Opening Up Museums

I really enjoy Nina Simon’s blog, and her recent talk is especially exciting: Museum 2.0: Opening Up Museums: My TEDxSantaCruz Talk.

With an upcoming year-long exhibition highlighting the 125-year history of Teachers College, EdLab designers are focused on eliciting “audience” participation in our exhibition environment – three floors of Russell Hall (nearly 30,000 sq. ft.!).

I like how Simon frames the issue of participation around the challenge of making it meaningful – because it’s all too easy to create meaningless activities. But at the same time, she suggests, the hooks for engagement have to be simple enough that people are willing to try something new.

That’s tough to do!

I find that easy and interesting are often at odds. For example, our current goal is to use Twitter as a tool of engagement. But what do you ask people to contribute? 160 characters is already technically simple for folks with a Twitter account, but what kind of content should we elicit?

Photo of a library event by Diana Diroy

For me, solving this issue for a particular content is the essence of an exhibition design process – a process that should result in a unique and engaging solution that serves as a great foundation for learning.

One strategy is to aim to make the results of small contributions cumulative – either in a way that creates one large result, or as a mosaic showcasing individual contributions. Another is to make them personal (perhaps identity-oriented is a similar but useful way to think of this).

Another strategy is to offer an extrinsic reward – to offer a prize, for example. But this seems to be less genuine, or at least less likely to relate to learning. On the other hand, this could be a hook that engages a contributor to do more.

Giant Firefly by AMNH

One recent example of a bad interactive solution that comes to mind is from the recent Creatures of Light exhibition at the American Museum of Natural History (sorry guys). While the exhibit had some nice elements, I was disappointed by the gigantic firefly (six feet long?) that hung from the ceiling and glowed at the press of a button (working from memory here) at the entrance of the show. What did this accomplish?

I assume it was supposed to echo the bioluminescence theme of the exhibit, but for my 3-year-old it really just raised the question, “Are fireflies really that big?” I’m not saying that elements need to work for everyone, but really: aren’t there dozens of more exciting ways to show off the mechanisms of science while creating a stronger foundation for learning? (Wouldn’t a six foot magnifying glass aimed at a life-size firefly been many times more awesome? Aren’t there ways to use lighting to better effect?)

Using a traditional exhibition toolbox (scale, lighting, drama, etc.) alongside newer technologies is a big challenge. I’m excited to see what we can come up with here at Teachers College!

Drawing and an Argument for its Autonomy

Should the ability to draw be seen as a literacy? Is it sensible to characterize the act of drawing as the reduction of  multi- dimensional events to readable two-dimensional imagery?

Last Thursday I was lucky to attend a lecture and conversation by Professors Stephen Farthing and Simon Betts on “The Bigger Picture of Drawing: A New Curriculum a New Pedagogy” at the Macy Gallery at Teachers College. From the gallery website:

Visiting professors Farthing and Betts will speak about the bigger picture of drawing, and their new UK high school drawing qualifications and Masters course. They will discuss together the implications these courses have on pedagogy and student learning.

The generally spoke of the value of drawing, and offered a vast definition of drawing –  taking stock of drawing in diverse places and cultures to make their case, such as the example of the Maori tattoos.

Response

What stood out to me is how their argument in favor of drawing literacy at least partly seems to be driven by the belief that drawing should be understood as not only a “literacy,” but as a distinct practice (understood as theorists Michael Walzer and Alasdair MacIntyre would have us understand “social practices” as distinct contexts of meaning and truth) within the broader domain of the visual arts.

Should drawing be seen this way? It would follow that drawing would have more autonomous value – a different value from other art practices and other cultural activity. This line of reasoning seems appealing, especially in light of a pervasive condition described by an audience member – the familiar observation that “all children begin by loving drawing, and most learn to believe they are not ‘good at it’ by the time they are in middle school.” (TC professor Judy Burton traced this experience back to drawing being “taught as a technical skill.”) Let’s take a closer look.

It seems to me that Farthing and Betts are proposing shoring up such autonomy with a weak and strong definition of drawing – locating it both within other domains (examples offered ranged from the obvious (architecture) to the more obscure (financial planning and social greeting)), and as the center of its own domain (and hence a full-featured practice). Unfortunately, if we look at the kinds of cultural institutions that other Practices rely on to maintain autonomy, it seems like a difficult road ahead: the autonomy of legal practice, for example, is supported by vast professional organizations, educational norms, social networks, and physical infrastructure. A larger question that emerges (for me, at least): Can school and the academy really be the epicenter of a cultural practice? With the worry that students lose interest in drawing because they “can’t do it” in mind, it seems overly hopeful that the problem can be corrected by, in, and primarily through an educational context. Are Farthing and Betts really proposing something more? Would they be comfortable with a primetime television show “American Drawer” or celebrity draw-offs? Or ultimately is a different direction such as shoring up the autonomy of “the visual arts” or “visual culture” preferable?

I’m not sure. As a serious (if former) student of drawing, I would first like to believe that there need be no serious and sustained theoretical argument to secure a space for drawing within public education. But as they say, times are tough. Granting that we need such an argument, it then pains me that it must be so far-reaching as to rest on shifting claims (between a weak and strong definition) about its foundation and, therefore, value. As much as it pains me to admit, I think we might be better off hitching drawing’s presence in education to existing arguments about the visual arts (as a broader category of artistic practice) – arguments that could benefit from diverse examples of the important impact of drawing on culture and, at an importantly small scale, human well-being. I suspect Farthing and Betts are sympathetic to this approach, but their presentation needs some retooling to better position the distinctive nature, impact, and promise of drawing.

On the other hand, what about a t-shirt service? Submit a drawing and get it put on a shirt! Maybe there could also be a cross-funding opportunity to an important humanitarian cause (think no further than what the color pink currently represents) combined with something about the identity of the drawer that reinforces a cross-domain basis of expertise and utility . . .

Miscellany

As for the issue of students’ “losing faith” in their own ability to draw, I wonder: Is formal instruction the dominant cause of people losing interest (and/or confidence) in drawing? What else might be a part of this attitude shift?

On the distinction between craft and art, Dean Betts claimed “[craft] doesn’t have within it the key to make sense of it?” This seems far-reaching and, for me at least, demonstrated the weakness of a simple dichotomy between art and craft. It’s an interested thought experiment: Does art really always carry its own “key?”

Richard Eldridge Day

The first chapter to Richard Eldridge’s An Introduction to the Philosophy of Art provided a good basis for discussion in class last week. He really shows off his interest in Romanticism, and his leanings towards a Pragmatic philosophy of art. We talked about the problem of “not having a perfect philosophy,” located some philosophizing on a few spectrums-of-discourse, and looked at the history (and problem) of metaphysics as a foundational pillar of the philosophy of art. Good stuff for a first discussion!

Philosophy as History

This afternoon I had the honor of working with Art Education students in Teachers College’s Instep program – thinking about John Dewey’s legacy and impact on art education. As preparation for the lecture and group activity (collaboratively writing philosophies of art education), we read:

  • Ursula Niklas’ “On the Philosophy of Teaching Philosophy of Art” to reflect on how philosophical methods can be used in different ways within the context of art education.
  • The Encyclopedia of Aesthetic Philosophy’s “John Dewey: Survey of Thought” entry on John Dewey for a historical look at the impact Dewey had on discussion of art, education, and philosophy.
  • Three chapters from John Dewey’s “Art as Experience” to better understand his philosophical views and context (at the very least read the “The Live Creature” passage from 525-540).
  • The Wikipedia entry on Richard Shusterman (a contemporary aesthetic philosopher) to see how Dewey’s philosophy continues to serve as a philosophical touchstone (especially the “Definitions of art” section): http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richard_Shusterman (Actually, they didn’t get the Shusterman reading in time, but I spoke about it in my short lecture.)

It was a tough session to plan for, as I wanted to provide a broad view of Dewey’s relevance to art education, but also engage the class in thinking about the use and purpose of philosophy in their own teaching practices. Still, in good hermeneutic fashion, I tried to allow for both.

I asked everyone in the class to say a bit about their background in grappling with a teaching philosophy, and perhaps it was no surprise that people had a wide range of experiences – with respect to geography, philosophy, and education.

During the course of my talk, some interesting questions arose – about the use of wikipedia for doing philosophy, about my description of the “essence” of hermeneutics, and about whether or not teaching experience is necessary for philosophers who grapple with truth(s) of art and education. This latter question was one I did not have a chance to respond to in class, so I’ll respond here: this is a well-worn question across many philosophical disciplines, and there is no easy answer. On some accounts teaching experience is a hindrance, but on most it is an asset. Essential? Let’s not go that far. Valuable? YOU BET.

I’m not sure the philosophy-as-history angle was a useful hermeneutic, but it did allow for an important central argument: that philosophy is a tradition with which art educators must grapple. I hope it was interesting enough for these students to latch onto, and hope for feedback in the future. I’d like to keep working on this set of ideas, and a short lecture is an interesting (if challenging) format.

The students appeared to have engaging discussions about four elements of a “Deweyan Philosophy of Education” I put forward: Context, Definition, Interpretation, and Excellence. I hope they are able to continue to speak back to these four deeply philsophical themes in the future.

Thanks to the students for their energy!

Can (and should) generalists lead experts?

When does one decide to become a generalist? When did I?

Seth Godin insists that “art” should play a central role in the workplace. In Linchpin, he argues that seeing work as art is not only good, but imperative. I believe, however, that Godin would be better off calling his linchpin a generalist rather than an artist. This shift also highlights a consequence of Godin’s view: namely, that there are really two (very different) roles for linchpins: at the top of the proverbial corporate ladder, but also at the bottom. (After all, while considering his great flight attendant-come-linchpin as a maker of “generalism” rather than “art” is less satisfying, I think it’s a more reasonable view.)

Godin doesn’t say much about the linchpins that are stuck at the bottom. The good thing for reigning capitalists: they’re cheap, and relatively helpless. Why? There are so many of them. Democratic education is designed to produce generalists – but a sad consequence of poor educational performance is that it leads to bad generalists. Isn’t developing expertise a natural response to this situation? Indeed, hasn’t this been the emergent role of “higher” education? But now the predicament: the milieu of abundant expertise has taken the glamor away from generalism.

So what’s it like to be a school-aged person in the world today? You don’t have to look very far to see an abundance of despair (or, perhaps more tellingly, decadence). I think the reign of expertise is at least party to blame: expertise is the new mediocre, and the media’s obsession with expertise obscures the role of generalists.

A virtual exhibition that makes you want more

I haven’t been to the MOMA in a while, but I just found the James Ensor Exhibition website which more or less offers a ‘virtual’ version of the show (and serves as a rich online ad). I felt it gave me a ton of information, and also made me want to go to the real thing! That’s not an easy thing to achieve with web design, but art may be well-suited for this since there’s the so-called “aura of the original” that can perhaps best be perceived in person.

I wonder what the equivalent is in education? What is the in-person or social interaction that you would want to have in person even if you could get almost everything of (a practical?) value online?

Note: I did end up going to MOMA and seeing the Ensor show. It showcases a fantastic artist on the cutting edge of his profession… and Modernity as well!

Gauguin’s artistic quest to achieve moral excellence

The following excerpt is from an unpublished essay on Gauguin (the artist) and Genius (the concept). First explored in a chapter in my doctoral dissertation, my argument is that Gauguin was a highly moral person – in spite of his sometimes reckless and irresponsible actions. I think this is an important counterintuitive case, for it allows us to consider how different (and sometimes competing) aspects of personhood define not only our own conception of morality, but moral philosophy itself.

From the introduction:

Why did middle-aged Paul Gauguin abandon his family and social context to live as a poor, reclusive painter? Could a moral conception be said to have sealed his fate to live in Tahiti as an estranged and unhealthy expatriate until his untimely death? The answer may lie in his artistic oeuvre, which includes over forty self-portraits in several different mediums, including more than twenty oil paintings. Here I argue that his self-portraits, in conjunction with his self-reflection in many letters to his wife and friends, form evidence that a conception of artistic genius became a touchstone of his art and life — a comprehensive conception of “goodness” that shaped his reception of tradition and transformed his whole life into a mythic quest.

Further evidence comes in the form of philosophical context. Romanticism and religion, two influential social currents of the Parisian artworld, fed into Gauguin’s perception of himself as an artist — he was, after all, first persuaded to take his painting seriously by his contemporaries. Reflection on spirituality became a prominent feature of his “artistic consciousness,” and became a theme that ran through his work in self-portraiture. This reflection, against a backdrop of Romantic and religious imagery, led Gauguin to discover a concept of artistic genius — heightened by Romanticism’s obsession with aesthetic transcendence — that especially propelled his artistic and spiritual quests.

Cheating is the pedagogy of the internet

I ran across this fun and informative lecture by Jon Ippolito discussing various tensions between cultural production (in general) and the current culture of intellectual property law – where he introduces his idea that “cheating is the pedagogy of the internet.” It’s the written version of a lecture he gave at Columbia University a few years, when I was lucky enough to hear him. His ideas and criticisms about pedagogy and the internet led to his project called The Pool.

Watch and be introduced to other goodies such as:

I’ve been trying to take some of the ideas he touches on here and push them forward a bit. The law stuff is great, but perhaps it’s not the most accessible inroad to thinking about academic honesty. In lieu of that, I’m interested in what kind of conceptualization of education we would need to make room for new technologies that accelerate cheating. (Maybe it would turn out to be an approach to education we’ve always needed?)