eds.), Making Connections in and Through Arts-Based Educational Research, Studies in Arts-Based Educational Research 5, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-19-8028-2_14

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and the politics of visibility that see/read/locate/inscribe certain bodies within certain subjective borders (gender, race, geopolitics, ability). The system of representation and its economy of knowledge production are contrast-friendly. It means that they operate and make realities based on the segregation of this from that producing and produced by a language of either/or. Such a binary system values whatever is within the dominant optical field. Whatever cannot fit the terms and conditions of visibility is either fetishized/sexualized/fantasized/assimilated or eliminated. Therefore, for the absent subject of dance and embodiment, and for those who are far from the language of credibility and central location of presence (Western/universal/EuroAmerican/international/global), there are always risks of fixity within the spatiotemporal borders of otherness. Our practice of writing space (choreography) is a political practice of freedom in negotiation with the disciplinary boundaries of dance as a field of knowledge and what counts as body, dance, and dancer. To do so, we counter-map/challenge the pre-established pathways of dancing, seeing and reading dance, and writing about dance. Our practice of folded choreo-writing emerged out of our very meeting at a dance education research seminar in 2019, recognizing shared critical perspectives on the exclusive border-making practices of dance in our very different geopolitical contexts. Maryam is a dancing woman from Iran where dancing is illegal, and the dancer is a criminal. Maryam’s practice of choreo-writing folds (and unfolds) around the politics of visibility and what reveals/conceals as she moves. She works with the notion of the mobius strip as a practical model of mobility which is safe, inclusive, and sustainable. Tone is a dancing woman from Norway, where dance is legal, and dance is accepted as artistic expression. However, the space and stage for dance-asan-art form are still exclusive, preferring normative bodies and Western genres and techniques. Tone’s practice of choreo-writing folds (and unfolds) around the politics of normativity: which bodies are given space in dance, as dancers, choreographers, and teachers? Constantly folding and unfolding as dancers/writers/researchers, we experiment with what the critical expanded choreography (e.g., Lepecki, 2013) and the post-humanist perspectives (e.g., Braidotti, 2006; Deleuze, 1993; Grosz, 1994; Kristeva, 1980) offer/afford. Our experimentations of expanded choreography are in conversation with the Norwegian dance artists Styve Holte, Kongsness and Sortland who have invited choreographers in a Nordic context into three issues of the edited book series CHOREOGRAPHY (2016, 2018, 2021) in which they invite practitioners and researchers into a destabilization of established choreographic truths to give space for new concepts, definitions, and understandings. Also, understanding choreography as a practice of curation, our curatorial foldings converse with Arnhild Staal Pettersen (Director at DansiT Choreographic Centre), Rosemary Martin (Professor of Arts Education with a focus on Dance and Multiculturalism at NTNU Norwegian University of Science and Technology), and Susanna Hast (post-doctoral research fellow at the University of the Arts Helsinki).

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2 Methodological Exploration: Folded Choreo-Writing as Inquiry In this chapter, we create inclusion as folded choreo-writing as a performative and analytical research inquiry, a way of making inquiry that we explore at the same time as we create it. With this, we position our research within a performative research paradigm (Hasemann, 2006; Østern et al., 2021), understanding research as an act of creation with the researcher on the inside of the study, moving with and being moved by the research as it unfolds. Østern et al. (2021) write that: With a performative research paradigm, we mean that […] research is understood as creation. It produces something new in the world, something that was not there before, regardless of the researcher’s involvement. Therefore, research is understood as non-representational, not aspiring to represent a part of the reality that existed independently of the researcher before the research. (Østern et al., 2021, p. 2)

Each of the three concepts, inclusion, folded, and choreo-writing, is of importance for the inquiry. We (the authors) believe our research is political as it embodiedly seeks capacities and potentials to move counter against exclusion within the disciplinary field of dance (which again mirrors society), and its politics of representation, aiming for inclusion. However, we are aware that our capacity to take embodied action counter to the hegemonic power system is context-specific, subject to the time and place. It means that our affordabilities to reach beyond the exclusive and segregating borders are indeterminate, and accordingly, potential, and the potential is political. Talking about the indeterminacy of our embodied capacitary to take counteractions, we think through the concept of the Body without Organ, proposed by Deleuze and Guattari (1987) to unfold how we realize body and theorize embodiment. Understanding body as a BwO affords a corporeality resisting any compatible contour. Therefore, we do not exactly know to what our embodied actions (here: choreo-writing) are potential, how these actions occupy the space (and time), and accordingly, to what extent they can transgress the exclusive boundaries. The idea of folding dialogs with Deleuze’s performative view on being and knowledge being created on an immanent plane, where differences are produced through the act of folding (Deleuze, 1993). We understand Deleuze’s immanent onto-epistemological plane, as a plane without transcendental essences, underlying structures, or universal laws. Instead, what it is, is ever new becomings of differences through folds on and off the immanent plane. This is how we think about our folding inquiry in this chapter: We keep folding, creating, and becoming through differences, constantly pushing toward new openings and inclusions. In the chapter, we fold through scrutinizing fragments of memories from our individual practices, experimenting with the potentials of folding (and unfolding), somatically and politically, collectively, and individually. The individual practices we are exploring and folding with and through are different, but simultaneously, very similar: The practices we fold throughout this chapter are marked by exclusion. We have, in the position as a dancing woman from Iran, and a dancing woman artistically partnering a wheelchair-using dancer in Norway, experienced the exclusive, normative, and

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controlled boundaries of the dance field. The dance field is not for everybody. As a counteract, we have escaped dance with its predefined techniques and aesthetics and grasped for choreography as an artistic structural possibility for expansion, anarchism within dance, change, and inclusion. The concept choreo-writing is inspired by performance-writing (Sandström, 2019), which is a poetic way of folding different types of texts into one another. Choreography is a combined term consisting of two parts, chora + graphy. In our work, Chora refers to a potential space with ungraspable and unidentifiable boundaries (Grosz, 1994; Kristeva, 1980), and graphy is a practice of writing. This chapter, then, through inclusion as folded choreo-writing as performative and analytical research inquiry, celebrates the indeterminacy, ambiguity, and multiplicity of possibilities to map the borders of chora. The practice of choreo-writing can create instant, contingent, and provisional maps for embodied navigations and negotiations through spaces. Therefore, choreo-writing is a practice of countermove against the exclusive contours and spheres, including the contours of disciplinary fields.

3 The Folded Choreo-Writing Starts from Here T: As I fold myself into this chapter in a continuous choreographic movement with Maryam, giving and taking weight/memories/energies, I do that from a topography shaped by twenty years of negotiating about space with differently bodied dancers. As I write about in my doctoral thesis from 2009 (Østern, 2009), this has been a constant balancing on and counteracting the splinters of a dualistic and normative aesthetic worldview that I have found myself part of as choreographer, and (artistic) researcher. Through my six-year-long practice-led doctoral project (2003–2009), creating what today continues as the community-based dance company, the Dance Laboratory, I constantly bumped into situations that made me wonder, question, and become increasingly more critical toward the dance-as-art-field that I was part of. One occasion that came into mind as Maryam and I were discussing our choreographic foldings for this chapter is one that I wrote about in my thesis. This was a long time ago, but this again popped up as I moved with Maryam. It was something she said about experiencing dance class and the stage for dance as painfully exclusive, only for dancers trained technically in a specific way. In 2009, I wrote: When disabled performers really are on stage, Kuppers (2001, p. 26) points out how the cultural narratives of disability are so strong that they preempt anything else a disabled artist might try to communicate. The audiences assume that the disabled body is naturally about disability. I remember having comments on this after the performance på Føtter, på Hjul [on Feet, on Wheels)], where Carl, who uses a wheelchair, performed together with three nondisabled dancers. A young man in the audience told me that: For the first 15 minutes, I just had to get used to seeing the disabled dancer. I could only look at him: it was so unusual for me to see a disabled person in dance and in a stage setting. Then, eventually, I also managed to focus on the performance as a whole. (Østern, 2009, p. 103)

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I remember thinking a long time about this comment, and it opened up a new theoretical landscape for me. It was this comment that led me to Petra Kupper’s writings during my doctoral process, and her insights about the hypervisibility of non-normative bodies, fully made me understand how flat, controlled, exclusive, narrowminded/bodied, normative, and western the dance-as-an-art field (that I was part of) actually was. The hypervisibility of the unique dancers I was choreographing with was doubled on stage: They were already hypervisible in society—just entering a bus meant becoming hypervisible for them. On stage, this is doubled. The situation has changed since 2009, but not enough, and not with enough power and speed. * In 2018, my long-term choreographic and dance teacher partner Elen Øyen was invited to the Netherlands as keynotes to the final conference of a large EU-supported artistic/arts educational research project between three European tertiary dance and music institutions. The topic for the three-year-long practice-led project was inclusion. We were thrilled to go. This seemed like the right place for us to contribute, as we had been working together artistically and educationally with critical and inclusive perspectives on dance/dance education since 2005. By the way, Elen is a wheelchair user (see Fig. 1). Through the EU project, the three dance institutions exchanged teaching ideas, students, and staff, and developed strategies, toolboxes, practices, and teaching pedagogies that worked toward inclusion. This is what we were told, and this is what we anticipated. However, from the very moment when we arrived at the conference site, we were soon to discover that the conference was actually more about exclusion, than inclusion. It might have been about inclusion, as a research topic, but it was not inclusive. It was not practicing inclusion. After a 3-year-long research project, this had

Fig. 1 Tone’s long-time dancing partner Elen in a film made by Elen Øyen and Nina Therese Aune for 60secondsdance, an online international competition for dance films with the duration of one minute

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still not led to more inclusive practices filtered down in the way the conference was organized. Exclusive structures had remained unchallenged and were still very much so active. One thing was the conference participants: There was very little diversity to see, in each respect. Elen became hypervisible, as she was the only wheeling participant. Another aspect was accessibility: The campus was not accessible in any way; it was like a castle that wanted to be a wheel-free zone. The only way to access the site was to drive a couple of hundred meters further away. A little separate building had a large industrial lift for goods transport. We came in the backdoor. Finally, the day for our keynote had come. Then. When the conference host presented the keynote in front of the audience, she left out Elen’s name. Elen and I were sitting next to one another, clearly visible for the conference host, ready to enter the stage, and both our names were printed equally in the program. Still, when we were presented, the host only read the title of the keynote, looked me in the eye, and then said “… with Professor Tone Pernille Østern, we are honored to have you here.” This was followed by applause by everybody, except Elen, who was not applauding or I. Still today, I regret that I did not use this moment as an opportunity for activism. I did not know what to do. I felt my privileges pouring down my back as I got on my feet and wanted to shake them off. I am angry, I am insecure, I am confused, I am a hyena, I am a coward, and I am a betrayer. As I hesitantly walked onto the stage, I wish I had said, “Wait a minute, there must have been a mistake, since only one of us was presented. Conference host, would you mind presenting us again?”. Instead, I did this correction myself: I said that there was a mistake and that we were actually two presenters. * M: Tone! Thanks for your folding and hinging around the naming/unnaming, and the evidence of presence as a location to unfold the range and realm of exclusion. When I rethink the academic environments such as conferences, symposia, and other locations, I see a strong desire for preservation and reproduction of a universal grammar of intellectuality, proficiency, and excellence; such a grammar encourages and enforces sanitizing the unconventional, insufficient, and murky bodies and practices, as well as non-linear, non-sequential and inconsistent spatiotemporalities, just for the sake of homogeneity and academic-artistic integrity. But really, at what costs? Why do the hegemonic and authoritative eyes gravitate toward consistent and homogenized corporealities, and validate only whatever/whoever fits within the central time and place of presence? * Elen’s ex-centric corporeality was unnamed to become fantasized as the other by the ableist/sexist/racist system of representation and its artistic and academic credibility/visibility. * Why does naming matter so much? What are the terms and conditions of having names and faces in disciplinary fields of knowledge, such as dance?

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* What are the promises/risks of becoming faceless/nameless in this field? * Not everyone can afford a name and face. * The risk of visibility has caused my embodied practice countless numbers of folding and unfolding; as a subject of dance, I twist and turn, shift, and roll to become and unbecome myself as a dancer, dance person, physical theater actress, performer, movement artist, and performance artist. What do such namings afford? Safe residency and ground? Valid presence (in time and place)? Sufficiency and compatibility as a subject-positionality? credibility? recognition? legitimacy? inclusion? affordance? accessibilities?

* Iran is a choreophobic (Shay, 1999) country. Dance in Iran is illegal, and the dancer is a criminal. * Therefore, my dance practice takes place at the hinging/pivoting point, in between possibilities and impossibilities of dancing without being seen. Risking in between visibility and invisibility, I see the practice of choreography as a political practice of mapping/writing a safe topos for a dancing woman from Iran. * Veil. The Western/universal/Euro-American/international/global politics of visibility and its economy of gaze produce an image of the other: a veiled Middle Eastern (Iranian) woman, and supposedly Muslim, who requires to represent/prove her liberation through her emancipatory dance. Such a reduced image of the other is usually the only passport to reach the stages/pages of compatibility (see Fig. 2). My passport is the veil and my language of liberatory practices is compatible only within the dichotomous discourse of veiling/unveiling.

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Fig. 2 Maryam, in studio 113 CAI, University of Auckland, March 2018, Auckland

* Unveiling. When it comes to explicitness and presence, within the major history of feminist practices and their aesthetics of emancipations, it is important to ask what sort of explicitness is canonically valid and whose explicit embodied action is included as/through feminism? And whose narratives of liberation and emancipation count and contribute to the already archived and established feminist discourses? The unfolding, unveiling, and becoming explicit, both as a woman and as a dancing body, might not be affordable for everyone. In a choreophobic context, one might have to think of an alter-explicitness/ alter-unveiling, and accordingly, as a dancing woman (one/I) might have to propose an alter-aesthetic language and alter-feminist practices to appear without being seen. * Veiling. Peggy Phelan (2003) remarks, “visibility is a trap” because “it summons surveillance and law…” (p. 6), and instead, she promotes invisibility as it offers more potential and power to be seen. Being visible is a conditioning of normativity, like being heterosexual, which means being accepted by the homogenizing power, the power which encourages the same-ness, alignment, and convergence. Phelan (2003) argues being the same has a risk of losing attention and turning to invisible. Phelan

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(2003) says, “the power of the unseen community lies in its ability to cohere outside the system of observation which seeks to patrol it” (p. 97). But how risky is it to become fantasized/fetishized as an absent subject, as a veiled one? Unveiling is a risk, so is veiling. * Saba Mahmood (2005) argues writing as a risk, risk of assimilation, reduction, and elimination, risk of sexualization, and fetishization. However, Mahmood also reminds us there is no other choice for the subject of text, to write. I expand: There is no choice for the subject of dance, to dance, and for a dancing woman from Iran, to veil, to dance, and to write (about dance). Knowing that in my case, dancing and veiling are inseparable, I become an undanced subject of dance who bears unveiling within the practice of veiling. How is it possible? I see it relevant here to invite Botz-Bornestein’s (2013) discussion of the veil and sunglasses and the simultaneous combination of “presence and non-presence” (p. 3), as a counter-gaze strategy (see Fig. 3). As a political act of deceiving and disrupting the system of visibility, the mapping practice of my choreography leads me to create a couple of papier maché demon masks to cover my face (see Fig. 4). * I disappear as the subject of dance and veil and re-appear in an undanced/unveiled/ subject. This undoing practice of dance and veil may cause discontinuity, confusion, and deviation from the linear narratives of liberatory embodiments and discourses. What emerges as discontinuous, disruptive, and deviant corporeality is potentially a monster.

Fig. 3 A video created for the provisional review of the first doctoral year, Auckland, April 2018. Note Video credit: ©Kimberley Annan

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Fig. 4 Self-portrait; experimenting chora with veil and mask, Auckland, August 2018

What does such monstrous corporeality afford? * A body without organ (Deleuze & Guattari, 1987)? * I could see through the mask, and I could see into the mask. Who is watching who? Is it me seeing through the eyes of the mask? Or the audience seeing my eyes through the mask? Or me seeing into the eyes of the mask? The simultaneity confused, disrupted, and blurred the borderline of self and other, the under and over, the inside and the outside, the subject of the dance and its object; this problematized the system of visibility, and its language of realization: where does this uncanny face (body) begin, and where does it end? * Isn’t it promising? * T: Having talked through our experiences properly after the excluding bordermaking keynote presentation which segregated us as worthy/unworthy of naming, Elen and I, we managed to eventually turn the situation around, take charge the rest of the conference days, and in the end also carry out the task of wrapping up the conference, which was given to us, as an act of activism.

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Fig. 5 Elen checking her look in the mirror in the toilet for wheeling participants

Choreographic activism: Practicing freedom, and resistance T: Our choreographic activism unfolded through photo documenting the exclusiveness of the conference space from Elen’s perspective. Everything at the conference was organized from an ableist system of footed representation, which othered and excluded wheeling participants like Elen. The mirror in the toilet for wheelchair users was positioned according to footed participants (see Fig. 5). Worse was, the naming of the toilet door used the concept “invalide” in Dutch, which means “invalid.” Invalid.* There are no invalid bodies. Not on a conference for inclusion in dance and music, after a 3-yr-long research project about inclusion. And not anywhere. * There are only valid bodies around here. So, we went to a paper shop and bought scissors, red cardboard, and tape. And we acted, re-choreographing the naming of the conference toilets (see Fig. 6). We used all the photos, documenting our choreographic activism as a PowerPoint for our critical and activist wrap-up of the conference, in front of all conference participants (see Fig. 7). To turn the situation around, confront it, call the exclusion by name, and take action, it was really important to feel that the inclusion we were working for was real and not only something we were talking about. We could breathe again, freely.

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Fig. 6 There are only valid bodies around here

Fig. 7 Practicing freedom and resistance on a conference

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To work for inclusion involves not only critical perspectives and change but also activism, and standing up for, and standing by, inclusion in those micro-moments when inclusion or exclusion is really at stake. I, Tone, learned that those moments are when I need to stop the traditional, exclusive, and normative folding from unfolding. Exactly in those moments, I need to not look the other way and refuse to remain untouched in my privileged position. Instead, I need to actively offer a (choreographic) resistance that forces the fold to unfold differently. * M: As a dancing woman of Iran, my dance is not just subject to the fetish of veil but also as an undisciplined dancer, who lacks the systematic training, I am subject to the fetish of technique. What de-territorializes and differentiates my language from the flow language of kinaesthesia is coming from the same discourse of lack that rules the ever-existing fetish between the self and other, the veiled and unveiled, the abled and disabled, and the familiar and uncanny (Bagheri Nesami, 2021). * When I immigrated to Aotearoa, New Zealand, rehearsing and performing outside of Iran as an undisciplined dancer, I encountered a different tight place (other than choreophobia) which caused de-territorializing the plane(s) of resistance, and urged “a stretch, a shift of weight, a roll, and perhaps a fall” (Rothfield, 2005, p. 51) in my mode and language of movement due to different operating choreopolice (Lepecki, 2013). I remember once, in a rehearsal for a dance project, the dancers were told to jump in unison and a synchronized way. I was in the midst of experimentation, translating the desired homogenized rhythm and quality of jumps, when I was told by the choreographer to adjust and regulate my jumping, as my jumps were different from the other dancers’ jumps. I link this corrective hint to the narrative of having “good feet” or “bad feet” as a dancer, to which I encountered within the universal dance discourse. I felt challenged by the question of “lack,” “gap,” and “difference” in the spatiotemporality of my dance-related jumping practices and the spatiotemporality of the “universal training that is efficient, anatomically informed, and capable of cultivating the greatest versatility for the dancing body” (Foster, 2011, p. 71). * A dancing woman of Iran, who lives and dances as a migrant within the geopolitics of the first world (as if according to dominant sequentiality, the Middle East is positioned as the third), is required to be loud, luminous, and dramatic, to be valid as an intellectual and sufficient embodiment. However, movement is not always a luxury, and not everyone can move (luminously and loudly). Since the body (without organ) is extremely fluid and dynamic, and the embodied practice reaches beyond the material limits and borderlands, it cannot easily happen to predict how the body occupies the space. Such an indeterminacy can be both risky and promising, eliminating and emancipatory, regardless of moving or not; dancing or not; veiling or not. (Bagheri Nesami, 2021, p. 139)

The possibility of being potential, without necessarily moving, offers the choice of reversing my main question and allows for both dancing without being seen, and

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being seen (as compatible) without dancing. As an undisciplined dancer, coming from a region where dance is problematic, I am a latecomer to the hegemonic language of disciplinary dance and its universal artistic and academic narratives. However, the gap between the languages of the local and global, the dance and what is not valid as dance, according to Shafak (2010) stimulates and creates an elusive space; I call this gap a liminal space, a space that holds potential, or as Hélène Cixous (Cixous et al., 1976) says a way out, to emerge as the Other (an-other subject) to transcend beyond the geographical references and their material limits to produce an alternative knowledge. It does not matter if it is situated as too long, too late, too far, too slow, too still, inconsistent, imperceptible, untranslatable, and uncanny; this knowledge is only accessible to those who allow themselves to take the risk and transcend beyond themselves, altering their practices and encountering a glimpse of others. * Micro-moments

The promise of uncanny

Resistance

Who is valid? Who can afford it? Changing names

Micro-dance

A simultaneously paradoxical positionality: included and excluded

*

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4 Conclusion: As if This Is the Last Fold T & M: Concluding such a folded text is almost impossible, as the constant folding and unfolding creates disruptions, distractions, and confusions. Such distractions move counter to the linear, consistent, coherent, and sequential narratives, that are validated and acknowledged as “high” language of arts and academia. Reading such a non-linear folded text requires resilience. Resilience causes exhaustion. The repetition of folding/unfolding also causes exhaustion. The exhaustion in the Deleuzian sense (1995) creates resonations and vibrations and, therefore, makes the contour of the (dancing) body indeterminate and incompatible. Chora + graphy, in our work, refers to a collaborative folded writing practice through which we scrutinize experiences, memories, spaces, relations, and politics and how they resonate with one another. Through inclusion as folded choreo-writing as research inquiry, we offer a potential space for dance with ungraspable and unidentifiable boundaries. Then, it is not clear (to the system of visibility and its language of realization) where the wheelchair or veil begins, where they end, and what each extension can afford? As corporeal extensions, veil and wheelchair are conjunctions of flux, “in a continuum of reversible intensities” (Deleuze et al., 1986, p. 22); their intensities unsettle the borders and enable transpositional and nomadic shifts across exclusive spheres. This chapter consists of the fragments of dance-related moments and memories, choreo-written through the folds, to create a chora capable of holding simultaneously both active and still, disciplinary and non-disciplinary, valid and invalid, archival and non-archival, and uncanny and familiar embodiments, together. This folded collaborative writing, as choreography, sustains its political potentiality at the pivot of each fold and twist, where the co-existence of the paradoxical spheres and moments is possible. We see our folded choreo-writing as a political countermove against the exclusive contours and spheres of dance, welcoming the invisible and non-normative to create new inclusive spatializations.

References 60secondsdance. Co-produced by Loikka Dance Film Festival (FI), Dansehallerne/ScreenMoves (DK), ScreenDance Festival (SE) and DansiT/Multiplié Dance Festival (NO). https://www.scr eendancefestival.com/about/60secondsdance/ Bagheri Nesami, M. (2021). Politics and poetics of solo performance: Choreopolitical negotiations of a dancing woman from Iran. [Doctoral dissertation]. University of Auckland. https://researchs pace.auckland.ac.nz/handle/2292/58555 Botz-Bornstein, T. (2013). Veils and sunglasses. Journal of Aesthetics & Culture, 5(1), 1–10. https:// doi.org/10.3402/jac.v5i0.19659 Braidotti, R. (2006). Transpositions: On nomadic ethics. Polity. Cixous, H., Cohen, K., & Cohen, P. (1976). The laugh of the Medusa. Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society, 1(4), 875–893. Deleuze, G., & Uhlmann, A. (1995). The exhausted. SubStance, 24(3), 3–28.

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Deleuze, G. (1993). The Fold: Leibniz and the Baroque (Conley, T., Trans.). University of Minnesota Press. Deleuze, G., & Gattari, F. (1987). A thousand plateaus: Capitalism and schizophrenia (Massumi, B., Trans.). University of Minnesota Press. Deleuze, G., Guattari, F., & Massumi, B. (1986). Nomadology: The war machine (Massumi, B., Trans.). University of Minnesota Press. Foster, S. L. (Ed.). (2011). Choreographing history. Indiana University Press. Grosz, E. (1994). Women, chora, dwelling. ANY: Architecture New York, (4), 22–27. Haseman, B. (2006). A manifesto for performative research. Media International Australia, 118(1), 98–106. Kristeva, J. (1980). Desire in language: A semiotic approach to literature and art. (Roudiez, Trans.). Columbia University Press. Lepecki, A. (2013). Choreopolice and Choreopolitics: Or, the task of the dancer. Tdr/the Drama Review, 57(4), 13–27. https://doi.org/10.1162/DRAM_a_00300 Mahmood, S. (2005). Politics of piety: The Islamic revival and the subject of feminism. Princeton University Press. Østern, T. P. (2009). Meaning-making in the dance laboratory. Exploring dance improvisation with differently bodied dancers. (Doctoral thesis, Theatre Academy). https://actascenica.teak.fi/lectio/ tone-pernille-ostern-lectio/ Østern, T. P., Jusslin, S., Nødtvedt Knudsen, K., Maapalo, P., & Bjørkøy, I. (2021). A performative paradigm for post-qualitative inquiry. Qualitative Research. https://doi.org/10.1177/146879412 11027444 Phelan, P. (2003). Unmarked: The politics of performance. Routledge. Rothfield, P. (2005). Differentiating phenomenology and dance. Topoi, 24(1), 43–53. https://doi. org/10.1007/s11245-004-4160-z Sandström, I. (2019). Tvärsöver otysta tider: Att skriva genom Västerbottens och New Englands historier och språk tillsammans med texter av Susan Howe. [Across unquiet times: Writing Through the Histories and Languages of Västerbotten and New England in the Company of Works by Susan Howe]. (Doctoral thesis, Valand Academy). https://gupea.ub.gu.se/handle/2077/ 59381 Shafak, E. (2010, July). The politics of fiction. [Video file]. https://www.ted.com/talks/elif_shafak_ the_politics_of_fiction Shay, A. (1999). Choreophobia: Solo improvised dance in the Iranian world. Mazda Publishers. Styve Holte, S., Kongsness, A.-C., & Sorland, V. M. (Eds.). (2016). Koreografi/Choreography. Colophon. Styve Holte, S., Kongsness, A.-C., & Sorland, V. M. (Eds.). (2018). Koreografi/Choreography. Colophon. Styve Holte, S., Kongsness, A.-C., & Sorland, V. M. (Eds.). (2021). Koreografi/Choreography. Colophon.

Hold on to Your Hat! All Aboard for the Train Called Fiction no Fiction! Kathryn Ricketts

Abstract How can dance or embodied explorations of narrative become a catalyst for re-imagining the self and other within an everchanging reference. I am creating a dance piece through a process we can call “devised choreography” to answer this. This chapter is told from the perspective of LUG’s suitcase, LUG is a character that I have been inhabiting for about 16 years. The suitcase asks “Am I tired of her yet? … sometimes, and then she does something that wakes me up, bristles me and disrupts my rusty latches!” “Now she has asked a group of young dancers to work with her collection of old smelly suitcases and strange broken objects that she has ‘Lugged’ into the studio. I think they are skeptical and would rather have familiar movement, clear counts, and beautiful music, but they’ve got LUG. They don’t know it yet, but they are about to embark on quite a journey! Did I mention that both the objects and the suitcases come from a lineage of many former owners? We can actually hear all of those stories and so… it gets a little complicated….” LUG’s suitcase will unravel what really happened with this young group of dancers and their borrowed suitcases. Keywords Fiction/non-fiction · Thing theory · Transmediation · Dance/theater · Embodied narratives · Devised choreography

1 From Kathryn I am asking how dance or embodied explorations of narrative can become a catalyst for re-imagining self and other within everchanging contexts and conditions. In asking this, I linger in Arts-Based Education Research where I dwell as a performative scholar, teacher, and artist. Recently, I created a dance piece through a process I call “devised choreography.” These young dancers are training in many forms of dance, and what they mainly know are the old tropes of aesthetics and virtuosity within tight structures of pedagogy, which in the end, strip personal agency and distinctiveness. K. Ricketts (B) University of Regina, Regina, Canada e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2023 H. Mreiwed et al. (eds.), Making Connections in and Through Arts-Based Educational Research, Studies in Arts-Based Educational Research 5, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-19-8028-2_15

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They came to this creative process ready to be told what to do and in many cases strive for identical execution. And, then there is me, asking them to play with 75-year-old suitcases, musty and peeling, with a “baby’s mind.” What is a “baby’s mind” you ask? Well, I ask the dancers to hold the suitcases in an entirely new way. To meet the creative space as a baby with the soles of their feet still soft and tender is almost like seeing a book, its text on the page, upside down. As we precede, sourcing images from our lived experiences and moving them through shared spaces taking on physical forms, collectively we experience major embodied disruptions. These interferences of our habits and conventions as dancers and learners can create fluid pathways of knowing and unknowing and become what Jung (Jacobi, 2014) coins as mutual interpenetration. As teachers, we are often seeing and experiencing the world through a deductive lens shaving the edges and softening the impact for a kind of palatability necessary for the classroom or in this case, the studio. My work which is often situated in a variety of disenfranchised demographics will always walk the tightrope between authenticity and the need to create safe space for playful expressions. Sometimes, moving into these disruptions of the habituated ways of sourcing and telling memories creates a challenge to stay in the authenticity and purity of this avenue of rich and vital information driving directly from the depths of self, opposed to diverting this rupture in attempt to fix the uncomfortable residue. With this process, the dancers are invited to sit in the fire of possible discomfort with me. And that they are doing!!! Through this process we ask, can we sit in the fire of I and other? Can we find ways to voice what we see, think, and feel about entirely new concepts without losing the ground we stand on?I strongly believe action, reflection, dialog, and artful doing constitute an important chain in the role as artist/teacher/researcher. I believe that it is in this event of unraveling embodied stories with these dancers, where we acknowledge and surface the secrets of our unconsciousness as they become more like truths of the human condition whispered. Truths that are an essential part of cultivating compassionate, rich, and inspiring learning spaces. This is the center of my work with the “baby’s mind,” and why I ask the dancers to step inside the suitcase as if it was their first day at school and tell me what they see, and feel. Drawing from thing theory and phenomenological approaches to knowing, this chapter explores the methods and discoveries of the process while sharing the insights, challenges, and recommendations of the liminal spaces between fiction and nonfiction in movement and things and poetry.

2 From the Suitcase—Lights On I am LUG, a character that Kathryn has been inhabiting for about 18 years. Am I tired of her yet?… sometimes, and then she does something that wakes me up, bristles

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me, disrupts my rusty latches of my suitcase, my worn threads of my overcoat, my wrinkled felt hat. Now she has asked a group of young dancers to work with her collection (actually my collection) of old smelly suitcases and strange broken objects that she has “Lugged” into the studio. I think they are skeptical and would rather have familiar movement, clear counts, and beautiful music but they’ve got Kathryn, actually…. they’ve got me. They don’t know it yet, but they are about to embark on quite a journey! They will be playing with narratives that get so entangled one from/with the other that they will no longer know whose story belongs to who! Oh, did I mention that both the objects and the suitcases come from a lineage of many former owners? Well, I (and perhaps the dancers) can actually hear all of those stories as well! So… it gets a little complicated…. The fact is that we have now completed the journey and with this chapter I hope to take the lead (although it seems Kathryn has much to write about this!) on unraveling what really happened with this young group of dancers and my collection of suitcases. Oh yes, Kathryn wants me to remind the reader that she will, at times, when I allow, insert a little around Thing Theory and Phenomenology as her anchors in her work with Arts-Based Research. This is one of the first times I get to have my voice so let’s see how much page space I give her. Hold on to your hat! All aboard for the train called fiction no fiction! Oh Oh here comes Kathryn and she want to talk a little about phenomenology but hurry back to me!

3 From Kathryn I am interested in disrupting the traditionally privileged positionality of the body in relation to objects. Merleau-Ponty (cited in MaCann, 2005) claims that our immediate encounter with objects involves a reciprocality laced with the tension of communication and comingling. There is a relentlessness of the natural and material world that seems to function on its own accord despite our metaphysically onerous (and self-righteous) whips and handcuffs claiming the right to name. This space forms a co-dependent relationship between the object and the body whereby history is both remembered and constructed, where time is fluid. Abram (2012) so aptly claims, “We think with the objects we love; we love the objects we think with” (p. 6). The “real world” in which we find ourselves, then—the very world our sciences strive to fathom—is not a sheer “object” from which all subjects and subjective qualities could be pared away, but is rather an intertwined matrix of sensation and perception. (Abram, 2012, p. 39)

Taking this notion of co-dependency, why the stigma carried with objects? Abram (2012) describes this as the tension between phenomenology and epistemological traditions of thought.

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Behind the reticence to examine objects as centerpieces of thought was the value placed, at least within the Western tradition, on formal, propositional ways of knowing. In thinking about science, certainly, abstract reasoning was traditionally recognized as a standard, canonical style; many have taken it to be synonymous with knowledge altogether. (Turkle, 2011, p. 6)

I am exploring this fertile ground where meaning making occurs despite and in spite of ourselves. The mutual inscription of others in my experience, and (as I must assume) of myself in their experiences, effects the interweaving of our individual phenomenal fields into a single, ever-shifting fabric, a single phenomenal world or “reality.” (Abram, 2012, p. 39)

This inquiry ponders the dissolving borderland between objects and body within strongly voiced scholars such as Husserl (cited in Macann, 2005), Heidegger (1967), Arendt (1958), and Merleau-Ponty (cited in McCann, 2005), to more current thinkers such as Harman (2005), Turkle (2011), and Elkins (1997). However, I am staking the territory, investigating this thinking on a philosophical plain and come to a poetic summary, I am feeling kinda tight Holding on with dear might, with this notion that the mind is altogether separate and that it is our fate that if we don’t have the spark plugs firing the messages at exactly the right place and the right speed Or at all The world as we know it goes AWOL This tarnished Cartesianism that can’t fit with any ism in my heart Does not fly, nor does it pass me by I need to integrate, I cannot separate I need to mitigate, insulate, percolate, this connection between the body as a whole and the object within.

4 Part 1—Balls on Their Heads Jenny Arntzen, 2010

4.1 From the Suitcase—Lights On My turn! Lets talk about location… It looks like what we remember a dance studio to look like. We have seen pictures… It has been a long time of working with LUG in grimy back alleys and decerped courtyards. This place looks so clean!

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It even smells like what we would imagine a dance studio to smell like; that combination of hardwood, sweat, and perfume. But there are no dancers, it is empty. We can see ourselves reflected in the walls we understand later they call them mirrors. We are used to back alleys, deserted fields, and basement storages. We will wait, after all they have transported us from our storage closet where we sat with all of our friends for some years. We were stacked one on top of the other and had grown accustomed to talking with each other this way. Four of us were moved here last week. We have been moved and there must be a reason. OK, now here are some arrivals one, two, wait, four girls! I think they must be dancers, they are too busy to notice us and they are all wearing masks and applying hand sanitizer. Their hair is up on the top of their heads in little balls, and they are hardly wearing anything! Then it all becomes clear when LUG enters the room. Our master of plans our conductor of orchestras, our wizard our magician our …LUG. These dancers look uncomfortable, they are not used to dirty rusted things in the studio…they will get used to it…we did. Suddenly we are swept up by the dancers and they are holding us and examining our rusted latches and smelly interiors. They look disgusted. They have no idea of our history our rich tales of travel and oh the things we have concealed inside: secrets, treasures, weapons, lingerie and sometimes very, very important papers. LUG is demonstrating how to use us with baby minds dismantling what they think we are to explore what we could be. I like this part quite a bit! Wheeee we get to go on all kinds of rides as they toss us about and slide us around—wonderful—wheeeee! Now they are being asked to tell stories of travel, beginnings and endings, arrivals and departures…. they are rolling their eyes and slouching…don’t they know who they are working with? There is after all, only on LUG. LUG is pushing on and now putting on the most disgusting music! It sounds like a cat caught in a blender. These dancers are asking to go to the bathroom, checking their phones and again rolling their eyes, This is going to be some journey! Hold onto your hat!

4.2 From the Suitcase—Lights Out Finally, everyone is gone. I don’t have to keep looking at myself in that damn mirror. I am looking old! I have time to think about what we are doing with these girls with the balls on their heads and hardly any clothes. There was so much exhaling!!

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I don’t think it went very well. I have not witnessed LUG having so much resistance. Once in Australia someone came back the next day after a workshop and said that a wound had been re-opened without closure. That was cause to pause. Another time someone was supposed to hide an artifact inside of me LUG was sent out of the room, a surprise! When LUG returned, they had hidden me under the projector table. Poor LUG, that was not a good moment…. Anyway, I am thinking of and excerpt of a poem LUG read to them today.

4.2.1

Suitcase (Excerpt)

The suitcase is lifted The feet are moving The present engulfs and suffocates the life that we know All that is familiar is lost All the threads that weave the value and meaning of self and place dissolve in a short breath The suitcase is heavy although it is holding very little The hinges and latches are rusted and unreliable and so there is a leather belt that is wrapped around the base and through the handle The suitcase is placed with the others and the feet move forward to the next arrival,

They wrote about arrivals and departures, beginning and endings and I am thinking about what Carl Leggo says about this.

4.2.2

In the Beginning (Excerpt)

As I shape language, alchemically language shapes me, my poems writing themselves in autobiographical urgency. Beginnings and endings and all the countless moments between the beginnings and endings that are more beginnings and endings. (Leggo, 2000, pp. 7–10)

And then I am thinking about Appelbaum and his thinking around endings and beginnings he says there is a stop moment in between these two points. Like a Wait! Look! Listen! According to Appelbaum (1995), this stop moment is where historical knowledge is suspended, and a revelatory opportunity is produced. This reminds me again of the Baby’s Mind when habituated thought and practice patterns are suspended, interrupted…disrupted! One comes to an end, the other opens. Between closing and beginning lives a gap, a caesura, a discontinuity. The betweenness is a hinge that belongs to neither one nor the other. It is

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neither poised nor unpoised, yet moves both ways. It is this space that is the primary subject of my interest. It is the stop. (Appelbaum, 1995, p. 15)

I am waiting for tomorrow, and I have to be honest, with a bit of trepidation, I know LUG is planning to bring in old overcoats for these dancers. I know they are not going to like this…hold onto your hat!

5 Part 2—Stinky Overcoat Jamie Slawson, 2019

5.1 From the Suitcase—Lights On Kathryn has asked to interrupt me for a moment to explain the photos.

5.2 From Kathryn Over the years, many have created renderings of LUG, while or after I perform, and I now have a collection of them as treasured gifts. The three images in this chapter are iterations of the same shape of LUG within a performance. The three iterations of this image, one by myself, are included to exemplify the ways in which these shared narratives from the dancers become blurred in authorship and take on new identities, tones, and nuances and they intermingle with others. I believe this is the inter-relational piece that fosters strength of voice and is exemplified so well in arts-based work.

5.3 From the Suitcase—Lights On Today they came in without balls on their heads! Strange, they all have this long hair, and it is tied behind them but not on top of their head! LUG has entered the room laden with a pile of old wrinkled, gray, green, and brown overcoats. They are truly quite ugly, and the girls are not holding back with their shock and dismay knowing that they will have to handle these garments and in some kind of creative way to boot! LUG asks them to play with the overcoats once again with a baby’s mind. LUG adds that by doing this we dismantle the imposed meaning of the objects and even their purpose in our world. That was a mistake, I think… more exhales and of course rolling eyes.

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Eventually, they begin to play with these coats as if they were a boat, a roof, a dear friend, and an uncomfortable letter and LUG is smiling. They are getting used to the screeching cat and broken glass kind of music that LUG is playing, and sometimes, I can even see a hint of a smile or a nod. Perhaps, they are thinking these sounds go with these strange moves. LUG tells them, with these imaginative explorations, the body’s center of gravity shifts and thereby provoking the axis of knowing to be disrupted. This process results in lived experiences re-interpreted, re-storied, and then re-imagined with others. Wow! What Fun! Wheeee!!! I feel better for LUG that they are at least listening and trying to bring themselves to this strange and unfamiliar world. They are also writing and talking about their memories of arriving and leaving, and I think sometimes they get sad about their story and even the stories of the others. They are writing haiku based on an everyday object and then transforming these into a playful, kinesthetic conjuring. I watch the very soul of these young dancers crack open, and wide eyed they venture into the world of narrative inquiry and metaphoric motion. They explore the poeticism, the fantasy, and the metamorphosis of owned narratives to borrowed fictions. And then how the matrix of these intertwining and nuanced fragments becoming a shared container of human truths. We are making dances with old, smelly suitcases and everyday objects but, oh, we are doing so much more! The room felt more light pink today at the end instead of brown. I think LUG is happy for that!

5.4 From the Suitcase—Lights Out I am dwelling in the pinkness of today. It seems that LUG works very hard to disrupt the habituated ways of thinking and being in the world and this must be hard especially with an age group that feels so unsettled to begin with. It makes me think about Leggo (2008) once again as he writes about seeing what is not there instead of being affirmed of what is there, In all my living and teaching and writing, I am engaged in a constitutive activity that involves seeking the lines of possibility among the points of light in the night’s sky. I am not trying to see only the shapes that others have named. Instead, I am seeing the shapes that have not been named. (p. 11)

I watch the girls play with these ugly, smelly coats even though they are used to counts and direct instructions. But LUG is asking them to take their physical expertise and move it into the realm of the unknown. What might happen if they use the coats as an umbrella or a long-lost ring? It makes me think of Stephen Nachmanovitch (1991) referring to this astuteness as “the power of free play sloshing against the power of limits” (p. 33).

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I wonder how they feel using their bodies as conduits for these stories of arrival and departures, beginnings and endings, and then sharing them and reconfiguring them into movement with these stinky coats. It must feel like their everyday thoughts are getting mixed up with something strange and perhaps profound. I think Snowber (2003) talks about this as well. As dancers, it is our limbs, torsos, gestures, pelvis, hips, legs and hands that excavate the nexus of knowledge, insight and understanding. Our dancing bodies become a place where we can cultivate a sense of embodiment in an age in which analysis and fragmentation often thwart us in recognizing and exploring the meaning of the ordinary. (p. 200)

Tomorrow will be another day and another challenge. LUG has asked them to bring in an object that may represent these stories they have been telling. Of course, there were more rolling eyes. Let’s see what happens… Hold on to your hat! In the meantime, I am going to linger in the memories of all the objects I have held over the years with many different owners in many different places…..

6 Part 3—Mermaid Pencils and Sequined Headbands Kathryn Ricketts, 2021

6.1 From the Suitcase—Lights On Today everyone arrived at the same time, and I could hardly hear myself think. I dare say that the atmosphere was jubilant! They were all clutching their objects that LUG had asked them to bring. We sat on the floor with their objects in front of them. They were small and colorful, not like in other workshops where people brought onions and handkerchiefs and antique books. These objects were decorative and playful as if they came out of a Disney movie; an animated stapler, a mermaid pencil and sequined hair bands… Bluck!!!! Nothing was of interest to me, and it just made me feel even more rusted and brown. LUG tried to conceal disappointment but I know LUG well. The coaxing began and out came the most amazing stories to my gaping surprise! They were stories of sadness and longing in a time of global isolation. All these girls were angry and frustrated with the world robbing them of the juice of their adolescence. And somehow these objects became the catalyst for stories that were not as linked to a specific event as I had imagined. It was not just a souvenir pencil from Disneyland but a story about longing for family road trips and meeting friends at the mall and sharing gossip and snacks while doing homework together.

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They could barely let each other finish their story before the other started almost as if it was one big waterfall of stories coming from the same source. I could see LUG smile and begin to encourage them to make poetry from the stories and then movement from the poetry. Unfortunately, there was more mention of fragmenting narratives and poeticizing the specific and creating common truths. Somehow there were less rolling eyes this time. They almost look like they are starting to lean in rather than slouch back. There are bubbles in the air… well not really but if feel like it.

6.2 From the Suitcase—Lights Out I can still feel the bubbles in the studio, and I can’t wait for tomorrow when they put it all together, I get to carry the objects and they get to wear the coats and wheeeeee!!!! I know it is going to be quite a journey. I wish both Abram and Pinar (2009) were here to see this, they would be so happy to see their words at play. This is what each of them would say. Abram (2012) links the sentient body with the world of objects: …thus my divergent senses meet up with each other in the surrounding world, converging and comingling in the things I perceive. We may think of the sensing body as a kind of open circuit that completes only in things, and in the world. (p. 125)

And then there is Pinar who is talking about this idea of personal to Universal and somehow makes me thing of kites!!! “Articulating subjective experience keeps a string on these conceptual kites that, in their distance from the everyday, enable more panoramic views of our location in the world” (Pinar, 2009, p. 9). Cancienne and Snowber move that further by saying dance is a vehicle for deepseated learning beyond the traditional spaces: Well, looking back at this studio event, the movement these girls made was shared and learned by each other and by doing this cross-exchange of personal narratives they began to interweave human instincts to share and support. Nice! As far as I can see, this piece they/we created from this process became emblems of narratives of courage, frustration, revelation, and longing and this all became blurred in their shared field of exchange. This was not an easy process, and I know that these girls felt the strain that divides them from this event of the object and the metaphor, but I also witnessed them being grafted together with a new understanding and respect for that which is unknown and nonsensical… Applebaum (1995) says it better than me…. And so looking has force: it tears, it is sharp. It is an acid. In this end, it corrodes the object and observer until they are lost in the field of vision. I once was solid and now I am dissolved: that is the voice of seeing. (p. 45)

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I can see now in the dark that we became one in this reflectivity about self and other in the world we live in right now. Together, we brought another perspective into the phrase that we so often hear “We are all in this together.”

7 Part 4—The Final Run-Through 7.1 From the Suitcase—Lights On The big day has come, and I get to fly and skid and tumble with these wonderful young ladies as they dig into their stories and movement. LUG has clearly won their confidence as they eagerly chat in the corner about the sequencing of their moves. I am excited to feel everything come together, and I can see that LUG looks relieved. The screeching cat kind of music starts, and somehow the dancers are able to count in and off we go! The run-through goes at lightning speed, and we are all exhilarated and joyful that we remembered every move. LUG is smiling in the corner, and we know that we have had completed the journey. The context of creating this performable piece is merely a catalyst to the cultivation of a space of sharing—sharing personal stories, vocal, written, and imagistic. This story was rooted in the teller but tethered to all of us; as they surfaced, we begin to experience the intersections that touched us deeply—quickening tolerance, compassion, and empathy. There was a sense of surrendering authorship as the piece actually made itself almost invisibly like the Ouija board piece moving slowly toward yes or no with listening fingers lightly resting on its surface. In this way of combining research and artist, I again refer to A/r/tography, which writes of a fusion of knowing, doing, and making: A/r/tography creates an imaginative turn by theorizing or explaining phenomena through aesthetic experiences that integrate knowing, doing and making: experiences that simultaneously value technique and content through acts of inquiry; experiences that value complexity and difference within a third space. (Bickel, 2006, p. 31)

As I already said, this was not an easy process but once again, LUG, you came out with your hat on!

References Abram, D. (2012). The spell of the sensuous: Perception and language in a more-than-human world. Vintage. Appelbaum, D. (1995). The stop (Vol. 1). SUNY Press. Arendt, H. (1958). The human condition. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Bagley, C., & Cancienne, M. B. (Eds.). (2002). Dancing the data (Vol. 5). Peter Lang Pub Incorporated. Bickel, B. (2006). A/r/tography: Rendering self through arts-based living inquiry.

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Cancienne, M. B., & Snowber, C. N. (2003). Writing rhythm: Movement as method. Qualitative Inquiry, 9(2), 237–253. Elkins, J. (1997). The object stares back: On the nature of seeing. San Diego, CA: Harcourt Brace. Harman, G. (2005). Guerilla metaphysics: Phenomenology and the carpentry of things. Chicago, IL: Open Court Heidegger, M. (1967). Being and time (J. Macquarrie & E. Robinson, Trans.). Oxford, United Kingdom: Basil Blackwell. Jacobi, J. (Ed.). (2014). CG Jung: Psychological reflections: A new anthology of his writings 1905– 1961. Routledge. Leggo, C. (2000). Evolving views on evaluating writing: Snapshots of practice. Inkshed, 18(2), 7–10. Leggo, C. (2008). Autobiography: Researching our lives and living our research: Why do we tell stories? In Being with a/r/tography (pp. 1–23). Brill. Macann, C. (2005). Four phenomenological philosophers: Husserl, Heidegger, Sartre. Routledge. McCann, C. (1993). Four phenomenological thinkers. London, England: Routledge Nachmanovitch, S. (1991). Free play: Improvisation in life and art. Penguin. Pinar, W. F. (2009). On the agony and the ecstasy of the particular: Identity politics, autobiography, and cosmopolitanism. The Worldliness of a Cosmopolitan Education, 21–35. Turkle, S. (2007). Evocative objects: Things we think with. Cambridge, MA: Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Turkle, S. (Ed.). (2011). Evocative objects: Things we think with. MIT press.

Personal and Pedagogical Connections

A/r/tographic Inquiry: When Art Meets Text Sara Hashem

Abstract “When Art Meets Text” is an a/r/tographic inquiry that highlights my lived experiences as an artist/researcher/teacher-educator exploring the multimodality of practicing and disseminating academic research through art and text. I specifically approach this inquiry through an a/r/tographic lens because it seeks to broaden the understanding of life’s complexity through acknowledging the spaces in-between, the interconnectedness, and the relational in our existence (Carter and Triggs, Arts education and curriculum studies: the contributions of Rita L. Irwin. Routledge (2018); Springgay et al., Being with a/r/tography. Sense (2008)). A/r/tography is a methodological approach that lives in the liminal in-betweens of the multiple identities we assume as artists/researchers/teachers. It also lingers in the visual and textual as embodied in the interrelatedness of image and word. I am sharing this a/r/tographic inquiry to further contribute to the academic discourse on the potential of arts-based educational research while facilitating a reflective personal conversation about my being in a/r/tography. Keywords A/r/tography · Arts-based educational research · Artful inquiry · Contiguity · Identity · Lived experiences

1 A/r/t A/r/tography is an arts-based methodological framework that seeks to broaden our understanding of life’s complexity through acknowledging the spaces in-between, the interconnectedness, and the relational in our existence (Carter, 2014; La Jevic & Springgay, 2008; Springgay et al., 2008). These are represented in our multiple roles of artist/researcher/teacher, our practice as embodied in theorizing, artmaking, and S. Hashem (B) Department of Integrated Studies in Education, McGill University, Montreal, Canada e-mail: [email protected] Curriculum and Faculty Development, Champlain College Saint-Lambert, Saint-Lambert, QC, Canada © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2023 H. Mreiwed et al. (eds.), Making Connections in and Through Arts-Based Educational Research, Studies in Arts-Based Educational Research 5, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-19-8028-2_16

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writing, as well as our understandings as manifested through our meaning-making (Irwin & De Cosson, 2004; Irwin & O’Donoghue, 2012; Irwin & Sinner, 2013). Engaging with a/r/tography for this study affords me a space to devote artform and writing to further understand my academic work in relation to my existence in and beyond academia. It also allows me to learn the reasons that drive me to use artsbased educational research as a methodological lens for my studies. I explore how my work manifests itself as part of my being and how I constitute part of my work. By understanding this relationship, I will be able to better define my positionality during any research endeavor. This characterization will help me achieve greater awareness of my subjectivity, which would guide me in establishing a more transparent stance to the reader/audience. In employing a/r/tography, I find solace in the hyphenated space of the artist/researcher/teacher, which affords me a space to channel my compound voices in an attempt to profit from the ability to contribute from a stance enriched with life experiences. This complex mix symbolizes the intricate relationship of being a museum practitioner, a trained studio artist, an educator, and an academic and museum researcher. Throughout this inquiry, I acknowledge that I might identify with one identity to frame an experience or occurrence; I also recognize that this one identity carries traces of my other identities. The latter reference to my “other identities” symbolizes my professional multiplicities as well as my personal diversity (my various roles and interests in life).

1.1 A: Artist I am a studio-trained artist. Professionally, I practice my art through my educator role. I also employ arts-based educational research methods in my research endeavors, which allow me to practice and engage with art within academia. Recreationally, I use art as a creative outlet in my spare time. In this research, my engagement with my imaginative and artistic capacities embodies my artist-self. Conceptually, I consider the creative endeavors within this study my artist contributions. Materially, I view the production of photographs and poetry as my artist manifestations.

1.2 R: Researcher As an academic, I am a researcher. As a museum specialist, I am also a researcher. Research is integral to both institutions, academic and museological. Although there is a general understanding that a researcher operates within certain professional circles, I view research as an innate response to general human curiosities. We are constantly exploring and investigating in order to better understand. We are always searching for answers, and more often than not, we re-search them. Research is

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denoted in human curiosity, but the research approach is what constitutes its validity and ascribes a researcher’s value to the undertaker. In this study, I view myself not only as a researcher within my professional capacities but also in response to my general curiosities. My researcher-self leads the journeys of explorations within this work of living inquiry.

1.3 T: Teacher I started my career teaching art in school. I later moved to teach pedagogy, art, and arts-based educational methods at university. I find the term “teaching art” very troubling because it suggests that art is a topic that has measurable outcomes. Art is a highly personal and delicate subject, making every student’s journey unique. As such, it begs to question whether uniqueness is taught or mediated. Nonetheless, for clarity purposes, I continue using the word teacher to describe my art mediation attempts. In the same spirit, I do not regard the teacher role exclusive to the classroom: I view teachers as facilitators of learning, so I constantly recognize teacher moments outside the school context. For example, in museums, sometimes visitor experience animators slip into a teacher role; other times, when trainers train staff, I spot the occasional teacher cloak in play. Within this research, I embody the teacher identity in the moments where I facilitate learning in an artful or textual capacity. My teacher instincts guide my choices for thought presentation, idea dissemination, and knowledge transfer.

2 On A/r/tography A/r/tography is a methodology founded on the theoretical underpinnings of arts-based research in education, which is rooted in qualitative research (Cahnmann-Taylor & Siegesmund, 2018; Carter & Triggs, 2018). In general, qualitative research entails “purposely adopting different lenses, filters, and angles” to unearth “new perceptions and cognitions” about the world (Saldaña, 2010, p. 4). Arts-based research (ABR) encourages new ways “of thinking about the nature of knowledge and how it can be created” (Eisner, 1991, p. 227). The arts-based theoretical framework encourages methodological pluralism out of the firm belief that it enriches and challenges conventional research methods (Barone & Eisner, 2012; Eisner, 2008). The array of arts-based research methodologies encourages new ways of understanding by moving beyond textual representations and introducing artistic means to express and explain, such as poetry, collage, photography, painting, drawing, music, dance, narration, theater, film, media, among other expressive and performative arts (Leavy, 2015; McNiff, 2008; Willis, 2008). According to (Butler-Kisber, 2010), “traditional, textual descriptions of qualitative findings do not adequately reflect the complexity of studying human behavior”

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(p. 229). Therefore, integrating the arts in research facilitates the portrayal of this complexity due to the innate convoluted, symbolic, and complex nature of the arts. In essence, the arts can capture what text fails to transmit. In an attempt to build on the intricacy and interrelatedness of artform and text, a/r/tography is a relatively fresh addition to the arts-based educational research (ABER) repertoire of methodologies (Irwin et al., 2006; Leggo et al., 2011; Springgay et al., 2008). Not only does it add to ABER’s pluralism, but it also offers, within its approaches, a pluralistic and multimodal lens to examining data. This pluralistic and multimodal lens enriches the research process by positioning creativity and criticality at the epicenter (Sullivan, 2010). In a/r/tography, creativity and criticality are highly subjective because they emerge from a solid commitment to living inquiry, which is personal, intimate, and unique (Detlefsen, 2012; Irwin, 2008; Siegesmund, 2013, 2014). Living inquiry is an engagement with knowing and understanding; it is an active process that attempts to simplify the complex and complicate the simple (Irwin & Springgay, 2008; Springgay et al., 2005). New meanings materialize through exploring the fuzzy and ambiguous spaces in-between the artist, researcher, and teacher roles, as well as the intricate and complex interactions of the visual and textual. These correspond to the idea of exploiting “the power of ‘vagueness’ to ‘get at’ what otherwise would seem unrecoverable” (Barone & Eisner, 2012). This vagueness is echoed in a/r/tography’s non-formulaic-based nature, where the meeting of art and writing creates methodological rigor (Irwin, 2004; Lea et al., 2011).

3 Meeting of Art and Text When employing a/r/tography in my research, I attempt to bridge my perception of the world with my academic endeavors; a probable longing shared within the arts-based research community to merge the “scholar-self” with the “artist-self” (Leavy, 2015, pp. 1–2). This longing might have stemmed from a highly personal and individual standpoint, but it also carries global nuances. Exploring the theoretical and contextual frameworks of my research efforts through the mono-modal lens of the scholarly word dismisses the liminal nature of my being and work. My lived experiences cannot be solely defined through academic text because they do not exclusively revolve around academia. Equally, researching the world cannot be exclusively portrayed in words since this mutes the visual facility of our existence. In adopting an a/r/tographic approach, I capitalize on the powers of multimodality in arts-based research to “call into question that which has become the all-too-familiar” (Barone & Eisner, 2012, p. 23). Effectively, through adopting various modes of engagement I am challenging our current understandings to uncover new meanings. In a/r/tography, the contiguity of art and text warrants a space to capture the artful expressions of myself and the pictorial nature of the world in which we live. It is a methodological approach that mirrors the multi-faceted nature of lived experiences, an approach that affords to channel the fluidity and changeability of life. A/r/tography is also a method that uses the familiarity of art to complement the complex nature

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of academic texts. To engage with a/r/tography is to allow the generative powers of art to drive the discourse beyond the confines of academia. I view art as a means of breaking barriers and demystifying the perceived complexity of academic dissemination. Imagine with me that I want to describe the nature of arts-based educational research, and I need to decide among the following options:

3.1 Option 1 I write a well-sourced paragraph on the fluidity and multimodality of arts-based educational research in contrast to mono-modal methodological approaches. I also epistemologically situate the arts-based methodology and explain the theoretical framework that governs the approach. Definitively, I describe the contextual setting of the methodology in relation to the research question I am attempting to answer. To conclude, I state the limitations of arts-based educational research in order to stay true to the openness represented by the arts. Now, let us consider the following questions together: . . . . . .

How many big jargon words did I use in explaining my writing plan? How many sources will/should I cite? How many of those sources would a non-specialist have read? How many sources would a specialist have read? How alienated would the reader feel if they did not know the work cited? How inaccessible is the text, considering I will use words like epistemology, multimodality, etc.?

3.2 Option 2 I decide on a purely visual representation of what I think symbolizes the nature of arts-based educational research. My medium of choice is photography since it offers a sense of familiarity to the viewer. We are visually acquainted with photographic presence in the media, most of us have daily interactions with our phone-integrated cameras, and we are accustomed to using photography to document our lives (Knight, 2016). Hence, my medium intends to maximize artistic accessibility and minimize arts inhibition. I also use no text and provide no title or descriptive information to explain the image. I rely entirely on the power of the image to guide the audiences in their interactions with the photograph. As such, this is the concept (see Fig. 1): Now, let us take another moment to consider the following questions together: . How many words did I use in this visual representation? . Does the reader/audience need to be a specialist to form an opinion about their impression of the photograph? . How many levels of interpretation are open to the viewer?

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Fig. 1 Photograph of rubber bands (2019) © Sara Hashem

. . . . .

Does this image carry the stigma of complex academic writing? Does this image afford flexibility in dissemination? Is there room for this photograph to be decontextualized? Is the artist’s intent clear? Is the thematic linkage clear?

3.3 Option 3 I opt for a combination of art and text, where one medium’s capacities complement the other medium’s limitations. Within this option, I have multiple sub-options to choose from depending on how many conceptual and contextual details I want to offer my audience. On the one hand, if I want to allow for the viewers’ perception to guide their understanding of the photograph, I will choose to place the image of the rubber band along with only a title, “Arts-based educational research”. On the other hand, if I consider the thematic linkage insufficient to bring my message across, I will add a small piece of text with cues and triggers to guide the viewers’ thought process. Still, I am aware that I cannot guarantee to prompt the same perceptive reaction from all my viewers, given that I am acknowledging their individualized contribution to the process. In all cases, I intend for the additional text to channel

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the viewers toward a specific contextual and conceptual framework governing the artistic representation. This text could be in the format of an artist’s statement: When thinking about the nature of arts-based educational research, I thought of the elasticity of the rubber band. The band represents the fact that knowledge has no specific start or end. Also, the band symbolizes how research brings ideas together and holds them into place. But, an elastic band also ruptures, breaking the roundness and starting a new shape. There are endless possibilities.

Alternatively, an artist’s statement in poetry, which is a format I usually opt for when displaying my artwork: Knowledge like roundness. No start or end. Art like rubber. Flexible and expanding. Research like band. Brings together. Overall fragility. Breaks and re-shapes. Endless possibilities.

So, within the mixing of art and text, the following three levels of rendering present themselves: a. The image is accompanied by an indicative title to contextualize the art while leaving significant room for personal interpretation. b. The image is supplemented by an indicative title and a descriptive text to further contextualize the artwork while still leaving room for personal interpretations. c. The image is complemented by an indicative title and a poetic expression of the context of the artwork to help contextualize the artwork and double the artistic media used to convey the message. This doubling augments the presence of art through art and text, creating more room for personal interpretations. Hereafter, I share three samples of possible representations of the mixing of the visual and textual to convey the nature of arts-based research (see Figs. 2, 3, and 4). . For one last time, let us consider the following questions together: . Is the thematic linkage clear? . With the presence of the text, is there room for the photograph to be decontextualized? . Is the artist’s intent clear? . Does the reader/audience need to be a specialist to form an opinion about their impression of the photograph? . How many levels of interpretation are still open to the reader/audience? . Do the image and text carry the stigma of complex academic writing? . Do the image and text afford flexibility in dissemination? There is something about this option, where a more holistic yet open alternative presents itself through the combination of art and text. Personally, I find the meeting of word and art an inevitable and natural occurrence due to the liminal existence and

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Fig. 2 Option 3 (a)—Photograph and title © Sara Hashem

constant intersectionality of artform and word, art and science, as well as knowledge and creativity. We are surrounded by this constant intersectionality of word and art: billboards, window displays, books, magazines, newspapers, television, theatre, etc. So, with research reflecting our lives, mirroring this liminal existence becomes integral to a/r/tographic inquiry. Contextually, the combination of art and text in arts-based methods employs a “larger spectrum of creative intelligence and communications” (McNiff, 2008, p. 30). In terms of the research process, this broader choice of methods allows for generating a richer set of information. As research dissemination, communicating through different modes invites a broader range of audiences to participate in the research exchange process. In essence, a multimodal approach to research creates multi-faceted entry points to understanding research.

4 A/r/tographic Understandings In this study, I represent my lived experiences as an artist/researcher/teacher-educator exploring the multimodality of practicing and disseminating academic research

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Fig. 3 Option 3 (b)—Photograph, title, and text © Sara Hashem

through art and text. I explore the ways in which I employ arts-based methodological approaches as a means of opening new ways of understanding my research endeavors. I use the philosophical construct of metaphor and metonymy to explore a/r/tography as a method that guides my work. Metaphor and metonymy frame the relationality of art and graph, where the visual and textual “complement, extend, refute, and/or subvert one another” (Springgay et al., 2005, p. 900). In a/r/tography, art and word come together to provide a wider lens for research, allowing for original ways of practicing and new means of understanding. By harnessing the powers of metaphor and metonymy, I embrace the potential of meaning-making and un-making throughout this inquiry. In essence, I could only unearth new meanings by accepting

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Fig. 4 Option 3 (c)—Photograph, title, and poetry © Sara Hashem

the possibility of a loss of meaning. Some critics describe the process of a/r/tographic making as an “impossible undertaking” (Bickel et al., 2011, p. 98), yet precisely this taint of impossibility is what holds my research possibilities. I also employ contiguity to contextualize the subject/object relationality in my research. A/r/tographic contiguity, like metaphor and metonymy, helps frame the notion of the forward-slash (/), which represents the spaces in-between the artist, researcher, and teacher identities (Springgay et al., 2008). It allows “the spaces inbetween the roles and the activity inherent in practicing these roles” to surface and become more visible (Springgay et al., 2005, p. 900). Engaging with contiguity helps me carve a dedicated space, a meeting point, for my artist/researcher/practitioner selves in my studies. Moreover, contiguity stands for the liminality of the personal to the global. It builds on the fact that a/r/tographic inquiry stems from the relationality

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of the self to the world. So, through this contiguous constellation of self/world, my inquiry accounts for the wider contextual situatedness of research, its application, and dissemination. Some might describe this inquiry approach as excessive and superfluous, yet excess is integral to a/r/tographic research. In a/r/tography, excess is a state that comes about when “controls and regulation disappear and we grapple with what lies outside the acceptable” (Springgay et al., 2008, p. xxx). In my research, I use excess as an opportunity to share my “outlier data” (Siegesmund, 2013, p. 142), which consists of material and immaterial occurrences that are considered unfit for academic usage. These marginal happenings manifest themselves as the reflections, reactions, experiences, and transformations that occur when practicing a/r/tographically. They exemplify my artist/researcher/teacher meeting points, where I reflexively interact with experiences in, with, and along my research journey. They facilitate the bridging of quotidian experiences with academic theories. Engaging with excess allows for emergent understandings to be re-framed and re-considered in a new light, which in return create new meaning-making opportunities.

5 A/r/t-Full Possibilities A/r/tography, as an arts-based method, encourages the use of art in research as a means of provoking deeper meanings (Irwin, 2010; McNiff, 1998). This multimodal approach mirrors the multimodality of the world, wherein the visual continuously meets the textual. In a/r/tography, there is a strong emphasis on the multimodality of practicing and disseminating research through art and text (Irwin, 2010). The makeup of the term a/r/tography metonymically represents the centrality of art and text in inquiry. It also metaphorically brings the visual and textual to the foreground. The centrality of a/r/tographic artful and textual relationality originates from the significance of art in arts-based educational research. The philosophical underpinnings of arts-based approaches posit art to give research deeper meaning (Finley, 2008; McNiff, 2008). Art captures the multimodality of human existences since we live, perceive, and express within a multisensory setting. Art also helps express what words fail to communicate (Butler-Kisber, 2010); it offsets the limitations of textual dissemination. A/r/tography expands on this artful approach by doubling on multimodality through channeling the artist/researcher/teacher perspectives. A/r/tographic artful manifestations are categorically broader because of their genre multimodality and author multiplicity. This hybridity doubles down on the possibilities of approaching and disseminating research. A/r/tography is also a method that capitalizes on the familiarity of art to complement the complicated nature of academic texts. Art is a suggestive form that carries many meanings, allowing for multiple interpretations and denying the existence of that one correct answer (Siegesmund, 2013). As such, engaging with the visual challenges the long-standing academic traditions of fixed knowledge (Barone & Eisner, 2012; Mitchell, 2011). Using art and text invites non-specialists into the academic

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discourse by offering nuanced entry points that broaden the scope and reach of a study. Beyond multiple interpretations, the visual and textual “complement, extend, refute, and/or subvert one another” (Springgay et al., 2005, p. 900), warranting a/r/tographers the flexibility to re-shape their work to highlight newfound understandings. Therefore, employing a visual and textual approach to my inquiries expands the horizons of practicing research and generating meanings.

References Barone, T., & Eisner, E. W. (2012). Arts based research. Sage. Bickel, B. A., Springgay, S., Beer, R., Irwin, R. L., Kit, G., & Xiong, G. (2011). A/r/tographic collaboration as radical relatedness. International Journal of Qualitative Methods, 10(1), 86–102. https://ejournals.library.ualberta.ca/index.php/IJQM/article/view/1780 Butler-Kisber, L. (2010). Qualitative inquiry: Thematic, narrative and arts-informed perspectives. Sage. Cahnmann-Taylor, M., & Siegesmund, R. (Eds.). (2018). Arts-based research in education: Foundations for practice (2nd ed.). Routledge. Carter, M. R. (2014). The teacher monologues: Exploring the identities and experiences of artistteachers. Sense. Carter, M. R., & Triggs, V. (Eds.). (2018). Arts education and curriculum studies: The contributions of Rita L. Irwin. Routledge. Detlefsen, J. D. (2012). A conversation about a/r/tography: What are the qualities of living inquiry that foster a qualitative whole in art education? Visual Arts Research, 38(2), 71–82. https://doi. org/10.5406/visuartsrese.38.2.0071 Eisner, E. W. (1991). The enlightened eye: Qualitative inquiry and the enhancement of educational practice. Macmillan. Eisner, E. W. (2008). Persistent tensions in arts-based research. In M. Cahnmann-Taylor & R. Siegesmund (Eds.), Arts-based research in education: Foundations for practice (pp. 16–27). Routledge. Finley, S. (2008). Arts-based research. In A. L. Cole & J. G. Knowles (Eds.), Handbook of the arts in qualitative research: Perspectives, methodologies, examples, and issues (pp. 71–81). Sage. Irwin, R. L. (2004). A/r/tography: A metonymic métissage. In R. L. Irwin & A. de Cosson (Eds.), A/r/tography: Rendering self through arts-based living inquiry (pp. 27–40). Pacific Educational Press. Irwin, R. L. (2008). Communities of a/r/tographic practice. In S. Springgay, R. L. Irwin, C. Leggo, & P. Gouzouasis (Eds.), Being with a/r/tography (pp. 71–80). Sense. Irwin, R. L. (2010). A/r/tography. In C. Kridel (Ed.), Encyclopedia of curriculum studies (Vol. 1) (pp. 42–43). Sage. Irwin, R. L., Beer, R., Springgay, S., Grauer, K., Xiong, G., & Bickel, B. (2006). The rhizomatic relations of a/r/tography. Studies in Art Education, 48(1), 70–88. https://doi.org/10.2307/254 75806 Irwin, R. L., & De Cosson, A. (Eds.)). (2004). A/r/tography: Rendering self through arts-based living inquiry. Pacific Educational Press. Irwin, R. L., & O’Donoghue, D. (2012). Encountering pedagogy through relational art practices. International Journal of Art & Design Education, 31(3), 221–236. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.14768070.2012.01760.x Irwin, R. L., & Sinner, A. (2013). A/r/tography and the visual arts. UNESCO Observatory MultiDisciplinary Research in the Arts, 3(1), 1–5.

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Irwin, R. L., & Springgay, S. (2008). A/r/tography as practice-based research. In M. CahnmannTaylor & R. Siegesmund (Eds.), Arts-based research in education: Foundations for practice (pp. 103–124). Routledge. Knight, B. A. (2016). Performative pictures: Camera phones at the Ready. In J. Macgregor Wise & H. Koskela (Eds.), New visualities, new technologies : The new ecstasy of communication (pp. 153– 170). Ashgate. La Jevic, L., & Springgay, S. (2008). A/r/tography as an ethics of embodiment: Visual journals in preservice education. Qualitative Inquiry, 14(1), 67–89. https://doi.org/10.1177/107780040730 4509 Lea, G. W., Belliveau, G., Wager, A., & Beck, J. L. (2011). A loud silence: Working with researchbased theatre and a/r/tography. International Journal of Education & the Arts, 12(16). Leavy, P. (2015). Method meets art: Arts-based research practice (2nd ed.). The Guilford Press. Leggo, C., Sinner, A., Irwin, R. L., Pantaleo, K., Gouzouasis, P., & Grauer, K. (2011). Lingering in liminal spaces: A/r/tography as living inquiry in a language arts class. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 24(2), 239–256. https://doi.org/10.1080/09518391003641908 McNiff, S. (1998). Arts-based research. Jessica Kingsley Publishers. McNiff, S. (2008). Art-based research. In J. G. Knowles & A. L. Cole (Eds.), Handbook of the arts in qualitative research: Perspectives, methodologies, examples, and issues (pp. 29–40). Sage. Mitchell, C. (2011). Doing visual research. Sage. Saldaña, J. (2010). Thinking qualitatively: Methods of mind. Sage. Siegesmund, R. (2013). Dewey, a/r/tography, and abuse of global dialogue. In N. K. Denzin & M. D. Giardina (Eds.), Global dimensions of qualitative inquiry (pp. 137–155). Left Coast Press. Siegesmund, R. (2014). The N of 1 in arts-based research: Reliability and validity. International Journal of Education & the Arts, 15(SI 2.5), 1–13. Springgay, S., Irwin, R. L., & Kind, S. (2008). A/r/tographers and living inquiry. In J. G. Knowles & A. L. Cole (Eds.), Handbook of the arts in qualitative research: Perspectives, methodologies, examples, and issues (pp. 83–91). Sage Publications. Springgay, S., Irwin, R. L., & Kind, S. W. (2005). A/r/tography as living inquiry through art and text. Qualitative Inquiry, 11(6), 897–912. https://doi.org/10.1177/1077800405280696 Springgay, S., Irwin, R. L., Leggo, C., & Gouzouasis, P. (Eds.). (2008). Being with a/r/tography. Sense. Sullivan, G. (2010). Art practice as research: Inquiry in visual arts (2nd ed.). Sage. Willis, P. (2008). The work of portrayal: Expressive approaches to educational research. In P. Liamputtong & J. Rumbold (Eds.), Knowing differently: Arts-based and collaborative research methods (pp. 49–65). Nova Science Publishers.

Polyvocal Poetic Play Through Self-study Research: Challenging the Status Quo to Improve Professional Practice Kathleen Pithouse-Morgan and Anastasia P. Samaras

Abstract In self-study research, numerous approaches are used, including collaboratively creative poetic inquiry. In this chapter, two teacher educators and self-study scholars consider how their polyvocal poetic play has helped challenge the status quo of method in researching professional knowledge and practice over the years. Looking specifically at their polyvocal poetic play within their larger corpus of the diverse self-study methods they enacted, a word cloud of frequently used words in publication titles made this work’s central features visible. Juxtaposing their word cloud with two more that included others’ poetic self-study scholarship allowed them to examine their work as a duo in the context of two decades of poetic selfstudy research. The words bricolage, polyvocal, creativity, play, transdisciplinary, virtual, and place are featured distinctively in the titles of their scholarship. The “why” and “so what?” of their poetic self-study were clarified by interweaving their thoughts prompted by these phrases to produce a double voice poem, followed by letter writing. This chapter illuminates how co-creative self-study can grow possibilities for expansive learning, providing diverse epistemic options for bringing us to new understandings of professional activity, and changing professional ways of knowing and being. Keywords Poetic inquiry · Self-study research · Co-creativity · Professional practice · Professional knowledge

K. Pithouse-Morgan (B) School of Education, University of Nottingham, Nottingham, UK e-mail: [email protected] A. P. Samaras George Mason University, Fairfax, VA, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2023 H. Mreiwed et al. (eds.), Making Connections in and Through Arts-Based Educational Research, Studies in Arts-Based Educational Research 5, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-19-8028-2_17

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1 Self-study as a Research Methodology and Body of Scholarship In the early 1990s, self-study became recognized as a distinct research methodology and body of scholarship (Loughran, 2004). It all started with teacher educators studying themselves in action in a personal situated inquiry to improve their professional practice, advance their professional understanding, and contribute to public debates about improving teacher education for the greater good (Samaras & Freese, 2009). Self-study is distinguished from other methodologies for researching professional practice by its emphasis on the researcher’s own self and experiences (Feldman et al., 2004). Teacher educators and other professionals use self-study research to examine themselves critically and creatively, reimagining their professional knowledge and practice in the interests of others’ well-being. This challenging course of action necessitates self-awareness, openness, and candor. Critical collaborative inquiry, transparency, introspection and reflexivity, transparent data analysis and procedure, and improvement-focused exemplars are essential aspects of self-study leading to purposeful professional learning (LaBoskey, 2004; Pithouse et al., 2009; Samaras, 2011). Professionals inside and outside of teacher education engage in self-study because it allows them to better understand themselves and the environments in which they work. This enables them to reassess their work and consider the consequences of their efforts in both specific and broader contexts. Practicing self-study creates a platform for educators’ personal professional accountability while building teacher efficacy and agency (Samaras & Freese, 2006). Educators and other practitioners from various disciplines and professions are increasingly conducting self-studies to enhance shared human experience and shed light on pressing educational and social issues (Samaras & Pithouse-Morgan, 2020; Taylor & Diamond, 2020). Arts-based self-study methods are beneficial for improving professional knowledge and practice and feature prominently in self-study scholarship and teaching (e.g., Mitchell et al., 2020; Weber & Mitchell, 2004).

2 Putting Ourselves in the Arts-Based Self-study Research Frame We are teacher educators who enable transdisciplinary self-study research within and beyond our home nations of South Africa and the USA. We lead communities of university faculty and graduate students engaged in self-study research, both individually and collectively. Observing the significance of multiple voices and stories for profound professional growth led us to conceptualize polyvocal self-study (Pithouse-Morgan & Samaras, 2015; Samaras & Pithouse-Morgan, 2020).

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The theoretical roots of our polyvocal self-study research are in Bakhtin’s (1984) detailed study of polyvocality as a narrative method of interplaying diverse voices and perspectives in Dostoevsky’s fiction (Pithouse-Morgan & Samaras, 2018; Samaras & Pithouse-Morgan, 2020). Transdisciplinary and transcultural enactments of polyvocality—exemplified by “plurality, interaction and interdependence, and creative activity” (Pithouse-Morgan & Samaras, 2019, p. 7)—offer collectively creative (co-creative) ways of performing and communicating self-study scholarship. And cultivating co-creativity is at the heart of our self-study research. Self-study researchers use wide-ranging, often multiple methods, with research questions motivating the overall design (LaBoskey, 2004; Pinnegar & Hamilton, 2009). The integral elasticity in self-study methodology has stimulated self-study scholars to invent new ways to study and advance their practice (Pithouse-Morgan & Samaras, 2020b; Whitehead, 2004). They have drawn on the arts, digital literacies and media, participatory research, transdisciplinary professional learning communities, and many other knowledge fields. These methodologically inventive approaches offer a more diversified and innovative approach to studying professional knowledge and practice than standard methods. As a result, self-study scholarship is growing in new directions, including the artful innovations in processes and data central to the work of teacher educators and other professionals. As a dynamic element of collaboration, we experiment with artful designs as a duo and in transdisciplinary groups. Polyvocal co-creativity is epitomized in published pieces using a medley of arts-inspired modes and data, including: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

artifacts (Samaras, 2010, 2013; Samaras et al., 2019); collage (Pithouse-Morgan et al., 2018a); dance (Pithouse-Morgan et al., 2016); dialogue (Pithouse-Morgan & Samaras, 2020a, 2020b; Pithouse-Morgan et al., 2015); drawing (Samaras et al., 2014; Van Laren et al., 2014); mood boards (Pithouse-Morgan & Samaras, 2017); painting (Mittapalli & Samaras, 2008); photography (Racines & Samaras, 2015); poetry and poetic performances (Pithouse-Morgan & Samaras, 2019; PithouseMorgan et al., 2016; Samaras et al., 2015); play scripts and dramaturgical analysis (Meskin et al., 2017); readers’ theater (Van Laren et al., 2019); rich pictures (Pithouse-Morgan et al., 2016; Samaras & Pithouse-Morgan, 2021); scrapbooking (Van Laren et al., 2016); vignettes (Hiralaal et al., 2018); visual exegesis of a painting (Pithouse-Morgan et al., 2018b); visually rich digital work (Samaras et al., 2014; Smith et al., 2018); and working with objects (Dhlula-Moruri et al., 2017).

This chapter opens a window into polyvocal co-creativity in self-study. First, we offer an exemplar of our poetic self-study research in which we ask, “How does polyvocal poetic play contribute to changing the status quo of method in researching

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professional knowledge and practice?” To conclude, we consider how such collaborative creative engagement can generate new ways of knowing, with substantial implications for growth and change.

3 An Exemplar of Our Co-creative Work: Poetic Self-study Research Over the past two decades, self-study scholars have explored poetry as a tool to generate data and as a research method responsive to and productive for addressing their collaborative inquiries. Poetry has been used as a literary arts-inspired method to enhance openness, reflexivity, critical collaborative inquiry, and transparent data analysis in data-rich, inventive self-studies. Poetry’s aesthetic, figurative, and rhythmic characteristics have inspired innovative and emotive approaches to professional knowledge and practice research. The roots of the poetic movement in selfstudy research are evident in the co-creative work by Allender and Manke (2002) and Hopper and Sanford (2008). We further observed a recent surge in collaborative poetic self-studies, for instance, Buchanan et al. (2020), Edge and Olan (2021) and Gísladóttir and Óskarsdóttir (2020). Our portfolio of poetic self-study research publications (individually, as a duo, and with other co-authors) spans eight years: 2015–2022. Polyvocal poetic co-creativity has enriched our longstanding research partnership (Pithouse-Morgan & Samaras, 2015, 2017; Samaras & Pithouse-Morgan, 2021). For us, poetry has been yet another way to co-create, experiment, and re-invent in/about our work in self-study learning communities. As complementary colleagues, we create conditions for faculty professional empowerment by living it ourselves in co-creative ways (Samaras & PithouseMorgan, 2021). Our explorations in using poetry are not limited to our interactions with each other. We readily enact poetic self-study with our students and colleagues as we collectively and extensively examine our work in supervision and facilitating selfstudy across our universities and over time (Pithouse-Morgan et al., 2015; Samaras et al., 2015, 2019). To respond to our guiding research question concerning our poetic research as an exemplar of polyvocal co-creative self-study, we enacted a collective self-study method (Samaras et al., 2008) with collaborative analysis and co-reflexivity (Davey & Ham, 2009; Pithouse-Morgan et al., 2015). Data evolved over time and included three word clouds and ongoing almost daily dialogue via email. Word clouds and conversations helped us think about and see the trajectory of our poetic self-study work alongside other scholars’ work. We did not plan to collect this data set, but it emerged piece by piece from our wanting to explore. Thus, our data evolved “through the process of creating” (Sweet et al., 2020, p. 1) in relation to our shifting thinking over time and with poetic self-study as our compass.

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Fig. 1 Word cloud showing the 50 most frequently used words in the titles of poetic selfstudy research published 2002–2021, generated using WordSift (http://wordsift.org). © Kathleen Pithouse-Morgan and Anastasia P. Samaras

To begin the process, Kathleen created a series of word clouds using an online vocabulary visualization tool, Word Sift (http://wordsift.org). After each word cloud was completed, we discussed what we noticed and then decided on the source material for the subsequent word cloud. The first word cloud (see Fig. 1) showed the 50 most frequently used words in the titles of published poetic self-study research we identified in a literature review spanning the past two decades (including our own publications). For the second word cloud (see Fig. 2), we were intrigued to see what would be made visible by excluding our own titles. And, the third word cloud (see Fig. 3) was made from only the titles of our published poetic self-study research as a duo. Creating the word clouds allowed us to move between what the self-study field has produced and our work and place within that body of work. Previously, we could see what was central to our poetic self-study research. Still, we had not taken the opportunity to dialogue about what that center actually means to us and others using an inductive mode for analysis. Juxtaposing our word cloud with the other two allowed us to see our work in the context of the body of poetic self-study scholarship. We noted bricolage, polyvocal, creativity, play, transdisciplinary, virtual, and place as seven distinctive features of our poetic self-study research as a duo (see Fig. 3). Next, we played with writing our thinking about our co-authored work’s seven keyword features. First, Anastasia sent Kathleen her thoughts about bricolage: Bricolage: building, fluid unknown, multidimensional paths

Kathleen replied:

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Fig. 2 Word cloud showing the 50 most frequently used words in the titles of poetic self-study research published 2002–2021 (excluding our titles), generated using WordSift (http://wordsift.org). © Kathleen Pithouse-Morgan and Anastasia P. Samaras

Fig. 3 Word cloud showing the most frequently used words in the titles of our poetic selfstudy research published as a duo (2015–2021), generated using WordSift (http://wordsift.org). © Kathleen Pithouse-Morgan and Anastasia P. Samaras

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Bricolage: improvising, making new, adventuring

We continued writing our thinking with the other key feature words. Thus, we were able to compile our thoughts not as an echo but as a double voice with us as the two narrators, each having a voice and yet as a polyvocal whole. One might liken this to a concerto for two violins who alone only carry one melody but then merge into a beautiful multiphonic piece. And in this case, it is similarly two self-study scholars performing. Anastasia wove together the writing of our thinking as a two-voice poem (Fleischman, 1988; Johri, 2015) (see Fig. 4). The double voice poem served as a research poem (Langer & Furman, 2004) to distill the essence of our data (the three word clouds, the seven key feature words, and the writing of our thinking inspired by the key feature words). In addition, it offers a two-voice representation of our personal responses to the guiding research question. As we read and re-read the poem, we saw the characteristics of our poetic inquiry against a backdrop of the broader field. Next, using the poem as an interpretive stimulus, we dialogued to consider our contributions situated in the landscape of poetic self-study research. Finally, using letter writing as a dialogic self-study method (Allender & Allender, 2006; Ciuffetelli Parker, 2006; Samaras & Sell, 2013), we shared what we better understood now: It is indeed a joyful sound to read our double voice poem! I don’t think we would have been able to grasp the uniqueness of our work without placing it in the context of our colleagues’ work. I’m grateful to our self-study colleagues for their courage to explore poetic methods and their contributions to re-envisioning educational practice. I’m also grateful for our collaboration as it was because of you along with our colleagues that I have been able to be a part of this self-study poetic inquiry movement. Our poetic inquiry began with challenging ourselves and the field of what method and data could be, combining method in bricolage and with researchers as polyvocal and transdisciplinary and methodologically inventive. We never hesitated to practice creativity and to play poetically. The ocean apart allowed us to experiment in a virtual world. Rather than limiting us, the virtual space gave us new platforms to stretch our ways of knowing method and combining poetry with other art forms. We lived and talked about our personal place and considered what we each brought to our poetic polyvocal world. Our thinking in space enabled us to extend self-study method and offer scholars poetically polyvocal modalities to consider as they explore their research questions. Mostly, I believe our poetic inquiry further liberated us as researchers who continue to question the status quo of method while we work to promote learning and wholehearted professional living for ourselves and others. Anastasian Thank you for the gift of this new poem. In just a month, we have moved from the literature review to the word clouds, writing our thinking inspired by the key feature words, and now this double voice poem. Time, effort, and deep thought were involved, yet it appears almost seamless looking back. Each step evolved as we went along. Once again, our back-and-forth process took on a life of its own, culminating in the poem and letters. The improvisational nature of our research is intertwined with the fluidity of our poetry making. Over the past seven years, working as a duo and with others, we have created poems in various forms in response to diverse research questions. While the poems differ, the dynamism of the co-creative process is a common thread that binds the work and draws us onwards to new adventures. Although poetic inquiry is not unique to self-study research, self-study does seem particularly well-suited to poetic explorations. Self-study’s methodological elasticity

234 Fig. 4 Two-voice poem. © Anastasia P. Samaras and Kathleen Pithouse-Morgan

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and multiplicity combine with the meditative nature of self-reflexivity as we play with arrangements of words and their lyrical, figurative, and rhythmic qualities. Your background in playful pedagogy and mine in teaching creative writing come together delightfully. This new piece of work has allowed us to see our polyvocal poetic play in the context of the rich history of innovative work by early self-study luminaries and the recent outgrowth of poetic self-study scholarship. It’s inspiring to learn more about our roots, and I’m excited to witness new paths for professional learning and growth opening up! Kathleen

4 Toward New Ways of Knowing Writing into each other’s thinking brought about poetry and letters that helped us recognize that while co-creating polyvocal poetic play nourishes our professional souls, it also opens new paths for professional knowledge. Thus, as we explored our poetic self-study research by continuing to weave into each other’s thinking, we gained a more profound understanding of the promise of co-creative polyvocal poetic play, not only for ourselves but also for others. As a result, polyvocal poetic play may be viewed as a form of knowledge creation that provides various epistemic options for bringing us to new understandings of professional activity. Most notably, we have discovered that our co-creative innovations have opened up places and spaces to progress and grow professionally for ourselves and for others. We see our co-creative collaboration as what John-Steiner (2000) calls “complementarity” (p. 7), whereby we support and trust each other’s “willingness to take risks in creative endeavors, a process considered critical by many researchers in creativity” (p. 79). Much of the wonder and impact of our work has been because we embraced the uncertainty of experimentation and resulting discoveries, which is the essence of being arts-inspired researchers. As self-study scholars, we are grateful that we can continue co-creating in method, which we believe is essential to the broader educational research community. As we design new ways of thinking about what method and data mean and adapt ways of seeing and representing research, we invite others to explore self-study methodology to experience co-creative spaces that contribute generously to educational research globally. We welcome others to consider using the arts to generate imaginative and emotive perspectives when contemplating how they might approach their data collection and analysis. How might we allow our research to unfold organically in a co-creative unprescribed process, and what might we discover in that process? We found that polyvocal poetic play allowed us to see others, our work, and ourselves in ways we could not see otherwise. For instance, we witnessed how artful play across specializations, institutions, and continents created transformative opportunities for university educators and leaders to reimagine pedagogies, research, and collaboration in complex, pluralistic ways (Pithouse-Morgan et al., 2018b; Samaras et al., 2015, 2018). We have also witnessed how arts-based self-study methods have been helpful

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to our students’ learning (Pithouse-Morgan & Samaras, 2020b). As we collectively generate artful research, we expand the possibilities for making connections that create powerful learning and change the status quo for professional knowledge and practice.

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Hiralaal, A., Matebane, R., & Pithouse-Morgan, K. (2018). Learning through enacting arts-informed self-study research with critical friends. In J. K. Ritter, M. Lunenberg, K. Pithouse-Morgan, A. P. Samaras, & E. Vanassche (Eds.), Teaching, learning, and enacting of self-study methodology: Unraveling a complex interplay (pp. 295–312). Springer. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-108105-7_26 Hopper, T., & Sanford, K. (2008). Using poetic representation to support the development of teachers’ knowledge. Studying Teacher Education, 4(1), 29–45. John-Steiner, V. (2000). Creative collaboration. Oxford University Press. Johri, A. K. (2015). Multiple narrators: Using double voice poems to examine writing personas. In K. Pithouse-Morgan & A. P. Samaras (Eds.), Polyvocal professional learning through self-study research (pp. 173–196). Sense Publishers. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-94-6300-220-2_10 LaBoskey, V. K. (2004). The methodology of self-study and its theoretical underpinnings. In J. J. Loughran, M. L. Hamilton, V. K. LaBoskey, & T. Russell (Eds.), International handbook of self-study of teaching and teacher education practices (Vol. 2, pp. 817–869). Kluwer. https://doi. org/10.1007/978-1-4020-6545-3_21 Langer, C., & Furman, R. (2004). Exploring identity and assimilation: Research and interpretive poems. Forum: Qualitative Social Research, 5(2) (Article 5). http://www.qualitative-research. net/index.php/fqs/article/view/609 Loughran, J. J. (2004). A history and context of self-study of teaching and teacher education practices. In J. J. Loughran, M. L. Hamilton, V. K. LaBoskey, & T. Russell (Eds.), International handbook of self-study of teaching and teacher education practices (Vol. 1, pp. 7–39). Kluwer. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-1-4020-6545-3_1 Meskin, T., Van Der Walt, T., Scott, L., De Beer, C., & Pithouse-Morgan, K. (2017). Shoes, suitcases, stones: Creative engagement with ourselves as artist–researcher–teachers through object inquiry. In D. Pillay, K. Pithouse-Morgan, & I. Naicker (Eds.), Object medleys: Interpretive possibilities for educational research (pp. 175–196). Sense Publishers. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-94-6351194-0_12 Mitchell, C., Moletsane, R., MacEntee, K., & de Lange, N. (2020). Participatory visual methodologies in self-study for social justice teaching: A reflexive eye. In J. Kitchen, A. Berry, H. Guðjónsdóttir, S. M. Bullock, M. Taylor, & A. R. Crowe (Eds.), 2nd International handbook of self-study of teaching and teacher education practices (pp. 683–712). Springer. https://doi.org/ 10.1007/978-981-13-1710-1_23-1 Mittapalli, K., & Samaras, A. P. (2008). Madhubani art: A journey of an education researcher seeking self-development answers through art and self-study. The Qualitative Report, 13(2), 244–261. https://doi.org/10.46743/2160-3715/2008.1597 Pinnegar, S., & Hamilton, M. L. (2009). Self-study of practice as a genre of qualitative research: Theory, methodology, and practice. Springer. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-1-4020-9512-2_4 Pithouse, K., Mitchell, C., & Weber, S. (2009). Self-study in teaching and teacher development: a call to action. Educational Action Research, 17(1), 43–62. https://doi.org/10.1080/096507908 02667444 Pithouse-Morgan, K., Chisanga, T., Meyiwa, T., & Timm, D. N. (2018a). Flourishing together: Co-learning as leaders of a multicultural South African educational research community. International Journal of Multicultural Education, 20(3), 102–125. https://doi.org/10.18251/ijme.v20i3. 1607 Pithouse-Morgan, K., Coia, L., Taylor, M., & Samaras, A. P. (2016). Exploring methodological inventiveness through collective artful self-study research. LEARNing Landscapes, 9(2), 443– 460. https://doi.org/10.36510/learnland.v9i2.786 Pithouse-Morgan, K., Masinga, L., Meyiwa, T., Naicker, I., Pillay, D., & Van Laren, L. (2018b). Unfolding the “mysterious truth” of emotional entanglements in supervising self-study research: A collective arts-informed self-study. In D. Garbett & A. Ovens (Eds.), Pushing boundaries and crossing borders: Self-study as a means for researching pedagogy (pp. 83–90). Self-Study of Teacher Education Practices (S-STEP).

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Pithouse-Morgan, K., Muthukrishna, N., Pillay, D., Van Laren, L., Chisanga, T., Meyiwa, T., Moletsane, R., Naicker, I., Singh, L., & Stuart, J. (2015). Learning about co-flexivity in a transdisciplinary self-study research supervision community. In K. Pithouse-Morgan & A. P. Samaras (Eds.), Polyvocal professional learning through self-study research (pp. 145–171). Sense Publishers. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-94-6300-220-2_9 Pithouse-Morgan, K., & Samaras, A. P. (2015). The power of “we” for professional learning. In K. Pithouse-Morgan & A. P. Samaras (Eds.), Polyvocal professional learning through self-study research (pp. 1–20). Sense Publishers. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-94-6300-220-2_1 Pithouse-Morgan, K., & Samaras, A. P. (2017). Thinking in space: Virtual bricolage self-study for future-oriented teacher professional learning. In D. Garbett & A. Ovens (Eds.), Being self-study researchers in a digital world: Future-oriented research and pedagogy in teacher education (pp. 133–150). Springer. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-39478-7_10 Pithouse-Morgan, K., & Samaras, A. P. (2018). “Many stories matter”: Taking a polyvocal stance in learning about teaching of self-study. In J. K. Ritter, M. Lunenberg, K. Pithouse-Morgan, A. P. Samaras, & E. Vanassche (Eds.), Teaching, learning, and enacting of self-study methodology: Unraveling a complex interplay (pp. 313–328). Springer. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-108105-7_27 Pithouse-Morgan, K., & Samaras, A. P. (2019). Polyvocal play: A poetic bricolage of the why of our transdisciplinary self-study research. Studying Teacher Education, 15(1), 4–18. https://doi. org/10.1080/17425964.2019.1580008 Pithouse-Morgan, K., & Samaras, A. P. (2020a). A sense of place: Exploring place and identity through virtual bricolage self-study research. In E. Lyle (Ed.), Identity landscapes: Contemplating place and the construction of self (pp. 20–33). Brill | Sense. https://doi.org/10.1163/978900442 5194_003 Pithouse-Morgan, K., & Samaras, A. P. (2020b). Methodological inventiveness in writing about selfstudy research: Inventiveness in service. In J. Kitchen, A. Berry, S. M. Bullock, A. R. Crowe, M. Taylor, H. Guðjónsdóttir, & L. Thomas (Eds.), International handbook of self-study of teaching and teacher education (2nd ed., pp. 427–460). Springer. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-131710-1_13-1 Racines, D., & Samaras, A. P. (2015). Duality of practice and mentorship of an English language instructional coach. In K. Pithouse-Morgan, K., & A. P. Samaras, A. P. (Eds.). Polyvocal professional learning through self-study research. (pp. 111–125). Sense Publishers. https://doi.org/10. 1007/978-94-6300-220-2_7 Samaras, A. P. (2010). Explorations in using arts-based self-study methods. International Journal of Qualitative Methods, 23(6), 719–736. https://doi.org/10.1080/09518390903426212 Samaras, A. P. (2011). Self-study teacher research: Improving your practice through collaborative inquiry. SAGE. Samaras, A. P. (2013). Twelve shells: Learning by leading cross-disciplinary faculty self-study of professional practice. Reflective Practice, 14(4), 519–535. https://doi.org/10.1080/14623943. 2013.808181 Samaras, A. P., Adams-Legge, M., Breslin, D., Mittapalli, K., O’Looney, J. M., & Wilcox, D. R. (2008). Collective creativity: A learning community of self-study scholars. In A. P. Samaras, A. R. Freese, C. Kosnik, & C. Beck (Eds.), Learning communities in practice (pp. 133–147). Springer. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-1-4020-8788-2_10 Samaras, A. P., & Freese, A. R. (2006). Self-study of teaching practices primer. Peter Lang. Samaras, A., & Freese, A. (2009). Looking back and looking forward: An historical overview of the self-study school. In C. A. Lassonde, S. Galman, & C. Kosnik (Eds.), Self-study research methodologies for teacher educators (pp. 3–19). Sense Publishers. Samaras, A. P., Hjalmarson, M., Bland, L. C., Nelson, J. K., & Christopher, E. K. (2019). Self-study as a method for engaging STEM faculty in transformative and sustainable change to improve teaching. International Journal of Teaching and Learning in Higher Education, 31(2), 195–213. Samaras, A. P., Karczmarczyk, D., Smith, L., Woodville, L., Harmon, L., Nasser, I., Parsons, S., Smith, T. M., Borne, K., Constantine, L. S., Mendoza, E. R., Suh, J., & Swanson, R. (2014).

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The shark in the vitrine: Experiencing our practice from the inside out with transdisciplinary lenses. Journal of Transformative Education, 12(4), 368–388. https://doi.org/10.1177/154134 4614551637 Samaras, A. P., & Pithouse-Morgan, K. (2020). Polyvocal self-study in transdisciplinary higher education communities. In J. Kitchen, A. Berry, H. Guðjónsdóttir, S. M. Bullock, M. Taylor, & A. R. Crowe (Eds.), International handbook of self-study of teaching and teacher education (2nd ed., pp. 1291–1322). Springer. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-13-1710-1_43-1 Samaras, A. P., & Pithouse-Morgan, K. (2021). Nourishing wholehearted faculty professional living through co-creative play. The Educational Forum, 1–15. https://doi.org/10.1080/00131725.2021. 1912869 Samaras, A. P., Pithouse-Morgan, K., Chisanga, T., Conolly, J., Constantine, L. S., Meyiwa, T., Smith, L., & Timm, D. N. (2015). Breathing under water: A transcontinental conversation about the “why” of co-facilitating transdisciplinary self-study learning communities. In K. PithouseMorgan & A. P. Samaras (Eds.), Polyvocal professional learning through self-study research (pp. 231–252). Sense Publishers. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-94-6300-220-2_13 Samaras, A., & Sell, C. (2013). Please write: Using Critical friend letter writing in teacher research. Teacher Education Quarterly, 40(4), 93–109. Smith, L., Constantine, L., S., Sauveur, A., Samaras, A. P., Casey, A., Evmenova, A., Hudson, S., Lee, S., & Reid, E. S. with contributions from Ericson, R., Ewell, M., Lukes, L., Muir, S., Nelson, J., & Poms, L. (2018). Dwelling in the question: Professional empowerment through complex visual self-study (pp. 275–294). In J. K. Ritter, M. Lunenberg, K. Pithouse-Morgan, A. P. Samaras, E. & Vanassche, E., (Eds.), Teaching, learning, and enacting self-study research. Springer. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-10-8105-7_25 Sweet, J. D., Nurminen, E., & Koro-Ljungberg, M. (2020). Becoming research with shadow work: Combining artful inquiry with research-creation. Qualitative Inquiry, 26(3–4), 388–399. https:// doi.org/10.1177/1077800419857764 Taylor, M., & Diamond, M. (2020). The role of self-study in teaching and teacher education for social justice. In J. Kitchen, A. Berry, S. M. Bullock, A. R. Crowe, M. Taylor, H. Guðjónsdóttir, & L. Thomas (Eds.), 2nd International handbook of self-study of teaching and teacher education practices (pp. 1–35). Springer. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-13-1710-1_16-1 Van Laren, L., Pithouse-Morgan, K., Chisanga, T., Harrison, L., Meyiwa, T., Muthukrishna, N., Naicker, I., & Singh, L. (2014). ‘Walking our talk’: Exploring supervision of postgraduate selfstudy research through metaphor drawing. South African Journal of Higher Education, 28(2), 639–659. https://doi.org/10.20853/28-2-346 Van Laren, L., Pithouse-Morgan, K., Volks, C., & Alves, S. (2016). Scrapbooking as a tool for transdisciplinary professional learning about HIV and AIDS curriculum integration in higher education. South African Journal of Higher Education, 30(4), 74–93. http://www.journals.ac.za/ index.php/sajhe/article/download/674/366 Van Laren, L., Pithouse-Morgan, K., & Masinga, L. (2019). Containing HIV and AIDS: Creating a readers’ theatre script for professional learning in higher education. South African Journal of Higher Education, 33(3), 222–240. https://doi.org/10.20853/33-3-2964 Weber, S., & Mitchell, C. (2004). Using visual and artistic modes of representation for self- study. In J. J. Loughran, M. L. Hamilton, V. K. LaBoskey, & T. Russell (Eds.), International handbook of self-study of teaching and teacher education practices (Vol. 2, pp. 979–1037). Kluwer. Whitehead, J. (2004). What counts as evidence in self-studies of teacher education practices? In J. J. Loughran, M. L. Hamilton, V. K. LaBoskey, & T. Russell (Eds.), International handbook of self-study of teaching and teacher education practices (Vol. 2, pp. 871–903). Kluwer. https://doi. org/10.1007/978-1-4020-6545-3_22

Using Arts-Based Educational Research to Interrogate Learning in Cohorts: Shifting Dynamics and Repairing Disrupted Relationships Rosemary C. Reilly

Abstract Cohorts are groups of students who begin and complete a course of study together over a specified period, remaining intact, and proceeding together through a series of courses and developmental experiences in the context of that program. They are popular in professional education programs since they allow for diverse groups of students to interact, network, and exchange learning experiences on a consistent basis. But learning in cohorts is not without its pitfalls, which include negativity, stereotyping, and scapegoating. This chapter describes the use of artsbased educational research (ABER) methods to interrogate and document learning processes over four different cohorts. ABER methods included textual, visual, and performative ones, and along with group interviews, and addressed key questions about their experiences in their cohorts. Findings suggest that these methods allowed cohort members to shift toward expressions of collaboration, safety, and a sense of support, and increased trust toward other cohort members. The honest and authentic discussions sparked by these ABER methods encouraged cohort members to: engage in critical reflection about their own behavior in promoting ineffective learning within the cohort; begin to repair their relationships, allowing for more effective learning in their future interactions; and engage more fully with their learning community. Keywords Arts-based educational research · Learning in cohorts · Learning communities · Management education · Scholarship of teaching and learning Cohorts are groups of students who begin and complete a course of study together over a specified period, remaining intact, and proceeding together through a series of courses and developmental experiences in the context of that program. Cohorts allow for evolving configurations of relationships among students and permit diverse groups from a variety of professional backgrounds to interact, network, and exchange learning experiences on a consistent basis (Maher, 2005). Learning in cohorts (LIC) R. C. Reilly (B) Department of Applied Human Sciences, VE 325.03, Concordia University, Montréal, QC, Canada e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2023 H. Mreiwed et al. (eds.), Making Connections in and Through Arts-Based Educational Research, Studies in Arts-Based Educational Research 5, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-19-8028-2_18

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goes beyond the acquisition of knowledge and skill to understanding and intervening effectively in social processes. It creates the optimal authentic learning conditions that address the cognition of the whole person and satisfies needs for affiliation. Research tends to support the benefits of LIC which include a sense of belonging, collaboration, self-directed learning, an overall increase in performance and scholarship, support and encouragement, and positive impacts on future professional relationships and practices (Barnett et al., 2000). But LIC is not without its pitfalls. Though its characteristic robust emotional ties have been linked to positive student outcomes, researchers have noted that students frequently report interpersonal clashes between students and intense negativity and adversarial relationships between students and faculty (Barnett et al., 2000); that they or classmates are excluded, “boxed into” predictive and restrictive roles, trapped in unpleasant relationships, or scapegoated (Teitel, 1997); the presence of dominating individuals who restricted the diversity of perspectives and dampened student voices (Norton, 1995); or that students experienced intense discomfort and irreconcilable conflict early in the life of the cohort that persisted over the entirety of their course of study (Maher, 2005). So, while the findings of some studies are positive, others suggest that cohorts may be prone to serious difficulties, with relationships typified by hostility and conflict. Scribner and Donaldson (2001) examined how group dynamics—including group climate, norms, roles, and communication—can foster or impede learning. They concluded that because of the intensity of social relations within cohorts, including power struggles, marginalization, and maladaptive defensive routines (Argyris, 1986), some learning outcomes were overshadowed by the affective learning that took place. Therefore, it is crucial to determine not only what these limiting dynamics are but also to identify ways of tackling them. In addition, when researching problematic LIC processes, it is important not to exacerbate existing tensions in an effort to minimize harm. This chapter describes the use of arts-based educational research methods (ABER) to interrogate challenging LIC patterns and document efforts to shift them toward more generative ones over four different cohorts. I decided upon an ABER approach since it has been shown effective in exploring marginalized, controversial, and disruptive perspectives and can be applied to conflict resolution and practices of reconciliation (Estrella & Forinash, 2007).

1 Advantages of Using ABER The term ABER describes research that involves or includes the arts in some capacity to advance knowledge and communicate research understandings about educational processes. At its heart is the assumption that knowledge can emerge from experience (Barone & Eisner, 2012), and, in this context, the act of creating art constitutes an authentic experience, which becomes research when formulated as inquiry. ABER offers opportunities to stretch capacities for creativity and knowing, creating a healthy

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synthesis of approaches to collect, analyze, and represent data (Cahnmann-Taylor, 2008). The advantages of using this approach are numerous (Leavy, 2018). ABER: . offers a range of insights across a variety of educational issues and contexts for researchers, participants, and research consumers. . is useful for inquiries that describe, explore, discover, and problem solve about teaching and/or learning processes. . can forge micro–macro connections between one’s educational life and the larger context in which one lives and learns, revealing the fractal relationship between small and large (brown, 2017). . is holistic in that it captures a fuller texture and deeper complexity of the lived experiences of learning by crossing, blurring, and expanding the traditional educational research methodological boundaries, considering issues expansively. . is both evocative and provocative, creating an effective way of accessing the emotions, desires, and passions of people, cutting through superficiality, and communicating these in powerful and inspiring ways. . embodies a critical consciousness, raising awareness and empathy, which are especially important for social justice-oriented educational research. . unsettles stereotypes, challenges dominant ideologies, and includes traditionally marginalized voices and perspectives. . is participatory, permitting teachers, learners, and other stakeholders to be treated as full, equal collaborators. . democratizes meaning-making and releases a multiplicity of understandings, rather than pushing authoritative claims. . is suitable for implementing a scholarship of teaching and learning methodology (SoTL), producing research outcomes that are understandable and accessible to various audiences of educational research. It is for these reasons that I chose an ABER approach to illuminate and inquire into difficult LIC dynamics that I found sometimes appeared in my classroom.

2 This Inquiry To interrogate LIC and document efforts to shift dynamics, I used the principles of SoTL as outlined by Healey (2000) within a qualitative inquiry design (Bhattacharya, 2017). SoTL has at its core the goal of improving student learning, achieved through systematic inquiry about teaching and learning.

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2.1 Purpose The purpose of this inquiry was focused on optimizing the efficacy of student learning by systematically interrogating problematic LIC dynamics and relationships with the intention of fostering an effective learning climate and documenting efforts to shift toward more generative processes using ABER methods. ABER has been demonstrated to be methodologically sound (Mulvihill & Swaminathan, 2019), and therefore, I deemed it appropriate for a SoTL inquiry.

2.2 Program Context The graduate program that was the context for this inquiry is designed for organizational consultants or community leaders interested in facilitating whole system change. Its instructional approach embodies a socio-ecological perspective, and a distinctive feature is the use of the cohort model. Cohorts consist of an average of 20 students. Students are given the opportunity to shape a learning community designed to maximize the benefits of experiential inquiry (Reilly & Mcbrearty, 2010). This learning methodology allows for the integration of theory, values, and skills in practical application. However, some of the pitfalls associated with cohorts sometimes appear during the course of the first year. As an instructor, I wanted to develop specific instructional practices grounded in this unique context that would surface and generatively address these difficult dynamics. As is typical with SoTL, I verified the effectiveness of this instructional practice over multiple iterations with different cohorts.

2.3 Participants Over the course of five years, data was collected from four different cohorts who had been working together for several months. In total, 73 graduate students from diverse racial, ethnic, gender expression, and age participated in an ABER session, which occurred toward the end of their first year in the program.

2.4 Inquiry Process and Methods Over the years, various forms of artmaking were implemented as part of this ABER approach to investigating LIC. At each of the four sessions, ABER methods always included at least one of the following from each group: textual (poetry), visual (collage, mask making, or playdough sculptures), and performative (clowning or

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puppetry). The number of groups was dependent on the number of students in the cohort. Participants were able to choose which group they wanted to join, and each group had their own private space in which to work. All materials were provided. Participants were interviewed in their groups before and after using ABER methods. Group interviews tend to stimulate participants to elaborate beyond the usual boundaries of expression constrained by individual interpretation and have a synergistic effect, generating more associations and insights than individual interviews (Fontana & Frey, 1994). Each group had a facilitator who guided the discussion, answered questions about the use of the materials, and recorded the conversations. As part of the post-group interview, participants were asked to share their thoughts about what they had created. During the first iteration of this inquiry, all groups were asked the same questions pre- and post-ABER activity: . How would you describe this learning cohort and its functioning? . What actions are needed for the cohort to realize its potential? For subsequent iterations, the questions were tailored to the strengths and resonances for that particular art method. Questions posed to the clowning or puppetry groups built on their historical tradition to satirically critique systems and elicited data about those dynamics that were particularly difficult to express, the undiscussable dynamics operating in the cohort. Questions proposed to the poetry groups centered on the strengths and challenges facing the cohort and that individual’s contribution to these dynamics. Questions put to the visual methods groups focused on three different dimensions: . Mask making was concerned with the cohort’s façade that inhibited learning. . Playdoh sculpting focused on the characteristics of the class as a container (Corrigan, 2015) that is conducive/not conducive to LIC. . Collaging attempted to identify the overt and covert dynamics that influenced LIC. Photographs were taken of the artmaking activity and the products (see Fig. 1).

2.5 Analysis The pre- and post-group interviews were transcribed and analyzed. Open coding procedures were used (Corbin & Strauss, 2015), and codes were analyzed across the pre- and post-interviews, cohorts, and artmaking methods using the constant comparative method (Dye et al., 2000).

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Fig. 1 Collage (© Rosemary C. Reilly)

3 Findings Facilitators noticed that the participants were quite open in using the various artmaking methods, and this seemed to have an influence on how open they were in their discussions. Belenky (1996) notes that when dialogue and connection are explored through the arts, perspectives are broadened, and new possibilities for growth can be imagined. The following is an elaboration of the code category themes from the pre- and post- interviews which showed changes in perspectives concerning LIC dynamics and relationships.

3.1 Shifts in Understanding LIC Dynamics There was a definite shift in participant understanding about LIC dynamics and what was needed to become a more effective learning community. One participant described this as an awakening. “It’s not that it wasn’t there to see, but it didn’t dawn on me until we did this activity.” Since participants were able to express pent-up hidden feelings, this allowed them to see past patterns into more generative possibilities. One participant in the clowning group noted that in poking fun at the undiscussables, they were able to deflate the enormity of the issues. “When saying it out loud and then acting it out, I thought ‘Oh, that’s really stupid and silly.’” Another

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attributed this change to becoming able to overcome the fears of others’ judgments if one fell short of cohort expectations: It makes me wonder if there’s a fear there. Like because, caring for one another is a very safe space. It’s about being supported but working with one another is also about confronting one another and being accountable to each other. And I question if we have that capacity…to move out of that caring zone and into a place that really merges the two.

These shifts occurred during the artmaking. “The result was more powerful than just saying it. It is like, ‘Oh, I see it.’” Participants realized that avoiding issues diminished the quality of their LIC and would create future complications. This shift in understanding was fundamental and essential to addressing the issues that compromised effective LIC. Participants began to see their cohort members as individuals who were experiencing similar challenges. This had a humanizing effect. “It’s just about learning to be okay with the fact that we have different visions, or we have different paces…to learn to live with those differences and embrace them as part of our diversity.” As Hafford-Letchfield et al. (2008) note, a change in relationships is critical to achieving new practices and processes (see Fig. 2). Fig. 2 Mask making: The Façade, Nadia Plummer and Kelsey Johnson (© Rosemary C. Reilly)

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3.2 Increases in Trust Engaging in these ABER activities created ripples that affected trust on three levels: individual, relational, and systemic. On an individual level, a lack of trust was ascribed to their own feelings of doubt. “I have been constantly questioning my capabilities and feeling uncomfortable to open up.” Participants also voiced their need to be up to standards, to be liked, or to look smart in order to have a sense of belonging in the cohort. This shift in their awareness about their challenges to be authentic, transparent, and vulnerable (Brown, 2012)—their lack of trust in self—gave them a window into seeing how this shaped their view of others (Gibb, 1978). “I think that to go risky you’ve got to have some trust in here [points to chest].” Trust in others, the relational level, began to be seen as more possible. “The best way to tell someone to trust you is to trust them first.” Participants expressed increased feelings of trust toward other cohort members than they had previously perceived. One participant from the mask making group expressed how they were going to “tak[e] risks… reaching out to the people who in the past, I kind of ignored, because I didn’t trust.” There was also a transformed perception about the cohort culture, which resulted in seeing an increased need for trust on a systemic level. There was a change from seeing the cohort as a highly competitive group with little compromise to a potentially more collaborative one. “I went from comparing what other groups were doing to forgetting that other people were there.” Or from seeing the cohort as a group that lacked inclusiveness to one of a safer space and a sense of support. “That’s one of the things that I want to do—to have conversations. If something comes up, not just keep it in. Try and find a way to express it, knowing that there’s going to be support.” Perhaps the most profound change was a sense of trust in the cohort as a collective, and a sense of its resilience: So, I guess that we need to understand, to trust or perhaps to test how strong we are…just by allowing things to happen that show us that we are not the perfect group that perhaps we pretend to be, or that we would like to be…that will help us to see that we can grow stronger with these challenges.

These insights emerged during the dialogical post-group interview. The artwork served as representations for participants “to speak from as they clarified their thinking out loud to peers for critique and ultimately to themselves, that is, from interpersonal to intrapersonal subjectivity” (Samaras, 2010, p. 724).

3.3 Engage in Critical Reflection The very act of engaging in an ABER method encouraged reflection on the LIC dynamics. However, the artmaking, in and of itself, was not sufficient to encourage this. The artwork, coupled with the group interview, facilitated the development of a critical reflective stance. Critical reflection differs from reflection in that one begins to think more deeply about what happened from different perspectives and the whys

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behind it (Mezirow, 1998). As one member of the collage group observed, “I don’t feel we spend the time to reflect like we’re doing now.” It gave the participants time to make connections and interpretations that their artwork sparked. Doing this in a group setting allowed these insights to go to a deeper level since the group “may suggest meanings that they had never meant to convey or did not know that they had conveyed” (Broussine, 2008, p. 82). Even if after the ABER session some feelings persisted, there was a shift in perspective. “I think there is a certain amount of distance [from those uncomfortable feelings]. You know, we’ve created an object. Now it’s outside of us and we can examine it. It’s like we’re objectively stepping back.” This stepping back is the hallmark of critical reflection, vital for personal and collective transformation. Participants were involved in critiquing their presuppositions about LIC and challenging their beliefs about their dynamics—a significant step in being able to create change, perform at their best, and achieve sustained success (see Fig. 3).

Fig. 3 Poetry, Kim Glithero (© Rosemary C. Reilly)

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3.4 Repairing Relationships As noted earlier, cohorts have the potential to rupture relationships, causing discomfort, isolation, and even deep hurt and distress. Therefore, it is important to note that this ABER experience did not make all these difficult and painful feelings magically disappear. Yet there was a transformation. “It [this activity] might not have changed my feelings, but it changed the way I feel toward my cohort.” It encouraged the participants to shift from blaming others for problematic relationships to accepting a level of personal responsibility concerning their own contributions to the LIC dynamics. As a participant in the poetry group noticed, “But it’s also, like we absolve[d] ourselves of responsibility with some of these things.” During the post-activity discussion, many expressed a desire to repair these ruptured relationships, choosing a more generous view of other cohort members. “This activity showed me things that were already there, but I didn’t see before, and it made me realize that in the cohort, everybody has a heart and good intentions.” One participant expressed the “need to go back and revive curiosity and interest in other people.” The artmaking “loosen[ed] the mind and open[ed] the heart, enabling people to express their thoughts and feelings in unexpected and enjoyable ways that help others see, appreciate, and identify with them” (Belenky, 1996, p. 423), while the use of the systemic inquiry approach of ABER authorized participants to problem solve and formulate intentions to make things better.

3.5 Commitment to Effective Learning Interactions The post-artmaking group interviews showed a strong commitment by the participants to create more effective LIC relationships. As one member of the collage group remarked, “We might have to get down and dirty. We have to discuss and debate, to change plans, and become fearless. To be able to go out there and do bold moves and be honest.” As well, a participant in the poetry group expressed their insight about LIC that emerged from their poetry composition. “I wrote about the cohort, but the pain was personal…it did bring me an insight. We are stronger together.” Though the use of traditional educational research methods may have led participants to similar conclusions, the use of ABER methods crafted a fresh path to creating new solutions to the issues that had appeared and persisted within the cohorts. ABER gave participants “new activities (tools) and new ways of working/thinking/approaching problems by focusing more on opportunities than on analysis” (Sköldberg & Woodilla, 2016, p. 46).

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3.6 Engaging More Fully with Community Central to their commitment to increase effective LIC relationships, participants articulated a longing to engage more fully with the community. A member of the collage group noticed, “I was inspired [by this activity] to channel my motivations to discover my individual goals and how to help foster community or think on ways to help the cohort.” This shift in participants’ feelings about engagement was due in large part to the use of ABER. Along with the dialogue about the insights gained from the artmaking, participants were able to re-story themselves, their relationships, and their cohort. In order to change the stories that participants and cohorts told about themselves, they needed to “imagine other possibilities, restorying our own and our relational stories” (Huber et al., 2003, p. 344). During the post-activity discussion group participants laughed together and connected with each other, giving the cohort members new energy, joy, and permission to be playful (Sköldberg et al., 2016), resulting in an increased optimistic view of their future. As well, these activities highlighted a need for a change. A participant in the clowning group stated: So, for me, the question is what is it about the cohort that stops somebody from being themselves or saying what’s on their mind? So, there’s something that we haven’t gotten to yet, as a group…that we need to dig into.

See Fig. 4. The ABER session and the subsequent dialogue created an open space of possibilities through a bifurcation point with the potential to enable the cohort to branch off into an entirely new state where new patterns of LIC, repaired relationships, critical reflection, and increased trust could emerge (Reilly & Mcbrearty, 2010).

4 Conclusion It is clear from the literature, this inquiry, and personal experience teaching in a cohort program for more than 15 years that LIC is a double-edged sword with both significant opportunities for learning and growth and considerable potential for harmful dynamics and non-learning (Jarvis, 1987). Participant reports of these harmful dynamics in the pre-artmaking interview were common. But more importantly, artmaking around questions about their LIC patterns gave participants the opportunity to share their perspectives openly and honestly. Seeing common themes during their post-artmaking interview afforded participants with an opportunity to reaffirm their agency in shaping their cohort dynamics and their learning relationships. It is from these discussions that the generative movements toward more effective LIC germinated. As well, since ABER democratizes meaning-making, this session ensured that each individual had a voice that was not drowned out by more dominating ones. Given the societal mental model that artmaking is idiosyncratic, it released and validated a multiplicity of understandings. Multi-vocality and

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Fig. 4 Clowning (© Rosemary C. Reilly)

multi-subjectivity can increase capacities for critical reflection (Vaughn-Johnson & Rutherford, 2019). In closing, I echo the recommendation by Scribner and Donaldson (2001) that if a particular program uses a cohort model, “the dynamic of a cohort group must be attended to in order to ensure that learning experiences for all cohort students are maximized” (p. 628). This, therefore, should be a primary and fundamental concern for all faculty involved and suggests that standard practices should include: 1. Having students become fully aware of the good, the bad, and the ugly of LIC. This can be achieved through intake discussions with program applicants, as well as providing them with a list of current students and alumni who will honestly reveal their experiences. Applicants can then make fully informed choices about whether this format with its typical intense learning experiences is right for them. 2. Designating time outside of the classroom and activities disconnected from coursework to deepen peer relationships and strengthen personal ties. 3. Pre-program readings and experiences in group dynamics so that these patterns in interactions are familiar to students. 4. Regular debriefing sessions with students to discuss cohort interactions and tensions, expectations, relationships, conflicting norms and values, and identifying and addressing such things as unproductive group patterns, biases, and restrictive roles.

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5. The use of formative evaluation within the program to document the complex and dynamic nature of each unique cohort’s LIC experiences. These last two recommendations lend themselves most effectively to using ABER as a research tool to empirically surface these dynamics and tackling them.

4.1 ABER and LIC Debriefings Having students engage collectively in conversations about the problematic dynamics dogging their cohort can be a frightening and deeply troubling activity. Therefore, it is essential that a less threatening method be implemented to engage cohort members. This inquiry has demonstrated that ABER can function effectively in this task. Artmaking gave participants the tools to reveal the complexity and depth (Samaras, 2010) of their LIC multi-layered undercurrents. But doing this in the context of an ABER approach permitted them to systematically question those undercurrents and generate solutions to their sticky dynamics. This shift in being able to notice and perceive things as they were happening was facilitated through their senses. A member of the clowning group concluded, “Our reality did not change, but we are making really different associations when we looked back. The cathartic release was a good feeling.” It was in this space of sharing their thoughts, feelings, and dialoguing about their artmaking that participants collectively experienced the powerful and transformative effects of ABER—the kind of transformation that a cohort debriefing is designed to spark. As a member of the collage group observed, “This artistic stuff freed us, gave us clarity and confirmed many feelings.” Artmaking was a permissive alternate mode of expression that helped the self-disclosure process by engaging and generating personal and common meaning. One participant remarked, “Even though we could just work with the images that we could find, I think it was easier to express through art than with words, at least for me.” Additionally, ABER gave “a visual voice without inhibitions and an opportunity for creative self-disclosure” (Desyllas & Sinclair, 2014, p. 310), turning thoughts and feelings into materiality. This materiality acted in the same way that a formative evaluation might function. Bennett (2010) talks about thing-power, that things can “become the decisive force catalyzing an event” (p. 9). In this context, the textual, visual, and performative ABER methods called forth: a portrait of the LIC dynamics and patterns; a fashioning of a common ground through artmaking; the freedom to express revealing feelings; and new ways of seeing and understanding. The group interview after the artmaking sanctioned the articulation of those feelings, understandings, and insights into a public space. And this articulation allowed these insights to become shared cohort knowledge formulating the basis for future action. Acknowledgements This research was supported by a grant from the Organization Development and Change Endowment Fund of the Academy of Management.

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Synchronicities and Tensions in and Outside of Elementary Classrooms: Perspectives on Building Collaborative, Artful Experiences Kari-Lynn Winters, Shelley M. Griffin, and Linda Ismailos

Abstract Drawing upon the methodological tools of ethnography, this inquiry explores how children, alongside their parents and private string music teachers, share artistic connections, assemble modes, and embody knowledge about the arts within their community music lessons. Qualitative data—coded, analyzed, and written in the form of vignettes—not only show the values, beliefs, and desires held by students, parents, and teachers, but also underscore the collaborative, artistic engagement that happens in a community setting. Results clarify some of the ways children fluidly blend artful and authentic experiences, as well as suggest some of the synchronicities and tensions that occur in music, drama, and storytelling between institutional and community practices. Knowledge gained holds potential to inform future pedagogy designs within arts education, while also honoring child agency. Keywords Agency · Artful experiences · Assembled modes · Community · Ethnography A history of Canadian arts-based research demonstrates the power of the arts, in meaningful ways, in a variety of informal and formal contexts (Andrews, 2019, 2020; Beynon & Veblen, 2012; Carli & Stuart, 2019; Carter, 2014; Sullivan & Willingham, 2002). Theoretically grounded in assembled modes through artful experiences (Ranker, 2015; Winters & Vratulis, 2012), engaged collaboration (Craft et al., 2014; Griffin et al., 2017), and lived community practices (Rogers et al., 2015; Rowsell, 2017; Upitis et al., 2017), this ethnographic inquiry investigates children’s artistic participation (through music, drama, and storytelling) in a Suzuki musical string program. Specifically, the study examines how 13 elementary children, four K.-L. Winters (B) · S. M. Griffin · L. Ismailos Brock University, St. Catharines, ON, Canada e-mail: [email protected] S. M. Griffin e-mail: [email protected] L. Ismailos e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2023 H. Mreiwed et al. (eds.), Making Connections in and Through Arts-Based Educational Research, Studies in Arts-Based Educational Research 5, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-19-8028-2_19

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private string teachers, and 11 parents prepared for a Suzuki fundraiser that took place in Southern Ontario. It explores how children interact in a musical community, share artistic engagement, and embody knowledge about the arts, including some of the synchronicities and tensions in and outside of elementary classrooms. The Suzuki approach to music education is multifaceted regarding modal expressions (e.g., aural, embodied, visual). Here, every child has the capacity to reach their fullest potential as a human being, given opportunities to be nurtured through shared engagement and thoughtful practice at an early age, in addition to community care offered by teachers and families (Suzuki, 1983). Knowledge gained about how elementary children interact with the arts (i.e., music, drama, and storytelling) in their daily lives and how home and community musical experiences sit alongside schooled practices has the potential to reframe musical learning. When students become informants of their own agency within situated spaces, they may be motivated to reach improved levels of artful understanding and collaborative involvement.

1 Assembled Modes Through Artful Experiences Across childhood and into adolescence, it has long been evident that universally, children opt to engage with music and other art forms—an inward desire, need, and must for children’s bodies to ebb, flow, twist, and turn (Campbell, 2010). Children’s natural tendencies to imitate, create, play, and escape into musical or imaginary worlds offer opportunities for child agency (Kondo, 2020). Such insights explain why elementary classroom teachers draw upon the arts to engage students in subjects like literacy, math, or science (King, 2020; Winters & Vratulis, 2012). Research demonstrates that art has the potential to make these subjects more visceral and engaging (Jantzen, 2017). Instead of thinking about learning as separate disciplines, this chapter suggests that children have many communicative resources available to them as they experience blended, artful learning. Beyond singing or playing a musical instrument, children are offered opportunities during private and group lessons to converse, draw or write, embody finger positions, or act out songs as ways of representing musical awareness. These ways of knowing are considered modes and hold powerful potentials for children to express and represent ideas (Kress, 2010). Years earlier, renowned art advocate, Elliot Eisner (1998), suggested similar sentiments: children who do not get opportunities to interpret and design meaning across modes may be insufficiently prepared for real-world situations as each mode alone only affords specific meanings. For example, instrumental music, though it can evoke emotions and ideas about a setting, mood, or experience, can appear abstract. Conversely, drama scripts, stories, or musical lyrics tend to be more precise— explaining the specific places, actions, backstories—but may not awaken the same degree of feeling. Modes, however, when assembled, ignite an effect that is greater

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than the sum of its parts. Disregarding the assemblage of modes undermines the complexity of arts-based learning (Winters, 2010).

2 Engaged Collaboration The arts are relational. Expressions of creativity are designed for shared togetherness. Music and other art forms (e.g., drama and storytelling) encourage participatory practice and perspective-taking. The arts represent active and engaged interactions and communication; this is because humans embody the arts while creating them together. Establishing connections with others while experiencing artistic engagement shapes children’s personalities and imaginations, satisfying their quests for ever-expanding knowledge (Craft et al., 2014). Eisner (2002) articulates: There is, in the arts, more than one interpretation to a musical score, more than one way to describe a painting or a sculpture, more than one appropriate form for a dance performance, more than one meaning for a poetic rendering of a person or a situation. In the arts diversity and variability are made central. (p. 197)

Thus, social and artful interactions, such as group rehearsals, concerts, and performances, play a critical role in building foundations of collective consolidation. Research also demonstrates that the arts not only offer opportunities for coconstructed knowledge building, but they also extend the meaningfulness and control of children’s own learning (Corsaro, 2015; Green, 2008; Griffin et al., 2017). Karlsen (2011) adds that children need to make connections and choices, fostering collective and individual agency in musical experiences. Thus, a heightened sense of community engagement may be experienced as participants build relationships while expressing the importance of arts-based practices in their lives.

3 Lived Community Practices Arts education research illustrates the multiplicities of children’s artistic lives in- and out-of-school, demonstrating patterns of artful experience and connection (Andrews, 2019, 2020; Rowsell, 2017). Upitis et al. (2017) draw attention to the critical role that family and community members play in children’s musical interactions and motivation, noting that approximately 2 million children in Canada are involved in private or group music lessons. Parents “play a primary role by supporting the students’ development between lessons and by sharing their goals and aspirations with their children” (p. 74). Further, Pitts (2017) states, “The influence of the home is intertwined with that of the school [and community], and musical learning takes place in many settings” (p. 162). Moreover, all learning is determined by the learners’ lived community practices, including past experiences, beliefs, interests, everyday interactions, and communicative traditions (Rogers et al., 2015). The fluidity of

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knowledge and artful practice travel among communities, bringing together different experiences and multiplicities of engagement in and through the arts. Campbell and Wiggins’ (2013) explore these multiplicities, demonstrating patterns of children’s musical experience, co-constructions of knowledge, and culture. An increased focus on agency during community experiences is of particular interest since, “… musical childhood is largely overlooked and under researched, particularly with attention to a child-centered approach that gives voice to the children who create their culture, in which music plays a significant role” (p. 5). Griffin (2017) adds, “Much is gained by paying attention to those moments on the periphery, those in-between spaces” (p. 38) where children’s music-making and lived community practices merge and flourish. Children develop their artistic identities and roles within communities. These situated emplacements position and reposition them among others (Andrews, 2019, 2020). Understanding children’s perspectives and how their artistic experiences interplay with the school curriculum, create opportunities to inquire into how institutional priorities may run counter to the values expressed by children and their parents.

4 Methods, Data, and Analysis This 2-year study drew upon the methodological tools of ethnography (Emerson et al., 2011; Van Maanen, 2011). This perspective was essential in exploring the musical literacies and culture-sharing behaviors of those involved with the Suzuki experience. Spending time in the field alongside participants by observing, interviewing, and gathering information regarding their musical engagement and perspectives provides deepened insights into participants’ artistic lives. Data collection occurred weekly at the children’s string music lessons (group and private) through observation, field notes, informal discussions, photographs, videos, and student journals. One-on-one conversational student interviews (15–30 min) with the 28 study participants (including children, parents, and teachers) were audiorecorded. Interviews began by reflecting on the children’s previous learning. Students spoke about their musical engagement at home, school, and in their community; they shared drawings and reflections from their journals. Parents and teachers, if present, could share too. Additionally, adult-focused conversations were held with parents and teachers (45–90 min). Conversation transcripts were created and shared with participants. As in any ethnographic research, giving back to the community is essential. In addition to member-checking transcripts, reciprocity was also demonstrated through participating in future musical recitals and events, assisting in students’ Suzuki program fundraising, and providing a musical community celebration. Several events occurred during the 2-year data collection process, including musical recitals, music/literacy fundraiser events, and in school musical performances (accompanied by Suzuki program members and a published children’s author, Kari-Lynn Winters (co-author of this article). As the study unfolded, data was coded and analyzed according to our theoretical underpinnings: assembled modes

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through artful experiences, engaged collaboration, and lived community practices. Pseudonyms were utilized so research participants could remain anonymous. Data was also triangulated through multiple data sources. As honoring multiple voices and perspectives was integral to imagining these theoretical groundings, we honed in on creating ethnographic narrative vignettes. These brief vignettes included the various perspectives offered by the participants, particularly the multimodal, collaborative ways that children explored musical and artistic practices within community settings.

4.1 Vignette #1 4.1.1

Home, School, Community: Artful Assemblages of Modes

Eva, a 7-year-old student, a member of the Suzuki community for 3 years, loves books and engages frequently as a reader. She goes to both the school and public libraries, choosing books to read at home with her mother. According to Eva’s mom, Eva is an excellent reader (Interview, February 10, 2018). However, with her musical development, Eva has not yet learned to read musical notation. This may be because, in keeping with Suzuki pedagogy, up until this point, the focus has primarily been on the mode of aural learning (Fieldnotes, February 8, 2018). This information came to light in several lessons. For example, one of the Suzuki teachers spoke about this topic: A big quality of the Suzuki method is the fact that it is teaching by ear. That is very valuable. As a musician, that opens a whole realm of possibility if you are stuck on the page (i.e., musical notation). When you are not reading, you are really connecting with your instrument. (Suzuki Teacher Interview, February 12, 2018)

Later, during another private Suzuki lesson, Eva, and her teacher (Faith) begin to explore musical notation (Fieldnotes, June 20, 2018). Eva is very excited to discover this. Faith uses letter symbols (visual), discussion (aural and oral), a musical staff (visual), and playing the violin (embodied and aural) to aid Eva in her understanding (see Fig. 1). Eva explores the intricate interplay of multiple modes. For example, she plays music (embodied) and reads the letter symbols (visual)—to broaden her knowledge in music. Faith begins by showing Eva a flashcard with a treble clef on a musical staff (visual). Faith asks, “How many lines do you see here?” (aural and visual). Faith reviews the Every Good Boy Deserves Fudge and FACE acronyms, playing her violin to demonstrate (embodied). She explains that music is like a ladder and asks Eva to say the musical alphabet (oral) forwards and backwards. Eva recalls this by memory very quickly. Then, Faith encourages Eva to position her violin and practice the fingerings (embodied) that connect with the letter names (visual) and represent the musical notes (visual and aural). Here, Eva blends her knowledge of reading in school and at home with her community music-making practice. She assembles diverse modes fluidly and (at some points) simultaneously—which is in fact, modal

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Fig. 1 Modal interplay. © Kari-Lynn Winters

interplay. In other words, she reads, listens to, and plays music seamlessly, and sometimes all at once. Later, as an agent of her own artful learning, Eva spoke with her mother about purchasing Best Pirate (Winters & Griffiths, 2017)—the book used during the fundraiser—making a convincing argument that it could help her become a better violinist. Eva’s intention is to read the book prior to her collaborative, group lessons, in order to improve her musical performance. Her mother agrees that the book, the musical lessons, and the time to practice with others, when offered together, will give Eva additional chances to develop both literacy and music competencies, thereby building her confidence (Interview, February 10, 2018). Collaborative engagement is also evident in Eva’s private lesson (weeks later). For instance, together with her teacher, they figure out how Twinkle Twinkle Little Star might sound, if they try different musical techniques, for example, throughout the lesson, they practice playing closer to the frog (Fieldnotes, June 18, 2018). Here, Eva’s agency is acknowledged and realized through Faith’s thoughtful nurturing, as well as their collaborative artistic exploration and expressions within a community context of music-making.

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4.2 Vignette #2 4.2.1

Arts-Based Engagements: Collaboration Through Community Practices

Seven-year-old Blake has been playing the violin for less than 1 year. His 9-year-old sister, Callie, has been playing for almost 4 years. They often come to their group lessons with one or both of their parents. In the segment of their conversational interview (below), alongside their father, Edward, they discuss how music can be used to help tell a story. Here, Blake and Callie build a shared experience about music and storytelling, describing the musical techniques that help to tell the Best Pirate story (Winters & Griffiths, 2017) for their upcoming Suzuki fundraiser. Researcher: Do you think that music can help to tell a story? Blake: Yes. If you are happy, you can do high-pitched. Callie: If you are sad, you can do a minor key. Blake: [Also] the sound effects sounded like the words. The expressions. Callie: The music and techniques tell different feelings. I have a better understanding of the words now. Crafty. I know the words. Blake: Crafty [tapping his finger on his temple] … means being smart. Callie: Crafty equals trills. Edward: It’s interesting how music helps the children trigger their recollection of, or the feeling of the words from the book! I am even learning new things by being a part of this study. (Fieldnotes, February 10, 2018)

Here, there is a relational interaction that lends itself to musical learning for both children and their father. Just as musicians collaborate and shape an improvised jazz piece, this family’s togetherness builds an active and engaged musical and literacy interaction where the sum of the whole is greater than its parts. According to Edward, Blake struggles in school with reading and writing. Here during Suzuki classes, Blake has more freedom to play with words, actions, and music to empower his own understanding, and ultimately shape his own learning. In this collaborative music-making setting, Blake integrates his background knowledge, making connections between his home and community, and furthering his comprehension of the story’s vocabulary and his music-making practices. The setting itself, alongside the support of his family, creates a playful, agentive learning environment. His transference of knowledge between his environments is organic in nature as he explores and experiences music and literacy together with his family. Moments later, Callie mentions the word trills, and demonstrates the musical technique on her violin. Blake, wanting to participate in the conversation, brings up the vocabulary word, nimble, from the story. He moves to the center of the room to physically mime his understanding of the word nimble (see Fig. 2) and points out the image from the book (see Fig. 3). Other musical techniques are used during the lessons and fundraiser to heighten the tension of the story, demonstrate the vocabulary used, portray the characters’

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Fig. 2 Blake demonstrating nimble. © Kari-Lynn Winters

emotions, and make the illustrations come to life. For example, some techniques include: gliss up, gliss down, tremolos, chromatic scales, or double stops. Some of these musical techniques are more technically advanced than the current Suzuki level, at which they are playing, as students typically progress through a series of levels outlined by the program’s philosophy. For example, the word nimble suggests that the students perform a trill with their bow movements and exemplify the rapid, agile fingerings. Here, students use their own innovative decision-making; in other words, teachers are not directing how these techniques are performed. In their group lessons, children watch one another and engage thoughtfully in participatory and community collaboration to gain artistic knowledge and to advocate for themselves as central members of the music-making ensemble. In the end, the siblings use agency to strengthen their literacy skills, as well as invite collaborative and musical consolidation in the various communities with which they engage.

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Fig. 3 Best Pirate excerpt (p. 10). © Kari-Lynn Winters © Dean Griffiths, Pajama Press

5 Discussion Led by the children themselves, the study paid close attention to explorations of multimodal assemblages and engaged collaboration within an arts-based community setting. Specifically, this study examined how children leaned into music, drama, and storytelling in organic ways in order to prepare for a public fundraiser event. During these lived, authentic moments of childhood, children opted to share experiences and artful learning together, demonstrating inward desires to comprehend their worlds, collaborate, and make music. In relation to embodied storytelling, it became essential for children to blend modes—reading the words, music notation, and gestures. For example, during Eva’s private string lesson with Faith, she started to explore musical notation. In keeping with Suzuki pedagogy, up until this point, the focus had primarily been on aural learning. During Vignette #1, Faith uses letter symbols (visual), discussion (oral/aural), a musical staff (visual), and playing the violin (embodied and aural) to aid Eva in her understanding. Eva assembles diverse modes fluidly and simultaneously—the essence of music-making. Blending modes is common practice in the arts, including music. We read, listen to, and play music seamlessly, oftentimes simultaneously. At the fundraiser performance, it became a

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must for children to allow their bodies to ebb, flow, twist, and turn (Campbell, 2010) or tap to the beat while they played their stringed instruments. Music also provided a platform for facilitating connections as the children linked their lived experiences to the arts that they utilized. Upitis et al. (2017) highlight that parents (and community members) play a pivotal role in students’ engagement, motivation, and success in music. Indeed, a heightened sense of community was experienced as participants expressed themselves while collaborating with others, clarifying the importance of arts-based practices in their lives. Connections between students, parents, and teachers were capacious. Eva, for example, worked closely with Faith to build a foundation for learning musical notation—responding with enthusiasm. Eva’s mother discussed her daughter’s development in literacy and her motivation for reading musical notation. Then, Faith facilitated additional opportunities. Vignette #1 demonstrates that collaborative engagement between students, teachers, and parents is a vital component of this arts-based education program and in shaping the ongoing musical development of children. Moreover, in Vignette #2, Blake demonstrated moments of family connection alongside artful practice. His desire was not only to learn from his sister and father but also to show his understanding of knowledge gained. Here, he strengthened the bonds between him and his family, simultaneously shaping his musical learning. He organically brought together his family’s experiences with the storybook and his own musical understandings (e.g., gliss up, gliss down, tremolos), demonstrating a more nuanced level of embodied reading comprehension (e.g., understanding vocabulary). This points to how children use multiple modes to shape their learning while building authentic connections in community contexts. Data collected during lessons (i.e., observation and field notes), with the family present, built an enhanced community engagement. This relational connectedness, assembled within a community space, shaped strong attachments for everyone present. Community-based and school-based music programs shape one another. Of particular interest in this study were the ways that participants grappled with how music and the arts are taught and integrated into different contexts, specifically the synchronicities and tensions that these young participants experienced. Narratives and counternarratives provided by families and private music teachers offered insights into how educators might leverage arts-based teaching in schools. Parents and private music teachers expressed the children’s love for playing a stringed instrument yet openly discussed the technical challenges involved, including the persistent practice required. Additionally, they mentioned that the children’s experiences in school did not often align with their musical skill level, nor did it contribute to their motivation for learning music outside of school. Listening to students’ voices and meeting their embodied and modal needs is warranted in both schools and communities. Children’s musical agency needs to be understood by adults—the decision-makers of arts-based curricula—both in schools and communities so that young people can reach their fullest potential.

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5.1 Implications for Arts-Based Engagement and Instruction in Schools and Communities In schools, we often view subjects as separate entities, where adults impart knowledge and act as the gatekeepers of learning. Here, tensions arise when children’s artistic expressions and relationships are not acknowledged. This may not offer children holistic opportunities, often leading to a feeling of disempowerment in artistic learning. Conversely, by attending to the modal and relational nature of the arts within situated collaborative contexts, children are enabled to think/live artfully. When viewed in this way, music, drama, and storytelling might be seen as a lived continuum of learning as opposed to an intermittent dichotomy. In both vignettes, students blended modes and simultaneously strengthened their relationships. For example, Callie used storytelling with her family to attempt more challenging hand positions and bowing. Ben combined music and drama, along with his sister’s experiences, to comprehend vocabulary through musical technique and movements. Moreover, Eva coupled her knowledge about the alphabetic symbols and order, and Faith applied this knowledge to the visual mode (5-line staff). Viewed through an ethnographic lens, these multimodal and relational connections clarified children’s motivation for practicing music, drama, and storytelling, further demonstrating firsthand how these art forms inspire children to collaborate and engage through imagining, playing, and performing. The assemblages of synergistic, modal practice fostered learning and developed collaborative student and community engagement.

6 Conclusions This study extends understanding of how children think about music, drama, and storytelling, providing insider perspectives of the arts, including modal interplays among family relations and community experiences. Conducting ethnographic research over time with communities provides insights into children’s connections and interactions with the arts, further showing their agency and motivation for learning. Future pedagogical designs in musical learning can benefit from fostering assembled modes of meaning-making within musical learning. Understanding children’s communicative expressions and validating lived experience in school contexts creates opportunities to inquire into how institutional priorities may run counter to the values expressed by children (Pahl & Rowsell, 2012). Griffin (2017) posits, the arts, when experienced in institutional spaces, such as schools, often focus more narrowly on subject-specific learning (e.g., music, drama, language arts) not always aligning with children’s holistic, artful practices. In this study, children encountered interplays with their more formalized musical education. Synchronicities arose when they blended their school experiences with

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their home learning. However, tensions became evident when children were unable to express themselves in the ways they deemed authentic. It becomes apparent that not only synchronicities need to be celebrated, but tensions ought to be acknowledged, given children think in, through, and across the arts in profound, embodied ways. Though people may grapple with the ways that music, drama, and storytelling are taught across contexts, artistic engagement begins with honoring the lives of the students themselves. Such knowledge holds potential to place children’s agency as the focal point of informing future pedagogical designs within arts education while underscoring the possibilities for collaborative, artistic engagement within institutional and community settings.

References Andrews, B. A. (Ed.). (2019). Perspectives on arts education research in Canada, Vol. 1: Surveying the landscape. Brill. https://doi.org/10.1163/9789004405202 Andrews, B. A. (Ed.). (2020). In Perspectives on arts education research in Canada, Vol. 2: Issues and directions. Brill. https://doi.org/10.1163/9789004431409 Beynon, C. A., & Veblen, K. K. (Eds). (2012). Critical perspectives in Canadian music education. Wilfrid Laurier University Press. Campbell, P. S. (2010). Songs in their heads: Music and its meaning in children’s lives (2nd ed.). Oxford University Press. Campbell, P. S., & Wiggins, T. (2013). Giving voice to children. In P. S. Campbell & T. Wiggins (Eds.), The Oxford handbook of children’s musical cultures (pp. 1–24). Oxford University Press. Carli, R., & Stuart, T. (2019). The awesome music project Canada. Page Two Books. Carter, M. R. (2014). Drama and theatre education in Canada: A snapshot. McGill Journal of Education, 49(1), 237–245. https://doi.org/10.7202/1025780ar Corsaro, W. A. (2015). The sociology of childhood (4th ed.). Sage. Craft, A., Cremin, T., Hay, P., & Clack, J. (2014). Creative primary schools: Developing and maintaining pedagogy for creativity. Ethnography and Education, 9(1), 16–34. https://doi.org/10. 1080/17457823.2013.828474 Eisner, E. W. (1998). The kind of schools we need: Personal essays. Heinemann. Eisner, E. W. (2002). The arts and the creation of mind. Yale University Press. Emerson, R. M., Fretz, R. I., & Shaw, L. L. (2011). Writing ethnographic fieldnotes (2nd ed.). The University of Chicago Press. Green, L. (2008). Music, informal learning, and the school: A new classroom pedagogy. Ashgate. Griffin, S. M. (2017). The fluid infusion of musical culture: Embodied experiences in a grade one classroom. Pedagogies: An International Journal, 12(1), 21–40. https://doi.org/10.1080/155 4480X.2017.1283993 Jantzen, M. G. (2017). Toward a more conclusive understanding of the relationship between musical training and reading. Frontiers in Psychology, 8, 1–3. https://doi.org/10.3389/fpsyg.2017.00263 Karlsen, S. (2011). Using musical agency as a lens: Researching music education from the angle of experience. Research Studies in Music Education, 33(2), 107–121. https://doi.org/10.1177% 2F1321103X11422005 King, F. (2020). Music, mathematics, and creative processes. In L. R. de Bruin, P. Burnard, & S. Davis (Eds.), Creativities in arts education, research, and practice: International perspectives for the future of learning and teaching (pp. 157–171). Brill. https://doi.org/10.1163/978900436 9603_010 Kondo, S. (2020). Musical communication in scaffolding young learners’ expressive agency. Research Studies in Music Education, 42(3), 293–309. 10.1177%2F1321103X18821198

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Kress, G. (2010). Multimodality: A social semiotic approach to contemporary communication. Routledge. Pahl, K., & Rowsell, J. (Eds.). (2012). Literacy and education: Understanding the new literacy studies in the classroom (2nd ed.). Sage. Pitts, S. (2017). What is music education for? Understanding and fostering routes into lifelong musical engagement. Music Education Research, 19(2), 160–168. Ranker, J. (2015). Redesigning the everyday: Recognizing creativity in student writing and multimodal composing. Language Arts, 92(5), 359–365. Rogers, T., Winters, K-L., Perry, M., & LaMonde, A-M. (Eds.). (2015). Youth, critical literacies, and civic engagement: Arts, media, and literacies in the lives of adolescents. Routledge. https:// doi.org/10.1177%2F2381336916661519 Rowsell, J. (Ed.) (2017). Special issue: The art and craft of literacy pedagogy: Profiling community arts zone. Pedagogies: An International Journal, 12(1). Sullivan, T., & Willingham, L. (Eds). (2002). In L. Bartel (Series Ed.), Creativity and music education: Research to practice (Vol. I). Canadian Music Educators’ Association. Suzuki, S. (1983). Nurtured by love: The classic approach to talent education. Alfred Publishing. Upitis, R., Abrami, P. D., Brook, J., & King, M. (2017). Parental involvement in children’s independent music lessons. Music Education Research, 19(1), 74–98. Van Maanen, J. (2011). Tales of the field: On writing ethnography (2nd ed.). The University of Chicago Press. Winters, K.-L. (2010). Quilts of authorship: A literature review of multimodal assemblage in the field of literacy education. Canadian Journal for New Scholars in Education, 3(1), 1–12. Winters, K-L., & Griffiths, D. (2017). Best pirate. Pajama Press. Winters, K-L., & Vratulis, V. (2012). Authored assemblages in a digital world: Illustrations of a child’s online, social, critical, and semiotic meaning making. Journal of Early Childhood Literacy, 13(4), 529–554.

The Power of Photo-Elicitation in Promoting Conversations About Unfamiliar Topics Katherine Crook

Abstract Photo-elicitation is recognized within several research disciplines as a means of eliciting rich data from individuals from a range of backgrounds. This chapter poses the question ‘What benefits can arts-based methods bring to traditionally positivist, quantitative disciplines?’ and explores how photo-elicitation can be used within healthcare education research. I discuss potential benefits of using photo-elicitation including encouraging reflection, as a stimulus for conversation and the creation of an alternative form of data. I also discuss challenges at different stages in the research process including ethical considerations. My physiotherapy research is used as a case study to elucidate how arts-based methods can benefit biomedical and traditionally positivist disciplines. Keywords Photo-elicitation · Physiotherapy · Health care

1 Introduction This chapter discusses the use of photo-elicitation in a research project about physiotherapy practice. Physiotherapy helps to improve people’s movement and functional ability when they have been “affected by injury, illness, or disability” (Chartered Society of Physiotherapy [CSP], 2018a). Physiotherapists use a range of techniques with patients, including exercise, education, manual treatments, and therapeutic and diagnostic technologies such as electrotherapy (CSP, 2021). Undergraduate training and postgraduate clinical practice focus on developing knowledge of human anatomy and physiology and the human body’s associated health conditions and disorders (CSP, 2018b). Another important element of physiotherapy practice is interacting with patients and using psychology techniques to support patients’ recovery. Evaluations of physiotherapists’ use of psychology have reported improvements in patient outcome measures such as patient satisfaction, empowerment, motivation, and wound healing K. Crook (B) Newcastle upon Tyne, UK e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2023 H. Mreiwed et al. (eds.), Making Connections in and Through Arts-Based Educational Research, Studies in Arts-Based Educational Research 5, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-19-8028-2_20

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(Green et al., 2008; Maple et al., 2015; Margalit et al., 2004; Miller et al., 2009). For this reason, psychology is addressed in practice guidance for physiotherapists. In the UK, where my research is based, the Chartered Society of Physiotherapy (physiotherapists’ professional body and union) acknowledges the importance of psychological factors when treating patients (CSP, 2020). In addition, the use of psychology is expected by the Health and Care Professions Council, the regulatory body for physiotherapists in the UK (HCPC, 2013). Internationally, the World Health Organization (WHO) promotes a model of disability called the biopsychosocial model, which aims to incorporate a person’s physical, social, and personal factors into their treatment and assessment (WHO, 2002). However, the terminology surrounding psychology in physiotherapy is diverse and used interchangeably. For example, a psychological approach to practice may be termed as being holistic, using a biopsychosocial model or using yellow flags to help identify a range of significant life events or circumstances such as bereavement, financial worries, or mental health conditions. Furthermore, the range of techniques considered under the umbrella term of psychology is lengthy and includes motivational interviewing, cognitive-behavioral approaches, goal setting, and imagery (Alexanders & Douglas, 2017). This diversity may lead to physiotherapists being uncertain about which psychological techniques to implement and lacking confidence in applying psychology in practice. Physiotherapists’ practice and understandings of psychology are also likely to be varied. A further consideration in physiotherapists’ use of psychology is the educational picture. Even though psychology is included in several UK undergraduate physiotherapy schools, it is rarely a priority and is normally taught and assessed as an integrated element within other modules (Heaney et al., 2012). In reviewing physiotherapy curricula, Heaney et al. (2012) found that the inclusion of psychology in physiotherapy was inconsistent, and there was a lack of consensus on what constitutes “psychology.” Then, once physiotherapists are qualified, the focus tends to be on developing the manual skills and dexterity introduced at the undergraduate level to be able to adapt one’s practice based on feedback (CSP, 2018b). Although there are courses in psychology available to physiotherapists post-qualification, these are not compulsory. It is my observation that emphasis on more traditional topics in training views psychology as an inconsequential and unfamiliar aspect of the physiotherapy discipline. It is clear that psychology is recommended by an international health organization, expected by the regulatory and professional bodies, encouraged by physiotherapy training and position in the workplace, and supported by the evidence base. Yet there is a lack of consistency and standardization at the undergraduate and post-qualifying levels, which has led to a lack of discussion within the profession. My concerns about these issues led me to research physiotherapists’ attitudes and approaches to psychology.

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2 My Journey to Photo-Elicitation I am a physiotherapist and have trained, practiced, and taught physiotherapy in my home country of the UK. My interest in the topic of psychology grew from my own clinical practice and postgraduate training in motivational interviewing and the positive impact that this had on my practice. Subsequently, as a physiotherapy educator, I observed physiotherapy students’ disregard of psychology as less significant than anatomy and physiology. As a result, I felt there was more understanding to be gained in order to bring about educational change. Therefore, I undertook a doctoral study to explore in more detail how physiotherapists understand “psychology” in relation to their practice. In researching this topic, I needed to implement methods that would encourage people to discuss topics they would not usually talk about and which may not be seen as a priority in clinical practice. Initially, I planned to use observation of clinical practice to act as a stimulus for conversations; however, due to COVID-19 restrictions, I needed to change my plans. I discovered photo-elicitation early on in my search for a new method and perceived it as a viable alternative to observations. I anticipated that images taken by physiotherapists could be used as a springboard to promote conversations about psychology. As I continued researching photo-elicitation, I came to realize that this method would not only work as an alternative to observations but would also bring with it a number of additional benefits. In its simplest form, photo-elicitation is the use of an image within an interview (Bignante, 2010). The chosen image can be created by the participant or the researcher and can include single or multiple images (Bignante, 2010; ClarkIbáñez, 2004; Harper, 2002). Photo-elicitation has been used in a range of disciplines, including education, anthropology, sociology, and psychology (Nelson, 2019). Traditionally, this method is used in qualitative research to encourage discussion around sensitive topics such as intimate partner violence, mental health, participants with cancer, life-altering illnesses, or those who are considered to be difficult to reach or vulnerable (Carswell et al., 2019; McGarry & Bowden, 2017; Paton et al., 2018). Participants, such as children, who may struggle to verbalize their thoughts, may also benefit from this method (Clark-Ibáñez, 2004; Shaw, 2020). While my participants cannot be considered vulnerable nor the topic overly sensitive, my observation that physiotherapists rarely discuss psychology is a strong argument for using photo-elicitation. In photo-elicitation, participants are often given a device or camera to create photographs that they present in the interview. The researcher is then able to ask questions about the images and engage in discussion about them. In my study, I asked the participants to take a photograph on their phones, using the prompt, “take a photo of something that represents what psychology means to you in your clinical practice.” Participants then emailed me the images prior to the interview. I started the interview by suggesting, “let’s start by you telling me about your image and why you chose it.” From this prompt, participants began to talk about their image in relation to psychology and their clinical practice. The conversation naturally continued from

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this on to other aspects of their practice, including specific patient examples, the importance of colleagues, and their attitudes towards psychology. My positionality as a researcher was also a significant part of my research. I recruited physiotherapists nationwide via social media and profession-specific platforms such as Internet forums and special interest groups. As a physiotherapist myself, I had the benefit of several shared experiences with my participants putting me in the position of an insider (Chammas, 2020). These included the three-year training in the undergraduate program and the early career experiences working in the National Health Service (NHS) (Aburn et al., 2021). These shared experiences included many similarities, such as learning similar content, understanding placement experiences as a student, and developing as an independent clinician working with a range of patients and colleagues. My experience of being a mature student with personal commitments and responsibilities was an additional element of connecting with some of my participants. I was initially confident that participants would recognize our shared experiences and would see this as a reason to participate—“to help out” a fellow physiotherapist. However, over time, I came to understand my position as an “insider-stranger” as I had never met any of my participants before. Photo-elicitation was a useful way to start a conversation with a stranger, a conversation that would be unfamiliar and perhaps challenging. At the outset, I was very excited about changing to photo-elicitation and this has never waned. Indeed bringing photo-elicitation into the project was instrumental in regaining my enthusiasm during the unprecedented and challenging time of the pandemic. This chapter aims to shine a light on how photo-elicitation has the power to engage individuals with an important but somewhat neglected topic. Through exploring an example of photo-elicitation in healthcare research, I aim to answer the following question: “What benefits can arts-based methods bring to traditionally positivist, quantitative disciplines?” The chapter ends by looking at the challenges involved in using photo-elicitation, including from an ethical perspective.

3 Benefits of Introducing Photo-Elicitation in Physiotherapy I experienced the benefits of photo-elicitation before, during, and after my interactions with my participants. Photo-elicitation encouraged reflection on a topic before the discussion, was a helpful stimulus during the conversation, and created an artifact to work with after the conversation. This section details the benefits I experienced at each stage in turn. Using photo-elicitation with physiotherapists prompted participants to reflect on an overlooked yet relevant topic before the interview. Participants were asked to take a photograph of what psychology meant to them a week before the interview was

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scheduled. By giving participants this time to create their photographs, I encouraged thinking time alongside their clinical practice to maximize the link between beliefs and practice. This approach may also have helped minimize the risk of a more superficial discussion if a participant had not had the opportunity to prepare. Several participants indicated they had taken time to think about psychology and what they were going to photograph: “I thought quite hard about what I wanted to choose”; one participant “reflected on what psychology reflected to me” and “tried to be a little artistic” (Fig. 1). Another felt that psychology was a huge part of her practice; however, she had never “thought about how to express that in picture form” (Fig. 2). For some, only minimal reflection seemed to be needed to produce the photograph, including one who reported, “I knew immediately what I wanted to use,” and another participant’s image “was literally straight in my head.” Having this interaction over email, it was also helpful to develop a relationship with my participants, who were all strangers and only engaged with me for the first time via email or direct message. At the start of the interview, I observed that photo-elicitation gave each participant a sense of power and ownership, as they were discussing an object they had created and knew intimately. This personal connection to the item maximized participants’ desire to explain their thinking around it. Participants were invested in the image precisely because they had taken the time and energy to reflect and create it. Additionally, I observed that the visual aid helped participants remember their practice and what they do with their patients. As I was unable to observe participants, their accounts in relation to the photograph allowed me to understand their clinical practice as well as access their attitudes and beliefs about psychology. Each participant’s photograph was different, and the images conveyed a diverse range of understandings of psychology. This ranged from the necessity of clearly

Fig. 1 Image of a lamp and blank journal ©Katherine Crook

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Fig. 2 Image of hand drawn jigsaw pieces with words and images inside ©Katherine Crook

connecting to the patient and their thoughts (Fig. 3), to the importance of developing a relationship with the patients (Fig. 4).

Fig. 3 Image of weather graphics and written statements. © Katherine Crook

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Fig. 4 Image of a cup of tea and cake ©Katherine Crook

Initially, I was surprised and a little frustrated when photographs were of images related to the physiotherapist and their life or their own psychology. I did not feel that they had interpreted my prompt “correctly.” Similarly, I pre-judged one photograph deeming it to have been taken in haste and with little thought. However, I came to appreciate the value of allowing participants to express themselves however they saw fit. The diversity and freedom given to the participants while responding allowed for a richer discussion of these understandings later in the interview. As I did not offer participants a specific interpretation of psychology myself, my participants were able to voice and explore their own attitudes and beliefs in a deeper way. Flexibility within research is therefore essential. Prompts and questions may be answered in unexpected ways. For those from a positivist discipline, this idea that there is no right or wrong answer may be difficult to understand and accept. In such situations, it is best to be guided by your research questions and reaffirm your commitment to a method that suits the exploration of uncharted territories and seeks new, rich knowledge and data. I recommend that researchers value and embrace this method’s power, which allows participants to talk about what they think is relevant and important. After the interviews, I collected 16 images taken by my participants. These images vary greatly in their content and composition. I assumed participants would take a

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photograph of a concrete, tangible object; however, some took a picture of a drawing while others took a screenshot using their phones. These images had a different quality and characteristic than the accompanying interview transcriptions. I chose to analyze the images alongside their section of transcription that related directly to the photograph. My decision to do this was based on not wanting to lose an opportunity to use the images. I also felt they were arresting and were much more than just a stimulus for conversation. After analyzing the images, I learned that there are several ways in which a psychological approach can be used in clinical practice and how individual physiotherapists can make a difference in a patient’s care through seemingly minor actions and words. This was demonstrated through images showing a cup of tea and a cake or a skeleton used as a prop to engage children with physiotherapy treatment. These varied understandings of psychology challenged my earlier quest for consistency in psychology definitions and standardization in psychology curricula. Similarly, the importance of a physiotherapist’s own psychological health and well-being was an unexpected discovery as participants chose images that included elements of themselves and went on to explain this when discussing their chosen image. This aspect of psychology may not have been as strongly articulated with words alone.

4 Ethical Complexities in Using Photo-Elicitation While I experienced multiple benefits from introducing photo-elicitation, I anticipated new ethical complexities. Using a method that generated an unfamiliar type of data—images—meant that I needed to decide what I wanted to do with the images after the interviews were completed. Initially, I thought of them as just a stimulus for the start of the interview, in place of observations, and was not planning to use them any further. However, once I began collecting the images and seeing them side by side as a data set in their own right, I realized they had an impact independent of the transcriptions and could have further value in making sense of, and presenting, the findings. I perceived that the images represented a more personal, evocative, and unique aspect of the participants’ thoughts and beliefs on a topic that is not often reflected on or discussed. As such, I felt it was imperative to include the images in the analysis. At the same time, I perceived a greater responsibility to protect the images and the participants who created them. Before the interview, I tried giving participants clear instructions about the research parameters and how their contributions would supplement the research. Moreover, in my ethical review application to the NHS’s Health Research Authority, I clearly explained that participants would not take photographs of themselves, patients, or others, nor any identifiable hospital locations. Healthcare professionals are familiar with the concept of consent and capable of applying it in research, which helped ensure that participants are aware of how their creations may be used.

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In reading about arts-based methods, I learned that the findings could be creatively disseminated through, for example, an art exhibition or theater performance. As such, I wanted to ask consent for using the images in various ways to build on the potential for arts-based dissemination to reach a larger audience and a different demographic than a traditional academic paper or presentation. This is especially significant in the realm of health care, as often one can reach more people and a more diverse audience through novel dissemination methods. Images could engage a previously challenging audience, help bring about change within a healthcare service, or alter the dominant discourse around a health condition (Dupuis et al., 2016). Maybe this study can become an art display, which would encourage discussions between a range of audience members, including health professionals, patients, family members, and the general public. Just as participants engaged more with the interview because of the images that they produced, so may other audiences. After the interviews, I analyzed the images using a visuo-textual framework that allows for the combined analysis of visual and textual data (Brown & Collins, 2021). For those from a positivist tradition, this stage may raise concerns about the “correct” interpretation, ensuring that they had uncovered the truth, or wanting to validate the images through multiple people analyzing the same image or member checking. I did not place emphasis on this as my method of asking participants to discuss their images minimized any concerns about interpreting them correctly. Furthermore, I was working within a constructivist research paradigm, which views research findings as a co-construction between researchers and participants.

5 Discussion and Conclusion This chapter posed the question “What benefits can arts-based methods bring to traditionally positivist, quantitative disciplines?”. My experience taught me that the benefits include encouraging reflection on a topic, being a useful stimulus to begin a conversation, and creating an alternative form of data. Furthermore, photo-elicitation gave participants a sense of ownership during the conversation, fostered a thoughtful and multifaceted conversation, and aided participants’ recollection of their clinical practice and patient interaction. I have discussed how using photo-elicitation helped my participants engage with and reflect on their feelings about psychology prior to being interviewed. This was particularly important with a topic infrequently discussed and explored. During the interview, the image the participant created provided a starting point for the conversation and handed power to the participant. Physiotherapists may be used to feeling in control within therapist–patient relationships but less confident with introducing and discussing artistic ways of knowing. Photo-elicitation leveled our relationship and allowed me to see their thoughts, feelings, and clinical practices more clearly in lieu of other methods. Once the interviews were completed, I retained a body of data that was unique and personal with an immense possibility for dissemination.

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By their very definition, new and unfamiliar methods bring a steep learning curve. Navigating how best to offer instructions on the method to positivist professionals, gaining comprehensive consent, and deciding what to do with the images once created were all exciting choices. Yet, they were also challenging. Carefully working out the wording of a prompt balancing the tensions of being useful but not patronizing, succinct yet not limiting, guiding but not too prescriptive, took time and effort. Creating the consent forms also required time and careful consideration. Using the images to their fullest potential while managing the restrictions of COVID-19 was also difficult, with no precedent from which to work. With all these milestones to traverse, there was never a time of inertia or despondency. Rather the energy and excitement that photo-elicitation brought to the research process outweighed any difficulties. Indeed, our conversation was only improved by using photo-elicitation and was embraced by the participants. Using photo-elicitation is not a difficult method to understand and should be utilized by those traditionally not drawn to such methods. In my experience, photo-elicitation led me to new understandings of psychology and challenged my a priori assumptions. While the study focused on physiotherapy professionals, photo-elicitation has great potential within wider healthcare research. It may be used by researchers working with a range of patient groups, including children and adults, individuals or communities, to explore a multitude of topics that need an alternative form of data collection. Photo-elicitation allows the participant to take control of the data and subsequent interview and is significant for many patient groups within nursing, midwifery, and dietetics, to name a few. At the center of all healthcare interactions is patient-centered care. The use of photo-elicitation encourages patient-centered research by capturing the patients’ attitudes, beliefs, and thoughts. This can also have a direct impact on the accepted status, treatment, and experiences of healthcare service users. I would recommend incorporating photo-elicitation into healthcare research to maintain high standards of care for all patients. Healthcare researchers are encouraged to set aside their positivist traditions and embrace the potential of creative data collection methods to gather rich understandings that can inform better care. Acknowledgements The author would like to thank her supervisor, Dr. Alison Ledger, for her support with this chapter and the Private Physiotherapy Educational Foundation for their financial support provided during the study. Also, thanks to all the physiotherapists who took part in the study and engaged with photoelicitation with such enthusiasm.

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