Author: emilypringle

I have always been interested in the relations of power that exist in the researcher – researched relationship.  Who is more powerful and what is the basis of that power?  How is that power manifested?  What can be done to reduce levels of inequality in the relations of power?  Recently I have had reason to think about this relationship of relative power and the anxieties that this can provoke for both researchers and researched within the art museum.  This in turn has prompted me to explore why that anxiety might exist.

The fact that research is necessarily bound by ethical codes is one indication that the potential exists for the researcher to abuse their position of power and that protection must be given to the researched.  The Nuremberg Code of research ethics that was developed after the second World War enshrined the principle of  ‘informed consent’ to ensure that no one can be forced to take part in any research against their wishes.  Whilst vast amounts of time and intellectual energy have been spent constructing and embedding ethical principles and establishing procedures to safeguard research subjects’ privacy and confidentiality, to prohibit deception and uphold the highest standards in research.  In theory then there should be no reason for anyone who is being researched to feel vulnerable, since they are most likely to have given their consent to being part of any research and will be covered by clear ethical codes of conduct. Yet in my experience the anxiety remains.

Perhaps this is not surprising.  In an article on ethics and politics in qualitative research Clifford Christians lists some of the deeply unethical research that has taken place since the Nuremberg Code was introduced, including the deceptive research that took place in the 1960s and 70s that was highly criticised for psychologically abusing research subjects.  More broadly, Christians criticises the absolutist ‘neutral’ position assumed within ethical protocols that fails to take account of the complexities of power relations associated with race, gender, class and sexual orientation.  He points out that it is not enough to write a set of research ethics and assume that a good moral researcher will cause no harm to the researched.  In his view ethical research comes through a levelling out of the power imbalances inherent in the researcher – researched entanglement.

In a previous blog I have referenced the work of Michel Foucault. His analysis of power and knowledge is helpful in understanding how dominant discourses define and legitimise certain knowledge whilst excluding other forms of knowing.  In research terms the action-researcher Peter Reason makes the connection between research, knowledge and power. He observes that; ‘one of the key questions about research is the political one; who owns the knowledge, and thus who can define the reality?’  For me Peter Reason’s statement sheds light on one of the fundamental causes of anxiety amongst research subjects, which is that in the majority of cases it is the researcher who owns the knowledge gained through a research process.  The researcher is the one who defines the reality and the research subject has to trust that this reality will not misrepresent or injure them.  And the greater the disparity in power between the researcher and research subject, the more profound that level of trust has to be and the greater the scope for anxiety.

But what if the relationship between researcher and research is radically reordered? Indigenous researchers including Linda Tuhiwai Smith whose work I have mentioned previously have long argued for ethical research practices that are based on principles of mutuality, care and respect.  Such practices acknowledge multiple knowledges, are highly reflexive and seek to bring about positive change.  They recognise the limitations of the positivist position that makes clear differentiation between the ‘expert’ researcher and the ‘nonexpert’ research participant.

There is much in these formulations of research that I see as useful and relevant to the art museum of today.  Adopting these as best we can would seem a productive way of reducing the anxiety felt by individuals within cultural institutions whilst opening up our practices to much needed and valuable scrutiny.

A key responsibility in my new role as Head of Research at Tate is to work closely with colleagues to refresh our existing strategy for research across the organisation.  We are in the middle of this collaborative activity and I want to take a moment to reflect on aspects of this process as it is taking shape.

I see real value in having a strategy for a number of reasons, the most obvious one being that it will articulate a strategic direction and map out not only what we are aiming to do but also how and when we are going to go about it.  Crucially the strategy will also set out why we are prioritising certain strands of activity and ways of working.  In this way the document will manifest our values and provide clarity.  It will also make transparent the approaches we are likely to adopt, particularly in terms of how we will work with colleagues and collaborators internally and externally.

Incorporating these elements into a strategy is fairly fundamental as I have discovered.  Sitting waiting for a train the other day I idly typed ‘how to write a strategy’ into my phone.  Reading through the advice that immediately surfaced it became clear that key steps in the strategy-writing process include:

• Outlining our vision, purpose and goals, as well as our responsibilities
• Articulating what we want to change and how we want to grow
• Evaluating our current position – what are our strengths and weaknesses, where are the opportunities and what might the possible blockers be
• Establishing priorities and setting out the steps that will enable us to achieve what we are setting out to do and when
• Identifying how we will know that we have achieved the changes

I am fortunate in that we already have a clearly identified vision for research that has been agreed by Directors within Tate.  The work we are doing now is focused on how we translate that vision into a set of strategic and realisable aims and objectives with an associated delivery plan.  It certainly involves reviewing with colleagues across the organisation how we have got to where we are now and where we want to be in five year’s time.  It requires taking on board the organisation’s priorities, seeing how these translate into the types of research we need to be doing.  It also invites productive speculation – what could we do that we have never done before?  What are the changes we need to introduce and how can we do this successfully?  Who should we be working with that we might not have engaged with prior to now?

A further positive element of working on the strategy is that it is prompting in-depth thinking and dialogue with people across and beyond Tate.  This thinking and talking is already contributing to one the changes we are seeking to bring about – that of embedding research across the organisation.  At the same time this continuing input is refining and enhancing our original ideas.  Ultimately the strategy will be the product of many people’s ideas, which will mean it is more likely to be relevant and useful to the widest range of colleagues and collaborators.

Linda Tuhiwai Smith writes in her brilliant book ‘Decolonizing Methodologies: Research and Indigenous Peoples‘ that ‘systemic change requires capability, leadership, support, time, courage, reflexivity, determination and compassion.’  I would agree with all of those and add that it also requires a plan.  Writing the research strategy is only a starting point.  We are mindful that we need to keep referring to and amending the strategy as we go, rather than writing it and then putting it on a shelf never to refer to it again. Our plan is to publish the research strategy on the Tate Research website once it is signed off, to keep it visible for us and others and to help us implement the changes it will outline.

Some time ago I wrote in this blog on what I described as the four discourses of the art museum.  The four discourses represent in my view the at times competing agendas that the art museum negotiates today.  These discourses play a key role is shaping, amongst other things, how institutional resources and time are prioritised, what activities and knowledge are seen as more or less important and what messages the museum seeks to communicate.  And in the previous blog post to this one I drew attention to how philosopher Michel Foucault deploys the term ‘discourse’, highlighting how in his terms discourses are shaped by the relationship between knowledge and power.

You might gather from this that the concept of discourse is important to me, both as a way of understanding how institutions operate and as a means of unpicking them so as to bring about change.  What I had not come across until recently, however, was the idea of ‘museum discourse’ as a way of framing and interrogating how museums communicate and what that can tell us about these organisations.

The concept of museum discourse stems directly from the field of discourse analysis, itself a field of linguistics that considers how written or spoken language is employed in a social context.  In very simple terms, researchers undertaking discourse analysis examine in close detail the language employed in a given scenario so as to understand from such things as grammar, syntax, style and frequency what the underlying meanings are.  So, much like corporate discourse incorporates the communications that a corporation makes with its public and shareholders, museum discourse is made visible through websites, press releases, interpretation texts, corporate plans, mission statements, annual reports and so on.

I learnt a great deal more about museum discourse at a seminar I attended recently at Turin University convened by Dr Federico Sabatini and Dr Cecelia Lazzeretti.  Over the course of a day I heard from researchers who had made detailed comparisons between museum websites dedicated to accessibility and to engaging very young children.  I heard about how the language of museum press releases has changed over the last 50 years and why, and I came to understand better how the branding of a museum can shape our perceptions of it in multiple ways.

I was particularly fascinated by the study undertaken by Professor Marina Bondi from the University of Modena and Reggio Emilia, in part because one of her case studies was the Tate Kids website.  Professor Bondi examined how museum websites try to engage young children, looking in detail at the language employed on their pages directed at young children.  Many things have stayed with me from this talk, but one finding resonated especially.  In identifying the frequency of key words on the Tate Kids site, Professor Bondi identified that the words ‘she’ and ‘art’  occurred most regularly.   A simple finding perhaps, but what it revealed to me was the significance of museum discourse in manifesting institutional values – in this instance the organisations’ commitment to foregrounding women artists.  What I recognised in hearing this was the importance of researching the details of museum activity, as well as the bigger pictures.

Being mindful of how museums use specific words is ever more important at a time when language is increasingly recognised as political.  Studying how museums employ language through the lens of discourse analysis is an effective way of doing this.  Yet, as Dr Sabatini writes in the abstract for a recent paper, ‘Museum Discourse is under-researched, notably in terms of its positioning and dynamic meaning production.’  What I have come to realise is that, by paying attention to the granular details of language, museum discourse analysis can tell us a huge amount about how the museum’s values are made real in the world and what the implications are for practice in the future.

The association between knowledge and power sits at the heart of much of my thinking around art museums.  Issues of who feels welcome in the museum, whose ideas and interpretations are valued and whose voices are heard most loudly are all entangled in, and shaped by how knowledge is constructed in relation to power.   Looking at this has helped me understand why museums can operate in exclusionary ways.  It has also informed my views on how research needs to acknowledge and ideally act to disrupt practices that reinforce entrenched prejudices around what constitutes valuable knowledge.

I have found the writings of the philosopher Michel Foucault to be hugely helpful in tackling this issue.  His argument that knowledge is intrinsically linked to power and is formed within the context of practices of power makes sense to me.  As does his recognition that dominant discourses define and legitimise certain knowledge whilst excluding other forms of knowing.

Take for example, LGBTQ+ representation in museums. Historically, stories and images of same-sex love and desire, have been largely excluded from heritage sites, museums and galleries across the world. Falling outside of dominant societal narratives, representations of gender diversity have themselves been marginalised.
And although over the last decade representations of diversity have increased, in museums there is still a way to go. Rachel Lennon, National Programmes Curator for the National Trust puts it clearly when she says, ‘the historic characters we meet on our day out still disproportionately reflect male, white, elite, straight, cisgender, non-disabled lives. This minority continues to dominate the understanding and presentation of all our history’. The museum or heritage site can be guilty of maintaining the dominance of the powerful by continuing to naturalise meanings that confirm the existing social and cultural order. This practice has far reaching implications, for, as Rachel goes on to say, ‘the exclusion of LGBTQ+ narratives from public history, from the mainstream of the cultural heritage sector, not only displaces the lives that have been omitted or misrepresented, it dislocates LGBTQ+ people from their shared past’.

What Rachel is saying so clearly is that, in their presentations of art, cultural institutions tend to reinforce the powerful. Those whose beliefs, values and identities are well represented within museums and galleries are further legitimised, whilst those whose cultural forms are excluded, themselves remain so.

This can too often be the case for young children, whose voices and knowledge can be undervalued or disregarded by museums.  I am therefore encouraged by the Lines of Enquiry research being undertaken at the Fitzwilliam museum in Cambridge that is seeking to address this imbalance and foreground very young children’s experience in the art museum.

In a seminar I attended on January 31st at the Fitzwilliam I heard from Professors Chris Pascal and Tony Bertram from the Centre for Research in Early Childhood (CREC) who are utilising research methodologies that privilege the voices of young people.  And I learnt from researcher Dr Abi Hackett how museums and those researching children’s experience within them need to acknowledge the shifting changeable nature of knowledge and buildings.  Abi argued against the separation of knowledge and place and instead advocated for more complex intertwined formulations that allow for an ‘unravelling’ of the customary order of knowledge.  She saw this as a way of destabilising conventional power/knowledge relationships.

Like myself, each of the researchers presenting at the seminar acknowledge the political nature of research and the importance of adopting an ethical position in relation to knowledge.  It was an inspiring day to hear others speak so eloquently about this.

 

 

 

In the UK, as elsewhere, a great deal of energy and thought is being given to issues of diversity, inclusion and difference in museums.  Network activist organisations including Museum Detox are challenging major cultural institutions and museums to bring about greater representation for those who identify as black, Asian, Arabic or of dual heritage in their workforce and programmes.  The 2018 Museums Association Conference took as its theme ‘Dissent: inspiring hope, embracing change’ with papers and discussions focusing on the need for ‘decolonisation’ of museum collections and a revised approach to interpretation that acknowledges the troubling history of many museum objects.  I recently attended a two-day seminar at the V&A entitled ‘Practices of Engagement and Contested Heritage Collections: Past, Present and Future’ which was one in a series of events organised under the AHRC Care for the Future theme.  Over the two days we explored a range of topics from reaching out to under-represented communities to provenance research and the repatriation of museum objects.

 

And this is just a tiny sample of the work going on. Museum professionals are needing to consider the language employed, attitudes revealed and current systems in place that maintain discriminatory museum structures.  Words such as ‘diversity’, ‘inclusion’ and ‘difference’ are themselves under scrutiny, as is the language of ‘decolonisation’, with rich debate happening across the sector.

But what role can research as a practice play in this debate?  Or put another way, how can research support greater diversity within the art museum? As a white woman I am aware of how much I need to learn and am very tentative about writing on this topic or claiming any expertise.  However my involvement in one particular research initiative at Tate is revealing a great deal to me about how research can open up a space to address issues of diversity, inclusion, knowledge production and power.  Hence I thought it might be of value to share some thoughts on it here.

‘Inclusive Futures‘ is a year long pilot research programme led by Dr Karen Salt, the Director of the Centre for Research in Race and Rights at the University of Nottingham and Tate’s first Futures Fellow.  The project is examining Tate’s systems, discourses and practices in relation to issues of diversity and inclusion, with the aim of enhancing Tate’s organizational learning and informing its practices and potentially those of the sector more widely.

Key to Inclusive Futures is its collaborative methodology. The project draws on Karen’s deep knowledge of the ways that discourses regarding difference influence narratives, decision-making and systems of governance.  And it is shaped by her broader interest in the ways global minority communities marshal their collective power and participate in local, national and international governance structures.  The project is therefore structured in two phases. The first part – ‘Ghost Projects’ – addresses historic projects and activities at Tate which have focused on race, power, equality and social justice, but which may have faded from the organisation’s collective memory.

We are in the middle of this first phase wherein we have invited all Tate colleagues to share their Ghost Projects so as to build an internal database of Tate’s collective past experience for future study. The second phase – ‘Futures Work’ –  will see Karen working closely with teams across Tate to understand how they are applying diversity and inclusion strategies, policies and processes in a practical way and the ways that Tate can draw on and value the knowledge embedded within all teams.

Already the project is surfacing rich material and generating multiple insights, not least into the wealth of activity staff have undertaken over many years (we have colleagues coming forward with initiatives from 20 years ago), that were often very significant but which were never integrated across the organisation.  We are hearing about how  individuals’ profound commitment to change resulted in them doing work beyond their actual roles.  And we are witnessing how Inclusive Futures is being seen as a safe space to talk about the opportunities, alongside the difficult and frustrating issues that staff have faced and are facing today.

I have a theory that it is in part because the project is framed as an exploratory and collaborative research initiative that colleagues are generously sharing their knowledge and experiences with such openness. Karen is not a consultant on this project, but a co-researcher working alongside staff to unearth and make sense of past activity. She has made it clear that she will not be coming up with a series of recommendations for Tate, but rather is working towards research findings based on what emerges through the process undertaken with staff. This research is not seeking to resolve a problem but rather to make visible past and present activity from which the organisation can learn. In doing so the project is aiming to generate new insights into diversity and inclusion practices in the art museum and model a practice of shared knowledge production that foregrounds the multiple forms of expertise present within the organisation. The process is as significant as the outcomes.

Recently I was contacted by a colleague from Australia, Sheona White, who has been reading the blog.  She posed a question to me concerning what it takes to lead and manage individuals and team(s) who are keen to undertake practitioner research in museum learning programmes. Sheona rightly pointed out that we tend not to discuss this a great deal and her question got me thinking about what my experience has been at Tate, what I have come across in my recent research and what can be learnt from both.  I have pulled five characteristics of leadership together here as a starting point for what I hope will be an ongoing discussion.  This list is not in order of priority – all these characteristics are equally important in my view.

1. Modelling an explicit commitment to research

Leadership is vital to developing a vibrant research culture and supporting practitioners to undertake research.  In my experience team leaders need to model an enquiring perspective. Even if senior managers do not undertake research themselves they are crucial in creating a culture where speculation and reflexivity is encouraged and where change is welcome.  The exemplary leaders I have come across embody an approach that prioritises learning and encourages all staff to challenge themselves and their practice. They test their thinking explicitly and encourage their workforce to adopt this approach too.

2. Building a trusting culture where thoughtful risk taking is encouraged 

Leaders play a key role in enabling a culture of trust and risk where experimentation and ventures into the unknown are an ingrained element of practice.  In a trusting culture people are confident they will not be criticised if they query current ways of doing and thinking and they feel empowered to question and disagree with their colleagues. David Garvin and his co-authors (who have written on organisational learning) identify that such workspaces provide a supportive environment for productive change, because they manifest ‘psychological safety’. In a psychologically safe learning space everyone can express ideas openly.  However, a supportive environment for practitioner-led research in my view requires a further step. Here people need to feel able not only to question existing scenarios or correct existing problems, but also to test out their own original ideas.

Maintaining a psychologically safe space needs constant attention to everything. From more micro-level decisions on, for example, acknowledging challenging voices and opinions in meetings to more macro-level responses when, for instance, research or experimental programming does not yield the findings or experiences that were expected. If staff feel disempowered or silenced or if the focus is on ascribing blame or emphasising what went wrong, then trust evaporates and positive risk-taking disappears. Each time this happens the likelihood of staff embarking on fruitful enquiry is reduced. If, however, at difficult or disappointing moments, the emphasis is on what can be learnt, the space for innovative investigations grows. When a culture of genuine trust and risk is embedded it creates a positive upward spiral of new insights and greater understanding.

3. Establishing clear and open communication

All those I interviewed for my research acknowledged the value but also the complexities and challenges of maintaining regular and transparent communication across an organisation. But I have observed that in organisations where practitioner researchers thrive, and research and reflection are nurtured, knowledge and information are shared openly. David Garvin and his colleagues also argue that knowledge that is shared in systematic and clearly defined ways, among individuals, groups, or whole organisations, is most effective in supporting organisational learning. They emphasise the importance of information and insights moving laterally and vertically, so that ‘essential information moves quickly and efficiently into the hands and heads of those who need it’.  One obvious way that leaders can contribute is by sharing information openly and establishing regular meetings and all-team catch ups where staff are encouraged to disseminate information and ideas, reflect together on what has happened and been learnt and collaborate on future plans.

4. Making time  

What my experience and research has told me is that without question the main factor that prevents practitioners doing research is their perceived lack of time. I have found that almost without exception people are keen to research, reflect and take time to learn, yet they can struggle to build this into their practice. Too often they are overwhelmed by the practical and administrative aspects of their roles, which are perceived to take priority. Practitioners want time to share problems and insights and consider ‘what if’ questions together as part of their working day. And they want their organisations to acknowledge the importance of the thinking that is required to do their work effectively, by not overloading them with tasks or programming.

It is the responsibility of leadership in the first instance not to overload staff with programming tasks that leave no time for more considered enquiry.  Associated with this is the need for leaders to make sure there are adequate resources to undertake the work the organisation wishes to do.  And finally leaders can play a key role in encouraging staff to take the time needed, by creating spaces for reflection and sanctioning formal research time away from the day to day routines.

5. Committing to honest evaluation

My experience and conversations have revealed that without ongoing evaluation, it is hard to know what is taking place or estimate the degree and nature of change brought about through an intervention. I know practitioners who shy away from evaluation, associating it with the tedious time-consuming ritual of handing out questionnaires at the end of event. It is true that evaluation which is not an integral part of the cycles of action research and practice as research can seem to be an irrelevance, undertaken to fulfil the requirements of a funder. Or evaluation is framed as an opportunity for advocacy; for the telling of a positive story without an in-depth and honest appraisal and presentation of a programme. But neither of these approaches help improve practice, hence the need for leaders to ensure that honest evaluation is at the heart of careful enquiry.

This list is by no means complete and no doubt there are a multitude of other actions leaders can take to support practitioner-led research.  At the same time these characteristics do not operate in isolation, but are interconnected and co-dependent.  Furthermore, in my experience leaders cannot bring about and maintain a practitioner-led research culture on their own, as it requires commitment on the part of each person within an organisation.  Nonetheless, effective leadership makes the task of embedding practitioner-led research considerably easier, especially if they enact these five characteristics.

What are the types of knowledge produced through artistic research?  What are the fields of knowledge production in the art museum?  Is ‘knowledge’ an adequate term to describe what emerges from artistic enquiry or is there something beyond and outside of knowledge that needs to be accounted for?  These are some of the questions that were raised at an afternoon seminar at the National Gallery of Art in Vilnius, Lithuania that I was part of last week.

 

The discussion that took place revisited some arguments that have been present within practice based research in art and design for some time, but also sparked, at least for me, some fresh thinking.  In particular I have been thinking pragmatically about the differences between practice based research in the university and museum context.  And I have been reflecting more abstractly on how we might negotiate existing definitions of knowledge in relation to artistic, but also museological practice based research.

In his presentation at the seminar, Professor Tom Corby, Associate Dean of Research at Central St Martins, University of the Arts London referenced Christopher Frayling’s influential 1994 conceptualisation of research in art and design.  In this text three categorisations of art and design research are described.  The first of these, Research into art and design covers historical, theoretical and aesthetic research.  The second, Research through art and design is the enquiry that happens through practice, that is through the doing of art making and which produces knowledge that is communicable in written forms that go beyond the artefact.  This might include action research where the findings are shared through a research journal, for example. The third category, Research for art and design is the process of questioning and discovery that culminates and is expressed solely in the art object. What emerges from this type of research does not find form in verbal or written communication necessarily.  Instead it is expressed, in the author’s words, in ‘visual, iconic or imaginistic communication.’

Since Christopher Frayling’s paper was published there has been a huge amount of debate around how Research for art and design sits within the academic structures of a university, which to my knowledge has not been resolved.  Instead research degrees in art and design conform more to the Research through art and design model in that there is a requirement for a written thesis to accompany the making of any art works.  Indeed Tom Corby ran through the quite specific requirements that are part of any PhD submission at Central St Martins in order for the new knowledge generated through the research to be made explicit to examiners and anyone else.   For some artists, including some present at the seminar in Vilnius, this formulation is problematic, in part because of the implicit framing of what constitutes new knowledge.

Put another way, how does an art and design PhD account for the new knowledge that cannot be expressed through words?  Does practice based research always have to be explained through writing, when in fact much of the value comes in the development of  experiential knowledge held by the practitioner or the ‘imaginistic’ knowledge held within the object?  How far do the frameworks of university-based research help or hinder artistic enquiry?  We grappled with each of these questions and more during the seminar.

I have drawn on Christopher Frayling’s framework in thinking about how practitioners undertake practice based research in the art museum.  Research on, Research through and Research for takes place in curatorial, collection care and education practice for example.  Yet what I have become aware of is that the museum is a relatively liberal space in which to do practice based research.  Rather than needing to conform to the formalised procedures and assessment criteria of the academy, the art museum can potentially test alternative understandings of practice based research and explore how various knowledges are manifest in the doing of programming for instance.  This is something we have been trying to do in Tate Learning with an overall focus on practice as research and specifically in the Practice as Research programme. We hope to do more of this the future.

At the same time I have become interested in how we can complicate existing definitions of knowledge.  In particular I am intrigued by the possibilities afforded by the idea of poetic knowledge as a way of understanding what emerges through practice and through engagement with art.  I am very early in my investigations but am taken by James S Taylor’s articulation of poetic knowledge as that which comes intuitively through the senses as opposed to that which is acquired through engagement with the intellect alone.  He uses the example of how we can know and trust in another’s love as one example of poetic knowledge. I am keen to explore how thinking about the poetic can broaden our understanding of what constitutes practice based research findings and will report on this further when I’ve done more reading, talking with others and thinking.

On Monday 15th October I attended the launch of the Tracking Arts Learning and Engagement (TALE) research findings at the House of Lords in London.  TALE is a collaborative project between the Royal Shakespeare Company (RSC), Tate and the University of Nottingham that has been funded by Arts Council England (ACE).  Over the last three years we have been looking at young people’s experience of arts and cultural education in schools and how cultural organisations can support teachers and students to have a deep and rich engagement in arts activities.

The findings from this study could not be more important.  Over the three years the researchers at the University of Nottingham gathered 6,000 responses from students aged 11-18 and 63 teachers. The findings show the many ways in which arts and cultural learning in the classroom is valued by young people and the unique role paid played by arts teachers in nurturing students’ engagement in the arts. More than a third of the students said school is the only opportunity they have to engage in arts activities. I urge you to read the findings which can be found here in more detail.

One clear and consistent message comes from the thousands of students who took part: arts and cultural learning taps into their imagination, creative instincts and self-worth in ways that other lessons do not. Arts subjects are shown to significantly help young people develop their own opinions as rounded individuals ready to contribute to their community and the wider world. The research also highlights the positive impact that arts-rich schools have on fostering independent thinking and creativity, confidence, well-being and empathy.

However, the TALE research was carried out against a background of funding cuts and a rapid decline in the number of arts teachers and hours spent on arts subjects in state-funded schools in England. At the House of Lords event which was titled ‘Time to Listen’, Tate’s Director Maria Balshaw joined with Erica Whyman, RSC Deputy Artistic Director to call for five changes to ensure that arts and culture features in all young people’s education. These changes include ensuring that the arts have parity with other subjects at key stage 3 (when pupils are aged between 11 and 14) and the provision of an Arts and Culture Premium for all children in schools to make sure all students in primary and secondary schools are able to access arts and culture out of school.

The House of Lords event also saw the launch of the ‘Why Study Art’ film which has been produced by Tate that showcases key figures from the arts and business speaking about the critical importance of studying the arts.  It’s worth looking at this too to gain a sense of the many ways that engagement with art at school has played a vital role in these creative people’s development.

It has been a very rewarding process being involved in TALE.  From the initial meetings with Jacqui O’Hanlon at the RSC and the researchers at Nottingham (Professors Pat Thomson and Christine Hall) to plan and submit the bid to ACE, right through to the drafting of the document that summarises the findings and the organisation of the final event.  I have learnt a great deal about how collaborative research can be undertaken and the value of cultural organisations working with academic partners to explore issues that are relevant to both.  Most importantly this research has reaffirmed my view that research can be a vehicle to draw attention to key issues within and beyond the art museum.

On a slightly different but related note, Tate is inviting applications from international colleagues to take part in the third Tate Intensive programme.  This week long programme (7 – 12 July 2019) will be exploring the need for imaginative change within museums and galleries.  Do take a look at this too.

 

Now I am back at Tate I am finding out about the research projects that have taken shape in the year that I was away. One of which is ‘Reshaping the Collectible: When Artworks Live in the Museum’, a large-scale three-year study funded by the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation which has just started, and which has been developed and is being led by Professor Pip Laurenson, Head of Collection Care Research. The focus of Reshaping the Collectible is what the project proposal refers to as ‘unruly’ artworks; those which might unfold over time and depend on re-engagement with the artist and with networks of others beyond the museum as well as technologies, materials and skills.

One such example is Tarek Atoui’s ‘The Reverse Collection 2014 – 16’ which requires the museum to connect with a current experimental music scene and work with musicians each time it is presented. The research is exploring how these artworks, that do not easily fit within conventional distinctions between the archive, the record and the artwork can exist and be cared for within the art museum. It is seeking to develop new collection management and conservation models to be able to achieve this.

The project is fascinating to me on many levels. In the first instance the subject itself is key to understanding how the twenty-first century art museum is grappling with changing artistic practice and the implications of this for their collections. It is addressing interesting dilemmas such as, are there works of art that are fundamentally uncollectable? Where does the artwork ‘end’ and the audience’s engagement with it begin? And as one of the research questions articulates ‘what needs to shift in terms of process, policy and practice to accommodate works that continue to unfold in the museum?’
The project is equally interesting in terms of how it is going about addressing these questions and dilemmas. The project is structured around six case studies that continue to challenge current collection and conservation practices. With each case study there will be a detailed interrogation of all aspects of the work, from the different records that exist within the institution, to legal and copyright issues, to thinking about how the work might be represented when it is not on display. The intention is to bring interdisciplinary scholarship to the questions and to facilitate the co-production of knowledge through hosting visiting scholars, organising workshops and drawing on the expertise of practitioners within the museum from curatorial, conservation, collection management, records management, the archive and learning.  Researchers will also be working closely with the artists and their networks to imagine the future of their works.
There are two further reasons why in my view Reshaping the Collectible exemplifies good practice in art museum research. One of the project’s aims is to make the work of collection management and conservation management more transparent to the museum’s audiences. So, rather than conducting the research ‘behind closed doors’ the intention is, as the proposal states, ‘to take seriously the challenge to make the invisible visible, exposing the lives of artworks and their interactions with the museum to a general audience, and testing the appetite for and engagement with these narratives.’ This ambition to conduct research openly, testing ideas with a wider group is inspiring. Secondly the project is looking explicitly at how a research project of this kind changes practices and how this adds value for the public and the museum. It is building in an evaluative strand that will explore and enable reflection on how we design research projects and what is distinctive about undertaking research in the museum context. The interrogation of how the museum undertakes and communicates research is so important yet happens relatively rarely.
During my research I came across the work of Charles Glassick and his colleagues who undertook a survey of the criteria and standards employed to evaluate scholarship in American universities. What they found was that common to many was a focus on the process of scholarship, which translates to how the research was undertaken rather than what was examined. On this basis they went on to construct their own set of qualitative standards, which I have adapted slightly. These are detailed below and form a sequence of unfolding stages
1. Clear Goals – are the questions being asked important? Are the ambitions realistic and achievable, are the purposes of the work clear?
2. Adequate Preparation – has the researcher got the necessary skills, do they show an understanding of the existing work in the field both practical and theoretical? Have they got adequate resources to realise it?
3. Appropriate Methods – is the researcher using appropriate methods, are they modifying processes and methods appropriately as the work progresses
4. Significant Results – does the researcher achieve their aims? Does their work add to the field (of practice and/or theory), does the work open up additional areas for further exploration?
5. Effective Presentation – does the researcher present their work effectively? Do they communicate their work to the intended audiences? Do they communicate with clarity and integrity?
6. Reflective Critique – does the researcher critically evaluate their own work? Do they bring an appropriate breadth of evidence to that critique? Do they use evaluation to improve the quality of their work?
When I read the Reshaping the Collectible project proposal I did an informal assessment against these six criteria. In my view the project scores highly, at least in terms of considering each of these, even if it is too early to say whether it has, for example achieved significant results. There is much the museum can learn from this project and I am looking forward to following its progress and hopefully getting involved.
For more information on Reshaping the Collectible please go to their project page.

Recently I have been revisiting my Phd. My doctoral research focused on the relationship between artistic ways of knowing and how this translates into specific forms of learning and teaching in the art museum.  I went about it by interviewing and observing five artist educators – Liz Ellis, Esther Sayers, Michele Fuirer, Lucy Wilson and Michaela Ross – who were working at that time (in the early 2000s) on the ‘Art into Life’ strand of community focused programming at Tate Modern.  In my interviews I asked these artists how they would define themselves as artists and what knowledge and experience they thought they possessed.  I then went on to explore with them how their understandings of themselves as ‘expert’ artists shaped the pedagogic exchanges they facilitated in the galleries at Tate Modern.

What emerged through this research is a construction of art practice as a continuous process of conceptual and practical enquiry, underpinned by questions and driven by these artists’ desire to understand their experiences and communicate these to others.  The five artists identified qualities necessary to carry out their art practice, namely looking, questioning and divergent thinking.  They also drew attention to the importance of playfulness and risk-taking as well as curiosity, imaginative responses, open-mindedness and the freedom to explore different ideas simultaneously.  I was reminded through speaking to them of the value of productive failure and of being able to feel comfortable not knowing something, to allow for new ideas to emerge.  Likewise my experience as an artist and educator resonated with their descriptions of maintaining spontaneity and intuition, yet needing to balance this with keeping a clear purpose and reflecting critically on progress at all times.

Looking back on this research, which I have written about elsewhere, I was struck by the relationship between this construction of art practice and the research processes in the art museum I have been examining more recently.  Much has been written on how art making can be understood as a form of research, so this is not new territory.  Graeme Sullivan, for example, has argued for how studio practice operates as an intellectual and imaginative enquiry that produces new knowledge.  And the ongoing debate within art schools on how artistic practice can be framed within academic research criteria centres on this relationship.  Yet what struck me was that in art museums, where we might assume the parallels between art practice and research would be manifest in the forms of enquiry being undertaken, there seems to be at best uncertainty about and worst resistance to practice-based research being done by artists and others.

One obvious response to this conundrum is to point out that historically art museum research has centred on the collection – on the products of art practice, rather than practice itself – to the greatest extent.  Hence this research has taken place within the discipline and using the methodologies of art history.   At the same time research has been undertaken less by artists and more, although not exclusively, by art historians.  Yet my recent research into art museum research revealed that professionals including conservators and learning curators are increasingly researching their own practice, drawing on their expertise as practitioners and artists in some cases.  I am interested, therefore in how the qualities identified by the artists in my PhD study shape the approach to research being done by these practitioners and whether this differs from researchers from other disciplines.

Although I cannot draw definitive conclusions, what I have noted is that pretty much all the museum-based researchers I spoke to identified the importance of questioning, exploration, clear goals and critical reflection.  Less frequently mentioned are notions of playfulness, imagination and not knowing.  The art historians I interviewed tended to be mindful of the need for evidence-based arguments in their research, which the artists made no reference to.  And whilst all were conscious of the need for their practice and research to be of high quality, I have a sense that the artists’ perception of what quality entails relied more on the integrity of their processes and outcomes judged on the artists’ own terms, rather than according to any external peer review process for example.

This is a very informal comparison, but it has been an interesting exercise.  I’d be keen to know the qualities other museum-based researchers see as important in undertaking their work and whether they align with those of the artists I interviewed.