One of the biggest challenges on journeying through this PgCert will be the writing. I’m not going to hide from that fact.
- What to say?
- How to say?
- Does it make sense?
- Will it be understood?
The Introduction to Research as Practice, at its conclusion requires a 4,000 word essay. We can supplement it with visuals such as maps, illustrations and photographs but these will still need to be surrounded by words.
I find it a challenge to sit down and write. There are many ways in which one can procrastinate. This is the freelance monkey whispering in one’s ear that one should be making sure all the commercial plates are continuing to spin.
Yet when I attend a writing workshop (there have been a few) and I am brought into the right headspace by the tutor, I find myself immersed, the words flowing freely, uninhibited by my own second guessing voice.
Today’s IRP workshop session was split into two parts. Lorrice Douglas our co-leader of the unit shared her practice. It was a way of us getting to know her more and also her sharing how we might construct our final submission for the module.
I have started backwards in reading the conclusion of an essay that it is suggested we read called Research and the Self (Biggs and Karlsson, 2012) in which Morwenna Griffiths states:
“In arts-based, practice-based research the self is inescapable, because the person creating, responding to, working, developing or evaluating performances, artefacts and practices is central to those activities.”
This quote has given me pause for thought because I have never seen my practice as being about me since my focus is other people’s stories. Of course I realise that it is impossible for me to remove myself, as the stories I am interested in are an intrinsic part of who I am, and especially as it is something I recognise in other artists whose work I admire.
The second part of the session was a writing workshop Writing as Practice with writer Joanna Pocock who also teaches Creative Writing at UAL.
She spoke about the creation, by Dorothea Brande in the 1930s, of ‘free writing’ as a pedagogical tool and its subsequent development in the 1970s by Peter Elbow. I had previously used this approach having read about them in Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way and Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg but the habits they should have instilled have slightly eluded me in recent years.
During the workshop we discussed making the obvious physical and mental space for writing but also more crucially, creating time as a space in which to write (and daydream).
Not surprisingly ten minutes of free writing, followed by a discussion, some reading and a lunch break led to a very relaxed 30 minutes of writing about the object we were asked to bring to the workshop.
Writing metaphorically is not my style so I was surprised by what I produced. I think much of this was Joanna’s suggestion to create keywords of nouns, adjectives and verbs which derived from studying our object and thinking about its location within our living space.
It’s seems slightly cheesy as I read it back to myself, but in an attempt to get out of my own way, I’m going to leave it here anyway.
I am a long way from home.
I once lived in the ocean but I now see the sunrise from a bookcase in the opposite hemisphere from where I began.
It is so not lonely. I now reside in a tiny colony with other molluscs and strange though it may seem we have a shared history.
We have all travelled here by way of friendship. Gifts exchanged between dear ones. Our purchase a symbol of those who are loved and left behind.
Our exteriors are are tough, resilient, created to protect our once fleshy undersides and interiors.
Me, I shine. My texture is smooth, silk like, but work your way around my contours and you will feel the edges and holes where others have rubbed against me. Pummelled me. My ridges and colours are scars not of my own making.
Tilt me toward the light and see what you want to see. There is no one colour to describe me. I represent the world.