Plymouth State University: A Work of Art

This spring I was honored to be nominated by my colleagues to deliver a lightning talk on the future of my institution. Sponsored by the Open Teaching and Learning Collaborative Cluster Pedagogy Learning Community, each speaker had 5 minutes and 3-5 slides to share their vision of how we could move forward — along with 3-5 concrete steps on how we could get there. I did not take this task lightly and thought hard about ways for our particular institution to build on its unique strengths and redress its specific challenges. However, I believe many of these values and ideas can help strengthen any organization during these challenging times and would like to share them publicly here.

As an Art Historian by training, I’m going to enlist the help of a few prominent contemporary artists to present my vision of “PSU: A Work of Art.” Effecting change can be extremely difficult, especially if we are trying to change deeply rooted aspects of higher education. The primary theme of my talk is that if we all take small, repeated actions together,  we’ll be able to make an enormous impact in a short period of time. I’ve borrowed this strategy from Chinese mixed-media artist Ai WeiWei, whose work you see in the background of the first slide. These tiny sunflower seeds are individual, unique porcelain sculptures created by artisans in Chinese workshops. Like the steps I’m asking you to take, each one is quickly executed and has minimal impact on its own. But 100 million of them working together in the Tate Turbine hall creates a monumental impact!

Now, I know the phrase “a work of art” might conjure ideals of perfection or genius in many people’s minds. But any practicing artist knows good art is messy; it’s challenging; it’s frustrating, and you may fail several times and need to go back to the drawing board (that’s another parallel with Ai Weiwei – when viewers interacted with his installation, the clay ground up a toxic dust, forcing him to change the way people experienced his piece). These values can characterize our own process of conceptualizing our university as well. I’m not asking anyone to be perfect – I’m asking us to try to work toward these three priority areas to better serve our students and our communities.

To me, the best version of PSU will be even more inclusive than it is now. My dream PSU is also intentional. Administrators, faculty, and staff are leadings some groundbreaking initiatives at PSU, such as Daniel Lee’s Data Analytics program introduced in our last Lightning Talk. With all these projects underway, the time is right to assess and align our work to make sure we aren’t expending energy on any redundant or irrelevant tasks. This speaks to my third goal of a PSU that is integrated. If people, ideas, and processes are working in concert, we can create a better community and education for all.

But how can we get there? To create a truly inclusive and equitable campus, we all need to make changes. Hiring a Diversity Officer is essential, but its not a panacea. National trends also show that the burden of diversity work has disproportionately fallen on BIPOC faculty and staff, limiting their opportunities to engage in other forms of service and scholarship that are essential to their advancement. So I’m asking each of us to add at least one anti-racist element to each category of whatever document your organization uses to plan employee goals for the upcoming year. For faculty at PSU, this is called a Workplan.

This will look different for all of us: As an art historian, I’ve tried to amplify marginalized voices in curriculum – such as Amy Sherald. Sherald’s portraits validate black subjects and just let them be themselves, and I’ve received valuable BIPOC student feedback that they want to see such positive representations of people of color in addition to necessary conversations about slavery and oppression. As a staff or committee member, we can examine procedures, practices, and policies that may have baked-in inequities. And we can try to recruit diverse populations in searches for faculty and staff, student recruitment, and much more.  

If we’re going to add more work to our workplans, though, we also need to take things away. Hopefully this slide doesn’t make me look lazy or get me fired! But we can’t keep adding without letting things go, like Banksy’s girl let’s go of her balloon. So my second challenge – should you choose to accept it – is to say NO to at least three things for your workplan next year. That includes you, too, administration! Good leaders pick strategic priorities to help realize their vision.

This, too, can take many forms: think twice about starting something new or charging others with new work, or let go of something that’s not working. This can only succeed if we respect that others may have boundaries and priorities that differ from our own, and if supervisors support these choices. To avoid duplicating efforts, we also need to trust one another to represent the best interests of our community. With fewer faculty and staff, each discipline cant’ have representation on every single committee; that’s how committees work, we delegate and trust others to help share the load.

This involves integration, the final facet of my vision for PSU. Integrative clusters are a cornerstone of our university, but defining them has been a challenge. As in any strategic plan, it’s easy to lose the forest for the trees and let smaller obstacles prevent us from reaching the bigger goal. That’s why I’ve included Rivane Neuenschwander’s I wish your wish as the final artwork to illustrate this point. Neuenschwander’s installation features colorful silkscreen ribbons inscribed with wishes left by previous visitors. Viewers are invited to take one and leave behind their own anonymous wishes for inclusion in a future version of the piece. At PSU, we each have our own dreams and desires - classes we’d like to teach, majors we’d like to save, students we want to recruit, service initiatives we hope to implement, workload we’d like to balance. But if we all push our own individual agendas, we all lose. Only by “wishing each others wishes” will we be able to help one another move toward truly public university where all community members feel seen and valued.

Small steps, taken together, can make a tangible, immediate impact. Small changes repeated over time is also the best way to break old habits and create new routines. So I’m excited for each of you to create your own “seeds” and watch them grow into a collective work of art over the year to come.

Transformative Teaching Award

Share Your Curriculum With Me? CAA CFP

There has been a recent boom in the Scholarship of Teaching and Learning in Art History, yet much of this excellent work centers on individual assignments and courses. In my upcoming College Art Association Annual Conference panel, I encourage us to think more broadly about change at the systemic, structural level of our Art History programs. Please apply to share your ideas!

Looking forward to this dialogue!

Sarah

Soul Food: Cooking Up New Curriculum with the CPLC

As part of the Cluster Pedagogy Learning Community (CPLC) at my institution, I’ve been reading about various strategies for improving teaching and learning. I came to this task hungry for knowledge and insight, but I also began to crave more literal forms of sustenance when I encountered a cornucopia of food metaphors in the assigned articles. In addition to giving clarity to abstract pedagogical concepts by relating them to familiar foods, the abundance of nutritional imagery in these posts signals the nourishing, essential functions of education — particularly during the current pandemic.

Matt Cheney’s video on “Interdisciplinarity” in Higher Education compares the concept to a smoothie: the distinct flavors of different fruits and vegetables – metaphors for academic fields – are blended into something completely new and distinct. In this analogy, disciplines are individual fruits and multidisciplinarity is a fruit salad, in which disciplines are mingled rather than merged.

 My stomach and mind started to growl even more when Cathie LeBlanc used figurative food imagery in her own video, “Intro to Project-Based Learning.” She explains that in project-oriented learning, students are taught a lesson – the meal – then asked to do a project afterward as the “dessert” course. But in project-based learning, the project is the meal itself. Yum!

Then I turned to Abby Goode’s “Slow Interdisciplinarity,” which uses food as subject rather than metaphor. Using her “American Food Issues” seminar as a case study, she argues that interdisciplinary takes time. Her perspective resonates strongly with me and is worth quoting at length:

“In our frenzy to be interdisciplinary, we are often quick to label our work and our courses as such, without putting pressure on the implicit knowledge divides and hierarchies that govern intellectual life, without recognizing the vital role that students play in rendering a learning experience interdisciplinary…This fast, frantic version of interdisciplinarity is counterproductive, and it threatens to further destabilize the shifting landscape of higher education.

…What would it look like to apply “slowness” to interdisciplinary pedagogies? As a method of teaching and learning, “slow interdisciplinarity” calls us to be mindful, respectful, and curious about each other’s disciplinary perspectives—to value ways of knowing that might challenge and enhance our own. This “slowness” does not signify “inefficiency,” “smallness,” or “ineffectiveness.” It is not a plea for more time in developing urgently-needed, integrated curricula and pedagogies for the twenty-first century. And it is most certainly not an obstructionist effort to preserve higher education as it is. In fact, slow interdisciplinarity works against a form of hasty interdisciplinary mania in higher education that can often end up confusing learners and our institutional communities as a whole.”

Re-reading these words in the context of COVID-19, I was reminded of Episode 268 on Andy J. Miller’s podcast “Creative Pep Talk,” which was brought to my attention by my colleague Ashley Norman. The eponymous “pep” refers to pepperoni as well as motivation, and pizza is a recurring theme in the series. In this particular episode, though, Miller describes an anecdote from the early days of quarantine in which he slowed down, ditched the usual take-out, and crafted a delicious bowl of ramen complete with marinated soft-boiled egg, ginger, garlic, and sesame. “I just took some time making a meal,” he reflects. “We haven’t really put in the full effort and through the busyness of our schedules and the onslaught of things coming at us we just barely get by. You know, just stuff some veggies here, try to make sure it’s not all junk food. But it’s not really soul food; it’s not nourishing us in every possible way.”

Photo by The Creative Exchange on Unsplash, The Creative Exchange@thecreative_exchange, Brooklyn, NY, USA

He goes on to relate his “spiritual cleanse” of ramen to artistic inspiration, offering the theory “you art what you eat.” In other words, the quality of one’s own creations are directly informed by the sources of inspiration you consume, and by extension, the pace of this process. “As we’re in this isolation,” Miller continues, “what we can do is start digging into healthier inspiration…if all of the inspiration that you’re taking in right now is the fast-food / junk-food of social media — if that’s all you’re really consuming — that’s all you’re really going to be able to make .” Importantly, he cautions that inspiration “is not just about what’s trendy and cool right now from your peers”

As part of the CPLC, I’ve recently had the opportunity to consume high-quality resources on teaching and learning such as Cheney’s, LeBlanc’s, and Goode’s. Their perspectives — with some help from Miller’s — have helped me think through some of the discomfort I’m currently feeling about curricular innovation prior to and during the Coronavirus pandemic. Faculty do not develop curriculum in a vacuum, and right now we are working within a complex and precarious financial climate in which the ongoing existence of our jobs, disciplines, and even our institutions cannot be taken for granted. In this context, curriculum becomes problematically tied to questions of financial sustainability, job security, institutional promotion in ways that I fear may exacerbate the conditions of Goode’s “hasty interdisciplinary mania.”

"In-N-Out Burger" by Like_the_Grand_Canyon is licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0

I am concerned that the principles of interdisciplinarity, project-based learning, and open pedagogy are not inherently nourishing in and of themselves, but may be rushed and manipulated in response to these extracurricular financial and administrative imperatives. The resulting curriculum may be no more nourishing than the fast-food education we’re trying to avoid. For instance, the principles of the interdisciplinary smoothie can be used to make a decadent milkshake. We can serve a project as the main course, but what if it’s a cheeseburger? These are attractive foods in the moment, but will they sustain students long-term? As my CPLC cohort and I move forward creating new “Cluster Curricula” for our university, I hope we can all pay attention to the “prep time” and “baking time” and not just the ingredients of our respective recipes. Above all, I hope we can center the student experience existence and help them slow down, too.

via GIPHY

Admittedly, both my literal and figurative consumption hasn’t exactly been nourishing during this quarantine. I’m definitely gaining what I call the “COVID-19” around my waistline, so why not follow in the Birkenstocked-footsteps of Frankie from Frankie and Grace and pack on some pounds of knowledge as well? I’m sure the CPLC will dish up much-needed nourishment, and I look forward to blogging about more of my findings as I concoct a healthy recipe for the future of art history!

This post is part of a series of posts completed as part of the Cluster Pedagogy Learning Community (CPLC) curriculum through the Open CoLab. 

Learning Means Never Having to Say You're Sorry

My friend sent this screenshot from a recent Zoom meeting. I need to stop apologizing for this smile!

Since my university moved to remote learning, most of the emails I receive from students begin the same way:

“I’m sorry…”

The sentences conclude with apologies for late work, lack of communication, dirty hair, tears, or a host of other imagined offenses.

I understand where they’re coming from, because I’m starting my own emails to them and my colleagues the same way. I’m sorry I haven’t graded your work yet. I’m sorry I haven’t uploaded the most recent class video. I’m sorry I’m dividing my days between teaching you and caring for my infant, and that she’s stealing the lion’s share of my time.

Yet every time I read this phrase, my heart breaks to think that students might be thinking any of this is somehow their fault, that they are somehow in the wrong or deficient in some way. This pandemic is outside all of our control. My response is so frequent that I’ve saved it on my computer so it can be easily copied and pasted:

Please delete "I'm sorry" from your vocabulary this semester. None of this is anyone's fault and we're all doing the best we can!

Of course, I deeply appreciate the politeness and respect of students’ gesture, and there are times where a genuine apology can be the bravest and kindest response. But that time is not now.

I’m reminded of a famous line from a movie from before my students’ time, and even before mine, which is set — of all places! — on a college campus. Throughout the classic film Love Story, spunky Harvard undergrad Jenny reminds her preppy boyfriend Oliver, “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.” Her motto doesn’t apply in all situations — again, certain moments call for heartfelt repentance — but her truism certainly speaks to the nature of teaching and learning during the time of COVID-19. Released in the 1970, the movie’s themes of illness and overcoming class barriers to achieve an education are now amplified and being played out systematically on an international stage as health epidemics and financial collapse. Love Story focuses on emotions shared by a heterosexual pair of star-crossed students, but since entering Higher Education I’ve become attentive to the many different kinds of love that exist on our campuses and that transcend them remotely.

I’ve been overwhelmed the past few weeks by the torrent of opinion pieces talking about teaching remotely during times of crisis, and it’s hard to imagine this humble professor has anything to add to this chorus of experts. But I do have one thing to share, and it’s this.

I’m sorry.

I mean, I love you.

Sarah

The Museum as Medium: An Experiment in Interdisciplinary Project-Based Learning

One April evening in April 2019, I found myself engulfed by a sea of interacting faces. One-hundred and fourteen of these faces belonged to thoughtful and smiling guests at the opening reception of the exhibition Inside/Out: New Perspectives from Incarcerated Artists. Ten of the faces were those of the student-curators, shimmering with nerves but beaming with pride. The rest of the faces encircling the room were present by proxy of powerful portraits rendered in colored pencil — drawings by artists who were currently serving time in prisons nationwide.

What was the process that brought all these faces together? The exhibition opening was the culminating public event for the course The Museum as Medium: Exhibiting Culture on Campus. The course description describes this class as follows: “[students] will draw upon their interdisciplinary knowledge to establish all aspects of Plymouth State University’s new Art History Teaching gallery according to their collective vision. Students are encouraged to respond to the challenges facing galleries today by experimenting with the space's mission, format, and operations.” In this post, I aim to explain the institutional setting that enabled me to develop this course, and how it addressed current pedagogical trends toward Open, Interdisciplinary, and Project-Based Learning.

Genesis of the Course

When I arrived on campus in 2017, Art History inherited a large windowless room that had formerly served as a slide library. Towers of metal slide drawers and projection equipment were stacked throughout the room, shelves of outdated survey textbooks lined the walls, and colleagues had begun using the room to store their retired “sad chairs of academia” and other unloved furnishings. The before and after below shows how messy the space still was, even after I’d already cleared out said sad chairs! My vision to repurpose this space as a gallery coincided with the closing of another campus gallery space on the first floor, so we were able to reclaim the wood floors and lighting to create an extra-swanky space.

From the beginning, wanted to use this space to honor emeritus professors Dick Hunnewell and Naomi Kline, who had spent decades in this room crafting their art history lectures. As Hunnewell observed at the opening, the physical transformation of the space reifies broader changes in art history pedagogy. The conversion of the space from a place where slide lectures were assembled to a space where students can curate their own shows and projects reflects a shift in the field from slides and surveys to projects and themes.

Now that we had a gallery site, I needed the students activate it within the Art History curriculum. Museum studies courses are standard fare in art history programs across the country, and it’s not uncommon for them to include hands-on curatorial projects. What distinguished this spring’s offering was that our students were not creating an exhibition or initiative for an existing or imaginary space – they were shaping the space itself. So while conventional exhibition assignments do touch on multiple areas of cultural work – budgeting, installation, object selection – this class asked them to consider these issues from a broader institutional perspective. They couldn’t simply worry about their own exhibition budget; they also needed to consider how this budget fit into our larger operations, and how we could sustain this for the future. Likewise, they needed to make more than a narrative for a single exhibition; they were required to think about the entire mission of the gallery and its role in the larger campus and regional art scene.

What’s an INCAP?

Students in INCAP courses complete their projects collaboratively: “the project is large and complex enough that it requires input and work from more than one person to be successful.”

This course was part of a pilot program for a new type of General Education course at Plymouth State University, the Integrated Capstone (INCAP). Coming toward the end of a student’s progression through the General Education program, the INCAP asks students to draw on their knowledge gained from previous Gen Ed and major classes in order to “collaborate across disciplines to create signature projects that address a significant problem, issue, or question.” By PSU’s definition, a signature project:

• Is transdisciplinary: The project integrates knowledge from multiple disciplines and sources to create something new that could not be created without all of them.

• Is completed collaboratively: The project is large and complex enough that it requires input and work from more than one person to be successful.

• Is student-driven: While faculty, staff, and community partners provide guidance and coaching, student agency and independence move the project forward.

• Requires metacognitive reflection: Students reflect on what and how they learn and how their learned knowledge, skills, and dispositions might be transferable to other contexts.

• Reaches beyond the walls of the classroom: The work of the project touches the world outside the classroom in some way.

• Has an external audience for project results: The results of the project are presented to someone who is outside of the class.

• Is completed ethically and respectfully: Work on the project engages internal/external audiences and/or partners with mutual benefit.

I knew that my planned museum studies course was going to complete check all these boxes, but at first I was unsure whether the topic – museum studies – was too narrow for the INCAP as we defined it. Yes, I was giving my students an almost excessive amount latitude in how they chose to shape the space. But was it too limiting to ask them to work within a defined site on campus?

The way I see it, there are at least two different ways of defining an INCAP section “topic.” The first is to “theme” the course around a specific issue, question, or area of knowledge. Examples from the pilot include:

·      “One Small Step: Marking the 50th Anniversary of the Moon Landing

·      American Food Issues: From Fast-Food Nation to Farmstands

·      Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Dao

·      Sustainable Innovation in Public Health

Topical courses gives students total latitude to define the project in any way they choose. For example, students in Abby Goode’s American Food Issues section approached the course’s core issues through projects as different as measuring food waste in the cafeteria to rebranding the student food pantry as a less-stigmatizing nutrition center. Conversely, in my class the project was far more defined – if students wanted to, say, launch a model rocket, that would hardly be appropriate! But they had much more freedom to choose on any topic they wished, and indeed, students proposed exhibitions on wide-ranging themes such as environmental advocacy, Instagram art, virtual reality, and New Hampshire women artists. For me, it’s equally valid to structure the class around a theme or an approach, but the question of how much structure – and what kind of structure – is enough to “theme" a class is a major conversation surrounding all student-driven projects on our campus.

Cluster Pedagogy: Open, Interdisciplinary, and Project-Based Learning

You’ll remember from my last post that PSU’s Cluster Learning model has three nodes: Project-Based Learning, Open Education, and Interdisciplinary Inquiry. Here are some musings on how each interrelated pedagogical technique moved our work forward. A common theme in my experience of all three areas was my feeling that I was “doing it wrong,” mostly because I was comparing my own experience with clichés and misconceptions about what good pedagogy should look like. Trying new things can take both professors and students out of their comfort zones!

Project-Based Learning

Active learning doesn’t always look this hands-on, but it did when we were renovating our gallery space!

I joined the faculty running the sections noted above in a fellowship cohort. We met monthly in a reflective practice group to share and learn from our challenges and successes. When it was my turn to present midway through the semester, I made a confession: I thought I was “doing it wrong”! What was happening in my classroom didn’t look like the stock-photos accompanying the many pedagogy articles I had read. No one had hammers in their hands. They weren’t huddled in a circle wearing goggles and smiling over a chart. And they certainly weren’t standing on tables shouting “oh captain, my captain!” Was what we were doing actually Project-Based, then? Was it Open? Was it interdisciplinary?

Despite having a PhD in interpreting images, I had completely misread the visual of what was happening the room. The very next class, we had a guest curator speak with us. The first question a student posed to her was: “What makes something a gallery? Is it the physical space, or is it more of an idea?” The depth of this question made me realize that while my students had looked physically passive at their desks, their minds were actively engaged in critical work on their project. This was an important lesson: project-based and active learning can look different ways, and often doesn’t appear as flashy as we like to tell ourselves. My quiet, methodical class was in fact engaging in what Goode calls “slow interdisciplinarity,” working thoughtfully through the project on their own terms. That said, I think the students may have also internalized this preconception about how project-based learning should look. Because when the tools did come out, the first thing they wanted to do was pose with them — see the action shot above!

Overall, in terms of Project-Based Learning I felt this course was much more successful than my concurrent Opening Contemporary Art initiative because the project was a central driver of everything we did.

Open Education

Posing with DeWitt Godfrey’s steel sculpture on our field trip to deCordova Sculpture Park + Museum, this photo could be seen as a metaphor for how each student’s individual contribution supported the overall project. And also possibly an album for a 90s rock band.

The calm and quiet class dynamic didn’t last long, because project-based learning tends to bring students together! Soon we shared suite of inside jokes about early 2000s music, luxury skincare brands, and getting adopted by the rich folks whose fancy driveway we used to pull a u-turn in our field trip van. Getting to this point was one of the biggest challenges of the class, both for me and the students.

I wanted my classroom to be Open, so I encouraged the students to organically choose the structure and composition of their own working groups. Some of my colleagues also took this approach, whereas others sorted the students themselves using various strategies. Once again, I thought I was “doing it wrong” because my students just wouldn’t split up into groups. Wouldn’t it be productive to have a finance group, a curatorial group, and a marketing group, I suggested? But I later realized was inadvertently imposing my own professional knowledge about how museums are normally divided into departments. Why couldn’t our gallery have a flatter, more collaborative administration where everyone contributed to every decision? The students had inadvertently addressed a major controversies in museums today: the hierarchical power dynamics among staff, collectors, and artists. Everyone said they did not want to divide up because they wanted exposure to the widest range of experiences, and it wasn’t until the end of the semester when the needs of our project timeline necessitated them to divide into a Writing Team and a Graphics Team.

“Open” was not just a way of executing our project, but also a primary theme in the project itself. The whole idea of Open Pedagogy was starkly contrasted with the experience of our collaborators, incarcerated artists whose lives were the opposite of “open.” Agency thus became a theme of the exhibition as well as the structure of the INCAP.

Interdisciplinary Inquiry

Picking up Artwork from the Freedom through Art Collective.

Interdisciplinarity was key to exploring this issue of agency in an ethical, authentic way. The goal of the show – bringing visibility to incarcerated artists – was inspired by one student’s Women in Crime class that she was taking through the Criminal Justice department. This was her first class in that field, and none of us – myself included! – knew much about the penal system. We soon found ourselves tripping over our words. Do we call the artists criminals or inmates? Is there a more PC word for cell? And how do we balance our desire to humanize the artists without glorifying them at the expense of their victims? CJ Professor Kate Elvey came to class to share her expertise and talk through these issues with us. We partnered with the Freedom Through Art Collective to learn more about the ethics of displaying work by incarcerated artists, and they became external partners who lent us the work for our exhibition.

Simultaneously exposed to Criminal Justice and Art Historical ideas, students drew fascinating parallels between prisons and art museums. Whereas the small, windowless gallery originally posed spatial challenges, one student remarked that it actually echoed the feeling of being enclosed in a cell. We read Brian O’Doherty’s classic text “Inside The White Cube” and learned how the white walls of art galleries are used to support existing power structures, which invited parallels with prison architecture. And when we laid out our gallery guestbook before the opening, it felt eerily reminiscent of a prison’s visitor log. I’ve recorded some of the student’s other gems of curatorial wisdom in this video walkthrough:

A video walkthrough summarizing the student-curator intentions behind the exhibition Inside/Out: New Perspectives from Incarcerated Artists at the Hunnewell-Kline Gallery in Plymouth, NH

Interdisciplinarity was important not only in the content of the show, but also in our methods of creating it. The student evaluations suggest they perceived themselves as a very interdisciplinary group even though those disciplines were closely adjacent: studio art, graphic design, art history, anthropology, and education. Each class member brought slightly different expertise to the table to design a logo, set up our social media, and so forth. Perhaps the best example of this is how our education major organized a station for visitors to send feedback to the incarcerated artists, adding an interactive educational element to the display.

A goal of the INCAP is for everyone to bring their own disciplinary expertise to the table in this way. However, with my students I actually saw disciplinary knowledge flowing in the opposite direction: students were forced to step outside their majors in order to solve project-related problems. Individuals who would normally be intimidated by a budget, uninterested in the prison system, or too intellectual to pick up a paint roller were motivated to enter these new fields and learn the new skills necessary to complete their projects.

Graphic design students brought their expertise to bear on our provocative press materials.

Outcomes and Next Steps

Let’s go back to the scene I set at the beginning of this post. I can’t say this in a less cheesy way: my heart was about to explode with pride for what my students had accomplished. While briefly thanking our 100+ guests, I talked about how the students worked together collaboratively as a single, non-hierarchical, leaderless group. What if every institution could work this way? Our government, our schools, our galleries, our prisons? It struck me that this generation of students would be the leaders of such organizations when my own unborn baby was growing up, and it gives me so much hope for her future that young people are thinking differently about their institutions rather than passively accepting the status quo.

 Many students reported that what they’d done didn’t “click” until they were able to talk about it with people who attended. As educators we often talk about the educational process being more important than the product, but in this case the public-facing, non-disposable result was vital. One student reflected:

“[A] professor [at the opening] wanted to know why our exhibit did not focused [sic] on the crimes these artist[s] had committed. I explained that many of these artist[s] had quotes that talked about making artwork while incarcerated and focused on how important it was to them. For our class it was not about what they had done to be in prison but rather we wanted to focus on how creating artwork is so essential to these prisoners. We wanted to look at them for the artist[s] they are and what drives them to make art and not to belittle their work by pointing out the wrongs they have made in life. At the end of the conversation I had with the professor I am not sure she agreed with our ideas but I think this was an important part of our exhibit.”

Another wrote:

"In our second reading post, it was said that the materiality of museums as buildings, coupled with the materiality of their collections, is important for what was called the ‘objectification’ of culture. It turns culture and identity into a “thing.”’ Presenting culture and identity in this way naturalizes them, makes them seem mere matters of fact.  Once we decided that we wanted to obtain work from incarcerated artists, I wanted to make sure that their work was expressed in a fair manner. It was important to me that we were not objectifying the inmates. I thought about whether or not we would be helping them or harming them. It made me wondered whether or not these artists would be immediately prosecuted.  I did not want to tell people that would be visiting the galley why these people were locked away. It was important to ensure that viewers felt a connection and the right connection. The artists wanted to be seen as normal human beings trying to make the right decisions in life. Not many of them are. That is why I love Freedom Through the Art Collective. It gives prisoners a chance to be treated like humans who are praised for their talents rather than being rejected for their mistakes."

If a goal of the INCAP is to “touch the world outside the classroom in some way,” these students’ work went even further to reach into the closed-off, often-invisible world of the prison system. In a previous Museum Studies course I might have simply assigned readings on diversity and empathy – but through project-based learning, the students actually fostered diversity and empathy in a cultural space. They repeatedly said “I just got chills!” at various stages of project development, suggesting the outcomes were visceral and embodied rather than simply intellectual.

The entire team poses at the opening with Art History Emeritus Professors and project namesakes Dick Hunnewell and Naomi Kline (back row center).

 Of course, the class wasn’t perfect. The short length of the semester gave us little time to assess and reflect on what was happening as we went along, and we were lucky our external partners were willing to work with our unreasonable timeline. We also became so focused on the exhibition at hand that certain gallery operations were overlooked. Above all, the next round of students will need to put more thought into how we can keep the gallery sustainable even in the “off-season” when an INCAP class is not running.

In my next post, I’ll share some tips I learned at last summer’s Institute on Project-Based Learning at Worcester Polytechnic Institute that might help me — and hopefully you as well — weather these challenges more smoothly. But in the meantime, I’m embarking on the ultimate “project-based learning” experiment – having a baby!  

Sarah

Out in the Open: Opening Contemporary Art

As my last post outlined, Cluster Pedagogy has three cornerstones: Interdisciplinarity, Project-Based Learning, and Open Education. For me, Open Education was the gateway principle that led me to the others. I was relatively unfamiliar with this concept when I arrived at my current teaching job, but fortunately the internationally renowned Open expert Dr. Robin DeRosa is the Director of the Open Learning and Teaching Collaborative at my institution. Within my first week on campus, she delivered a passionate presentation that started my journey out “into the Open.”

The approaches DeRosa presented opened my eyes to several ways in which traditional teaching methods - many of which I unknowingly still practice(d) - can limit accessibility to knowledge. Costly print textbooks are a barrier to many students’ education, so assigning Open Educational Resources that are freely available online can maximize student success. Moreover, inviting students to contribute to actual creation of such resources can empower them to shape the scholarly discourse on a topic rather than passively absorbing it. Such OEPs - or Open Education Practices - place students in charge of their own learning in what DeRosa calls a “Learner-Driven” model. To learn more, watch her “Introduction to Open Pedagogy” webinar co-presented with Rajiv Jhangiani, Special Advisor to the Provost at Kwantlen Polytechnic University, or check out the Open Pedagogy Notebook OER.

In Spring 2018 I first integrated OERs into my course Foundations of Art: Visual Culture by asking students to blog. Though blogging is hardly a radical pedagogical practice at this point, it radically changed my classroom. Students who had struggled with conventional short essay response during the previous semester were performing much better, and one who had even failed my fall Foundations course earned straight As throughout the spring.

Those ATI blues: Color coordinating with former PSU Academic Technologist Katie Martell...and the tablecloths. We were asked to introduce ourselves by drawing a portrait with some information about ourselves - including a hobby - then charting the connections we made with other attendees on an analog social networking board.

In May and December, I attended the University System of New Hampshire’s Academic Technology Institute as an Open Education Ambassador to explore ways I could build Open principles into my other courses. My project proposal? To co-create a textbook with my Contemporary Art Seminar. The fluid, ever-changing landscape of the contemporary art world poses major instructional challenges that textbook authors have yet to confront. First, traditional art history textbooks rely on a “canon,” a limited set of recognizable “masterpieces” that have withstood the test of time. However, the impossibility of gaining critical distance on recent art makes canonization impossible. More importantly, I want my students to challenge the very existence of a canon as a deeply flawed mechanism that imposes artificial order on unruly material, often to the exclusion of women and minority artists. Finally, contemporary art reflects multiple perspectives, but the available contemporary art textbooks are often written by a single author. Using a traditional textbook thus undermines the core philosophy of my courses, at great pedagogical and financial cost to my students. For more of my thoughts on this issue, check out my “Meet Your ATI Ambassadors” interview with Ryan French.

Last spring 2019 I put the plan into action, and collaborated with my students on a digital textbook of contemporary art that aims to account for the volatility and mutability of our subject matter. For the first step, they completed a Textbook Analysis paper that analyzed the structures and content of existing textbooks. They explained what was working for them and what was not. I was surprised by the acuity of their observations that unnecessary “filler” text wasted the time of both the reader and author, or that the elitist tone of a textbook could limit accessibility just as much as the textbook’s cost. Their next step was to author thematic or chronological texts that could serve as the introduction to a chapter, section, or subsection. In lieu of the paper sequence I normally assign, I had them craft entries on a two contemporary artist that related to their introductions to begin fleshing out a chapter. Here is their preliminary brainstorm of topics:

Contemporary Art Seminar students share some of their chapter ideas for the Opening Contemporary Art textbook. Their choices reframe the course content according to themes that reflect their own experiences of contemporaneity.

Some of the topics above provide the bread-and-butter topics essential to any discussion of art since 1980: site-specific art, appropriation, feminism and postmodernism. Others explore topics that professional art historians are just now starting to consider, like hardcore punk posters and “fan art.” Over the years, it is my hope that students can build and refine this archive. The result will be a mix-and-match Open Educational Resource that will allow me and other instructors to group different sets of artists into different thematic “chapters” based on changing contemporary needs. Such a customizable textbook would allow instructors to flexibly structure their courses thematically or chronologically, while enabling them to pick and choose the artists they deem most relevant at the time. In turn, these units can double as nodes that interface with potential projects in other disciplines: for example, one could craft a textbook on “Art and the Environment” by combining artist entries with relevant chapters from an OER Environmental Science textbook. On the last day of class, we charted some of these possible intersections and recombinations on the whiteboard:

You can see how the dense web of contemporary art may not lend itself to a linear print textbook!

This was definitely a pilot, with the attendant successes and failures. Here’s an overview of what worked well versus what I will do differently next time around:

What worked well:

H5P - H5P is an open-source program that allows you to create a broad range of digital interactive activities: maps, annotated videos and images, surveys, quizzes, sliders that can compare two overlapping images, and more. You should have seen my face when I first learned about everything H5P can do at our January ATI meeting - you would have thought I was watching an most exciting action movie rather than a presentation on academic technology! At first the students were understandably intimidated by the new tool, and we hit some snags figuring out how to actually add these activities into the textbook. But once we got the hang of it, H5P was surprisingly easy to use and generated some really thoughtful modules. Here are a few examples:

Here, Felix Gonzalez-Torres’ installation is meant to be participatory, as viewers are invited to take a piece of candy. A printed textbook image is static, but H5P allows student-readers to interact with the piece closer to how the artist intended through the joy of “picking” a piece of candy. For me, H5Ps are most successful when the “medium matches the message” as it does here.

Similar to the first H5P example, the “image slider” H5P option was carefully chosen to emphasize the student-reader’s understanding of the content. Being able to compare and contrast an artwork with its source helps students better understand the fine line between copying vs. reworking a source image in contemporary art.

This last example was made by an Art Education student, and I hope it’s something she could see herself using in her own pedagogy. This “annotated video” function has a lot of potential for online teaching at all levels.

As an educator myself, I saw three primary benefits of using H5P. First, the same students who struggled to articulate themselves in writing were able to better express their ideas by choosing from a wide range of H5P options. Also, many of my students are Art Education majors, and can create H5Ps to facilitate their own classroom teaching. Above all, the H5P additions to our textbook accommodate a wide range of learning styles in the OER spirit of accessibility.

Student Ownership - Much contemporary art is made to resisting static, oppressive institutions - political, economic, artistic. So once again, the medium of our Open textbook matched the message of the art discussed within because it, too, resisted the behemoth commercial textbook industries. We also debated whether it made sense for a professional art historian to determine what art and topics were “contemporary,” when they were arguable more removed from contemporary culture than the young artists in the class. The latitude to craft their own topics led to provocative new chapters never found in print textbooks, such as artist-musician collaborations and skateboard art. This seemed to create a sense of ownership in students, one of whom said this was the first writing assignment she’d wanted to share with her family and friends.

Areas for Improvement:

The OER Needs to be Central to the Course - I initially thought that I could swap out the independent research paper sequence I normally assign for textbook entries and continue to run class more or less normally. I was wrong. Even after devoting four or five full class periods to textbook support, the project still felt disconnected from what was happening in the classroom. I finally diagnosed the problem at the end of the semester when I learned the distinction between “project-oriented” and “project-based” learning from Brandon Haas’ and Elisabeth Johnston’s primer on experiential learning. The former asks students to apply content or skills they’ve already learned to complete a project afterward. Project-based learning, however, centers the project itself and teaches content and skills through the project. Next time, I’ll make the textbook a core of the curriculum.

More Discussion and Collaboration - This dovetails with my observation above that the project needs to be the centerpiece of the class. The days where students discussed the results of their Textbook Analyses and the connections between their topics (imaged above) were really exciting! Even those days where students simply worked on writing their independent entries alongside one another in the classroom gave us the physical connection necessary to feel like true co-authors. We needed more of this.

More Guidance for Topic Selection - The whole point of Open Pedagogy is student agency, so from the outset I thought it was important for students to choose their own topics. Exactly as I’d hoped, this generated cutting-edge original scholarship on topics such as the aforementioned artist-musician collaborations and skateboard art. However, the innovative young scholars who proposed these ideas were essentially punished for their bravery by having to hunt harder for accessible, quality resources. This created some workload equity between students who chose well-trodden terrain and those who to probe harder to find information on under-researched topics. Next time around, I’ll offer a list of options for students to choose from while also welcoming ambitious students to choose their own, with the caveat that a new topics require more original research and critical analysis. With any open class, an important challenge is to find a balance between openness and structure so the students have both support and choice.

In the spirit of Open, I’m sharing the OER resources I created for this activity:

• Textbook Analysis Assignment

• Thematic Introduction Assignment

• Artist Entry Assignment

I hope you learn from our experiences and continue to follow Opening Contemporary Art as it evolves next semester!

Sarah

Gestation

How could I let another whole year slip by without blogging? Oh wait, I know…I’ve been gestating. Gestating my pedagogy, gestating my scholarship, and in the most literal sense…gestating a human baby!

Photography by Maundy Mitchell. See more at http://maundymitchell.com/maternity-portraits-for-sarah/.

Let’s begin with that last announcement. In January my husband and I learned that we were expecting our first child. In the beginning, excessive tiredness really slowed the momentum of my teaching and research. But since then, I’ve been blessed with an extremely smooth pregnancy. My body has been doing the hard work of building my baby all on its own, freeing up my mind to perform other forms of intellectual gestation.

Photography by Maundy Mitchell. See more at http://maundymitchell.com/maternity-portraits-for-sarah/.

If gestation is “the development of something over a period of time,” this word certainly applies to the way i’ve approached my educational endeavors over the past few months. There continue to be many changes and innovations at my institution, and I sometimes find it challenging to respond to new pressures and opportunities in a timely fashion while also doing quality work and making well-reasoned, well-researched decisions. I’ve been hard on myself for being too slow, whether it’s too slow to revise the Art History curriculum or too slow to post on my blog. Good thing my colleague, Abby Goode, is recoding “slow” in a positive sense in her forthcoming article on “slow interdisciplinarity.” Quality outcomes take work, and, well, gestation.

Just like the baby inside me, intellectual growth is not always visible every day, but it swells over time and will someday be revealed to the world! So as I gear up to take my maternity leave, I’d like to catch up on sharing some of the professional projects that have been gestating over the last year: creating an Open Educational Resource (OER) with students, piloting a student-driven Integrative Capstone (INCO) course, and gaining further training in Project-Based Learning (PBL).

Think I can cover everything by my due date? Don’t worry, I’ll probably deliver late…academics never meet their deadlines!

Sarah

525,600 Minutes

As the Rent musical soundtrack reminds us, each year has 525,600 minutes - but is this the best way to measure a year in a life? I've had many daylights, sunsets, and cups of coffee, as the song continues on. Just check out the photo above, which was taken from my own backyard! But the defining feature of the past 365 days has been my new role as a Program Coordinator and Assistant Professor of Art History in New Hampshire. There are many ways to measure my time at my new home: in classes, in faculty meetings, in office hours, in field trips, in outdoor adventures. This post is my best attempt to fill in what I've been up to over the past year - if not quantitatively, then qualitatively.

An interactive panel discussion with PSU Art Faculty. Featuring Nick Sevigney, Phil Lonergan and his daughter Ruby, Kristin Horan, Jay Moskowitz, and moderated by Sarah Parrish. Held in conjunction with the Museum of the White Mountains’ exhibition, Sources of Inspiration: Friends, Family, Connections.

I could not have asked for a warmer welcome when I arrived on campus last fall. In particular, The Museum of the White Mountains invited me to participate in their programs in an integral way. I was honored to showcase my scholarship on contemporary craft as part of their autumn Members Only event, and I also moderated two "ArTalk" panels in conjunction with the faculty exhibition. Speaking with my studio art colleagues about their work was a great way to get to know them better, and the dialogue generated fresh insights about our respective practices.

Jeffrey De Blois’ lecture at the Museum of the White Mountains, Uploaded by Plymouth State University on 2018-03-19.

In the spring, I teamed up with the Museum of the White Mountains again to bring alumnus Jeffrey DeBlois to campus to speak about his role as Assistant Curator at the Institute of Contemporary Art. Specifically, he discussed his supporting role on the exhibition Art in the Age of the Internet, 1989 to Today. This interdisciplinary focus was a perfect fit for our program, which is housed not in a traditional department but in an Arts and Technologies "cluster." You can read about the event here or watch the video above.

Textures and colors in Forms and Alterations at Boston University Art Galleries.

While exciting things were taking place on campus, I also had the opportunity to steal away on several field trips. As the faculty advisor to the Student Exhibition Club, I chaperoned a trip to Montreal that the group co-sponsored with the Student Art Collective. In the spring, I packed up the giant rental vans again to take my Women, Art, and Society class (along with a few stowaways) to see some Boston exhibitions tackling issues of gender. Former Boston University classmate Sam Toabe gave us a tours of HARD: Subversive Representation at the University of Massachusetts Art Gallery, while Lynne Cooney provided an intimate view into Boston University’s Forms and Alterations, a show dealing with with identity and sexuality through artistic adaptations of clothing. Unlike blockbuster museum shows on elite designers like Alexander McQueen, Cooney considered how fashion can affect social change from the bottom up rather than the top down.

BFA Seniors at the MFA. From left to right: Julie Mosso, Rob Hansen, Rae Bujeaud, Caity O’Leary, Felicia Wells, Sarah Parrish.

Another very special occasion that took me back to Boston was the Visual Culture Consortium's Eleventh Annual Undergraduate Art History Symposium. Four of my students submitted competitive proposals, and BFA Senior Caity O'Leary (center) was selected to deliver her paper “The Macabre, Monsters, and Mankind: Francis Bacon’s Biomorphic Surrealism.” The fact that her entire BFA cohort bused down to see her speak is a testament to the supportive and caring student body that I get to work with everyday.

Left: Installation view of Denis Mwaura, Being and Becoming. Right: Celebrating with the artist-curator at his Lavender Graduation ceremony.

These seniors have accomplished so much, and they're only just getting started! Denis Mutungi is another senior I had the privilege of working closely with. You know the hip phrase "farm to table" restaurant? Well, Denis created a "studio to gallery" exhibition for his capstone Being and Becoming at our student-run Collins Gallery, pictured above. He won the Rainbow Tassel at PSU’s LGBTQ+ Lavender Graduation and it was an honor to celebrate his artistic advocacy with him at this special event.

Hamming it up with the three other adjudicators at Conception Art’s summer even in Boston.

Working predominantly with studio artists is a highlight of my teaching practice right now. It is rewarding to help them navigate conceptual issues in their artwork while pointing them towards established artists and theorists who can offer inspiration. So when Conception Arts asked me to judge their Boston pop-up event, I jumped at the opportunity to work with more emerging artists as they kick of their careers.

525,600 minutes. All those minutes and I couldn't seem to manage a single blog post! What brought me back, you might ask? The answer is: my students. While I was MIA from the blogosphere, my Visual Culture and Contemporary Art classes were busy breaking the internet with dynamic new content. This task demanded them to master a new genre and voice with distinct conventions that are very different from a traditional academic essay. The assignments often ask the bloggers to relate course concepts and readings to other aspects of studies or their lives beyond the classroom. How does globalization in art relate to globalization in other arenas, such as cuisine, clothing, political science? Can comparing a painting to your favorite song better understand Roger Fry's distinction between form and content? Describe a collection you curate, such as a playlist, bookshelf, or Instagram feed. Follow these links for a sampling of their different approaches:

Raeanne Bujeaud, Studio Artist

Taryn Hines, Art Educator

As Spring Semester wore on, I felt rather hypocritical for asking my students to blog without modeling this behavior myself. So in the year to come, check back often to see how I'm spending the next 525,600 minutes of my life - or at least a couple of them.

Until next time,

Sarah

RAWk Star

Imagine staring at a rock - a dull, gray, lump that's rough to the touch. It doesn't have much importance, doesn't really stand out, nor does it capture your interest. What if I told you that you're missing something?

A geode waits to be discovered and seen for what it is. This visual poem uses scenic imagery to explore inner beauty, introversion, social interaction, and self-acceptance. Filmmaker: Rachel Newman. Kiely Quinn. Group: POV Check out Raw Art Works, home of the Real to Reel Filmschool, where we believe that all kids should be seen and heard. http://www.rawartworks.org/ Want to see more films like this? Consider a donation to Raw Art Works. A $20 gift allows our youth to become inspired by film and more prepared for their future. https://donatenow.networkforgood.org/rawartworks Help us ignite the desire to create and the confidence to succeed in underserved youth!

So begins the college application essay written by Rachel, my mentee at RAW Art Works in Lynn, MA. Well, RAW uses the word "mentee," but I often found that she was the one mentoring me! Take her college essay, for example. After introducing the reader to a plain rock, she proceeds to show that appearances can be deceiving. If you make the effort to crack the stone's obdurate surface, it reveals a sparkling crystal geode interior - a metaphor for her own introverted yet brilliant persona. In her film that inspired the essay (posted above and worth a watch) she eschews the prevailing view that introversion is something that needs to be overcome. I wish I were that comfortable in my own skin when I was 17 - heck, I still haven't learned this lesson at age 31!

Rachel and her hand-painted RAW graduation robes. How clever is that brush tassel?!

Over the course of the year, we worked together on her college applications. Her unending optimism and work ethic during this process was a constant source of inspiration for my own parallel job search. This fall, Rachel is UMass Amherst-bound with a slew of scholarships! In the long run, she has an innovative and  selfless vision to combine elements of psychology, landscape architecture, natural resources, and film production to create spaces that protect the environment and improve the population's well-being.

You can support RAW Art Works and their rewarding mentoring program by hitting up Flatbread pizza in Somerville TOMORROW, Tuesday July 11. Or better yet, become a mentor yourself!

RAWk on,

Sarah

Doctored Photos

May is not only my graduation month, but also my Blogiversary! Around this time last year, I embarked on my blog and personal website to give my current and future friends, family, students, and colleagues some insight into my academic and personal life. My first post was about a friend's graduation, and one year later, now I'm the one in the goofy robes! We art historians are all about material and visual symbolism, so we are in a unique position to appreciate the spectacle of the academic graduation ceremony and regalia. My sister Taylor, owner of TaylorMade Artistry, captured the day in a series of amazing photographs. Today's blog post, then, will be a sort of visual essay of my commencement and the celebrations that ensued.

You have to appreciate the irony of two contemporary art critics (my advisor Gregory Williams and myself) posing in front of this totally tacky painting. 

My sister Taylor, the photographer behind today's post, rocking some fiber with her handmade tassel necklace.

A perk of being a contemporary art historian is that your vibrant publication covers can do double-duty as decorations!

My mom Susan Parrish made these Post-It notebooks for graduation party favors. More of her work is on her website and Etsy store, In the Woodz.

Because I study fiber art, my advisor made me this God's Eye as a graduation present. I don't know as much about the history of these objects as I wold like, but one fitting interpretation I found online indicates that they can be used to mark rites of passage.

It was bittersweet to spend the day with so many smart, supportive people. But when one door closes, another opens...stay tuned to see where I'm headed next! 

Happy Summer,

Dr. Parrish

The Best Defense Is...

As a lifelong student-athlete, I'm a big fan of bringing cheesy sports metaphors into the academic vernacular. "You miss 100% of the shots you don't take" feels very appropos to the grant and job application process, while the Nike slogan "Just Do It" is pretty much the only way to get through a long writing project. So when it comes to defending one's dissertation, people are always tempted to invoke "The best defense is a good offense" as in the comics below.

Cartoon from Randall Munroe's "XCKD - A webcomic of Romance, Sarcasm, Math, and Language." 

However, the dictum "There's no 'I' in 'TEAM'" is much more relevant, as the dissertation defense is one of the few - perhaps only - times that a doctoral candidate's entire academic team is assembled. I was fortunate to have a well-balanced team of five knowledgeable coaches in my corner. For my 9 years at Boston University, my primary advisor Gregory Williams has been a receptive listener, knowledgeable teacher, and motivating mentor. My second reader, Patricia Hills, has provided critical feedback as well as firsthand insight on the 1970s art world (it was not uncommon for her to casually remark in the margins of my drafts that she was having brunch with the scholar I cited the next morning). Jenni Sorkin far exceeded the expectations of an external third reader by guiding my professionalization process and deepening my craft consciousness. BU professors Ana María Reyes and Cynthia Becker rounded out the committee, taking time out of their busy teaching and research programs to ensure that I was attentive to issues of race and coloniality. After I finished, I was surprised by a campus visit from my three favorite cheerleaders: my husband and my parents!

The Lego Grad Student's reinterpretation of XKCD's original comic. If you aren't following this sharp, witty Tumblr, you need to start immediately! 

The format and structure of a doctoral defense can vary from field to field, school to school, and even committee to committee. For example, the Lego Grad Student (above) gave a Powerpoint presentation. Mine was more of a conversation about how I can improve upon the project, deepen my analysis, and ultimately develop my project into a book. I am excited to tackle my revisions and start the next chapter!

Yours,

DR. PROFESSOR PARRISH, PHD!!!!

Emerging Voices at the American Craft Council

I wrapped April up with a bang by presenting my research at the American Craft Council's annual board meeting, in conjunction with my Emerging Voices Scholar Award. The ACC made me and my fellow winners and finalists feel like celebrities, taking our photographs for American Craft magazine and shooting footage for short video interviews. I can't wait to share the final products with you!

The title slide of my presentation.

Leading up to this event, I had been thinking a lot about my role within the Emerging Voices group, for I was the only Scholar out of the six of us; the rest are artists. This process of reflecting upon my identity as an academic actually began during the winter, when I was presenting my research on contemporary fiber and textiles to a group of college-level studio art students. I received an inquiry during the question and answer period that caught me a bit off guard: a student asked me, “Do you make art?” To which I replied, “No, as an art historian I interpret art: I write and speak about the importance of art in relation to its historical moment, to its culture of origin, and to the longer sweep of art and theory.” Then another hand shot up, and second student interrogated: “So you don’t even knit, or crochet or quilt or anything?         

Any teacher knows that you can learn as much from your students as they learn from you, and this anecdote is a classic example of this type of interchange because it prompted me to revisit the important issue of what is it is that art historians, and specifically craft historians, actually make: What are our materials and methods? What final form does our scholarship take, and where should this material by circulated? And above all, who is our audience, and how can we best serve them? The answers to such questions vary from one individual to next, and in my presentation for the board, I gave my own perspective as just one of many diverse voices emerging in the dynamic discourse surrounding craft today. After describing some formative experiences that helped me arrive at a craft consciousness, my presentation walked the board through the three case studies of my current research project. I tried to explain how they will intervene not only in so-called “craft history,” but also in the plural histor-IES of art and popular culture more broadly conceived.

This month the ACC also released the inaugural issue of their journal American Craft Inquiry. My reflection on their fall 2016 Present Tense conference is included. It's titled "A Rich Ecosystem," and I've linked the text in the cover image above and on my publications page. 

Stay tuned for more posts soon - May is a big month for me!

Sarah

Student Spotlight: Anna Speaks at MIT

This is the second time in my memory that we have had a spring snowstorm in Boston on April 1st, and I think it's a testament to my former student Anna's magnetic personality that her entire support team braved the morning cold to come see her present at the MIT Graduate Consortium of Women Studies' 2017 conference, "The Personal is Still Political: Challenging Marginalization Through Theory, Analysis + Praxis." Her paper, "Together Yet Apart: Felix Gonzalez-Torres in 1991 (The Billboard Series)" was included on the panel "Performance as Praxis: Art + Representation as Modes of Resistance." It was an adaptation of the paper she submitted for my Summer 2015 course, Contemporary Art: 1980-Now. She also used the essay as the writing sample for her graduate school application to Boston University - where now she is no longer my student, but my classmate!

Anna's paper addressed the conference theme "the personal is political" through Gonzalez-Torres' series of billboards representing the empty bed he once shared with his partner Ross, who died of an AIDS-related illness. She saw the collapse of public and private spaces in the billboards as a subtle form of activism, arguing that "while some expose privacy in order to oppress, the artist thinks we should expose privacy in order to unite." This idea of community was also of concern for Kyrstin Felts, an MA student in Communication Studies at McGill University. Her paper "Tumblr Feminism: the Role of Personal Blog Posts in Building Feminist Communities Online" provocatively argued against the popular interpretation of online resistance efforts as "slacktivism." Rather, she viewed the casual accessibility of Tumblr as an source of activist empowerment. In "Reclaiming the Whore: Mimesis in Performance Art," Ess Neissl, an MA student of Women's, Gender, + Sexuality Studies at SUNY Albany, extended Kyrstin's discussion of virtual spaces by examining how artists such as Amalia Ulman's parody of Instagram's It-Girls "exists in the very form that it deconstructs."  Turning from visual to musical representation, Jamielynn Varriale, PhD candidate in Latino Studies at the University at Albany, circled back to Anna's theme of Latino masculinity with her talk "Crudo Soy: Los Crudos, Hardcore Punk, and Performative Identity Politics." Her lecture elicited many questions from the audience, including apt comparisons to Riot Grrrl. 

In addition to the session's eponymous themes of art and performance, I detected two other provocative currents coursing through the four talks. First, all of the speakers situated their respective subjects as agents navigating specific spaces: city streets, web forums, and punk dance halls. To quote Ess, "content and context matter." Moreover, I was struck by how all four panelists highlighted forms of activism that were somehow "impure" or "diluted." For Anna, Gonzalez-Torres made his AIDS critique more palatable through beauty, universalism, and metaphor, and for Kyrstin and Ess, the familiarity of social media rendered it a relatively non-intimidating site for resistance. Jamielynn likewise made a point of qualifying that "being in a band is hard work, but its not the same thing" as other activist modes. I am left wondering: in the 1990s to the present (both Anna and Jamielynn's papers begin in 1991) are forms of radical activism no longer tenable? Or are the brands of "soft" activism outlined on this panel precisely what we need to enact change in our image-saturated, late capitalist climate? 

I'll leave those of you who are snowbound this weekend to ponder these issues...

Sarah

Editing Art and History with Nayda Cuevas

In most minds, the phrase "Spring Break" conjures a tropical MTV landscape populated with "bros" and bikinis. Or, at the very least, a quiet week away from campus. But for graduate students and academics, work goes on! I did, however, take a "Spring Break" of sorts by putting my dissertation revisions down long enough to work on a side project: freelance editing Nayda Cuevas' forthcoming self-published book, Puerto Rican "American": Uncovering Suppressed Histories Between Puerto Rico and the U.S., which you can buy later this spring on her website: www.naydacuevasart.com.

A trio of portraits from the series #Latina: Reclaiming the Latina Tag, on view at the Arlington Art Lounge. View more examples from the series here. 

I met Nayda in 2014 while working on her MFA thesis project as a writing tutor at Lesley University College of Art and Design. At the time, she was doing a body of miniature smartphone-scale paintings that dealt with Latinx identity and activism through hashtags. By tenderly and faithfully reimagining Instagrammers' selfies in paint, she illustrated a wide range of Latinx appearances and experiences - which often defy the limited stereotypes presented in the media. 

A sneak peek of images from Puerto Rican "American": Uncovering Suppressed Histories Between Puerto Rico and the U.S. At left, a government document pertaining to Nayda Cuevas' grandfather, Angel Ramos Torres; at right, Nayda's artistic rendition of his friendship with PR Nationalist leader Pedro Albizo Campos, Los Compadres, silkscreen.

Her latest series of silkscreen prints is quite a formal departure; at first I didn't realize she had made them herself! Instead, I mistook them for the authentic vintage advertisements and political posters that inspired them. My confusion was perhaps prompted by the fact that Nayda has collected and compiled a substantial dossier of primary historical documents pertaining to her family history: birth and marriage certificates, ship manifests, and even redacted declassified FBI papers! By following the trail of these documents and corresponding with historians and relatives, Nayda's text and images uncover a dramatic story that is both personal and political. 

In addition to editing Nayda's draft, I was also able to see her prints and paintings in person at the Arlington Art Lounge at the event "It Wasn't Our Choice: Untold Histories Between Puerto Rico and the US." If she hosts more evenings like this, you should definitely attend: they are immersive cultural events with food and music in addition to art! I may not have been able to travel internationally over Spring Break, but Nayda's writing and visual art certainly took me to new destinations in my career and consciousness. 

What are you doing for spring break? Share in the comments!

Sarah

College Art Association Conference Re-CAA-p

How can conferences be so invigorating and exhausting at the same time? I'm wrestling with this paradox on the train back to Boston from the College Art Association Annual Conference in New York City.  

What's black, white, and red/read all over? The title slide of my 2017 CAA presentation!

I wore multiple hats at this particular event. First and foremost, I presented my paper "Throwaway Society: Ed Rossbach's Con/Temporary Basketry" as part of the composed session Exhibitions Between Art and Design. Following this new format, my two co-presenters and I submitted papers independently and were paired up based upon shared themes rather than responding to a pre-formulated question posed by a session chair. Because there is no formal chair for composed panels, we split the the responsibilities. I had the honor of introducing the major concepts unifying our talks: materiality, display, and temporal disjuncture. Rossbach articulates these ideas by combining ancient, enduring textile techniques with disposable detritus of the 1960s and 1970s United States. Thanks are due to the Center for Craft, Creativity, and Design, who generously sponsored my stay in in NYC for the second time with a Craft Research Grant. 

The Critical Craft Forum never ceases to inspire. Discussant Jenni Sorkin, Assistant Professor at University of California Santa Barbara and member of my dissertation committee, is at the podium. Co-chairs Namita Gupta Wiggers, CCF powerhouse, and Benjamin Lignel, Art Jewelry Forum, bookend the speakers.

With my own talk over early on Thursday morning, I was free to relax and enjoy the other panels, such as the Critical Craft Forum's eighth CAA session, Gender and Jewelry. Julia Heineccius, Evergreen State College, made a powerful point about fashion photography: "the jewelry is borrowed, the body is hired." This visual conceit is essential for marketing jewelry to customers who can imagine themselves wearing it, thereby vicariously transforming themselves into the idealized model. renée c. hoogland, Wayne State University, used an equally direct, compelling soundbyte to summarize the prevailing normative cultural expectations of gay versus straight lives: "In everyday life, heterosexuals are, homosexuals become." For example, straight cisgender people are rarely asked to consider the process by which they discovered their sexual identity, whereas LGBTQ are repeatedly questioned about when and how they "came out." In the context of a panel on jewelry and subject formation, hoogland sees this closet metaphor not merely a space of hiding and shame, but one that houses valuable tools for overcoming gender conformity: fashion, accessories, or as James Tigger! Ferguson so memorably put it, "my dead grandma's jewelry collection." If you missed this session, keep checking the CCF site and Facebook group; a podcast or publication of the event is forthcoming.

Installation view of Françoise Grossen Selects at Museum of Arts and Design, New York. The flames of yarn in the foreground are by my dissertation artist, Claire Zeisler!

Sometimes I think that a list of the sessions one attends at their field's annual conference paints a composite portrait of that individual as a scholar. Here is mine: So Near Yet So Foreign: Negotiating Touristic Experience Through Design; New Materialisms in Contemporary Art; Reception Studies in Modernism: Reinterpreting Modern Masters; Art After Zero: Making Sense of the Aughts; Reinventing the Familiar: Updated Approaches in Art History and the Studio; and State of the Art (History): Pedagogy Laboratory. 

Of course, a trip to CAA wouldn't be complete without playing hooky for a few sessions to check out exhibitions around the city. At the Museum of Arts and Design, I caught the Peter Voulkos retrospective and Françoise Grossen Selects. It was valuable to see her work in person again after giving a talk on it last fall.

Finally, I leave you with some exciting news unrelated to CAA: The American Craft Council (discussed in my post last October) named me their 2017 Emerging Voices Scholar! I'm thrilled to be acknowledged by an organization that I respect so highly, and that does so much good for American makers. Plus, I'm in such good company; I can't wait to meet the Emerging Voices Artists when we convene later this spring!

'Till next time,

Sarah 

A Colby Homecoming

Maine has always felt like a second home to me: I grew up spending summers with family at Wells Beach, studied at Colby College in Waterville as an undergraduate, and even married a Mainer! Though I frequently return to the state to visit my in-laws in Portland and Old Orchard Beach, I drive the additional miles to my alma mater far too rarely. Seeking to change this, I had a true "throwback Thursday" when I returned to campus last week. Though nostalgia initially drew me back to Mayflower Hill, it was the new ideas and connections that made my day truly special; as always, the weathervane atop Miller Library is perpetually poised to point students in new directions. 

Museum Memories - Here is a "Throwback Thursday" shot of me and my husband, Evan, posing with a portrait I painted of him at my Senior Art Show in '08 at the Colby College Museum of Art (we met Freshman year through Colby's club sports). Painting was fun, but think I should stick to analyzing it rather than making it!

After catching up over lunch at The Last Unicorn (order the green goddess dressing!) with my former art history professor Véronique Plesch, I spent some time roaming the Colby College Museum of Art. Sol LeWitt's conceptual wall drawings have been a signature part of the building's architecture since he custom-made Wavy color bands within a gray, red, yellow and blue border for the lobby in 1996. This was the arrangement I was familiar with during my time at Colby (2004-2008), but that version was taken down when the lobby was repurposed during the museum's expansion in 2013. However, LeWitt's art became an even more dazzling centerpiece in the form of a three-story projection of Wall Drawing #559 in the Alfond-Lunder Family Pavilion. A great video of its installation is available here - what a useful teaching resource! Another cornerstone of Colby's collection is The Alex Katz Collection of approximately 900 works. I love the chic, high-fashion character of figurative paintings like Ada's Black Sandals (above). Who knew in 1987 that sequined, TOMS-shaped shoes would have a comeback two decades later? Alex Katz, that's who. 

Left: Selfie with Sol! Right: Kicking up my heels (literally) on Barbara Gallucci's topiary-inspired study seating in the Bixler building (Boston readers will recognize this body of work from the MFA's current Landscape, Abstracted exhibition, which - like Colby's installation - activates a liminal hallway space). 

In addition to mainstays like Katz, LeWitt, and an encyclopedic collection of American art, Colby has mounted an excellent program of temporary exhibitions. Given my research on the intercultural functions of textiles in contemporary art, Teresa Margolles: We Have a Common Thread was a must-see. The six large-scale textiles were displayed flat on illuminated tables in a dramatically darkened, black box-style gallery. They reminded me of cadavers in a morgue, and indeed, the fabrics were all involved in murders, stained with blood and punctured with bullet holes and other wounds. Margolles collaborated with women in the areas where the violence had occurred in order to reclaim and recode the fabrics through loving additions of appliqué, embroidery, and assemblage, executed in both traditional and contemporary local techniques. Likewise, my dissertation examines earlier collaborations from the 1970s between Sheila Hicks and textile workshops in Mexico, India, and Morocco. These were largely motivated by economic rather than social concerns, and Hicks's laborers remained anonymous whereas Margolles's named authors tell their own stories via fiber as well as video. In both scenarios, however, the projects spin a "common thread," whether this universal value is a shared goal for an improved quality of life (Hicks) or a mutual recognition of the violence and political strife across cultures (Margolles et al.)

A closely cropped detail of Teresa Margolles, Nkijak b'ey Pa jun utz laj K'aslemal / Opening Paths to Social Justice, 2015. Embroidery on fabric permeated with blood from the body of a woman assassinated in Guatemala City. Created with participation of Mayan women members of the Asociación de Desarrollo de la Mujer K'ak'a Na (ADEMKAN): Bonifacia Cocom, Lucy López, Yuri López, Silvia Menchù, Claudia Nimacachi, Lucrecia Puac, Estela Tax, and Josefina Tuy. 78 3/4 x 18 3/4 in. 

In the evening, I attended the event "Picasso in the Classroom," in which Dr. Plesch's five seminar students presented their final papers from a course structured around the artist's Vollard Suite (1930-1937), recently acquired by the museum. The class made rich use of the college's resources, ranging from a hands-on explanation of print processes with printmaking professor Scott Reed; firsthand viewings of prints by Picasso and his sources, Rembrandt and Goya; and technical support for a multimedia website situating the Vollard Suite in its biographical, historical, and artistic contexts. 

Professor Plesch making her introductory remarks against the colorful backdrop of Rivane Neuenschwander's interactive installation, Zé Carioca e Amigos (Zé Carioca contra o goleiro Gastão) [Joe Carioca and Friends (Joe Carioca vs. the Goalkeeper Gastão / 1961)]. By the way, this is the wall that used to sport Sol Lewitt's wall drawing while I was on campus - Neuenschwander coincidentally reprises his poppy, variegated color scheme!

In her introduction, Dr. Plesch remarked that in her 22 years at Colby College, she had never seen a group of students work so well together. Over the course of the panel, it indeed became evident the five students were even more closely knit than Picasso's frenetic hatch-marks: not only personally, but intellectually. During the Q + A, for example, one presenter pointed out how all five papers addressed questions of feminism from different perspectives. Referencing a talk from visiting Picasso scholar Karen L. Kleinfelder, another emphasized, "It is redeeming that we talk about these images as rape" rather than aestheticizing or romanticizing the seductions. Her comment raised the urgent issue of sexual assault on college campuses, underscoring just how relevant this series is today despite (or perhaps because of) its seemingly distant historical origins and patriarchal underpinnings. Most of the panelists are studying abroad in various locations this spring, so watch out, art world - here they come!

It appears that I have a lot of new inspiration to "mule" over (that's our mascot, aren't I punny?!). I'm already looking forward to upcoming trips to Colby College view the exhibitions No Limits: Zao Wou-Ki (Spring 2017) and Marsden Hartley's Maine (Summer 2017). See you on the hill!

All best,

Sarah

Gallery Talk on Françoise Grossen

Institute of Contemporary Art/Boston

Sunday, November 13, 2016 - 2pm

FREE with admission

I'm thrilled to return to the Institute of Contemporary Art/Boston later this month to lead a discussion on one of my favorite pieces from their 2014 exhibition Fiber: Sculpture 1960-Present, Françoise Grossen’s Inchworm . Now part of the ICA's permanent collection, it is on view as part of First Light: A Decade of Collecting at the ICA. Hope you can join us!

ICA Gallery Talks are offered the second Sunday of every month (except January). Conversations are led by artists, scholars, and other creative professionals who share their perspectives on contemporary art at the ICA.

On the Conference Circuit: ACC to SECAC

The past few weeks have been a marathon of listening, learning, speaking, and networking, first at the American Craft Council's Present Tense Conference in Omaha, Nebraska, October 13-15, and then at SECAC (formerly the Southeastern College Art Conference) in Roanoke, Virginia, October 19-22. The events each offered abundant inspiration in their own right, but attending them in close succession enabled me to make connections between materials, ideas, and practices that spanned both events. 

The 2016 American Craft Council Present Tense Conference Scholarship Award Recipients at the industrial-chic venue KANEKO, with Jun Kaneko's ceramic heads in the background. Photo by Ben Semisch. 

The American Craft Council’s generous scholarship program provided me and other emerging professionals with an invaluable opportunity to attend their triannual meeting. Many conferences in the crafts are inhibited by their emphasis on a single material (clay, metal, fiber) or approach (academic, creative, curatorial). In contrast, Present Tense stimulated rich intellectual, aesthetic, and social exchange by bringing together students, teachers, trustees, entrepreneurs, and artists practicing in a range of media. Though my research may focus on fiber, some of my most helpful interactions at the conference were not with textile artists and historians, but rather with ceramists, woodworkers, and glass critics. Their perspectives broadened my craft knowledge in clay, metal, wood, and glass, providing inter-media frameworks for understanding the behavior and meaning of fiber in my own scholarship. 

Oblique view of Sonya Clark, Tendril, 2007, combs.

Of the many debates addressed throughout the weekend, those most relevant to my research and pedagogy concerned the interface between craft and ethics. Questions of cultural appropriation are central to my dissertation, which explores the ways in which American fiber artists of the 1960s and 1970s drew inspiration from textile traditions beyond the borders of Europe and the United States. These difficult tensions are more effectively explored through conversation rather than in isolation, and it is a positive reflection on the state of the field that virtually every Present Tense panel made a point to discuss issues of diversity and access. Otto von Busch’s energetic presentation was filled with conceptual tools and vocabulary—such as Barbara Deming’s concept of “two hands of nonviolence,” Brian Eno’s “scenius,” and his own neologisms “compassionate fashion” and “strategic sloyd”—that offered new insight into the actions and intentions of the artists I study. Likewise, Sonya Clark, Nicholas Galanin, and Tanya Aguiñiga’s powerful rebuttals of racial tokenism underscored the urgency of addressing white privilege in the arts. 

Enamel on aluminum works by Roanoke artist Dorothy Gillespie in Legacies: Honoring Artistic Luminaries from Southwestern Virginia at the Taubman Museum of Art. Foreground: Ribboned Presence, 1993. Rear left: Tiered Arrangement III. Rear right: Colorfall Series, Garden, 1993.

Sonya Clark was a hinge between both events. Following her riveting artist's talk in Omaha, I was able to view her exhibition Follicular: The Hair Stories of Sonya Clark at the Taubman Museum of Art in Roanoke. The power of her work stems equally from their conceptual and material properties, making it crucial to experience their texture and, in some cases, participatory elements, in person. At the Taubman I also discovered some new favorites like Dorothy Gillespie in an exhibition titled Legacies: Honoring Artistic Luminaries from Southwestern Virginia. The rad palette and patterns of Gillespie's enamel-on-metal sculptures from the 1990s made me nostalgic for my childhood in that decade.

I love the play of textures and colors between my patent-leather wedges and this dazzling "fauxaic" (yes, I am coining that word. You're welcome!).  

Another fantastic art venue in the area is Eleanor D. Wilson Museum at Hollins University, which hosted a reception for the SECAC 2016 Juried Exhibition on Friday night. There were some great works on view, but as a newcomer to the school, the vibrant campus stole the show. The entrance to the museum was paved with a temporary spray-chalk installation, and by the door were two decorated trash cans that I learned were part of a "Battle of the Bins" competition among the students. From this example, it seems evident that Hollins students are deeply invested and creatively engaged with their surroundings.

A slide from my presentation, in which I identify formal congruences between the sculpture Claire Zeisler made (left) and collected (right). Both of these fiber objects juxtapose a densely articulated upper register with loose, cascading strands below.

My interdisciplinary experience at ACC was so rewarding that I chose to emulate it at SECAC by attending a range of sessions on studio art, pedagogy, and technology in addition to my typical art history circuit. My own presentation was titled "Connective Threads: Claire Zeisler's Post-Primitivist Fiber Sculpture," part of the panel "Eclecticism, Appropriation, Forgery: Issues of Borrowing in Art." I was satisfied with my talk, but not with my title. Have you ever submitted an abstract at an early stage of a project, only to find that your subsequent research diverges from - or perhaps even contradicts - your original title? Of course, by that time, the said title is printed on the program. I chose to confront this issue head-on in my talk by thematizing the disjuncture between my expected and actual research outcomes in my talk itself. I concluded: "The title of my presentation, 'Claire Zeisler’s Post-Primitivist Fiber Sculpture,' was initially borne out of my personal desire to view the artist as a figure working within the constraints of primitivism while endeavoring to move beyond them. Instead, my analysis of Zeisler’s ambivalent collecting and sculpting practices suggests that perhaps the potential for moving post-primitivism lies not in individuals, but in objects. The palimpsest of material messages in each of Zeisler’s fiber sculptures provides physical evidence of specific cultural traditions while recognizing their common humanity." 

What conferences or events have inspired you lately? Post in the comments! 

Sarah

Student Spotlight: Eva's Essay in WR

The Boston University Writing Program has been one of the most important influences on my pedagogy to date. As a fellow from 2014-2015, I participated in over two semesters worth of professional development seminars, and designed freshman composition courses on specialized topics related to contemporary art and craft. One of program's many indispensable resources is their annual journal, WR, which publishes exceptional student essays from Boston University writing courses. Instructors are encouraged to incorporate its articles into their lesson plans for students to use as attainable models of the textbook's teachings in action. Needless to say, I was thrilled when the editors selected an essay by Eva G., a student from my course WR100-K9, When Cultures Collide: Global Perspectives in Contemporary Art! 

Not only did Eva contribute an essay to the collection; she also won the annual Cover Design Contest. She explains: "The reflective puddle, the distorted quality of the marks in the water and the stones convey an other-worldliness, which in turn highlights the fact that students’ ideas go far beyond a single essay and have much greater implications in the world."

Eva's essay, "Passive Objectification: Vulnerability in Yoko Ono's Participatory Art," was one of 13 selected out of 429 submissions. Yes, you read that correctly: 13 out of 429! The way I was running around the department boasting about her success, you would have thought it was my own article that had been published. In my Instructor's Introduction, I elaborate further on why Eva's essay was so successful, and how it may serve as constructive model for other students:

"Writing is an inherently participatory, communal act, as a scholar can only form a meaningful argument in dialogue with other artists and authors. Students in WR 100, “When Cultures Collide: Global Perspectives in Contemporary Art,” directly addressed this issue of participation in their third paper assignment, which asked them to contextualize an international visual artist’s work against relevant theories of interactive art. Yoko Ono, an artist renowned for her individuality, nuance, and grace, seemed a natural choice for Eva Gallagher, who exhibits these same qualities in her sophisticated prose.

"Eva’s essay is notable for its dexterous treatment of multiple types of sources. A historical performance such as Ono’s Cut Piece must be contemplated through its documentation: videos, photographs, and an “event score” or script that dictates the action. Eva met this challenge by translating her visual source materials into lush descriptions, which in turn, she interpreted using the theoretical texts assigned for class. She further expanded the discussion to include carefully selected sources from her own research. Perhaps Eva’s nuanced approach to these visual and textual materials stems from her concurrent work in graphic design: her composition Puddle Illusions adorns the cover of this issue of WR. Ultimately, Eva’s conclusion links Ono’s proto-feminist examination of gender to contemporary feminist efforts, such as the “free the nipple” campaign on social media. In so doing, Eva reveals how Ono’s piece transcends its original 1960s iteration to illuminate urgent contemporary concerns, both within and beyond academia and the art world."

Eva's full essay is available here, and you can learn more about her cover design here.

Enjoy!

Sarah